Duns Scotus: On Synderesis and Conscience

THE NOTION OF SYNDERESIS AS A SORT OF antechamber of conscience, the scintilla conscientiae or spark of conscience, has an interesting history. Some time ago, we had a posting on St. Jerome's contribution on the natural law, and, as part of it, we discussed his injection of the notion of synderesis. See St. Jerome on the Natural Law: The Scintilla of Conscience. In his discussion on Duns Scotus's understanding of synderesis and conscience, Allan Wolter has a good synopsis of this word's curious history:

St. Jerome, in the opening chapter of his Commentary on Ezechiel (PL 25, 22B), is credited with introducing the Greek term "synteresis" into Latin, referring to it as the spark of conscience (scintilla conscientiae) which even Cain's sin could not eradicate from his nature. Derived from the Greek verb "syntereo" (to watch closely, to preserve or keep safe) it seems to have been nothing more than a poetic way of describing conscience. According to De Blic (1949), it was a medieval scribe who made the error of writing "synteresis" (conservation) for "syneidesis" (conscience) in copying Jerome's work on Ezechiel. The error was incorporated into the popular Glossa ordinaria and, through Peter Lombard's Sentences, passed on to the scholastic theologians, who speculated as to its exact nature, usually giving it a special function distinct from conscience.

Wolter, 45. The Scholastics, then, disputed what exactly synderesis was: how it was different from, or how it was related to, conscience; what its role was in the moral life; what its relationship was with the human will, with the human intellect; what its role was with respect to moral habits; and so forth.

With respect to whether synderesis resided principally in the intellect or principally in the will, Wolter gives a quick, if undetailed, summary of the issue:

Peter Lombard cites various views as to what "weights human nature towards good." Referring to Jerome's commentary, he says: "Man is rightly said to will good naturally, because he was established with a good and right will. For the higher 'spark of reason,' which also, as Jerome says, 'could not be extinguished in Cain,' always wills good and hates evil." (Sent. II, dist. 39) This suggests that synderesis might be either in the intellect or in the will or simply in the soul as possessing both.

Wolter, 45.

Since Peter Lombard was rather vague on the location of synderesis--in the will, in the intellect, or somehow in both--commentators on his Sentences naturally took different positions:

In one of the first known commentaries on Peter's book, attributed to Udo (Lottin, 1948, pp. 107-8), synderesis is identified with Augustine's ratio superior.* One of the first Franciscan masters at Paris, John of La Rochelle, went along with this interpretation of Udo. St. Bonaventure, on the other hand, interprets conscience as a habit of practical intellect, which inclines a person to know both general principles of moral rectitude and the goodness or badness of particular actions, whereas he sees synderesis as the "weight of the will whose function is to incline it towards the good in itself" (II Sent., dist. 39, art 2, q. 1; Opera II, p. 910).

Wolter, 46.

Blessed Duns Scotus

Scotus does not follow St. Bonaventure in assigning synderesis to the will. Following Bonaventure, Scotus could have identified his affectio justitiae with synderesis.** But Scotus viewed synderesis as having a role in the intellect, in its formation, prior to any act of will and its inclination towards the good in any free, elicited act. Scotus sees synderesis as nothing other than the practical intellect viewed from the perspective of making judgments based upon general moral principles. Synderesis is distinguished from conscience, since the latter is concerned with particular, concrete actions. Conscience follows synderesis. So while synderesis is not for Scotus as it was for Bonaventure the "weight of the will" which inclines to the good, he did view it as being a component in the prior act of intellect which was a "stimulus to good," particular when the will operated under its superior affectio justitiae, in which the person sought the good in itself, and not the lower affectio commodi, where the person sought the good for himself.

Scotus discusses these issues in his Ordinatio II, dist. 39, qq. 1-2, where he address Peter Lombard's Sentences (II, dist. 39). He asks the question, "Is synderesis in the will?" and then fashions arguments for this position and against this position, ultimately deciding that synderesis is in the practical intellect, and not in the will.

The first argument that Scotus advances as suggestive that synderesis is in the will, and not in the intellect is that synderesis "always protests against evil," and since "protest pertains to the will," it follows that synderesis must be something found in the will and not the intellect. But against this position, Scotus notes that the protest of synderesis arises because "it shows what good ought to be willed," and it is this intellectual showing that is the "occasion for protesting against evil," so it is something intellectual in nature, prior to the exercise of the will.

