Aquinas on the epistemology of authority

Aquinas believes that human reason and good argumentation can get us pretty far. But he is also aware of their limits, as many recent commentators have emphasized. These limits are both natural and the result of sin. Thus, he thinks that grace and the cultivation of intellectual and moral virtue are important in the pursuit of knowledge; they can help us to overcome some (but only some) of these limits. You might say that, on Aquinas’s view, reason as it exists concretely is at its best not when it is “pure reason” but “impure reason.”

The topic of this post has to do with one aspect of “impure reason” in Aquinas. I would like to reflect briefly on the role that authority plays in Aquinas’s epistemology. All Aquinas scholars are familiar with his treatment of this matter in ST, I, 1, 8. The question here is whether sacred doctrine is a matter of argumentation. The following objection is raised:

If [sacred doctrine]  is a matter of argument, the argument is either from authority or from reason. If it is from authority, it seems unbefitting its dignity, for the proof from authority is the weakest form of proof. But if it is from reason, this is unbefitting its end, because, according to Gregory (Hom. 26), “faith has no merit in those things of which human reason brings its own experience.” Therefore sacred doctrine is not a matter of argument.

Aquinas replies to this objection thus:

This doctrine is especially based upon arguments from authority, inasmuch as its principles are obtained by revelation: thus we ought to believe on the authority of those to whom the revelation has been made. Nor does this take away from the dignity of this doctrine, for although the argument from authority based on human reason is the weakest, yet the argument from authority based on divine revelation is the strongest. But sacred doctrine makes use even of human reason, not, indeed, to prove faith (for thereby the merit of faith would come to an end), but to make clear other things that are put forward in this doctrine. Since therefore grace does not destroy nature but perfects it, natural reason should minister to faith as the natural bent of the will ministers to charity. Hence the Apostle says: “Bringing into captivity every understanding unto the obedience of Christ” (2 Cor. 10:5). Hence sacred doctrine makes use also of the authority of philosophers in those questions in which they were able to know the truth by natural reason, as Paul quotes a saying of Aratus: “As some also of your own poets said: For we are also His offspring” (Acts 17:28). Nevertheless, sacred doctrine makes use of these authorities as extrinsic and probable arguments; but properly uses the authority of the canonical Scriptures as an incontrovertible proof, and the authority of the doctors of the Church as one that may properly be used, yet merely as probable. For our faith rests upon the revelation made to the apostles and prophets who wrote the canonical books, and not on the revelations (if any such there are) made to other doctors. Hence Augustine says (Epis. ad Hieron. xix, 1): “Only those books of Scripture which are called canonical have I learned to hold in such honor as to believe their authors have not erred in any way in writing them. But other authors I so read as not to deem everything in their works to be true, merely on account of their having so thought and written, whatever may have been their holiness and learning.”

How might we think about the epistemic value that authority has for Aquinas? What does the above discussion tell us? Here is how Fr. Copleston understands the lesson Aquinas is teaching us here:

Aquinas was the last man to think that philosophical problems can be settled by appeal to great names. “Argument from authority based on human reason is the weakest” (ST, 1a, 1, 8 ad 2). In other words, an argument in favor of a given philosophical or scientific position is the weakest sort of argument when it rests simply on the prestige attaching to the name of an eminent philosopher or scientist. What counts is the intrinsic value of the argument, not the reputation of someone who has sponsored it in the past (Aquinas, 23).

And this is where Fr. Copleston leaves the question. This isn’t a bad reading of Aquinas’s text but, or so I would suggest, there is much more to be said, including some important qualifications to be made.

While Aquinas does say that the argument from authority is the weakest with respect to human reason, it is not weak simply. When it is based on the authority of divine revelation it is the strongest. And let us not forget that Aquinas dignifies sacra doctrina with the title scientia — we are not in the realm of opinion but are dealing with real knowledge. Furthermore, sacra doctrina is the most noble of the sciences and is wisdom beyond all human wisdom.

What is more, as Aquinas notes in his reply, sacra doctrina also makes use of the authority of doctors of the Church and the philosophers. Of course, appealing to them only gets us to the level of probability, but were Aquinas suspicious of the epistemic value of authority and only willing to allow an exception for revelation, we would not expect him to expand the possibilities of legitimate appeal to authority in the field of theology.

But if we put aside the importance that authority has in the science of sacra doctrina and return to its place in the context of human reason, I think we should be careful to observe that in ST, I, 1, 8, ad 2 Aquinas does not dismiss arguments from authority in this context. He says merely that they are the “weakest” of arguments. It is a commonplace in logic that appeals to authority only become fallacious when they are appeals to an illegitimate authority; appeals to legitimate authority are often quite reasonable even if it is rare that they definitively settle a dispute.

Aquinas is aware of and accepts such legitimate appeals to authority in the context of human reason. Not only is this obvious from what he says in the above passage from the Summa but in the De Veritate he suggests that it is reasonable for believers to assent to the truth of what God tells them “since even in dialectical matters there is an argument from authority” (14, 2, ad 9).

But Aquinas is willing to say something stronger than this about the positive role that authority plays in the pursuit of knowledge. Consider these remarks from ST, II-II, 4, 8, ad 2:

Other things being equal sight is more certain than hearing. But if the person from whom we hear greatly surpasses our capacity for understanding [i.e., because of his qualifications, authority on a subject matter], then hearing is more certain than sight. So, one with little knowledge is more certain about what he hears from a man of great knowledge, than about what is apparent to him according to his own reason [Sicut aliquis parvae scientiae magis certificatur de eo quod audit ab aliquo scientissimo quam de eo quod sibi secundum suam rationem videtur.].

This is a striking passage. There are situations, Aquinas thinks, in which I should place more trust in what I am told by another than what I can understand by my own reason. The comparison is probably unfair and anachronistic, but it seems that we are quite far from Descartes’s precept about not taking anything to be true save what I perceive clearly and distinctly with my mind, not to mention Kant’s conception of Aufklärung as daring to think for oneself.

And consider these lines from De Veritate, 14, 10:

To obtain eternal life it is necessary to have faith in those things which are beyond the grasp of reason. We can understand this from what follows. For a thing is brought from imperfection to perfection only through the activity of something perfect. Nor does the imperfect thing at once in the very beginning fully receive the action of that which is perfect; at first it receives it imperfectly and, later, more perfectly. And it continues in this way until it reaches perfection. This is evident in all physical things, which acquire a perfection gradually.

We see the same thing in human works, especially in the learning process. For in the beginning a man has incomplete knowledge, and, if he is to reach the perfection of science, needs an instructor to bring him to that perfection. Nor could the teacher do this unless he himself had full knowledge of the science, that is unless he understood the intelligible principles of the things which form the subject matter of the science. At the outset of his teaching, however, he does not explain to his pupil the intelligible principles of the things to be known which he intends to teach, because then, at the very beginning, the pupil would [have to] know the science perfectly. Instead, the teacher proposes some things, the principles of which the pupil does not understand when first taught, but will know later when he has made some progress in the science. For this reason it is said that the learner must believe. And he could not acquire mastery of the science in any other way unless he accepted without proof those things which he is taught at first and the arguments for which he cannot then understand.

