Blake Dutton

In _Confessions_ Book 12 Augustine gives a reading of Genesis 1:1 that he anticipates will be opposed by many of his fellow Catholics. He argues that these Catholic opponents should nevertheless approve this reading, not because it correctly explicates the intentions of Moses, but because it does not impute anything to the verse that they do not accept as true. The paper explores this argument by doing two things. First, it sets forth an analytical presentation of Augustine’s view of a fully approvable reading of Scripture. Second, it locates the foundation of this view in his commitment to the privacy of the mind, namely, the cognitive accessibility of each mind to itself and the cognitive inaccessibility of each mind to every other mind.

In The Quantity of the Soul, Augustine puts forward the view that the soul is immaterial and that its quantity (quantitas) must be understood in terms of power rather than spatial extension. Against this view, his friend and interlocutor Evodius raises an important objection, The Objection from Touch, which argues that the soul’s exercise of tactile sensation requires that it be extended through the parts of the body. This paper examines Evodius’s objection and Augustine’s response to it. Particular attention is given to certain features of Augustine’s theory of sensation that this exchange reveals, especially his view that the eyes undergo passion-at-a-distance or are acted on at a place where they are not present.

One of the most striking features of speculative theology (kalaam) as it developed within the Ash'arite tradition of Islam is its denial of causal power to creatures. Much like Malebranche in the seventeenth century, the Ash'arites saw this denial as a natural extension of monotheism and were led as a result to embrace an occasionalist account of causality. According to their analysis, causal power is identical with creative power, and since God is the sole and sovereign creator, God is the only causal agent. To assert anything else is to compromise monotheism. This position, of course, was in direct opposition to the prevailing accounts of causality within the philosophical tradition of Islam at the time. The philosophers (falaasifa) had by and large taken over accounts of causality from Aristotle and the Neoplatonists and adapted them in accordance with their own set of concerns. In such accounts, while God stands as the first cause, secondary causationis unambiguously affirmed, even if variously understood. Thus, as they offered a sophisticated account of causal action in direct opposition to the occasionalist thesis, thefalaasifa posed something of challenge to the theologians.

