Lecture 10 — Theory of soul as a self-mover reconsidered

One might with more reason inquire about the soul as in movement by considering such facts as these: that the soul is, as we say, sad, joyful, confident, and frightened; or again, that it is angry, senses, and understands. All these seem to be movements, from which one might suppose that the soul is moved.

This, however, does not necessarily follow. Even if feeling pain or rejoicing or understanding are in the fullest sense movements, and each of these is a “being moved” (i.e., being angry or fearful occurs by some movement of the heart), this being moved is from the soul. But as for understanding, it is either like this or perhaps it is something else.

Of these, however, some occur with a change of place in that which moves; others with an alteration—of what sort or how is another question. But to say that the soul becomes angry is like saying it builds or weaves. For it is perhaps better to say, not that the soul has pity, or learns, or understands, but that a man does so by his soul. These modifications occur by movements not so much in the soul as, in some cases, proceeding to it, and in others, proceeding from it, as sensation proceeds from things, while remembering proceeds from the soul to the motions or rests which occur in the sensitive organs.

But intellect would seem to be a certain substance in the making and would seem not to corrupt. For if it did, it would corrupt especially through the debility accompanying old age. But in fact what happens is similar to the case of the sensitive powers. For if an old man could acquire the eye of a young man, he would see as a young man; hence, senility is not an affliction of the soul but of that which it inhabits, like drunkenness or disease.

Understanding and thinking, then, decay by the corruption of something else within, whereas understanding itself cannot be affected. But understanding and loving and hating are not passions of it, but of that which has it, precisely insofar as it has it. Wherefore, when this is corrupted, the soul ceases to remember or love. For these proceeded not from it but from what was common, which latter has been destroyed. But perhaps intellect is something more godlike and unalterable.

It is now clear that the soul itself cannot be moved. But if it wholly cannot be moved, it is evident that it cannot be self-moving.

146. One might with more reason (408a34). After stating and criticizing the arguments of those who thought that, because the soul moves the body, it must itself be in movement, the Philosopher is next concerned to show that a stronger support for the assertion that the soul is able to move might be drawn from considering the soul’s very activities. He divides his treatment into two parts.

He first states the hypothesis of those who said that the soul’s activities are evidence of its movement;

and second, he settles the problem so far as his present purpose requires, at this, however (408b5; [147]).

First, then, he says that, whereas the philosophers of whom he has been speaking thought that the soul might be in movement from considering the fact that it moved the body, it is more reasonable, that is, more plausible, that someone might inquire whether the soul is moved by considering such facts as these, that is, the activities of the soul itself.

For from these, one might build up a plausible argument in favor of the soul’s being in movement. For we say that the soul is sad, joyful, confident (that is, daring) and frightened; and again, we say that it is angry, senses, and understands. And since all these are activities of the soul and also certain movements, it would seem that the soul is moved. And this is a more plausible suggestion than the one already discussed. For the latter argued the soul’s movement from the body’s, according to the principle that every mover is itself in motion, so that if the soul moves the body, the soul itself moves. But the opinion now to be considered regards the movement of the soul itself from the standpoint of the soul’s own proper activities.

147. Next, at this, however (408b5), he clears up the difficulty. Here we should note that when Aristotle is searching for truth by a process of stating and answering objections, he will sometimes employ this method after having already determined the truth in question; and then his objections and solutions are governed by his own opinion. But sometimes he does all this before determining the truth, and then he bases his objections and solutions on the opinions of others and not on his own opinion or on what he believes to be the truth. For example, in Physics 3, where he argues against those who maintained the existence of an infinite, he employs a number of arguments that are false in themselves but considered true by his opponents, for example, that every body is both light and heavy. (Aristotle, Physics 3.4–8, 202b30–208a23; cf. Aquinas, Commentary on Physics, bk. 3, lect. 6–13.) For he had not yet determined whether every body has lightness and heaviness; this he did later in On the Heavens, where, in consequence, he reopens the question of the infinite. (Aristotle, On the Heavens 1.3, nn. 1–3; cf. Aquinas, Commentary on Aristotle’s On the Heavens, bk. 1, lect. 5.) And such is his method here. His criticism rests upon presupposing as true the views of his opponents.

148. These latter, especially the Platonists, thought that sorrow, joy, anger, sensation, and understanding, and so forth, were movements in the soul, and that each of these activities, even understanding, had its own particular organ; and in this respect there was no difference between sensation and intelligence, and every kind of soul, not only the intellectual soul, was immortal. All of which Aristotle grants, for he is supposing that all such activities, even understanding, occur through determinate organs, and that all souls are immortal. He only denies that activities such as sensation and joy are movements in the soul, asserting that they belong rather to the compound of body and soul. This alone he makes the point at issue.

149. And here he does two things.

First, he shows that the activities in question are not movements of the soul;

second, he proves this with a special argument, beginning at but intellect (408b18; [163]).