Of course, Aquinas’s discussion of the teacher and the student and the acquisition of a science is made in the context of trying to explain the necessity of faith for attaining eternal life. But obviously Aquinas thinks that his example has to do with what is actually the case in education. I cannot acquire knowledge unless at the beginning I accept some, perhaps many, things on the teacher’s authority. (We don’t need to think of this literally as a teacher with students in a classroom. Books, traditions, can also be the relevant authorities.) This would seem to tell us, then, that in Aquinas’s mind authority does not only have an occasional or marginal function in the pursuit of knowledge but an indispensable function.

Remaining in the sphere of the sciences developed by human reason, we cannot neglect to mention Aquinas’s well-known discussion in ST, I, 1, 2 about certain lower disciplines receiving their principles not from the direct apprehension of these principles by the intellect but from higher disciplines.

Some of the foregoing observations of Aquinas, once we reflect on them, might in the end appear rather pedestrian. Who would deny that authority functions epistemically in the way that he says that it does? I have to admit that I do think that there is something very pedestrian about Aquinas’s comments. And yet we should ask ourselves whether we usually think of Aquinas as holding that authority has a positive part to play not only in sacred doctrine but also in the other sciences. And we might also ask whether Aquinas’s position on authority’s epistemic role jibes well with the view that thinkers like Descartes and Kant take of authority.

Plainly there is much more to be said about all of this but I will have to continue this inquiry another time.

***

UPDATE: I developed this post into a paper that I gave at the Pontifical Academy of St. Thomas Aquinas conference in Houston Oct. 19, 2013. Interested readers can find it here.

Thomas Aquinas: Teacher and Scholar. The Aquinas Lectures at Maynooth, Volume 2: 2002–2010, Ed. James McEvoy†, Michael Dunne, and Julia Hynes

Scheduled for release next month by Four Courts Press is a new collection of essays on the thought of Aquinas, edited by James McEvoy†, Michael Dunne, and Julia Hynes.  From the publisher’s blurb:
The Annual Maynooth Aquinas Lecture Series began in 1995 and was founded by the late Professor James McEvoy. This second volume arising from the conference series contains papers on a variety of Thomistic topics.
The essays included in the volume cover a wide range of topics on the thought of Thomas Aquinas:
  • Liam Walsh (U Fribourg), Aquinas on the Eucharist
  • William Desmond (U Leuven), Aquinas and the Beatitudes
  • Philipp Rosemann (U Dallas), Peter Lombard, Thomas Aquinas and the nature of the theological project
  • John Boyle (University of St. Thomas, St. Paul, MN), Aquinas’ Lost Commentary
  • Sarah Borden (Wheaton College), The meaning of being in St Thomas and Edith Stein
  • Eleonore Stump (St Louis U), The problem of suffering
  • Vivian Boland (U Oxford), Does God think?
  • Denys Turner (Yale U), Thomas the teacher
  • Declan Lawell (QUB), Ecstasy and the intellectual Dionysianism of Thomas Aquinas and Albert the Great
  • Julia Hynes (QUB), A defence of virtue theory in the medical ethical arena; 
  • Gavan Kerr (QUB), Ontological commitment and Thomistic realism
  • Appendix: Thomas Kelly, Heidegger on Aquinas and God.
The publisher’s page is here.

 

 

Is God a Moral Agent?

Brian Davies has a new book out from Oxford University Press bearing the title Thomas Aquinas on God and Evil. My August 30 post dealt with another book of Davies being published by OUP, a volume he edited together with Eleonore Stump called the Oxford Handbook of Aquinas.

While the Handbook has yet to hit bookstores, Thomas Aquinas on God and Evil became available not long ago.

For several years now Davies has been defending the (for some) provocative thesis that, for Aquinas, God is not a moral agent. One argument that Davies offers in favor of this claim is that moral agents, as Aquinas understands them, are under obligation to a moral law. Since in Aquinas’s view God is not subject to any law, it is wrong to think of his God as a moral agent. (Please do not take my quick summary as the best account of this particular argument of Davies. Read him for yourself if you’re interested.)

If God is not a moral agent, Davies says, this makes a lot of the so-called “problem of evil” disappear because God can’t be expected to behave as human beings do.

Not only does Davies attribute this understanding of God and moral agency to Aquinas, he also thinks that it’s the right understanding to have, as is evident from The Reality of God and the Problem of Evil and some of Davies’s earlier writings.

In The Thomist Tradition (2002) Brian Shanley objects to Davies’s interpretation of Aquinas on this point and Davies responds to Shanley in The Reality of God and the Problem of Evil (2006).

I see that Davies takes up this thesis once again in Thomas Aquinas on God and EvilIf questions about God, goodness, and evil exercise you, you might consider giving Davies’s new book a read.

Journée thomiste à Paris

                                             SOCIÉTÉ THOMISTE

                                   CENTRE D’ÉTUDES DU SAULCHOIR

                                        Journée Thomas d’Aquin 

                                         samedi 3 décembre 2011

               Contingence, nécessité et Providence chez Thomas d’Aquin

 

09 h 30   Accueil

10 h        Emmanuel DURAND (Paris) 

                L’extension de la Providence aux contingences et son application aux 

                singulier selon Thomas d’Aquin

11 h 30    Pasquale PORRO (Bari) 

                Nécessité, contingence et hazard dans l’univers de Thomas d’Aquin

13 h         Pause repas

14 h 15    G. BERCEVILLE, M. BORGO, I. COSTA, R. IMBACH, A. OLIVA

                Présentation de quelques ouvrages de philosophie et de

                théologie médiévales

Les séances auront lieu au Saulchoir, Salle « Dumont » du Centre ISTINA, 45, rue de la Glacière Paris XIIIe (Métro 6, station Glacière. Bus 21, arrêt Normann) Entrée libre.

Nous vous prions de communiquer votre participation au repas (15 €) avec la communauté de Saint-Jacques, avant le 21 novembre, en écrivant à :

Adriano Oliva : aoliva@commissio-leonina.org  

Philosophy and Theology in the Long Middle Ages: A Tribute to Stephen Brown

This book, edited by Kent Emery, Rusell Friedman, and Andrea Speer (Brill: 2011) is a gift to noted Medievalist and long-time Boston College professor, Dr. Stephen Brown, in honor of his 75th birthday.  Below is a description of the volume’s contents and contributors from Brill’s website.

The 35 contributions to this Festschrift are disposed in five parts: Metaphysics and Natural Philosophy, Epistemology and Ethics, Philosophy and Theology, Theological Questions, Text and Context. These five headings articulate Stephen Brown’s underlying conception and understanding of medieval philosophy and theology, which the editors share: The main theoretical and practical issues of the ‘long medieval’ intellectual tradition are rooted in an epistemology and a metaphysics, which must be understood not as separated from theology but as being in a fruitful exchange with theological conceptions and questions; further, in order to understand the longue durée of this tradition of philosophical and theological discourse, scholars must engage the textual traditions that conveyed it.