The second argument that might suggest that synderesis is something in the will is the notion that synderesis is understood to be "that whereby man necessarily is inclined to justice." Since St. Anselm teaches that inclinations toward what is advantageous (affectio commodi) is something in the will and it is willed necessarily, it seems to follow that inclinations to what is just (affectio justitiae) would also be something in the will. But Scotus distinguishes between these inclinations. As we have seen, Scotus divides the human will into two wills: natural will and free will. Free will, which is the power to act freely, is free to chose course between something that is advantageous to it and something that may not be advantageous to it, but rather is something that is just and contrary to its advantage. St. Anselm's statement, then, that the will wills its advantage necessarily mus be understood to refer to the natural will, which necessarily wills its own advantage, and not to the free will which can chose justice. Synderesis relates not to the natural will, but to the elicited act, and so it is something that is unrelated to the natural will that seeks its own advantage.

Similarly, St. Augustine's understanding of the will as something which necessarily inclines towards its own happiness. (Scotus refers to St. Augustine's De Trinitae, XIII.5) It would seem that our inclination towards justice is something similar to the inclination we have towards happiness. Since synderesis is what inclines a man to justice, it would suggest to be something that resides in the will. Scotus counters this argument in the same manner that he counters the argument from St. Anselm. He distinguishes between the natural will (which necessarily wills happiness defined as one's advantage) from the free will (which does not necessarily will either its advantage or justice, but is free to choose one or the other). Synderesis, then, relates not to the natural will, but to the free will, to an elicited, and not a determined and necessary, act.

Finally, Scotus argues that synderesis could be thought to be something related in the will through an argument based upon analogy. Irrational natures tend necessarily to fulfill their natures. The will, then, ought to have some similarity to this, and the "will too will have a principle necessarily inclining it towards the justice it is suited by nature to have." But this is to confuse natures. The nature of irrational objects is not free, whereas it is the dignity of rational natures to be free. So it is improper to analogize from the necessary nature of irrational creation to the free nature of rational creation. Synderesis, then, cannot be part of determined nature.

Scotus takes the position that synderesis is not something of the will, but is something that pertains to the intellect. This, he argues, is the meaning of Peter Lombard's text: "synderesis represents the higher portion of reason," to Lombard, and so it follows that "synderesis is in the intellect which is concerned with contemplation or the theoretical." Ordinatio II, dist. 39 (Wolter, 162)

Scotus also discusses conscience in this distinction. There are some arguments that might be made that conscience is something that pertains to the will. For example, in the Epistle to the Hebrews (13:18) mention is made of "good conscience." Since goodness pertains to the will (one speaks of a good will, not necessarily of a good intellect), this suggests that conscience pertains to the will. But against this, Scotus argues goodness is also attributed to habits of the practical intellect, and not only the will. Granted, goodness, when used of the practical intellect, refers to suitability to the will of what the practical intellect determines is right. So a good will pertains to a right practical intellect. Sometimes the notion of good is thus transferred from the will to the practical intellect. Such expressions sometimes go the other way, so we speak of a right will, though in reality it is the practical intellect that is right, the good will being right because it is in accord with the right as presented by the practical intellect.

Another argument that might be used to argue that conscience is something that is found in the will and not the intellect is that if conscience pertains to the intellect, then one would expect that the more one knew, the more conscientious that person would be. But this is not our experience, since we know that mere knowledge does not lead to conscientiousness. This would suggest that conscience then is not something pertaining to the intellect. Against this position, however, it also known that the will can act against what the practical reason presents to it as good. There are people, as Aristotle pointed out in his Ethics, that can recite the teachings of the philosopher Empedocles even while under the influence of passion. Failure to do what is right, then, may not be a defect of the intellect, but it could be a defect of the will. Therefore, the fact that someone with knowledge of the right may not do the right does not suggest that conscience is something in the will.

Ultimately, Scotus teaches that both synderesis and conscience pertain to the intellect, and not to the will. For Scotus, the free will and the elicited act is never necessary. It neither necessarily tends towards good or necessarily resists evil. To suggest that the will is compelled to do good would mean that there could be no sin. If synderesis always proposes what is right, and always opposes what is wrong, then it is not something that pertains to the free will, and so must be something that relates to the practical intellect. It is something that is proposed to the free will, and the free will can either act in conformity with it or act against it. Likewise, conscience is something that pertains to the intellect. For Scotus, conscience "is produced deductively by way of a practical syllogism." Conscience is not something innate, nor is it some sort of power in the soul; rather, conscience "represents an evident conclusion inferred from first practical principles." Ordinatio II, dist. 39 (Wolter, 164) Clearly, for Scotus, the conscience does not pertain to any appetitive habit or will, but is something that pertains to the practical intellect.