His opponents, he says, maintain two points: first, that joy and sorrow and so forth are movements; second, that these movements are to be attributed to the soul, such that it becomes angry, rejoices, senses, and the like; so it seems that the soul moves. But the conclusion does not necessarily follow (408b5), and in any case, both propositions are false—the activities in question are not movements, nor are such things attributed to the soul. But even granted that they are movements and we might speak of them as though they are motions, still it is false that they are attributed to the soul and, in consequence, that the soul moves according to such activities. This is clear as follows.

150. For it is obvious that, even if these activities are movements and are attributed to the soul, they are attributed to the soul only with respect to certain determinate parts of the body; for example, sensation is attributed to the soul only in certain parts of the body, as the sense of sight is in the eye, anger is in the heart, and so with the rest. It is clear that they are movements not of the soul but of the compound.

Yet they are from the soul; for example, when the soul judges that anything is worthy of anger, the animal’s heart is disturbed and the blood gets heated around it. (Themistius, In De anima, f. 8vb.) So also with fear; (Themistius, In De anima, f. 8vb.) it makes a definite part of the body contract in relation to the fearful object and be altered. And likewise with the rest. In these cases, then, the soul does not move, but the moving is from it in that something else, like the heart, is in some way moved. But in view of a point which Aristotle is going to determine later on, (Bk. 2, lect. 12, n. 377; bk. 3, lect. 1, nn. 684–85.) namely, that understanding is an activity of the soul in which the body has no share and does not belong to the compound, he observes here that understanding is perhaps something else from all those activities that occur in the compound. He says, perhaps, because he is not speaking definitively but tentatively. But in asserting that the other activities do not belong to the soul but to the composite, he says they do arise from the soul.

151. So, when he says, of these (408b9), he means to show that these movements arise from the soul to the accompaniment of changes of place; as in the case of anger, which occurs in the soul when those parts of the body in and around the heart are moved: the blood heated by the heart is dispelled towards the extremities of the body. Others with an alteration, as in fear, when the heart contracts and grows cold at something fearful, and one is altered and turns pale. What these passions (Themistius, In De anima, f. 9ra.) are, and how they are moved, is another question; but it is clear that, as movements, they do not belong to the soul alone, but to the body from the soul, as was said.

152. Hence just as any animal’s bodily activities do not belong to the soul but to the body or the composite, so too, activities like sensing, rejoicing, and so forth should not be attributed to the soul but to the composite. For to say that the soul gets angry and is thereby moved is like saying that the soul weaves or builds or plays the harp. For the soul indeed is the cause of these activities; for the habit for building or weaving or playing the harp is in the soul itself, and the exercise of the ability in each case springs from the soul. But as it is better to say that the builder, not the art of building, builds, though the builder builds by his art, (Themistius, In De anima, f. 9ra.) so perhaps it is better to say that it is not the soul that feels pity or learns or thinks, but the man through his soul. He says, perhaps, as regards understanding, because he is speaking hypothetically, as was said.

153. But since the statement that the soul is not moved, but man is moved by his soul, might be taken to mean that movement exists in the soul, to forestall this, Aristotle explains that when he says that man is moved by his soul, he means that movement is derived, as it were, from the soul, not that it is found in the soul itself.

154. For when I say, “this is moved through that,” my statement can be taken in two senses: either that the very thing by which the thing is moved is itself moving, (Themistius, In De anima, f. 9ra.) as when I say that a man is moved by his feet, the feet themselves are moving; or that the thing itself is not moving, but it does impel a thing into motion, and it is in this latter sense that a man is said to move through his soul.

155. Now, even this movement is twofold. Sometimes the soul is the motion’s terminus, when the motion is to it, that is, to the soul, as in the activity of the senses; for when it apprehends exterior sense-objects, the sensitive power, which is in the bodily organ, is aroused and moved as transmitting and bringing the species and intentions of sensible realities all the way back to it, that is, to the soul. But sometimes the soul is as the principle of movement, when it is from it, that is, from the soul, as in remembering, when the latent and buried intentions and images of realities are brought back in order that sensible realities may be understood through them. Whether the inward storing away of images should itself be called a movement or a resting is not immediately relevant.

156. Movements of this sort, then, are clearly not to be attributed to the soul but to the composite, yet being from the soul, and not by a movement existing in the soul.

157. But observe that this solution of the problem is not distinct and definitive, but only provisional. For movement should be attributed to the soul’s activities in different ways by different people. In fact, motion is found in the activities of the soul in three ways. In some, movement properly speaking is found; in others, it is found in a less proper sense, and in others, least properly.

158. For movement properly speaking is found in the activities of the vegetative soul and in sensitive desire. In the activity of a vegetative soul there is properly a motion when it is moved to the being of nature through nourishment, and this is the motion of growth; and in this way the vegetative soul stands as the agent and the body as the patient. Motion is also found properly in sensitive desire both through alteration and through changes of place; for at the desire for something a man is immediately moved and altered, whether becoming angry, as in the desire for revenge, or glad, as in the desire of something delightful. Moreover, due to this even the blood is moved outwards from the heart to the extremities of the body, besides the fact that the whole man moves from one place to another in pursuit of what he desires.

