More on One Person-Two Natures: Response to Timothy Pawl

A recent argument of mine questioning the coherent conceivability of the one person-two natures doctrine of Chalcedonian Christology begins with the premise

1. If N is a nature of substance s, then s cannot exist without having N.  Natures are essential to the things that have them.  In possible worlds jargon: If N is a nature of s, then in every possible world in which s exists, s has N.  (The modality in play here is broadly logical or metaphysical.)

I pointed out that the argument's conclusion can be best resisted  by denying (1).  Professor Tim Pawl agrees.  He comments:

I think the Aristotelian who wants to maintain Chalcedonian Christology could deny 1 and affirm a nearby proposition:

1’. For any one-natured substance s, if N is a nature of s, then s cannot exist without having N.

Adding the antecedent I’ve added to your 1 here allows for us to say that 1’ remains true in the case of Christ, since the antecedent is false. 1’ does all the work that the Aristotelian would want 1 to do, since every case we think of in mundane (non-christological) situations is a case where the thing in question is single-natured. I wouldn’t think the Aristotelian has any evidence for 1 that would not count as evidence for the revised 1’ as well.

The purpose of this entry is to evaluate Tim's response.  But first some preliminaries.

Assumptions. Preliminaries, and Ontological Background

I am not questioning, let alone denying, the fact of the Incarnation.  (To insert an autobiographical remark: I am inclined  to believe it.)  Thus I am not maintaining that there is no sense in which, in a sentence from the Angelus, 'the Word became flesh and dwelt among us." My question is whether the Incarnation is coherently conceivable within a broadly Aristotelian ontological framework.  A negative answer, should one be forthcoming, does not foreclose on  the question whether the Incarnation is coherently conceivable within some other ontological framework.

By 'coherently conceivable' I mean 'thinkable without broadly-logical contradiction.'  Coherent conceivability is a notion weaker than that of (real as opposed to epistemic) possibility.  I am not asking whether the Incarnation is possible, but whether it is coherently conceivable (within a broadly Aristotelian framework).  Conceivability is tied to our powers of conception; possibility is not.

Whatever is actual is possible.  So if the Incarnation is actual, then it is possible whether or not we can coherently conceive how it is possible, whether or not we can render it intelligible to ourselves, whether or not it satisfies the exigencies of the discursive intellect. So if it should turn out that the Incarnation is not coherently conceivable, the defender of the Incarnation has a mysterian move available to him.  He can say, look, "It's the case; so its possibly the case; it's just that our cognitive limitations make it impossible for us (in this life) to understand how it could be the case."  The present topic, however, is not mysterianism.

My precise question is this:  is it coherently conceivable that one person, the Second Person of the Trinity, the Word of God, the Logos, have both an individual divine nature and an individual human nature?  I will assume that a person, as per Boethius, is an individual substance of a rational nature.  I will also assume the doctrine of the Trinity.

'Substance' is elliptical for 'primary substance' or 'individual substance' or 'first substance' (prote ousia).  If abstract entities are entities that are non-spatiotemporal and causally inert, then individual or individualized natures are not abstract entities.  Some of them are spatiotemporal, and all of them are causally efficacious.  Thus the individual nature of Socrates is in space and time.  (The individual nature of the Logos is not in space and time but it is causally efficacious.)  What ties an individual substance to its individual nature is not the external asymmetrical nexus of exemplification: substances don't exemplify their natures; a substance is (identical to) its individual(ized) nature.  (See Aristotle, Metaphysics, Z.6) Socrates is not a bare particular, and his nature is not a (conjunctive) property that he exemplifies.  Of course, there is a sense in which Socrates and Plato are of the same nature in that both are human.  This common humanity, however, has no extramental reality: it is not a platonic object exemplified by the two philosophers.

The nature or essence of an individual substance is the what-it-is of the thing or as Aristotle puts it, to ti ên einai, literally “the what it was to be” of a thing, essentia, quod quid erat esse.  (Compare Hegel: Wesen ist was gewesen ist.)  It follows that the nature or essence of Socrates is not accidental to him.  The idea that the nature of an individual thing could be accidental to it is wholly un-Aristotelian, although it would make sense in an ontological scheme according to which Socrates is a bare particular and his nature is a conjunctive property the conjuncts of which are his non-relational properties.  (We find such a scheme in D. Armstrong and R. Grossmann, et al.)