If synderesis is assumed to be something having an elicited act that necessarily and at all times inclines one to act justly and resit sin, then since nothing of this sort is in the will, we cannot assume it to be there. Consequently, it is in the intellect, and it cannot be assumed to be anything other than the habitual knowledge of principles which is always right. For the intellect, in virtue of its own natural light, assents to these principles immediately on the strength of their terms. And then, insofar as it depends in part upon the intellect, the free will is apt by nature to choose in accord with these principles, though such a choice may fail to follow insofar as the other, the principal cause, freely chooses otherwise, because there is no necessitating cause involved here.

According to this line of reasoning, we can also assume that conscience is the habit of making proper practical conclusion, according to which a right choice of what is to be done is apt by nature to follow, and hence it can be called a stimulus to good, insofar as free choice, as a whole, has one partial cause [practical knowledge] disposing it correctly and a volition that is right and good will follow unless there is a defect in the other partial concurring cause needed for willing.

Ordinatio II, dist. 39 (Wolter, 164-65).

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*In Book XII of his De Trinitate, St. Augustine divides human reason into ratio inferior and ratio superior, which is analogous to the difference between knowledge (scientia) and wisdom (sapientia). Ratio inferior is concerned with inferior, temporal, contingent matters (quae intendit temporalibus), while the ratio superior is concerned with metaphysical or eternal matters, most notably, God (quae intendit aeternis conspiciendis aut consulendis). See also St. Thomas Aquinas, S.T. Ia, q. 79, a. 9.
**On Scotus's notion of affectio justitiae and affectio commodi, see Duns Scotus, Proto-Existentialist.

Natural Law's Modern Cousin Germain: Consequences Matter

CONSEQUENTIALISM IN ITS PURE FORM, that is, as an ethical theory where consequences are absolutely defining of the good, is unreasonable. Yet to hold the opposite--that consequences are absolutely irrelevant--is also error. The requirements of practical reasonableness straddle both extremes of irrationality and provide for a limited relevance of consequences, of efficiency within reason, of utility within the constraints of moral absolutes.

When one makes moral choices, one operates under a certain incumbency that the choices be efficient. In other words, our choices ought efficiently to implement the coherent plan of life or the particular value or end one has chosen. "One must not waste one's opportunities by using inefficient methods." NLNR, 111. In this limited sense, utility, efficiency, consequences are reasonably regarded as important and part and parcel of the requirements of practical reasonableness.

One would be blind to suggest that reason cannot weigh and recognize the following:

There is a wide range of contexts in which it is possible and only reasonable to calculate, measure, compare, weigh, and assess the consequences of alternative decisions. Where a choice must be made it is reasonable to prefer human good to the good of animals. where a choice must be made it is reasonable to prefer basic human goods (such as life) to merely instrumental goods such as property). Where damage is inevitable, it is reasonable to prefer stunning to wounding, wounding to maiming, maiming to death: i.e. lesser rather than greater damage to one-and-the same basic good in one-and-the-same instantiation. Where one way of participating in a human good includes both all the aspects and effects of its alternative, and more, it is reasonable to prefer that way: a remedy that both relieves pain and heals is to be preferred to the one that merely relieves pain.

NLNR, 111.

However, the requirement of efficiency is only one of other requirements of practical reasonableness. That is why it cannot be absolutized over the others. Just like all the other basic human values must be held of equal account, so also all the requirements of practical reasonableness must be held of equal account. It is for this reason that "[a]s a general strategy of moral reasoning, utilitarianism or consequentialism is irrational."* "[E]very attempt to make it [consequences] the exclusive or supreme or even the central principle of practical thinking is irrational and hence immoral." NLNR, 118.

Solon Before Croesus by Gerrit van Honthorst (1590 - 1656)

Unfortunately, most modern systems of ethics are infected by consequentialistic thought, and it follows from the fact that these theories absolutize consequences as the means for determining the good that these ethical systems are irrational. The "fundamental problem" with modern consequentialistic ethics, "is that the methodological injunction to maximize good(s) is irrational." NLNR, 113. Not only is such a program unworkable from a practical perspective (which itself ought to give one pause in adopting it), but it is fundamentally senseless, senseless, as Finnis puts it, as trying to "sum together the size of this page, the number six, and the mass of this book." NLNR, 113. The consequentialist puts himself in a situation where he is trying to measure and weigh things that cannot be measured and properly weighed and sum things that cannot be summed. In adopting consequentialism, we walk into a realm of morality as equally senseless as the realm of reality into which Alice falls into in Lewis Carrol's Alice in Wonderland.