Contributors are Jan A. Aertsen, Carlos Bazan, Oliva Blanchette, Olivier Boulnois, Anthony Celano, William J. Courtenay, Anne A. Davenport, Alain de Libera, Thomas Dewender, John P. Doyle, Stephen D. Dumont, Kent Emery, Jr., Juan Carlos Flores, Christopher D. Schabel, Fritz S. Pedersen, Russell L. Friedman, André Goddu, Wouter Goris, Michael Gorman, Simo Knuuttila, Theo Kobusch, Paul Joseph LaChance, Matthew Lamb, Matthew Levering, R. James Long, Steven P. Marrone, Lauge Nielsen, Timothy Noone, Thomas M. Osborne,.Klaus Rodler, Risto Saarinen, John T. Slotemaker, Jean Céleyrette, Jean-Luc Solere, Andreas Speer, Carlos Steel, Eileen Sweeney, Jeremy Wilkins, John F. Wippel.

36th International Patristic-Medieval-Renaissance Conference, Villanova University, October 21-23, 2011

The 2011 PMR Conference, with the theme of “Natura: The splendor of these created things…” will be getting underway in a few weeks; set in the beautiful locale of the Villanova Conference Center just outside of Philadelphia, this conference usually includes a high concentration of sessions in Medieval theology and philosophy, and this year’s conference is no exception.

In addition to multiple sessions that would be of interest to students or scholars of Thomas Aquinas, the keynote speakers this year are Bruce Marshall and Richard Schenk. As is the PMR tradition, the conference concludes with a Sunday morning roundtable discussion between the participants and the keynote speakers, which is always fruitful and enlightening.

You may view the entire program here:

http://www.villanova.edu/mission/augustinianinstitute/conferences/pmr/program.htm

but here are  few excerpts of the sessions with substantial Thomas content:

1. Thomas Aquinas on Nature: Divine, Human, and Cosmic
Room 115/117
Chair: Michael Waddell, Saint Mary’s College

Thomas Aquinas on the Divine Nature and the Ecstatic Self-Determination of God’s Identity
Gary Culpepper, Providence College

Thomas Aquinas on the Principles of Human Nature and Original Sin
Robert Barry, Providence College

Thomas Aquinas on the Natural Foundations of Cosmic Liturgy
Matthew Cuddeback, Providence College

5. God, Causes, and Explanations: Issues in Medieval Philosophy
Room 114
Chair:  Michael Fatigati, Villanova University

Causes of Nature and Causes of Existence: Avicenna’s Innovations on the Nature of Aristotelian Efficient Causality
Daniel D. DeHaan, University of St. Thomas

Aquinas and Some Theories of Explanation
Peter Weigel, Washington College

The Seeds of Creation: Aquinas on the rationes seminales
Marco Emerson Hernandez, University of Notre Dame

7. The Nature of Theology: Franciscan and Dominican Perspectives
Room 115/117
Chair: Anna Moreland, Villanova University

Sponsored by the Boston Colloquy on Historical Theology
Organizer: Boyd Taylor Coolman

Salvation History, Human Affectivity, and the Nature of Theology in Aquinas and the Summa fratris Alexander
Boyd Taylor Coolman, Boston College

‘A Particularly Agitated Topic’: Bonaventure and Aquinas on the Subject of Theology
Gregory LaNave, Dominican House of Studies

The Supreme Authority of Theology: Ockham against the Papacy
Ian Levy, Providence College

Response: James F. Keating, Providence College


SESSION III: PLENARY ADDRESS 4:00 PM -6:00 PM Room 115

Bruce D. Marshall
Lehman Professor of Christian Doctrine
Perkins School of Theology, Southern Methodist University

Is Nature a Problem for Grace? Aquinas, Scotus, and the Modern Debate about the Supernatural

13. Grace Modifying Nature: How Christian Revelation Changed a Concept in the Thought of Thomas Aquinas
Room 115/117
Chair: Anna Moreland, Villanova University

“Substantial Nature” and the Hypostatic Union
Michael Gorman, Catholic University of America

St. Thomas Aquinas and the Gifts of Wisdom and Counsel
James Stroud, Catholic University of America

Propassiones in Christ, Propassiones in Us
Barrett Turner, Catholic University of America

Donum habituale: Systematic Divisions of Grace and the Gifts of the Holy Spirit
John Meinert, Catholic University of America

15. Nature & Grace: Spirit, Humanity, & Sacrament among the Early Reformed
Room 103
Chair: R. Emmet McLaughlin, Villanova University

Natura et Spiritus Sanctus: Comparing Aquinas and Calvin
Berek Q. Smith, Nashotah House Theological Seminary

Nature, Grace, and the Reformed Objection to Donum Superadditum
S. Joel Garver, LaSalle University

The Nature of Grace: Calvin’s Semeiotic Sacramentology
Scott Schultz, Independent Scholar, Jacksonville, FL

The Theology of Nature in Reformation Theology and Protestant Orthodoxy
Leah D. Schade, Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia


19. Thomas Aquinas on Causality and Grace in the Perfection of Nature
Room 115/117
Chair:  Carl Vater, Catholic University of America

The End of Nature: Aquinas on Natural Final Causality
Corey Barnes, Oberlin College

‘The dignity of causing’: Aquinas’ Mature Doctrine of God’s goodness in grace in creation
Daria Spezzano, University of Notre Dame

Human Merit and Divine Causality: The Splendid Perfection of Nature in Thomas Aquinas
Shawn M. Colberg, University of Notre Dame

23. Thomas Aquinas on Human and Divine Nature
Room 114
Chair:  Paul Camacho, Villanova University

Aquinas on Debitum Naturae
Nicholas Kahm, Catholic University of America

‘From Him and Through Him and To Him”: the Incarnate Word as Exemplar and Consummation of Cosmos and History in St. Thomas Aquinas
Erik Van Versendaal, Independent Scholar, Washington, DC

Controlling Habits of Thought in Thomas Aquinas
Matthew Kruger, Boston College
 

24. Creation in St. Thomas Aquinas
Room 115/117
Chair: Michael Waddell, Saint Mary’s College

Is God Necessarily a Creator? Tensions between Immutability and the Creative Act in Aquinas
Brock Scheller, Fordham University

Aquinas on Creation: Transitive or Immanent Action?
Gregory T. Doolan, Catholic University of America

God as Ipsum Intelligere Subsistens in Aquinas’s de Potentia
Andrew M. Haines, Catholic University of America

26. Disputed Questions: Issues in Scholastic Thought
Room 120
Chair:  Shawn M. Colberg, University of Notre Dame

The Genuine Experience of Pain in the Human Nature of Christ: Patristic Questions and Medieval Answers to ‘Some Greatly Obscure Chapters of St. Hilary.
Eric Mabry, University of St. Thomas

The Natural Desire for Bodily Integrity: A Scholastic Debate about the Separated Soul
Ezra Sullivan, O.P., St. Gertrude Church, Cincinnati, OH
 