Descartes' relation to the scholastic tradition is poorly understood. In the dissertation I begin to redress this deficiency by studying his theism in relation to its scholastic predecessors. This is a natural starting point since it is in the theistic doctrine that we not only see Descartes' profound indebtedness to scholasticism, but find the foundations of his radically anti-Aristotelian scientific program as well. I begin with an analysis of Descartes' views on the relation of philosophy, theology and science, particularly in light of his transformation of Aquinas' doctrine and his evaluation of Galileo's scientific work. Although Descartes shared with Galileo a concern to create a space in which to do science without theological hindrance, he did this in a way which allowed him to provide his science with deep metaphysical and theistic foundations. From here I turn to an examination of the epistemological and metaphysical underpinnings of Cartesian natural theology in light of the Thomistic, Scotistic and Suarezian traditions, first by looking at Descartes' reaction to Aquinas' criticisms of the ontological argument, then by reconstructing his views on necessary existence and the divine perfections, and finally by examining his account of the essence/existence relation. I conclude the dissertation by expanding earlier discussions concerning the foundational role of the doctrine of God in Cartesian physics and examine some problems which arise when Descartes' claim to derive the laws of motion from the idea of God is seen in light of his doctrines of the divine indifference and the creation of the eternal truths. In all of this I show how the modifications which Descartes made to the scholastic doctrines allowed him to adapt the tradition of classical theism to the demands of his mechanistic science.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Descartes and the Last ScholasticsBlake D. DuttonRoger Ariew. Descartes and the Last Scholastics. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1999. Pp. xi + 230. Cloth, $42.50.The attempt to understand Descartes vis-à-vis the scholastic tradition dates back to the studies of Etienne Gilson early in this century. Though Descartes saw himself as a revolutionary who would overthrow the Aristotelianism entrenched in the universities, Gilson was able to demonstrate his reliance upon a variety of scholastic sources for important terminology, distinctions, and arguments which permeate his writings. Unfortunately, this line of investigation was largely ignored among Anglo-American scholars who were generally hostile to Scholasticism and uninterested in contextualizing Descartes's thought. However, since the mid-eighties there has been a distinct shift in attitude as scholars have increasingly turned their attention to the place of Scholasticism within Descartes's intellectual environment. Among these, Roger Ariew has to be counted as one of the most sophisticated, and his new book, Descartes and the Late Scholastics, marks an important contribution to the growing literature on the topic.Ariew's book is actually a collection of essays published over the last decade, including two which he co-authored with Marjorie Grene. Many of these have been substantially expanded to include fresh material and reworked so as to give the whole a greater sense of continuity. After a marvelous opening chapter in which he lays out his overall account of Descartes's attitude towards Scholasticism, Ariew presents the remaining essays in two large groups: those dealing with the immediate context of Descartes's thought and those dealing with its reception through the early part of the eighteenth century.Among the more interesting results of the first group of studies is Ariew's claim that the scholastic climate in and around Paris during Descartes's lifetime was predominately Scotistic rather than Thomistic. He shows this by looking at positions taken by a number of Parisian schoolmen on important issues which typically divided Scotists and Thomists. Ariew goes on to argue that not only was the Parisian environment Scotistic, but that Descartes aligned himself with the Scotists on many key issues in both physics (e.g., that time is independent of motion) and metaphysics (e.g., that the principle of individuation is a form). This is certainly an intriguing claim since most studies of this type have viewed Descartes in relation to Aquinas and those Jesuit thinkers who were broadly Thomistic in outlook. In bringing to light this Scotistic background, Ariew has opened up an important new line of inquiry.Other topics included in this first section are the literary and philosophical background [End Page 275] to the "new way of ideas" of which Descartes is a founder, the place of Descartes's doctrine of matter and form in seventeenth century debates over hylomorphism, and the reaction of Scholastics to the observational results of the new astronomy. What emerges in these essays is not only a highly nuanced view of Descartes's relation to Scholasticism, but an important corrective to still prevalent views of the Scholastics as reactionary and blindly opposed to developments within the new science. This last point is made with particular force in the fifth essay entitled "Scholastics and the New Astronomy." There Ariew argues that the astronomical observations of Galileo et alia were not in themselves decisive for overthrowing the Aristotelian cosmology as it had been articulated in the seventeenth century. This is because scholastic astronomers were generally accepting of such findings (e.g., sunspots) and were able to accommodate them within their own systems by making relatively minor adjustments. Although these systems ultimately proved themselves inadequate, Ariew makes a strong case that the Aristotelianism of the seventeenth century was sufficiently fluid to accommodate most of what the astronomers offered up. Thus the necessity for a radical overhaul of basic philosophical and scientific assumptions was by no means as evident as standard histories of this period would have us believe.The second section of the book is dedicated to debates over Cartesianism and its fate in the generations immediately following Descartes's death. Here Ariew provides a wealth of detail about various condemnations of Cartesianism, a comparative study of...

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Physics and Metaphysics in Descartes and GalileoBlake D. Duttonin his classic biography of Descartes, Charles Adam passes this judgment on the influence of Galileo’s condemnation on the development of Cartesian metaphysics:Sans la condemnation de Galilée, nous aurions eu tout de même la métaphysique de Descartes. Mais nous ne l’aurions problement pas eue sous la forme volumineuse qu’elle a prise avec toutes ces Objections et Reponses, qui font plus que quintupler les Méditations primitives.1(AT XII, 306)While not charging Descartes with dissimulation, Adam argues that the metaphysics was developed to deflect attention from the heart of the Cartesian system—its mechanistic physics—which posed a direct challenge to the reigning Aristotelianism. In his words, it served primarily as a “tent... to cover the merchandise (le pavilion... couvrir la marchandise)”(AT XII, 306).2Adam is certainly not alone in pointing to the Galileo affair as grounds for raising suspicions about the role of the metaphysics in Descartes’ larger work. In a recent biography, itself destined to become a classic, Stephen Gaukroger takes a similar line, arguing that it was Galileo’s failure to convince his opponents through arguments drawn from natural philosophy that prompted Descartes to seek acceptance of his own natural philosophy though metaphysical legitimation. Had Galileo not been silenced there would have been no impetus for Descartes to have developed a metaphysical argument; natural-philosophical [End Page 49] arguments would have sufficed.3 Thus, in the words of Gaukroger, Descartes’ project of metaphysical legitimation was “a task which he never even contemplated before the condemnation of Galileo in 1633, and... was a direct response to that condemnation.”4 If we are to believe Adam and Gaukroger, then, Descartes was first and foremost a natural philosopher whose extended venture into metaphysics was primarily a strategic response to the events of 1633.Despite the many merits of this line of interpretation, I believe it is trouble-some insofar as it isolates Descartes’ reaction to the condemnation from both his criticisms of Galileo’s science and his views on the relation between science and theology. In doing so, it overstates the degree to which Cartesian science can itself be isolated from Cartesian metaphysics. In what follows, then, I will contextualize Descartes’ reaction to the Galileo affair by examining his comments on Galileo’s scientific work and the relation of his own views on science and theology to those of Galileo. Two results will emerge. First, we will see that if we fail to take Descartes’ search for metaphysical foundations as having a genuinely scientific motivation, not only will we render his criticisms of Galileo’s science unintelligible, but we will fail to understand the distinctive nature of his science vis-à-vis Galileo’s. This will become clear as we examine the work of each on motion and the fall of bodies. Second, we will see that it is only by taking Descartes’ metaphysical commitments as integral to his science that we can make sense of the divergent ways in which he and Galileo resolved the question of the relation of science to theology. Both, it is clear, sought to guarantee the autonomy of science, yet each did so in a way which mirrored his unique conception of science and its relation to metaphysics. All of this, I conclude, deflates the utility of appealing to Descartes’ concern over the Galileo affair as a means of assigning a primarily strategic or extra-scientific role to his metaphysics. [End Page 50]1. descartes on galilean scienceAlthough they were contemporaries, there is no evidence that Descartes and Galileo ever met or corresponded. There is also no strong evidence that the work of either had any significant influence on the work of the other, despite the fact that Descartes reports having leafed through the Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems and having obtained a copy of the Two New Sciences.5 However, we do find several references to Galileo in Descartes’ correspondence from which a general attitude toward the Italian scientist becomes reasonably clear. While occasionally being complimentary, Descartes appears to have been largely unimpressed and even claims to have arrived at several...