It also seems obvious to me  that there is an important difference between the event or fact of the Incarnation and any theological doctrine about it.  Theology, I take it, is a type of applied philosophy: it is philosophy applied to the data of revelation.  The Incarnation is one such datum since it is God's self-revelation in Jesus Christ.  So it seems obvious to me that we ought to distinguish the datum from its doctrinal formulation.  To repeat myself, I am concerned with the latter.

Evaluation of Tim Pawl's Response

Pawl-tim-pictureTim makes a time-honored move in alleviation of the contradiction that issues from my reductio ad absurdum argument: he makes a distinction.  One can always avoid or remove a contradiction by making a distinction.  He distinguishes between one-natured substances and substances that have more than one nature.   He then restricts my (1) to one-natured substances.  The result of the restriction is (1').  Accordingly, it is only one-natured substances that are under the requirement that their natures be had by them essentially.  Now if we plug (1') into my argument in lieu of (1), no contradiction results.  Although a one-natured substance has its one nature essentially (in every world in which the substance exists), a multi-natured substance may have a nature that it has accidentally (in only some of the worlds in which the substance exists).

Unfortunately, this trades one problem for another.  For now the problem is to understand how an Aristotelian substance that has two natures can have one of them accidentally.   The Logos exists necessarily.  In the patois of possible worlds, it exists in every possible world.  And it is divine (has the divine nature) essentially, i.e., in every world in which it exists.  Since it exists in every world, it has the divine nature in every world.  But it has the human nature only in some worlds.  So the Logos has the human nature accidentally.

The problem is: How can any substance have a nature accidentally?  Don't forget: we are operating within an Aristotelan framework and our precise question is whether the one person-two natures doctrine is coherently conceivable within that framework.  As I said above, the nature or essence of an individual substance cannot be  accidental to it.  (The connection between a substance and its nature cannot be assayed as the external asymmetrical nexus of exemplification.)  The idea that the nature of an individual thing could be accidental to it is wholly un-Aristotelian.

To sum up.  Professor Pawl makes a distinction between single-natured substances which stand under the requirement that their natures be had essentially by them and multi-natured substances that are not subject to this requirement.  This distinction blocks the contradiction my reductio issued in.  But Pawl's distinction does not succeed in rendering the Chalcedonian formulation coherently conceivable within the Aristotelian framework because it requires a notion that makes no sense within that ontological framework, namely, the notion that a substance can have a nature accidentally.

To modify the Aristotelian framework in that way is not to extend it or enrich it in the light of new data, but to destroy it.  What the Christologist  ought to do is reject the framework.  He needn't abandon the Incarnation.  There are other approaches to it.  I hope to sketch one in a separate post. 

Lichtenberg on Religion and Stoicism

Georg Christoph Lichtenberg, The Waste Books, tr. R. J. Hollingdale, New York Review Books, 1990, p. 112, Notebook G, Aph. #24:

To make man as religion wants him to be resembles the undertaking of the Stoics: it is only another grade of the impossible.

I agree completely with Herr Lichtenberg that the Stoic ideal is an impossible one. 

The Stoic sage would be as impassible as God is impassible. But here's something to think about: Jesus on the cross died in agony like a man, even though, if he was God, he could have realized the Stoic ideal.

What is the lesson? Perhaps that to be impassible is for us impossible, and so no ideal at all.

What Lichtenberg overlooks is that while Stoicism is a self-help therapeutic, religion, or at least Christianity, is not: no Christian who understands his doctrine fancies that he is able by his own power to effect genuine, deep-going, and lasting self-improvement.

What Lichtenberg fails to appreciate is that what is impossible for us, both individually and collectively, is not impossible with divine assistance.

If you deny the possibility of divine assistance, then you ought to abandon the project of ameliorating in any truly fundamental way the human condition: just accept it as it is, else you may end up like the Communists who murdered 100 million in the 20th century alone in quest of their u-topia.