Session VII: Plenary Session

Richard Schenk, OP
President, , Katholische Universität Eichstätt-Ingolstadt

The Limits of Nature as a Mark of her Splendor. Thomas Aquinas on the Role of The Imperfect in the Universe

Sunday Roundtable-The Splendor of These Created Things

An Open Conversation with Bruce Marshall and Richard Schenk

Language, Style, Thought

I recently came across some lines about Aquinas’s style penned by Catherine Pickstock and by A.N. Williams that I found perceptive or, more minimally, thought provoking. On the chance that they might resonate with others, I’ve decided to present them here. First Pickstock:

[E]xegesis is easy; it is interpretation that is difficult. And Aquinas, more than most thinkers, requires interpretation. Some thinkers, like Heidegger, appear on the surface to be obscure and deep, but on analysis are revealed as offering all too clear and readily statable positions. But as Rudi te Velde very well intimates, with Aquinas the opposite pertains. Only superficially is he clear, but on analysis one discovers that he does not offer us a decently confined “Anglo-Saxon” lucidity, but rather the intense light of Naples and Paris which is ultimately invisible in its very radiance — rendering the wisest of us, for Aquinas after Aristotle, like owls blinking in the noonday. Of course it is true that Aquinas does indeed refute shaky positions with supreme economy, simplicity and clarity of argumentation, but the arcanum of his teaching lies not here. It resides rather in the positions he does affirm, often briefly and like a residue, akin to Sherlock Holmes’s last remaining solution, which must be accepted in all its implausibility, when other solutions have been shown to be simply impossible (Truth in Aquinas, 20-21).

I know that not all Thomists are sympathetic with Pickstock or the whole “Radical Orthodoxy” project, and I do have my own misgivings in that direction, but I have to admit that these are arresting words. Is she unfair to Heidegger? Maybe. The reference to Heidegger might not be arbitrary since it seems that it is often precisely continentals who are so critical of Aquinas’s language and style, and not merely because they find it dull. Thus in Heidegger and Aquinas John Caputo writes:

St. Thomas thought Being in the terms that were granted to him … Thomas exhausted the possibilities of thinking Christianity in terms of the metaphysics of Plato, Aristotle, and Scholasticism. But his genius was decidedly not to bring this tradition as a whole into question, to question the terms that were handed down to him, to wonder about the sending of Being in the Roman-Latin language [that] he spoke as a magister, to wonder whence these terms and categories, this language, this whole metaphysical constellation sprang. From the standpoint of Heidegger, Thomas thinks naively within this tradition and leaves the original sending of Being in oblivion … [T]he Romans, the builders of roads and empires, rendered this word [i.e., energeia] as actualitas; hence, they conceived Being in terms of acting and action (agere, actio, actus), of doing, making, producing. The metaphysics of “actuality” in St. Thomas is a captive of this metaphysical scheme, which is then wedded to the Christian doctrine of creation (5-6).

Of course, Thomists will say that something has gone horribly wrong with Caputo’s understanding of Aquinas and they will be right. Pickstock’s comments suggest a possible route of response if not the only route. Still Caputo’s concern shows an approach to texts that is admirably non-Cartesian, I mean he takes seriously the material, historical dimension of Aquinas’s thought, drawing out its philosophical and theological import, although in my view he is confused about that import.

As for Pickstock’s quip about “decently confined ‘Anglo-Saxon’ lucidity,” I don’t know how else to read this but as a swipe at analytic thought and perhaps analytic Thomism. It is funny but certainly unfair. Personally, I find a great deal of value in analytic philosophy and theology and in analytic Thomism (despite the fact that I don’t consider myself a part of these groups). Oh well, I’ll let others debate this.

Now the words of A.N. Williams, who happens to be Pickstock’s colleague in the Faculty of Divinity at Cambridge:

One thread that runs through most of my work is Aquinas, whom I have loved since my first months studying theology. He is the author who figures most prominently in my research and to whom I appeal the most when teaching. The patristic and medieval periods offer such a wealth of extraordinary thought, rich and vibrant in the textures of its prose, but also stunning in its intellectual power. Even so, for me Aquinas stands out even in this distinguished company: the clarity, range and acuity of his thought seems to me unparalleled. Although his prose is pared down to the bone, its structure is so elegant it still sometimes takes my breath away. I smile inwardly as, year in and year out, I see students make the journey from complaining at the beginning of term “This is too hard!” or “This is dry!” to, by the end of term, exclaiming “Wow! This is amazing!”

This passage comes from Williams’s profile on her Cambridge faculty page. There is a clear parallel between her understanding of the relationship of style and thought in Aquinas and Pickstock’s. But Williams does seem to appreciate the surface of the Thomistic text more than Pickstock. And I think many of us can relate to what she says about the apprehension of students when first reading Aquinas. I don’t want to pick on literature majors, but they are often the hardest to convince of Aquinas’s worth! Sometimes they just cannot get beyond the apparent dryness of language and style. They think it betrays a dryness of thought if not life. (It couldn’t be that my colleagues in the literature department are aiding and abetting them in their distaste, could it? “There is an ancient quarrell…” and all that.)

But another thing that is interesting about Williams’s comments is that she isn’t just saying, “Try to look past the surface.” She sees beauty there too: “Although his prose is pared down to the bone, its structure is so elegant it still sometimes takes my breath away.” Some people might be staggered, even offended by this statement. And how would Caputo respond? It might be difficult for him to imagine anyone reacting to Aquinas in the way Williams does. Did he miss something?

The Storied Via Cassia

Many people know that the Via Cassia is the road on which Hilaire Belloc, somewhere south of the intersection with the Via Trionfale, first caught a glimpse of Rome — this at least according to Belloc’s account of the event in his celebrated travelogue The Path to Rome. As I understand, that was in 1901.

Fewer people — mostly Jesuits and devotees of St. Ignatius of Loyola — know that the founder of the Society of Jesus, who was also on his way to Rome, had a vision on the Via Cassia in which he heard the words “Ego vobis Romae propitius ero” (more or less: “I will be propitious to you in Rome.”). Ignatius interepted the statement thus: “I do not know whether we shall be crucified in Rome, but Jesus will be propitious.” This occurred in the village of La Storta, which is only a little north of where Belloc saw Rome for the first time. A simple chapel now stands in La Storta to commemorate Ignatius’s vision. The vision  took place in 1537.

Probably only some grumpy old Aquinas scholars know that the Via Cassia also had an important place in the early life of St. Thomas. He had set out on foot with other Dominicans along the Via Cassia — traveling away from Rome — in 1244 just before Pentecost, heading for a general chapter in Bologna.

On hearing of this intended journey, Thomas’s mother, who, as is well known, did not want him to be a poor friar, sent his brother Rinaldo, who was camped nearby at Frederick II’s headquarters at Terni (a complex struggle was going on involving Frederick, Innocent IV, and Cardinal Ranieri), to intercept Thomas and bring him home to Roccasecca. This Rinaldo managed to do, meeting Thomas near Acquapendente (around 85 miles north of La Storta). Thus began the infamous episode of Aquinas’s “imprisonment” (probably too strong of a word) by his family, which ended in the Summer of 1245, when he was permitted to return to the Dominicans in Naples.