How so?

The calculative logic demanded by consequentialism requires either (i) a single dominant temporal end or goal for man the efficiency toward which may be measured,** or, if there is no such single, dominant temporal end, (ii) a common factor of measurement of differing goals (e.g., satisfaction of desire, minimization of pain, maximization of pleasure). "But neither of these conditions obtains." NLNR, 113.

If we adopt a single temporal end for all men, if good is to be univocally understood, it is as foolish a suggestion as trying to fit men to the same Proscrustean bed. And what shall that end be? "Only an inhumane fanatic thinks that man is made to flourish in only one way or for only one purpose." NLNR, 113. When it comes to temporal ends, are we all really obliged to wear the same Mao suit? On the other hand, if any end will do, then good becomes something equivocal. Calling good "satisfaction of desire," for example, subjectivizes the notion of good to the point of irrelevancy. For example, if "satisfaction of desire" is selected as the end of man, we have no plausible means of dividing out and distinguishing the pleasure of the Marquis de Sade in his bedroom from the pleasure of St. Jerome in his study. Are these ends really alike? It is unreasonable to suggest that the pursuit of knowledge is equivalent to the pursuit of lust. In the absence of a single temporal end for all men, and in the absence of a workable solution without out a single temporal end for all men other than some subjective end, it would seem that consequentialism must look toward some sort of common measure.

If, in view of the lack of a single temporal end, we adopt some common measurement factor, we find ourselves having lost any sort of reasonable compass. Any such measure--the "greatest net good," or the "best consequences," or the "lesser evil," or the "smallest net harm," or the "greater balance of good over bad"--is fraught with problems. An ethic that builds itself on pleasure--and that would allow for pleasure's increase as reasonable even if it calls for arbitrary acts and a rejection of a comprehensive plan of life--is an ethic that is "only worthy of swine." (Mill) The substitution of minimization of pain for the maximization of pleasure or any other adaptation is equally unavailing as a standard. To measure "pleasure" and "pain" is already an impossible task, and making these measures more sophisticated or nuanced only exacerbates the calculative problem.

The most apparent problem is that there is no balance between good (however it be defined, pleasure or anything else) and evil (which would be the negative of the good). In other words, can it be said that one measure of good overcomes one measure of evil? If so, then why does evil have equal voting rights with the good? If not, what is the ratio between good and evil, and why?

There are also problems in measuring between pleasures (or between pains). If to clamber out of the "swine" factor requires distinguishing between high pleasures and low pleasures, whose values are going to make this decision? And what factor is to be used to distinguish the degrees of pleasure of the drunk with his Mogen David wine and the pleasure of the dilettante with his Domaine Romanée-Conti?

Even more problematic, how do we measure the pleasures that differ in kind, and not only in degree? How, for example, do we compare the desire for an orgasm with the desire for God? How do we compare the desire for eating caviar with the desire for progeny?

Then there is the problem of whether the vantage point ought to be individual or aggregate. Is the moral question one where I measure what is best for me, or is it rather that someone else measures what is best for all?*** Is the all to include only those that are alive when the calculus is performed? Or is it to include those that come after us?

And if we decide to select an aggregate vantage point our problems still are not over. Is our final measure the maximum amount of good (or the minimal amount of evil) regardless of distribution (overall utility)? If so, then so long as the total amount of good is maximized (or evil minimized), we can justify the enslavement of a proportion of all so long as the misery associated with the enslaved is exceeded by the pleasure of those who benefit from the enslavement. If we try to fix the problems associated with distribution (maximum average utility, or maximum amounts of good for those worst off, or, most ominously, maximum equal amounts of good for everyone), the consequentialist runs into a conundrum: "[T]here is no consequentialist reason for preferring any particular one of the eligible specifications. The ambition to maximize goods logically cannot be a sufficient principle of practical reasoning."****

Moreover, whether minimization of some factor or maximization of another factor is selected, the calculus to be performed is--short of some sort of divine intellect--impossible to cipher for even the smallest individual act. The alternative options to any particular choice are potentially innumerable. How is one to measure each of these and weigh them against each other? Where are we to begin? And where are we to end? "A genuine consequentialist assessment of alternative possiblities could never end, and could begin anywhere. So it should never begin anywhere." NLNR, 117.