Saturday Night at the Oldies: Beethoven, Billy Bob, and Peggy Lee

The Man Who Wasn't There is one of my favorite movies, and the best of Ludwig van Beethoven is as good as classical music gets.  So enjoy the First Movement of the Moonlight Sonata to the masterful cinematography of the Coen Brothers.

Here is the final scene of the movie.  Ed Crane's last words:

I don't know where I'm being taken.  I don't know what I'll find beyond the earth and sky.  But I am not afraid to go.  Maybe the things I don't understand will be clearer there, like when a fog blows away.  Maybe Doris will be there. And maybe there I can tell her all those things they don't have words for here.

Peggy leeThat is the way I see death, as an adventure into a dimension, into "the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller returns," in which we might come to understand what we cannot understand here, a movement from night and fog into the clear light of day.  It is a strange idea, I admit, the idea that only by dying can one come into possession of essential knowledge.  But no more strange  than the idea that  death leaves the apparent absurdity of our existence unredeemed, a sentiment expressed in Peggy Lee's 1970 Is That All There is?

Is it a Contradiction?

London Ed writes,

I am interested in your logical or linguistic intuitions here. Consider

(*) There is someone called ‘Peter’, and Peter is a musician. There is another person called ‘Peter’, and Peter is not a musician.

Is this a contradiction?  Bear in mind that the whole conjunction contains the sentences “Peter is a musician” and “Peter is not a musician”. I am corresponding with a fairly eminent philosopher who insists it is contradictory.

Whether or not (*) is a contradiction depends on its logical form.  I say the logical form is as follows, where 'Fx' abbreviates 'x is called 'Peter'' and 'Mx' abbreviates 'x is a musician':

LF1. (∃x)(∃y)[Fx & Mx & Fy & ~My & ~(x =y)]

In 'canonical English':

CE. There is something x and something y such that x  is called 'Peter' and x is a musician and y is called 'Peter' and y is not a musician and it is not the case that x is identical to y.

There is no contradiction.  It is obviously logically possible — and not just logically possible — that there be two men, both named 'Peter,' one of whom is a musician and the other of whom is not.

I would guess that your correspondent takes the logical form to be

LF2. (∃x)(∃y)(Fx & Fy & ~(x = y)) & Mp & ~Mp

where 'p' is an individual constant abbreviating 'Peter.'

(LF2) is plainly a contradiction. 

My analysis assumes that in the original sentence(s) the first USE (not mention) of 'Peter' is replaceable salva significatione by 'he,' and that the antecedent of 'he' is the immediately preceding expression 'Peter.'  And the same for the second USE (not mention) of 'Peter.'

If I thought burden-of-proof considerations were relevant in philosophy, I'd say the burden of proving otherwise rests on your eminent interlocutor.

But I concede one could go outlandish and construe the original sentences — which I am also assuming can be conjoined into one sentence — as having (LF2). 

So it all depends on what you take to be the logical form of the original sentence(s).  And that depends on what proposition you take the original sentence(s) to be expressing.  The original sentences(s) are patient of both readings.

Now Ed, why are you vexing yourself over this bagatelle when the barbarians are at the gates of London?  And not just at them?

Why do We Obsess Over Ultimate Meaning?

Or if not literally obsess, care deeply?  Karl White passes on the following from one of his correspondents:

Why are we all so obsessed with infusing things with meaning anyway? Isn't this craving a mere artifact of being brought up under systems of belief that insist on the fact that life has to serve some purpose? Maybe if we hadn't been presented with such presumptions from the beginning, we wouldn't have such a hard time accepting existence?

These are reasonable questions.  Perhaps we cannot be satisfied with finite meanings and relative satisfactions and cannot accept the utter finality of death only because we have have been culturally brainwashed for centuries upon centuries into thinking that there is some Grand Purpose at the back of things that we participate in, and some Final Redemption, when there is none.  Perhaps we have been laboring under a God Delusion or a Transcendent Meaning Delusion for lo these many centuries.   But now these delusions are losing their grip.  One sort of person responds to the loss despairingly and pessimistically.  Call it the Woody Allen response.  Allen laments the absurdity of life and makes movies to distract himself and others from the dismal reality.  Another sort of person digs in his heels and frantically tries to shore up the delusions by concocting ever more subtle metaphysical arguments when he knows deep down, as Allen would insist, that it's all "a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." 