On your next trip to Italy you might consider a jaunt on the Via Cassia, Strada Regionale 2 (formerly Strada Statale 2). See the map above. The Cassia is the road marked “S2”. As far as I know, the route of the Cassia has changed very little since the eighth century, maybe a few deviations here and there. So, the stretch of it that you take may very well be the same stretch traveled by Aquinas, Ignatius, and Belloc.

M.V. Dougherty on Medieval Moral Dilemmas

One of our contributors, Michael Dougherty, has just published a book with Cambridge University Press entitled Moral Dilemmas in Medieval Thought: From Gratian to Aquinas.

According to the preface, Chapters 4 and 5 incorporate revised material from previously published articles. But the rest of the book is fresh work.

William Mann (University of Vermont) has a review of Michael’s book at the Notre Dame Philosophical Reviews site. Mann notes in his review that Michael also addresses contemporary discussions of moral dilemmas and that he (Mann) “is one whose views are taken to task.”

For Michael’s own overview of the scope of his book, I present the first paragraph of the book’s Introduction:

Is moral wrongdoing ever genuinely unavoidable? That is, will anyone ever experience real conflicting obligations at a given moment and thereby be compelled to act wrongly? This study considers several medieval theorists who dealt with the question of whether moral dilemmas are part of the moral life. As it is often assumed that serious theorizing about moral dilemmas was first achieved in modern philosophy, only to be refined further by contemporary thinkers, this book analyzes a rather neglected part of the history of Western ethical thought. The common view assumes that during the medieval period all moral theorists adhered to the maxim “ought implies can.” In contrast to that view, this book identifies medieval adherents to “ought but cannot.” Several medieval thinkers not only wrestled with the problem of reconciling the experience of moral conflict with the widespread assumption that no one should ever be forced to do wrong, but they also propounded their solutions with a level of sophistication that may be surprising to present-day philosophers. In light of these overlooked medieval contributions, the history of moral dilemma theory must be re-written. This book discloses that much of what seems particular to twentieth-century moral theorizing was quite well known long ago.

I think Michael’s book will prove valuable on many levels. It will be of historical interest since the medieval treatment of moral dilemmas is still a fairly new field of research. And the study of the handling of the problem of moral dilemmas by these great thinkers – among whom are Gratian, Aquinas, and Capreolus – will surely help us too to reason more intelligently about this issue. In general we can also see this book as another step forward in the recovery of medieval philosophical thought, not for mere “antiquarian” (in Nietzsche’s sense) purposes but as a light to think by in our own time. We’ve come a long way since nineteenth and early twentieth century historians of philosophy denied the Middle Ages’ philosophical relevance.

A Quaestio on the Ordo of the Supplementum of the Tertia pars

Below is a query passed on to us by a friend of thomistica.net:

A friend of mine is finishing her dissertation on marriage in Aquinas and, obviously, has drawn heavily on the Scriptum on the Fourth Book of the Sentences. She is wondering if anyone has done any detailed work on how the Supplement was fashioned by Reginald et alia. Does anyone know where they got their plan of questions and articles? Is there any indication that Thomas left a framework beyond the prologues that outline the content?

If any thomistica.net readers are aware of any work done on the question of the ordo of the Supplementum, please respond by posting a comment.

Valete,

RWN

Aquinas’s De unione verbi incarnati: An Interview with Klaus Obenauer, part 2.

On Wednesday, July 27th we posted an announcement about a new volume on Aquinas’ disputed question, De unione verbi incarnati. Below is the second installment of an interview with the author, translator, and editor of the volume, German scholar Prof. Dr. Klaus Obenauer. Click here to read the first installment.

Thomistica.net: Your commentary on the text is nearly 500 pages. How long did the translation and commentary take you to complete?

Dr. Obenauer: It´s difficult to say, because of the interruptions and overlaps with other activities, such as teaching etc. All in all, I’d say about three years altogether.

Thomistica.net: Which aspect of the commentary was most enjoyable for you to work on? And, which aspect do you think makes the biggest contribution to scholarship in relation to the De unione and Aquinas’ Christology?

Dr. Obenauer: I’ll limit my comments to articles 3–5. - And insofar I succeeded (as I hope) in offering innovative contributions and insights the whole commentary on these articles is, I think, relevant.

With regard to the text of De unione itself the famous article 4 (on Christ’s esse) is, without question, of the highest interest to most. But I hope to have shown that the specific content and development of articles 3 (on Christ’s Unity) and 5 (Christ’s operations) are also of primary interest. These articles (3 and 5) have been, up to now, not sufficiently appreciated (pace Patfoort).

Concerning my personal preferences, I´d say, that in some way, I enjoyed commenting on article 3 the most. It has its own speculative profundity. Even though it bridges with article 4, article 3 is fascinating because of its symmetry (“simpliciter unum propter unum suppositum, secundum quid duo propter duas naturas”). This degree of symmetry is lacking, at least in terms of resplendence, in article 4.

Thomistica.net: Some commentators on Aquinas, because of the uniqueness of certain aspects of the De Unione, such as article 4, have either dismissed the work as spurious or relegated it to Aquinas’ early period. You, however, argue that the De unione is both a mature articulation and a work that should be dated rather late in Aquinas’ career. What are your reasons for these positions?

Dr. Obenauer: The days of assigning the De unione to Aquinas’ “early period” or viewing the text as “spurious” are past. The very opposite judgment is held to be the “common sense” position nowadays. But whereas classical historians, such as Pelster, Synave and Torrell, have assigned the De unione to the end of the second Parisian period, there are good reasons to think of ca. 1270 as the year of writing.

This suggestion is made formally by Concetta Luna (in the context of her edition of the ‘lectura sententiarum’ of Aegidus of Rome [cf. my historical comment on the first article]); I have tried to demonstrate that this is a veritable scenario. But I do not see it as more than that! There are a number of reasons to read De unione 3 and 5 as improvements over the parallel passages in the tertia pars.

And, as already shown by Pelster and Synave and illustrated in my own synopsis, the striking parallels from De unione 1 to STh III, 2, 1 and 2 do not allow the redaction of De unione to be too far removed (in time) from that of the tertia pars.

Thomistica.net: Prior to the publication of your volume, the French translation and commentary by Marie-Hélène Deloffre, “Question dispute L’union du verbe incarné” (Vrin: 2000) was, perhaps, the most sustained treatment of the De Unione in print. What are some of the points of agreement and divergence between your reading of the De Unione and that of Sr. Deloffre’s?

Dr. Obenauer: I admire the contribution of Sr. Deloffre as a very valuable repertorium in matters of St. Thomas´ “Opera Omnia” and the historical background of the De unione. With respect to her options as a historical and systematical theologian, Sr. Deloffre is very indebted to the classical “theory of integration” developed by Hermann Diepen and his followers. Accordingly she interprets the saltem prima facie divergences in the texts with hermeneutics of harmonizing.

