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This article was originally contained in The Maritain Volume
of The Thomist published in January 1943 as volume V of
The Thomist (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1943), pp. 85-102.
The collection was occasioned by Jacques Maritain’s sixtieth
birthday. We thank the publisher for granting us permission to
republish it in our Thomas International website.
MARITAIN’S PHILOSOPHY OF THE SCIENCES
Yves Simon
THE MEN engaged in the Thomistic revival which began late in the
nineteenth century soon had to face this challenge: Because the
philosophical principles of Thomism were established at a time
when positive science was in its infancy, it seemed that Thomism
was forbidden ever to deal successfully with the problems of our
time. There could be no provision in the system of St. Thomas
for the interpretation of either the results or the spirit of
modern science, both of which influence so deeply the very
statement of our philosophical problems. The collapse of
Aristotelian physics had entailed the general ruin of the
Thomistic philosophy; against this verdict, rendered at the time
of Galileo and Descartes, there could be no appeal. Thomism was
at best a remarkable phase in the development of Western
thought. If something of it could be revived, it was a certain
inspiration, a certain aspiration, a certain frame of mind, but
not any part of the systematic synthesis actually known under
the name of Thomism.
Such was the only possible attitude for those who held that no
part of philosophy is independent of positive science. More
moderate persons were willing to make an exception for
metaphysics, considering that our knowledge of the one, the
true, and the good is little affected by what happens in physics
and mathematics. But with regard to cosmology, psychology and
even logic, the restoration of a philosophy conceived in the
middle ages was deemed plainly impossible. The result was a
number of eclectic constructions in which St. Thomas was
permitted to supply a few general truths but not any refined and
detailed achievement.
As a matter of fact, in order to know how far Thomism was
affected by modern developments in the positive sciences, a
group of preliminary questions had to be examined. Has
philosophy a distinct object? Is philosophy a science or not?
One science or several? What is the significance of the
distinction between philosophical and positive knowledge? Is it
a necessary and everlastingly indispensable distinction, or a
merely provisional one? What about the kind of truth that
belongs to philosophy? To positive knowledge? Is it the same or
not? All these questions were profoundly worked out in the
critical research whose climax was the publication, in 1932, of
The Degrees of Knowledge.
The pioneers of the Thomistic revival had rather vague ideas
about the nature of the disciplines which some of them practiced
with great ability. It seems that they were not particularly
interested in problems pertaining to the specification of
philosophical sciences. Today we consider it a paradox that
Thomists ever accepted a division of philosophy which was
initiated by Wolff, popularized by Kant and the eclectics of the
school of Cousin, and which was fundamentally at variance with
that upheld by St. Thomas. Our old masters undertook the
restoration of Thomistic philosophy without having asked
themselves what conception of philosophy and of its divisions a
philosophy must adopt in order to be consistently Thomistic.
Maritain has carried out, with uncompromising firmness, the task
of rediscovering and reasserting the genuinely Thomistic concept
of philosophy.
It is now currently known that the whole doctrine of St. Thomas
concerning the theory of science and philosophy is commanded by
the distinction of three orders of theoretical abstraction. In
an early treatise, the Expositio Super Boetium De Trinitate,
St. Thomas develops, explains and justifies the tripartite
division of knowledge which had been outlined by Aristotle. Some
objects are such that they can neither exist nor be understood
without matter, i.e., apart from the principle which makes
things both perishable and observable. Others are such that they
can be understood without any reference to sense qualities and
the principles of mobility, although they cannot exist except in
corruptible and observable subjects. Finally, some theoretical
objects are determined by such a law of abstraction that they
can both be understood and exist apart from matter. The general
division of theoretical knowledge based upon the consideration
of the orders of abstraction is most profoundly objective, since
it proceeds from the characteristics of the scientific object as
such. Theoretical knowledge is primarily divided into physics,
mathematics, and metaphysics.