Nietzsche-and-his-sister-1899The cure for both is the same: drop the delusions.  Stop measuring reality against a nonexistent standard.  To paraphrase Nietzsche,  when the supposedly Real World falls, then so does the Apparent World.  (See The Twilight of the Idols.) The erasure of the Transcendent abrogates the denigration of the Immanent.  The Immanent, now no longer immanent, is the sole reality.  Live it, love it, affirm it.  The finite suffices.  Its finitude is no argument against this life if the only alternative is an Infinity that doesn't exist.  Death is no argument against life if this is all there is.  Drop the delusion and its hinterworlds and you will neither despair nor hope.  You will learn to be true to the earth, your natural and only home.

The above considerations don't sway me. 

What explains the origin of the systems of belief whose appropriation makes us hanker after Transcendence?  Is the longing an artifact of the belief, or the belief an artifact of the longing? 

I would say that the longing explains the belief.  The belief cannot explain the longing since the belief had to first be there to explain anything, and what explains it is the longing.   From time immemorial, people have experienced a deep dissatisfaction with the here and now and with it a longing for a better, truer, higher life.  These experiences are real, though not had by everyone, and not equally by those who have them.  Outstanding individuals translated these recurrent and widely-distributed experiences of  dissatisfaction and longing into systems of belief and practice of various sorts, Buddhism being one example, with its sarvam dukkham.  These systems were developed and passed on.  They 'resonated' with people, all sorts of people, from every land, at every time.  Why?  Because they spoke to some real inchoate longing that people everywhere have.  They answer to a real need, the metaphysical need.  (Cf. Schopenhauer, "On Man's Need for Metaphysics" in WWR vol. II)  So it is not as if people were brainwashed into accepting these symbolic forms; they express and articulate real dissatisfaction with the mundane and ephemeral and real longing for lasting beatitude.

In sum: the experiences of deep dissatisfaction and deep longing are real; they come first phylogenetically, ontogenetically, temporally, logically, and epistemically.  They give rise to systems of belief and practice (and not the other way around).   Both the experiences and the beliefs are evidence of a sort for the reality of that which could remove the dissatisfaction and assuage the longing.  Of course, it takes some careful arguing to get from longing for X to the reality of X.

This leads us to the topic of Arguments from Desire, a topic to be pursued in subsequent posts.

Since I mentioned Nietzsche above, I will end with Zarathustra's Roundelay, which never fails to bring tears to my eyes.  It shows that Nietzsche, though possessing the bladed intellect of the skeptic, had the throbbing heart of a  homo religiosus.  In his own perverse way he testifies to the truth above suggested.  "All joy wants eternity, wants deep, wants deep eternity!"

Zarathustra's Rundgesang

Oh Mensch! Gib acht!
Was spricht die tiefe Mitternacht?
»Ich schlief, ich schlief—,
Aus tiefem Traum bin ich erwacht:—
Die Welt ist tief,
Und tiefer als der Tag gedacht.
Tief ist ihr Weh—,
Lust—tiefer noch als Herzeleid:
Weh spricht: Vergeh!
Doch alle Lust will Ewigkeit—,
—will tiefe, tiefe Ewigkeit!«

Walter Kaufmann trans.:

O man, take care!
What does the deep midnight declare?
"I was asleep—
From a deep dream I woke and swear:
The world is deep,
Deeper than day had been aware.
Deep is its woe;
Joy—deeper yet than agony:
Woe implores: Go!
But all joy wants eternity—
Wants deep, wants deep eternity."

 Adrian del Caro trans.:

Oh mankind, pray!
What does deep midnight have to say?
"From sleep, from sleep—
From deepest dream I made my way:—
The world is deep,
And deeper than the grasp of day.
Deep is its pain—,
Joy—deeper still than misery:
Pain says: Refrain!
Yet all joy wants eternity—
—Wants deep, wants deep eternity."