From the point of view of a historian I am not in agreement with this reading. In my view, De unione 4 is a deviation! In STh III, 17, 2, for example, there is no mention of or place for a “hidden second substantial or non-accidental esse.” The framework of the distinctions leaves no room for the assertions of De unione 4—even if it is not completely impossible to identify some ambiguities in III, 17, 2 too.

On this point, in particular, I am in agreement with the analysis of A. Patfoort. Even more: I think that Bernhard of Auvergne, Capreolus and Billot have been the legitimate interpretive heirs to STh III, 17, 2 (and the parallel passages). As a systematic theologian I have put myself forward as being in favor of a synthetic conception. I articulate my own interpretive option this way: The conception of the ‘unio secundum subsistentiam’ has to fix, principally, our understanding of how to apply the so called ‘esse personale Verbi’ (as the subsistence or personality of the hypostasis of the divine Son) to the human nature.

This is a crucial point: the application of the divine esse to Christ’s human nature has to be made without making a (even if only conceptual) distinction between the subsistence and the act of substantial existence. In addition to this it may be asked, if there is room for a (‘etiam ratione actus’) second substantial esse as a (as I call it) “formal secum-ferential” of the “esse personale” in my interpretation? In order to safeguard the appropriateness of the “formal efficiency” of the divine esse in favor of the-Son-as-being-man, a second esse that performs only this function does agree with my postion, as long as it does not differ (numerically) from divine esse (‘in nova habitudine’) as ‘esse-simpliciter’ and ‘esse-hominem’. This way, and only this way, there is a kind of convergence between myself and the “integrationists,” but perhaps more so a trace of Louis Billot and Maurice De la Taille.

Thomistica.net: Finally, tell us a little bit about how the book has been received?

Dr. Obenauer: The reception of my book is in the very beginning stages, and in Germany there are only a few scholars interested and able to give such quick feedback. All that I have heard up to now is positive.

 

"Goods" Without Normative Order to the Good Life, Happiness, or God: The New Natural Law Theory and the Nostrum of Incommensurability

Christopher Tollefsen avers, in a post at the Public Discourse site, that the view taken by St. Thomas Aquinas regarding human dignity “appears to border on incoherence”. To quote in full:

To begin with Aquinas’s view, it appears to border on incoherence: if “dignity” claims are intended to summarily capture certain truths about what it means to have a particular sort of nature, then one can lose one’s dignity, if one initially has it, only by losing one’s nature. But losing one’s nature just is ceasing to exist as the sort of thing one must be if one is to exist at all: it is to go out of existence altogether. This thought is impossible to sustain of a criminal who is the abiding subject of the drama of crime, investigation, apprehension, trial, conviction, and punishment, as even Aquinas’s language, which refers to “he” throughout, makes clear.

But of course, Thomas teaches human dignity to be twofold: a dignity that derives from the ordering of human nature to the hierarchy of common goods, terminating in the common good of divine beatitude; and a dignity that derives from the achievement of moral rectitude. Clearly the latter can be lost, and can be lost in such a way that this poses a direct and disastrous harm to the common good of civil society. The former cannot be lost, and is indeed that which makes one potentially subject to judicial trial and judgment (it is also that which constitutes the basis of remorse amongst the damned, since the order to the good cannot wholly be effaced, although the possibility of achieving it — and the special dignity that that achievement brings about as a perfection of the imago dei in the person — as noted can be lost). Prof. Lawrence Dewan answers this same objection (initially posed by Prof. Gerard Bradley) in his remarkable essay “Thomas Aquinas, Gerard Bradley, and the Death Penalty” which may be found in his book Wisdom, Law, and Virtue: Essays in Thomistic Ethics, published by Fordham Press.

What Tollefsen misses, of course, is what all radically individualist and rights-centered views of moral order miss: that the nature of the good, and the teleological order to the good, is prior to any claim of right whatsoever. A right is only a just claim, and to know that a claim is just requires knowing both the relation of that claim to the normative order of ends, and knowing the circumstances that render such a claim to be appropriate (a judgment of prudence). Rights are not properly foundational, they are derivative from prior accounts of the nature of the good. Many Catholics erroneously begin with Enlightenment presuppositions and then attempt to shoehorn these into the tradition of Catholic discourse, irrespective the magisterial tradition. Tollefsen limits his claim to the proposition that pure reason suffices to indicate that capital punishment is unreasonable. Here is his preferred argument:

From the practical perspective of an agent reflecting on those human goods that give point to human action and that underwrite possibilities of human flourishing, such as the goods of life, friendship, marriage, and personal integrity, we should recognize the following: each of the basic goods, in each of its possible instantiations, considered just in itself, only gives us reason for action, only is capable of motivating us for action on its behalf, and only is an aspect of genuine human well-being. Just in itself, action directly (intentionally) contrary to any human good makes no sense, is void of practical intelligibility. The same is also true of action against the life of even a seriously degenerate criminal. Insofar as he is a human being, his life gives us reason, and only gives us reason, for its protection and promotion.

Sed contra: It is innocent life that is immunized from deliberate killing. More directly to his point above: if each of these goods is truly incommensurable, truly not “co-measured” by its place in the normative order of ends, then none of these goods is a sufficient reason for action because on that supposition, none of these goods is ordered toward a good life, none is ordered toward happiness. Note the deontological subtraction of beatitude — whether we speak of proportionate natural felicity, or ultimate supernatural beatitude — from the ethical equation. Instead, we are told that a list of goods — with no normative order or connection either among themselves or to happiness prior to choice — must never be acted against, although how we interweave them is wholly our own affair (but for what end? — one can’t ask this, because there isn’t any on this account, since none of these putative “goods” is ordered toward the end of the good life or to happiness). Why do we call these “goods” if they are not, precisely as goods, ordered as normative parts of the whole of the good life? Just as the universe is a cosmos, an ordered whole, so is the good life as it were a microcosmos, an ordered whole. But rather than consider the ethical question to be the question of the order normatively defining the good life, Tollefsen with other of the New Natural Law Theorists begins with atomic and non-ordered putative and stipulated “goods” which yet are not ordered either to a natural or a supernatural finality, and so are not ordered to the good life. I repeat: were this thesis true, the goods stipulated to be “basic” would not be goods, because they would not, on that supposition, contribute to the human motio either to the natural or to the supernatural finality, and what does not contribute to the motio either to the natural end of the good life or to supernatural beatitude is not a good. What Tollefsen and the New Natural Law Theorists generally deny, is that all action is in view of the end, and that there is a normative unified teleology embracing both proportionate natural end and supernatural beatific end. Hence, as Russell Hittinger so aptly pointed out many years ago, we have a theory according to which nature “speaks with a forked tongue” inasmuch as the goods are utterly disunified and subject to no morally normative order prior to choice. It cannot be said too often: if goods are not “co-measured” teleologically, if they are not normatively teleologically commensurate prior to choice, then there is no reason whatsoever for considering them to be good. Hence either the claim that those items listed are goods is false; or (which is the correct judgment) those items are goods and are co-mesured in relation to the nature of the good and to happiness — both proportionate natural felicity and supernatural beatitude — in such a way that some are closer to, and others further from, the natural end of a good life and the finis ultimus of supernatural beatitude.