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Philosophy 41.1 (2003) 130-131 [Access article in PDF] Steven Nadler. Spinoza's Heresy: Immortality and the Jewish Mind. New York: Oxford University Press, Clarendon Press, 2001. Pp. xvi + 225. Cloth, $35.00. Steven Nadler's Spinoza's Heresy opens with the following declaration: "It is a splendid mystery" (1). The mystery, of course, is how a gifted son of the Jewish community of Amsterdam, a young man whom one might have expected to grow naturally into the role of a respected rabbi, came to be expelled from that community. What Nadler finds so mysterious is not the simple fact of Spinoza's expulsion—itself a common form of discipline among the Jews of Amsterdam—but the vehemence and finality with which he was expelled. The writ of expulsion accuses Spinoza of "abominable heresies" and "monstrous deeds" and goes on to heap layer after layer of curse upon him. It is, in Nadler's judgment, the harshest writ ever to be pronounced against a member of that community. What, then, were the views so abominable and the deeds so monstrous that account for this? What had Spinoza said and done to raise such ire among his fellow Jews? That is the mystery Nadler's book attempts to solve.Needless to say, Nadler is not the first to take up this challenge. The question of what lay behind Spinoza's expulsion has been of perennial interest to scholars, and what keeps it alive, in part, is its resistance to definitive resolution. Most importantly, Spinoza had not yet begun to write at the time of his expulsion, and his surviving correspondence is silent on the matter. Nevertheless, it is tempting to look to his Ethics and Theological-Political Treatise for clues. But if we are to do so, as Nadler encourages us to, we must not only determine which of the views they contain can be attributed to the young Spinoza, but show how his holding of them explains the events that transpired.Nadler begins with the documentary evidence. Although sparse, the sources point to three views at the root of Spinoza's troubles: that God exists only philosophically; that the Law is not true; and that the soul is not immortal. Acknowledging that each of these may have played a role in the expulsion, Nadler singles out the last for special scrutiny and concludes that it was decisive. His reasons for doing so emerge in the last chapter of the book. Despite broad latitude within the Jewish tradition as a whole, the Jews of Amsterdam were particularly sensitive on the issue of immortality and did not take kindly those who denied it. Indeed, they had a history of confrontation with "heretics" on this issue. This was partly a function of a general concern not to arouse unwanted attention from the politically powerful Calvinists within Dutch society. But it also stemmed from an intense interest in the afterlife among the Sephardim, who, being of Marrano heritage, were naturally concerned about the postmortem fate of Jewish converts to Catholicism. Though the community was divided on what that fate would be, the entire debate on the question was carried out on the shared assumption of personal immortality. This, together with a deep commitment to immortality on the part of each of its leading rabbis, conspired to make Jewish Amsterdam an inhospitable place for anyone holding views like those Spinoza was to express. In Nadler's words, immortality "was simply the wrong issue to pick on in Jewish Amsterdam in the 1650's" (156).Nadler's thesis is intriguing, and the light that he throws on the Spinoza affair in the course of developing it is considerable. However, a question remains. Although Nadler does an impressive job of clarifying why Spinoza's views on the afterlife would have been so volatile within the Amsterdam community, we might still wonder why the other two theses he is reported to have held do not merit equal consideration. This is particularly true of his denial of the authority of the Law. Whatever...