Who, for example, can predict what the consequences are, under any measure of good, for using artificial contraception which prevents a certain child from having been born? What would that child (or that child's child or that child's child's child) have contributed to the happiness or pleasure of the mother when a mother (or a grandmother, or a great grandmother) or to the world at large is impossible to say. We are sort of like Croesus before Solon: we cannot know whether one is happy until one is dead, and one cannot know whether what one has done is right until all consequences of a choice have rippled through the course of history until the end of time, which will happen long after the actor confronted with the choice has made his decision.

Thus, it appears that in both practice and theory, consequentialism as a moral theory is found wanting. "In short, no determinate meaning can be found for the term 'good' that would allow any commensurating and calculus of good to be made in order to settle those basic questions of practical reason which we call 'moral' questions." NLNR, 115. The basic human goods--life, knowledge, play, aesthetic pleasure, friendship, religion, and practical reasonableness--are objectively incommensurable, and so any ethical theory must operate with this obvious impediment. Consequentialism's continuing efforts to measure and weigh what is unmeasurable and unweighable are in vain. The theory is fundamentally senseless.

The Finnisian proposal does not require commensurating the incommensurable. Adopting a plan of life in light of the multiple human values or goods is not measuring the immeasurable:

[O]ne can adopt a set of commitments that will bring the basic values into a relation with each other sufficient to enable one to choose projects and, in some cases, to undertake a cost-benefit analysis (or preference-maximizing or other like analysis) with some prospect of a determinate 'best solution'. But the adoption of a set of commitments, by and individual or a society, is nothing like carrying out a calculus of commensurable goods, though it should be controlled by all the rational requirements . . . and so is far from being blind, arbitrary, directionless, or indiscriminate.

NLNR, 115.

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*The issue of consequentialism has been treated at some depth replying in particular on the work of Professor Oderberg. See Consequentialism and Natural Law.
**I say "temporal" because if God is said to be the single, well-defined end of man, it is not sufficient to answer the moral question in regard to the temporal unless the glory of God or the end of friendship with God can only be manifested in one way. But since the glory or love of God may be expressed in countless ways, through "inexhaustibly man life-plans," it follows that God as man's last end is not an adequate common goal sufficient to build a consequentialist ethic. Besides, there is no consequentialist ethicist that would hold God to be man's final end. If there were, then the he would also recognize the relative nature of consequential thought and would recognize the existence of moral absolutes.
***"Jeremy Bentham oscillated and equivocated for sixty years about whether his utilitarianism was to maximize his own happiness or the happiness of 'everbody'." NLNR, 116. Maybe his mummified head is still oscillating and equivocating about it.
****Which is to say that it is necessary, but not sufficient. The other elements of practical reasonableness need to be part of the application of practical reasonableness. Efficiency (utility) is only one necessary but not sufficient prong of a multi-pronged approach, each of which other prongs are necessary but not sufficient alone or in partial aggregation. All prongs must act together to yield practical reasonableness in its fullness which, in its fullness, is both necessary and sufficient.

Natural Law's Modern Cousin Germain: Be Coherent

A COHERENT PLAN OF LIFE IS THE FIRST requirement of practical reasonableness identified by Finnis in his book Natural Law and Natural Rights. We are not free, if we are to be reasonable (and being unreasonable is not being free, but being arbitrary and chained to whim), unless we have a rationally coherent plan of life. The inclinations, urges, desires that we have must somehow be reined and disciplined into some sort of rational ordering or coherent plan of life. This means that it must be externally and internally coherent and rational. This coherent plan must be rational with respect to basic values, and in ordering them it must not be internally inconsistent so that a person is not at cross purposes with himself. It must, moreover, be concerned with more than here-and-now. It must extend out over time. Indeed it must not only extend out over time, it must even consider that which is beyond time, the novissima.

Implicitly or explicitly one must have a harmonious set of purposes and orientations, not as the 'plans' or 'blueprints' of a pipe-dream, but as effective commitments. . . . It is unreasonable to life merely from moment to moment, following immediate cravings, or just drifting.

NLNR, 104.