Still, Tollefsen is consistent in his view of capital punishment, because this view of basic goods does require that one make no distinction between capital punishment and wrongful homicide: a position that the Catholic Church has always actively rejected and which (contrary to some Catholics, including some bishops) it still does reject. Nowhere does the Church identify capital punishment as a malum in se, and all the Fathers and Doctors of the Church — with the exception of Tertullian, who died outside the Church — affirm its principled validity (Lactantius did not argue that it was morally invalid or unjust — he expressly affirms the contrary in On Anger — but merely that Christians realize the superiority of charity to the law of the state.). Simply for the benefit of those interested in the Church’s doctrinal teaching, it should be noted that Pius XII taught that the principled legitimacy of the death penalty is not subject to cultural variation — although of course its prudential reasonability would still be subject to social variability (cf. Acta Apostolicae Sedis 47 (1955): 81-82, recounting this teaching of Pope Pius XII). One notes also the high theological note characterizing the profession required of the Waldensians in 1210 in order to re-establish ecclesial communion. The Waldensians were required to acknowledge among other things the essential justice of the death penalty for grave crime (cf. Denzinger, 425: “Concerning secular power we declare that without mortal sin it is possible to exercise a judgment of blood as long as one proceeds to bring punishment not in hatred but in judgment, not incautiously but advisedly.”). Clearly to require this oath for the re-establishment of ecclesial communion at one moment, and then to require its opposite — where what is at stake is not prudential application but the principled possibility of just penalty of death — would constitute not a development of doctrine, but rather a mutation. Note, again, that the statement directly refers to the death penalty in principle and that it indicates that as such it cannot be a malum in se. One notes also that neither Evangelium Vitae nor the Catechism of the Catholic Church teach the principled evil of the death penalty. In 2004 then-Cardinal Ratzinger strongly instructed the US Bishops, in a letter to Cardinal McCarrick, to the effect that the death penalty or just war are not — like abortion and euthanasia which can never be rightly embraced by a Catholic — by nature and in principle morally evil. The letter states that thus there is room for prudential dispute among Catholics about whether the death penalty or just war are prudentially appropriate in particular circumstances (but there is no such dispute as to whether the Church views them as necessarily mala in se, for — contrary to the New Natural Law Theory it does not.

However, let us put the Church aside for one moment — something that advocates of the New Natural Law Theory must do, since the Church continues even now to hold that the death penalty is not a malum in se and that it may indeed be justly applicable in some cases. This is to say, that the New Natural Law Theory in its account of incommensurability requires, necessitates, the judgment that the Church’s teaching is incorrect now, and has always been incorrect, regarding capital punishment —because the death penalty subordinates the life of the malefactor to the common good of civil society. Why do new natural law theorists reject the transcendence of the common good, and the normativity of the teleological hierarchy of goods? It is one thing to reject a Benthamite calculus of goods, or proportionalism; but to be told that goods are not teleologically commensurate is to be told that there is no order of goods, that all goods are simply incomparable (in which case, again: why would one call them goods?). Clearly we desire life in itself, but not merely for itself — we desire life for the sake of essentially nobler ends than life itself, such as truth, justice, communion with God. These nobler ends are by their nature more communicable to many, more diffusive, more intelligible goods than are merely private goods; they are a hierarchy of ends leading to God Himself, who is, St. Thomas rightly teaches, the extrinsic common good of the universe.

The reason why New Natural Law Theorists reject the normativity of teleological order is that they have persuaded themselves of propositions that are false regarding the relation of the speculative to the practical, or of “is” to “ought”. In consequence they can provide no reason for the differentiation of goods because they are attempting to give an account of right dissevered from the nature of the good as an ordered whole (for them there is no ethically significant order among goods prior to choice). Hence, an imperious subjectivity weaving non-ordered atomic “goods” into whatever pattern it wishes is the norm: a bit like a shopper in the supermarket, who chooses what foods to eat and buys whatever she likes. One must never “act against” a basic good. Must one act for every basic good? If so, in what ratio? If one must not act for every basic good, then it is reasonable to say that on this account, one could, for example, leave out of one’s “life plan” the basic good of religion, or practical reasonableness, and that would be fine? Presumably then, one could simply pursue the good of play one’s whole life, omitting all the others? But if one must pursue the others, to what degree? In what order? For the New Natural Law Theorists, this is a wholly individual issue — there is no normatively right ordering of goods. So: what is the minima natura of the requisite pursuit of the other goods? For surely there must be such if one must pursue all; and if one need not pursue all, then of course one may leave some out, so that religion — or life? — need not be pursued. Yet any minimum natura of required pursuit of the goods implies some common normative ratio prior to choice defining the relative roles of these goods, especially since this cannot plausibly be treated as a merely quantitative matter. In any case, for the New Natural Law Theory the good of play must be considered to be as noble and architectonic as that of religion. Yet, one might think that one’s play is ordered to honoring God in a way that honoring God is not ordered to play, no matter how fervently the golfer prays for the improvement of his performance on the back course.

Further, the New Natural Law Theory requires a radical individualism and pacifism, since one may never “act directly against a basic good” and life is such a good. Hence, the perfervid effort of new natural law theorists to show that direct killing in warfare is somehow not direct, or that Count Stauffenberg did not intend to kill Hitler (which he most certainly did: and indeed, it was an accident that he failed, a function of his “plan of action” having been frustrated by the moving of the bomb which he put there precisely to remove Hitler by killing him). Hence, also, following the effort to treat “direct” killing as “indirect” so that the theory will not appear to the innocent onlooker to be as weak as in truth it is — because the theory would appear to condemn all killing in just war, which killing the New Natural Law Theory accordingly must interpret as indirect, defining “direct” wholly in function of intention without reference to the objective nature of the act — there follows the even more disastrous errors about “direct” and “indirect” that occur when this view of “direct” and “indirect” is applied in the life of a modern hospital. What happens then may be considered in the case of St. Joseph’s Hospital and Medical Center, recently stripped of its Catholic status following a therapeutic abortion performed to save the mother’s life and presented by the hospital — in a defense written by Prof. Lysaught of Marquette University — as justifiable according to the object theory of Prof. Grisez. Lysaught, citing Grisez’s general account, argues that there was no “intent” to harm the child and that therefore the harm done to the child could not be “direct” even though the ripping of the child apart from the placenta, its organ of breathing and nutrition, appears to have been quite deliberate. On such a view the intention of the end quickly occludes the nature of the chosen means. Thus even when these means involve harming an innocent—an action that terminates in the body of an innocent and kills that innocent, rather than that terminates in the body of the putative patient and aids that patient—they are not viewed as “direct”. By analogy, one can only infer that, were a New Natural Law Theorist to be in a position that could accidentally harm another, he would think it justifiable for those seeking to help that other person to suffocate him to death by depriving him of his organ of respiration — by, let us say, pulling his lungs out of his body — for as long as those acting merely sought to help the other person. Which is a little like saying, that if all one wishes to do is add a little light at night, it is alright to do so by burning someone alive because one’s intention is only to “light up the dark” and so the harm is not direct. All this, to defend an account of incommensurability of goods that is itself without adequate foundation. To hear advocates of this erroneous theory accuse Aquinas of incoherence would be comic were the theory not harmful to the common good of civil society and with respect to the actual teaching of the Church.