Woody Allen, Meet Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange

To repeat some of what I wrote yesterday,

According to Woody Allen, we all know that human existence is meaningless and that it ends, utterly and meaninglessly, with death. We all know this, he thinks, but we hide the horrible reality from ourselves with all sorts of evasions and distractions.  Worldly people, for example, imagine that they will live forever and lose themselves in the pursuit of pleasure, money, name and fame. Religious people console themselves with fairy tales about God and the soul and post-mortem bliss.  Leftists, in the grip of utopian fantasies, having smoked the opium of the intellectuals, sacrifice their lives on the altar of activism. And not only their lives: Communists in the 20th century broke 100 millon 'eggs' in pursuit of an elusive 'omelet.' Ordinary folk live for their children and grandchildren as if procreation has redemptive power.

Woody AllenPushing the line of thought further, I note that Allen is deeply bothered, indeed obsessed in his neurotic  Manhattanite Jewish intellectual sort of way, by the apparent meaninglessness of human existence.  Why does the apparent lack of an ultimate meaning bother him?  It bothers him because a deep desire for ultimate sense, for point and purpose, is going unsatisfied.  He wants  redemptive Meaning, but Meaning is absent.  (Note that what is phenomenologically absent may or may not be nonexistent.)

But a deep and natural desire for a meaning that is absent may be   evidence of a sort for the possibility of the desire's satisfaction.  Why do sensitive souls feel the lack of point and purpose?  The felt lack and unsatisfied desire is at least a fact and wants an explanation.  What explains the felt lack, the phenomenological absence of a redemptive Meaning that could make all this misery and ignorance and evil bearable?  What explains the fact that Allen is bothered by the apparent meaninglessness of human existence?

You could say that nothing explains it; it is just a brute fact that some of us crave meaning. Less drastically, and more plausibly, one could say that the craving for meaning has an explanation in terms of efficient causes, but not one that requires the reality of its intentional object.  Let me explain.

Craving is an intentional state: it is an object-directed state of mind.  One cannot just crave, desire, want, long for, etc.  One craves, desires, wants, longs for something.  This something is the intentional object.  Every intentional state takes an object; but it doesn't follow that every such state takes an object that exists.  If a woman wants a man, it does not follow that there exists a man such that she wants him.  She wants Mr. Right, but no one among us satisfies the requisite criteria.   So while she wants a man, there is no man she wants.  Therefore, the deep desire for Meaning does not guarantee the existence of Meaning. We cannot validily argue, via the intentionality of desiderative consciousness, to the extramental reality of the the object desired.

Garrigou-LagrangeNevertheless, if is it a natural (as opposed to an artificially induced) desire we are talking about, then  perhaps there is a way to infer the existence of the object desired from the fact of the desiring, that is, from the existence of the desiderative state, not from the content or realitas objectiva of the desiderative state.  The inferential move from realitas objectiva to realitas formalis is invalid; but the move from the existence of the state to the reality of its object may be valid.

Suppose I want (to drink) water.  The natural desire for water is rooted in a natural need.  I don't just desire it, the way I might desire (to smoke) a cigar; I need it.  Now it doesn't follow from the existence of my need that there is water hereabouts or water in sufficient quantity to keep me alive, but the need for water is very good evidence for the existence of water somewhere. (Suppose all the water in the universe ceases to exist, but I exist for a little longer.  My need for water would still be good evidence for the existence of water at some time.) If there never had been any water, then no critter could desire or need it; indeed no critter could exist at all.

The need for water 'proves' the existence of water.  Perhaps the desire/need for Meaning 'proves' the existence of Meaning.  The felt lack of meaning — its phenomenological absence — is grounded in the natural (not artificial) need for Meaning, and this need would not exist if it were not for the extramental reality of a source of Meaning with which we  were once in contact, or the traces of which are buried deep within us.  And this all men call God. 

Mr. Allen, meet Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange:

Since natural desire can never be in vain, and since all men naturally desire beatitude, there must exist an objective being that is infinitely perfect, a being that man can possess, love, and enjoy. (Beatitude, tr. Cummins, Ex Fontibus 2012, p. 79)

This argument, studied in the context of Aristotelian-Thomistic metaphysics, is more impressive than it may seem.  If  nothing else it ought to undermine the belief of Allen and his like that it is known by all of us today that human existence is ultimately meaningless.

Here is a video with relevant excerpts from G-L's Life Everlasting and the Immensity of the Soul.