Finis Gloriae Mundi by Juan de Valdés Leal

Two things ought to be stressed with respect to the adoption of a coherent plan of life. First, it is not to be confused with adopting or inventing values. The basic values are not ours to mold or create. The choice is not adopting a coherent set of values of our own making (and it is questionable that values of our own making would be coherent) since we have no basis for ignoring the self-evident human values--life, knowledge, play, aesthetic experience, sociability, practical reasonableness, religion--and participating in those of our own manufacture. There is no rational basis in creating basic values that do not exist, and we lack the power to fashion them out of whole cloth as if ex nihilo. There is no rational basis for ignoring the self-evident basic values that do exist and not participating in them. It is in fact a refusal to participate in being if one ignores the basic values. One is not acting in accordance with practical reasonableness in deciding to choose death, or ugliness, or misanthropy, or impiety, or ignorance, or power, as a basic value. One is only acting in accordance with practical reasonableness when--confronted with the basic values of life, play, knowledge, aesthetic experience, sociability, practical reasonableness, religion--we adopt a coherent plant of life that attempts to participate in them in a rational way.

Second, the coherent plan of life must go beyond the immediate. It is a long-range, lasting, staying, sort of habitual thing. It is not a short-term ordering, hinc et nunc, but a long-term ordering. As Finnis puts it: "It is also irrational to devote one's attention exclusively to specific projects which can be carried out completely by simply deploying defined means to defined objectives." NLNR, 104 (emphasis added).

To be goal driven is not necessarily having a coherent plan of life. One can have myriad particular goals and never have an overall goal, and so be only marginally better than the man who acts by whim and urge. There are many fools: μωροὶ or morons, there are many who are ἄφρων or imprudent. Those who build on a foundation of sand, those who put the less important over the more important, those who bring lamps but forget the oil, those who say in their heart there is no God, and those whom Finnis is referring to here, the men and women full of temporal thoughts, men and women who work their myriad goals and have never thought beyond their immediate goal of amassing assets--be they fame, celebrity, wealth, love, assets that moth and rust destroy, assets that thieves can break in and steal, assets that are are time-and-place-bound. There is warrant for thinking about things that are not time-and-place-bound. (Cf. Matt. 6:19-20).

What is meant by coherent plan of life is something overarching, something Finnis defines as "the redirection of inclinations, the reformation of habits, the abandonment of old and adoption of new projects, as circumstances require, and, overall, the harmonization of all one's deep commitments." NLNR, 104. It is in fashioning one's coherent plan of life and the commitments therein entailed that one is exercising authentic autonomy. One acts freely within the law of the real, within the constraints of the self-evident reality of the pre-moral goods. The possibilities are virtually endless, but the possibilities for any one man must be coherently engaged in, and engagement requires a plan. It is through such a plan that one participates in these basic goods.

The image is not one of a gyrovague, a wanderer with no set finality, but of a pilgrim with a definite goal, a pilgrim with a certain bourne. And though contingencies, foreseen and unforeseen, we shall forever confront, we should be committed to this general plan of life which coherently orders our everyday activity and choices. This plan looks ahead as well as in the moment. It even considers the novissima, that last days, the days that may be beyond.

In omnibus operibus tuis memorare novissima tua . . .

In all your works, remember your last days . . . .

Ecclus. 7:40.

It is unreasonable to think that one's time on earth is forever, and a human person's coherent plan of life must consider the beyond: In fashioning a coherent plan of life, he or she must not forget:

Hic breve vivitur,
Hic breve plangitur,
Hic breve fletur;
Non breve vivere,
Non breve plangere,
Retribuetur.*

We do not want to be like the rich man whose plan it was to heap up riches, who never considered the beyond, and who ended up leaving his entire life's work to another and working for naught. It was he, who full of goals and full of success and full of temporary gain, failed to consider for the novissima. He failed to adopt a coherent plan of life that ignored the beyond. He it was that heard the words of God that every man must fear: Stulte! "You fool! (Luke 12:20).

Who can survive being called fool by God?

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*Here life is quickly gone, / Here grief is ended soon, / Here tears are flowing; / Life ever fresh is there, / Life free from anxious care, / God's hand bestowing. See Horatio Parker, Hora Novissima (trans., Isabella Parker).

Natural Law's Modern Cousin Germain: Be Reasonable

PRACTICAL REASONABLENESS, ITSELF A BASIC GOOD, may be distinguished from the other basic goods--life, knowledge, play, aesthetic experience, sociability, and religion--because of its structural or ordering role in man's life, its role in ushering him into the moral life, and its role in guiding him toward happiness or authentic human flourishing. Participation in the basic values presents a virtually infinite set of possibilities. In our short, ephemeral span of life, we cannot participate in the fullness of these values, in their myriad possibilities and combinations. Vita breve. Bona multa. We are free to do any good; we are not free to do every good. We have to choose among values, among basic goods, we have to make some commitments which prevent us from making others--we have to decide what must be done, and what, alas, must of necessity be left undone. Our freedom, our (relative) autonomy allows us choice. But our (relatively brief) temporal existence limits our choice. What is it that is to guide that choice? Our participation in one value in particular: the basic value of practical reasonableness.