The New Natural Law Theory is in a way ingenious, in that it is materially far more rich than pure Kantian deontology; while nonetheless, it refuses the speculative wisdom that is necessarily the font of all practical right judgment. New natural law theorists do not acknowledge the teaching of Aquinas in Summa theologiae I.79.11 that only the accident of the ordering of a known truth to the good of an operation distinguishes practical knowledge from speculative knowledge.

Now, to a thing apprehended by the intellect, it is accidental whether it be directed to operation or not, and according to this the speculative and practical intellects differ. For it is the speculative intellect which directs what it apprehends, not to operation, but solely to the consideration of truth; while the practical intellect is that which directs what it apprehends to operation.

All knowledge, as such, has a speculative root; but the accident of ordering some knowledge to the good of an operation renders knowledge to be “practical” by reason of its end. By contrast to this clear teaching of Aquinas, new natural law theorists — with far greater likeness to Kant or Hume than to Aquinas — take the “practical” to be in no way derivative from the speculative. Often they think of any derivation of practical from speculative as necessarily one of mere logical deduction, whereas the foundation is more essential than this. But even logically there is something to say. Of course, one cannot derive a conclusion for action from premises that lack a reason for action: but they take speculative premises necessarily to lack reason for action, whereas prior to our rational desire for an end, we must first know it, and hence that first knowledge is speculative. The fact that one may abstract a view of nature from all reasons for action, does not suffice to prove that an adequate account of nature will not discern that nature includes reasons for action. While one may abstract from the reasons for action constituted by the natural hierarchy of ends, there is no ground for holding that that hierarchy does not precisely provide reasons for action: an adequate knowledge of human nature includes reasons for action (which are not necessarily reasons requiring action hic et nunc, but reasons all the same — judgment of circumstance enters into action). Logically, the mere abstraction from the normative ordering of ends does not prove it not to exist or not to be normative; epistemologically and morally, the desire for the good necessarily presupposes a prior speculative knowledge. Further, prudence itself — a practical virtue — is predicated upon a speculative foundation. It entails both fixed speculative wisdom regarding natures (should I apply salt for the purpose of relieving the pain of a wound? — not given what I know generally about the nature of wounds and the nature of salt), and an adequatio about contingents that is practical only insofar as it is ordered to the good of an operation but not because of its content (insofar as Socrates is sitting, Socrates is necessarily sitting: but if I order this knowledge within a practical deliberation, it is, owing to that accident, “practical” while nonetheless the basic character of knowledge — adequatio or conformitatem intellectus et rei — remains). There is always a speculum, like the grit of sand around which the pearl forms, which is the basis of practical knowledge. To deny this, is to treat the nature of one’s own project as determinative of the truth of the nature of things, which is not an inference the New Natural Law Theorists wish to affirm, but one that given their theory they should affirm. It is, at the end of the day, a theory designed for lawyers to ward off proportionalism, but which manages to ward off the entire classical and scholastic tradition, giving us a worst case amalgam of enlightenment error and analytic logicism. That this maelstrom of a deontological system was initially engendered in the hope of improving upon the Thomistic articulation of the case against the morality of artificial contraception speaks to the laudable intent of its practitioners. But one cannot perpetually judge a teaching simply by the good will of its proponents, but must in justice weigh its actual nature.

Suffice it to say, that on rational grounds the account of Aristotle (errant boulder and all); of Aquinas; of Augustine; of all the Church fathers save Tertullian, who died a heretic; of all the doctors of the Church; and of all the prominent Thomistic commentators, on the essential validity of capital punishment, is far better founded than the New Natural Law Theory. Because human beings are ordered toward transcendent ends, we have a certain dignity; but that first dignity is ordered to be perfected by a second dignity which is that of moral rectitude and virtue, and this second dignity may culpably be lost. The most grave crimes — by nature, and by prudential circumstance — are subject to grave penalty. How often the death penalty should be used, or whether its use is wise in some particular society, is a prudential question, as is the case with every determinatio of punishment: something unknown to deontological rationalists like Kant, and equally unknown to the New Natural Law Theorists who wish a deontological formula to apply in every case. But the loss of prudence in one’s moral account is not a minor inconvenience, it is a strategic disablement; as is the false theory of the incommensurability of goods, and the false proposition that there is any fallacy whatsoever in affirming that normative unified teleology provides reasons for action to man.

Tollefsen — and all of us — deserve a better moral theory than this. Thankfully, St. Thomas Aquinas, building on the achievement of all the Church fathers, as well as Aristotle and Plato, has given us one. It is a shame that intellectually indefensible modern prejudices prevent so many intelligent minds from making the acquaintance of his teaching save on the premise that it first be dismembered and converted into something that it is not.

In any case, the incompatibility of the New Natural Law Theory with Thomas’s teaching is not about some minor and abstruse issue, but is foundational. That New Natural Law Theory is now harmful to the common good both of the Church and of civil society insofar as its proponents oblige themselves to justify, under the aegis of a false account of intention, acts that are in fact directly destructive to innocent life. This is an account that is not only false, but false in such a way as invites censure by the Church. One wonders how many therapeutic abortions, how many wrongful homicides of innocent children, must occur under the erroneous account they propound — an account in which whether an action directly harms is merely a function of intention — before that account will be finally corrected. It is ironic, that thinkers who set out with a deontological formula to protect basic goods from proportionalist derogation and destruction, should end with casuistic defenses of evils like craniatomy and therapeutic abortion. The New Natural Law Theory stands in relation to the tradition of Catholic moral theology and philosophy somewhat as Beregarius stands in relation to the tradition of sacramental theology. Certainly the New Natural Law Theory is a dubious teaching in which to form students in Roman Catholic seminaries and houses of formation. Deontological rationalism is not the direction in which to find moral wisdom, and the New Natural Law Theory material list of goods cannot substitute for this theory’s negation of morally normative teleological order prior to choice, rejection of the foundational role of natural felicity and supernatural beatitude in the moral life, and complete abstraction from prudence.

These last words are offered with the aim of making an objective judgment about the place of New Natural Law Theory in priestly formation. There is no wish to question the orthodox intention of the Catholic New Natural Law Theorists. Their sincere desire to serve the truth—and their sacrifices and good example in doing so, particularly with respect to Humanae vitae—should be evident to all.  But on matters of decisive import for the truth and for the understanding of Catholic faith and morals, the dangers implicit in their account noted above need correction; and the genuine teaching of St. Thomas remains a superior basis for formation in moral theology and philosophy.