159. However, motion is less properly found in the activities of the sensitive soul. For here there is no movement according to the existence of nature, but only according to a spiritual existence; this is clear in sight, the activity of which is not with respect to natural existence but to spiritual, since it occurs through sensible species having been received in the eye according to a spiritual existence. Yet it does involve something of changeability, inasmuch as the subject of the power of sight is a body, and in reference to this it has the account of a motion, albeit less properly speaking. For movement is not spoken of in these activities properly except when the activity is with respect to an existence of nature.

160. However, the least of what is proper to motion, and nothing but metaphor, is found in understanding. For in the activity of the intellect there is no change in reference to natural existence, as in the case of vegetative activity, nor is there a subject changed in reference to spiritual existence, as in the case of sensible activity.

Rather, here there is an activity itself that is called “movement” inasmuch as from potentially understanding it comes to be actually understanding. Yet this differs from motion because the activity is the act of the perfect, whereas motion is the act of the imperfect.

161. It is clear, then, how the activities of the vegetative and sensitive souls are not motions of the soul but of the composite, while the activities of the intellect are only called “motions” metaphorically and are exclusively of the intellectual soul, without any determinate organ.

162. Note too that, as an appetitive and apprehensive power are both found in the senses, so too are an appetitive and apprehensive power found in the intellect. Hence, love, hatred, joy, and so forth can be understood either as in the sensitive appetite, and in this sense they have a connected bodily movement, or as only in the intellect and in the will, without any sensitive affect; and in this way they cannot be called “motions,” for they do not have a connected bodily motion. And these are found even in separated substances, as will be shown more clearly later.

163. Then, at but intellect (408b18), Aristotle sets out to prove what has been shown, namely, that even if activities of this kind are movements (as the philosophers he is discussing maintained), still they are not attributed to the soul but to the body and the composite. So he takes one of their opinions, which was famous in his time, namely, that every soul is incorruptible, as according to them this was true of both the intellect and of every soul. According to these philosophers, the intellect would seem to be a certain substance in the making, still incomplete, and which was not corrupted. The reason for this is that we ourselves see that all the weaknesses that arise surrounding the intellect or the senses do not reach the very soul in itself but come from the weakness of an organ. Whence it would seem to follow that the intellect and every soul is incorruptible, and if its activities grow feeble, that does not imply its own corruption but the weakening of the organs.

164. For if the soul itself were corrupted, it would corrupt especially through the debility accompanying old age, as happens to the sensitive powers. Yet, in fact, the soul itself is weakened by this, for if an old man could acquire the eye of a young man, he would see as a young man. Whence the decline of old age, then, is not due to a suffering in the soul itself or in the sensitive power, but of that which it inhabits; like in sickness or drunkenness, it is the body, not the soul, that is weakened or altered. Hence, understanding, that is, simple apprehension, and thinking, that is, the intellectual activity of combining and distinguishing, decay, not through a corruption and suffering in the intellect, but through the corruption of something else within, that is, by something else that is an organ of the intellect becoming corrupted. Understanding itself is incapable of suffering.

165. Now, in saying this, Aristotle is not giving it as his opinion that the intellect has a determinate bodily organ, but (as has been said) he is arguing on the supposition that the views of the philosophers whom he is criticizing are sound; and it was their view, as we have seen, that each of the soul’s activities, and even intellect itself, had its determinate bodily organ. Assuming this, therefore, he gives as the reason for the decay of the understanding that it is one of those activities (like hating and loving) which are not passions of it, that is, of the soul (on their supposition), but of that which has it, that is, of the composite or the bodily organ—precisely, he adds, insofar as this compound has it, that is, understanding, insofar as it has it. Consequently when this, that is, the determinate organ of this activity that is loving or understanding, corrupts, one does not remember or love anymore. The reason is that such passions did not proceed from the soul alone, but from what was common, that is, the composite, which has now been destroyed and corrupted. Clearly, then, if all such movements and activities decay through the body’s or the organ’s decay, not the soul’s (as was said), they do not themselves belong exclusively to the soul but to the composite; and consequently, it is not the soul that is moved, but the composite.

166. But because Aristotle has spoken here about the intellect while supposing the opinions of others, as is already clear, lest one think that he himself thinks the intellect is in fact as he supposed, he removes this impression by adding, perhaps intellect is something more godlike and unalterable, that is, something higher and a greater activity of the soul itself than any we are considering now. He says, perhaps, because the question has not been determined yet; it will be cleared up in book 3. (Bk. 3, lect. 1, nn. 671ff.) So much to show that he is arguing on a supposition.

167. Finally, he concludes from all this that it is now clear that the soul itself cannot be moved (408b30). And if it cannot be moved in any way at all, then it is evident that it is not self-moving with movements of the kinds here discussed, as such ones had maintained.