For amongst the basic forms of good that we have no good reason to leave out of account is the good of practical reasonableness, which is participated in precisely by shaping one's participation in the other basic goods, by guiding one's commitments, one's selection of projects, and what one does in carrying them out.

NLNR, 100. It is at this juncture--in a person's selection of commitment, projects, acts--that he steps from the pre-moral realm into the realm of morality. It is the use of practical reasonableness that leads man into the field of ethics. "'Ethics', as classically conceived, is simply a recollectively and/or prospectively reflective expression of this problem and of the general lines of solutions which have been thought reasonable." NLNR, 101. It is practical reasonablenss applied to the basic values either looking forward or looking backward. It is practical reason promethean and epimethean that leads to the moral life.

But this is all rather vague and wanting of precision. And so philosophers have identified a number of mandatory requirements of practical reason that provide some guidance as to the proper exercise of this basic value. These are the requirements that the phronimos of Aristotle, the homo prudens, will follow.* He who follows these requirements is mature, a spoudaois,** a man or woman who lives well and who generally may be regarded as "happy," that is, participating in happiness, in human flourishing, in well-being. To participate in the basic values under the guidance of the value of practical reasonableness is to participate in being in our unique way, in accordance with our physis, with our natura. Therefore, these requirements are not only those of practical reasonableness, but are requirements "(by entailment) of (human) nature." NLNR, 103. The basic value of practical reasonableness may be said to be or express "the 'natural law method' of working out the (moral) 'natural law' from the first (pre-moral) 'principles of natural law'". NLNR, 103.

Finnis (NLNR, 103-127) identifies the following requirements of practical reasonableness:

1. The person must adopt a coherent plan of life;
2. The person must not arbitrarily prefer any basic value above any other basic value;
3. The person must not arbitrarily prefer any person above any other person;
4. The person must exercise a certain detachment and a certain commitment;
5. The person must consider the (limited) relevant of consequences, i.e., he must consider efficiency within reason;
6. The person must respect every basic value in every act;
7. The person must consider the common good; and
8. The person must follow his or her conscience.

Applying these requirements of practical reasonableness upon the raw data of the pre-moral basic values is how man is introduced into the world of morality.

These requirements shall be the focus of our next several postings.
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*Phronimos (φρόνιμος) is Greek for someone who is practically sensible, wise, virtuous, a prudent man, a homo prudens, or prud'homme.
**Spoudaios (σπουδαῖος) is a mature man or woman, an earnest, morally sedulous man or woman who is living diligently well.

St. Thomas Aquinas: Definition of Law, Reason

ST. THOMAS ADDRESSES the definition of law in Question 90 of his so-called “Treatise on Law” (which is actually part of his Summa Theologica, specifically Questions 90-97 of the first part of the second part of this multi-volume work). St. Thomas first addresses the issue of whether the law is something that is based upon the faculty of practical reason of the law giver, or something else, in particular, the will of the law giver.

Relying principally on the insights in Aristotle’s Physics, St. Thomas concludes that law must principally pertain to reason, and not to the will. He reaches this conclusion because the “rule and measure” of all human acts must be the reason, since reason, and not will, is the proper faculty to direct the end of man. Since law is something that induces man to act, or restrains him from acting, it must accord with the “rule and measure” directing all human acts, which is reason. Ultimately, in St. Thomas's view, it is at the bar of reason to which law is answerable. Naturally, this determination would apply to all law. Thus Eternal Law, the Natural Law, Divine Law, and Human Law would all conform to Reason. Although the Natural Law and Human Law operate under the right reason of man, all manner of law is ultimately subject to conformity with the Divine Reason.

In his handling of the issue, it is apparent that St. Thomas recognizes that the word "law" may be used in an inexact sense. He observes that it is precisely in an imprecise sense that St. Paul uses it when he talks about the “law in my members” in Romans 7:23 to refer to the disposition or tendency toward sin that is referred to as concupiscence. This "law" is not actual law, since it is not based upon reason, but a disordered disposition. Nor is such law actually in the members of a human being, since reason is not be found in the bodily members, but only in the intellect Nevertheless, the term "law" may imprecisely be used to refer to concupiscence because it tugs on us though in a different manner than law, strictly defined, does. Similarly, the "laws of nature," such as scientific "laws," are not strictly laws, but are called laws only in a manner of speaking.