One of the most striking features of speculative theology (kalāam) as it developed within the Ash'arite tradition of Islam is its denial of causal power to creatures. Much like Malebranche in the seventeenth century, the Ash'arites saw this denial as a natural extension of monotheism and were led as a result to embrace an occasionalist account of causality. According to their analysis, causal power is identical with creative power, and since God is the sole and sovereign creator, God is the only causal agent. To assert anything else is to compromise monotheism. This position, of course, was in direct opposition to the prevailing accounts of causality within the philosophical tradition of Islam at the time. The philosophers (falāasifa) had by and large taken over accounts of causality from Aristotle and the Neoplatonists and adapted them in accordance with their own set of concerns. In such accounts, while God stands as the first cause, secondary causation—the causative action of agents other than God—is unambiguously affirmed, even if variously understood. Thus, as they offered a sophisticated account of causal action in direct opposition to the occasionalist thesis, the falāasifa posed something of challenge to the theologians.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Philosophy 40.1 (2002) 118-119 [Access article in PDF] Book Review The Cambridge Companion to Augustine Eleonore Stump and Norman Kretzmann, editors. The Cambridge Companion to Augustine. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001. Pp. xv + 307. Cloth, $59.95. Paper, $21.95. Given the immeasurable influence of Augustine upon the Western tradition, a volume devoted to him in the Cambridge Companion Series has been long overdue. Fortunately, the lacuna has been filled by a work that exhibits the quality of scholarship and clarity of presentation that has become a hallmark of this series. Ably edited by Eleonore Stump and Norman Kretzmann, it will serve admirably as a guide for students and professionals alike, with much that is of interest to seasoned Augustine scholars.As Stump tells us in her introduction, the eighteen essays of the volume are loosely grouped according to eight topics. These are philosophy of religion, metaphysics and theology, philosophy of mind, theory of knowledge, philosophy of language, ethics, political philosophy, and Augustine's influence. As is apparent from this list, the essays cut a vast swath through Augustine's corpus, though they focus on what is of greatest interest to philosophers. In addition, since Augustine did not recognize a clean division between philosophy and theology, much that we now classify as theology gets attention as well.In keeping with the aim of the series, the character of the essays is, for the most part, expository. Each author takes pains to explain the outlines of Augustine's position on the particular topic under consideration, and most do so with considerable attention to the evolution of his thought and the context in which he wrote. Christopher Kirwan's essay, for example, not only traces the development of Augustine's philosophy of language from his early De magistro and De dialectica through his mature De doctrina Christiana, but highlights those areas in which the influence of Stoic dialectic can be detected. Similarly, John Rist's essay on faith and reason includes a discussion of the relation of Augustine's views on credibilia to the Platonic tradition, and Paul Weithman's essay on political theory examines Augustine's critique of Ciceronian ideals of political society. Thus, while systematic in their exposition, the essays give due recognition to the fact that Augustine's views evolved through continual reassessment of the antique heritage in light of changing concerns and circumstances, particularly an increasing concern to articulate the foundations of a new, scripturally inspired, vision of God, humanity, and society. [End Page 118]In addition to exposition and historical analysis, many of the authors use their essays as occasions for constructive philosophical engagement. Perhaps the best of these is Stump's essay. Noting the pervasive disagreement among interpreters over Augustine's doctrine of free will, she distinguishes three positions available to defenders of free will--compatiblism, common libertarianism, and modified libertarianism--in order to bring greater conceptual clarity to the interpretive task. She then shows that in his early work, De libero arbitrio, Augustine develops an essentially libertarian position (though which form he is committed to remains ambiguous), but that this account comes into tension with his views concerning the action of grace on the will as they were later developed in opposition to the Pelagians. In itself this is not a startling claim, but Stump's analytical skills enable her to identify precisely where the tension lies, and she suggests a way that Augustine could have resolved this tension without compromising his basic commitments.If there is any quibble to be had with the volume, it is that several of the essays are too compressed. Roland Teske's essay on the soul and William Mann's essay on evil, for example, run a mere seven and nine pages each. Though informative, given the centrality of these topics to Augustine's thought, they would have been more useful had they been expanded. Because of this, the most satisfying essays are those in which the authors stretch out. Scott MacDonald's piece on the divine nature is particularly good in this regard. In...