The reason that St. Thomas refers to in his definition of law is what is called the practical reason (ratio practica). This sort of reasoning should be distinguished from the speculative or theoretical reason. The speculative or theoretical reason, entirely intellectual, works by means of argument, applying syllogistic thinking to definitions and propositions to arrive at truths. Speculative or theoretical reason is thus used by humans to determine what is or what one ought to assent to or believe in, that is, what is true, and not what one is supposed to do, that is, to do good and avoid evil.

On the other hand, practical reason is the faculty that man uses to determine what he is supposed to do, and as such it informs us of what is good and what is evil. It relates to one's intent or end (purpose) in acting and is the basis or odering that end. (Some philsophers, such as David Hume, reject the suggestion that practical reason is able to determine what is good and what is evil, and they hold that practical reason is purely instrumental, but that is another issue for another day.)

Because practical reason relates to action, it is a combination of both reason and will. As R. J. Henle puts it: "The act of Practical Reason is a composite one and involves an interplay of will and intellect." R. J. Henle, S.J., ed. The Treatise on Law (Notre Dame: Notre Dame University Press, 1993), [314], 65.

Practical reason similarly uses a syllogistic thinking, applying it to definitions and propositions. But in the practical reason, the “universal propositions of the practical intellect that are directed to actions have the nature of law.” ST IaIIae Q.90, art.1, ad.2. Sometimes, these universal propositions are applied as a result of habit. At other times, these propositions are applied with full awareness and express consideration.

In assessing the interplay of reason and will in the faculty of practical reasoning, St. Thomas insists that reason is preeminent over will. Therefore, law pertains primarily to the reason, and not the will. In taking this position, St. Thomas rejects any implication to the contrary that may have been inferred in the Institutes of the Emperor Justinian. The legal text referred to by St. Thomas defined law in terms of the will of the emperor: Quod principi placuit legis habet vigorem. Inst., I.ii.6. (“Whatsoever pleases the sovereign has the force of law.”) In the Middle Ages, the Institutes and Digest (which with the other laws known as the Novellae) were known as the Corpus Juris Civilis or Codex of the Emperor Justinian. These laws were held in great esteem because of their antiquity and because of the reputation of Justinian as a Christian emperor (the Eastern Church considered him a saint). Justinian's Code, therefore, was to considered to be written reason (ratio scripta), and so was applied to human law as the Scriptures were applied to Divine belief. In his Summa Theologica, St. Thomas Aquinas calls the Emperor Justinian, "the Jurist," like he calls Aristotle, "the Philosopher."

St. Thomas rejects the notion that it is the will which moves us to act; rather, St. Thomas believes that the law is what commands and what forbids, and that this command is properly something pertaining to reason, and it is not something the will engages in except after reason has done its task. While the a person may will a certain end, the reason is what should determine that end, and which issues the command that ordains to that end. Without reason's ordering and guidance, there would be no rule of reason behind that act of will. In St. Thomas’s view, therefore Justinian "the Jurist" must be understood as implying that the will of the sovereign is in accord with some rule of reason. Otherwise, St. Thomas urges, "the sovereign’s will would savor of lawlessness rather than of law." Therefore, St. Thomas concludes, the source of moral obligations, and similarly legal obligations, are based upon a "reasonable will" (rationabile . . . voluntate) or a "will regulated by reason" (voluntate . . . ratione regulata). ST IaIIae, Q. 97, art. 3, resp.

It is apparent that St. Thomas's doctrine would exclude any theory of law that places something other than right reason at the helm of law, whether that something else is the will (even the alleged Divine will), convenience, custom, politics, power, freedom, the genius of the peoples, any idealogy, or anything else. Though these latter factors may have a role to play in fashioning human law, in St. Thomas's view they must always play a subordinate role to rightly-fashioned practical reason. (recta ratio practica).

The French scholar Jean Gerson (1363-1429) is in full compliance with St. Thomas when he states: "Lex est recta ratio practica secundum quam motus et operationes rerum in suos fines ordinatate regulantur." "Law is right practical reason according to which the mode and operations of things are regulated to their final end." Jean Gerson, Oevres Complètes, IX, ed. P. Glorieux (Paris, 1973), p. 134, quoted in Latin in Richard Tuck, Natural Rights Theories: Their Origin and Development (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 27.

In this, Aristotle, Cicero, St. Thomas Aquinas, and Jean Gerson are united. This teaching is our heritage.