This primary division which is the indispensable foundation of
all Thomistic speculation about science and philosophy was
strangely disregarded by the Thomists of the nineteenth century.
Following divisions set up by Wolff, their metaphysics is
divided into a general metaphysics, and a special metaphysics,
itself divided into three disciplines: cosmology, psychology,
natural theology (the last being designated, to make things
worse, by the absurd term "theodicy"). Such a conception
radically upsets concepts which play an essential role in the
Thomistic synthesis. Considering the philosophy of the world
(cosmology) and the philosophy of the soul (psychology) as parts
of metaphysics is, from a Thomistic point of view, completely
nonsensical; for the whole observable world, including the human
soul which is the form of a perishable body, belongs to the
order of objects which can neither exist nor be understood apart
from matter.
Maritain has done much to restore the concept of philosophy of
nature. Badly discredited in the nineteenth century by the
romantic Nature‑philosophie, this concept had never been
satisfactorily defined, inasmuch as the disciples of Aristotle
never succeeded in distinguishing clearly philosophy of nature
from positive science. St. Thomas uses synonymously the
expressions Philosophia Naturalis, Scientia Naturalis,
Physica. The problem is whether there is room within the
first order of abstraction for more than one approach to the
physical world.
In this connection, the Thomistic tradition includes
possibilities of which the Thomists themselves were not
sufficiently aware. Each order of abstraction admits of inner
Thomas, whom Maritain knows so well and loves so dearly, John of
St. Thomas, points out with his usual clarity that within one
and the same order, various degrees of abstraction determine so
many distinct sciences. For instance, within the second order
the Thomists distinguish the degree of abstraction proper to
geometry and the higher degree proper to arithmetic. Within the
third order three degrees and correspondingly three sciences are
distinguished: logic, metaphysics, and theology. John of St.
Thomas explains that the abstraction which defines an order is
an initial one and consists in the disregarding of some sort of
material data: individual matter in physics, sensible matter in
mathematics, all matter in metaphysics. Once this initial
abstraction is effected, the mind has entered into an order of
intelligibility which should not be likened to a plane but
rather to a space. For within this realm of intelligibility the
mind still enjoys the freedom of moving up and down in such a
way as to reach various degrees of terminal abstraction.
Ancient scholastics had only vague hints of the inner
differentiation of the first order of abstraction. Applying to
the first order the principles which had satisfactorily
accounted for the inner differentiation of the second and third
was to be attempted. Maritain restored and purified the
Thomistic concept of a philosophy of nature by elaborating on an
undeveloped aspect of historical Thomism.
Every representation concerning the observable world shows a
dualistic or bipolar character inasmuch as it refers to an
intelligible objects pressing itself through a stream of sense
appearances, and to a stream of sense appearances stabilized by
a center of intelligibility. This bipolar character of the
physical object and its representation is clearly suggested by
the traditional definition of physics as the science of the
ens mobiles eu sensibile. The physical object is both
intelligible (ens) and observable (mobile seu
sensibile). Neither of these opposite characteristics can be
disregarded without its specific nature being destroyed. Leave
out the words mobile seu sensibile and we are no longer
dealing with something physical. Leave out the word ens
and we fall below the level of intellectual knowledge.
Yet physical thinking, while bound to adhere to the two aspects
of its object, can put a particular emphasis on one of them. If
the emphasis is put on ens, we have a form of knowledge
both ontological and physical, a philosophical physics, a
philosophy of nature. If the emphasis is put on mobile seu
sensibile, we have a discipline of a physical and
non‑ontological character, an empiriological science. This point
must be insisted upon: the privilege granted to either pole of
the matter of emphasis. The philosopher of nature is not a
metaphysician, and his definitions must imply some reference to
data of sense experience. On the other hand, the empiriologist
is not a mere dealer in sense experiences, for the observable
regularities with which he deals owe their constancy and their
consistency to their being organized by some ratio entis.
In this connection it is fitting to stress the felicitous
character of this newly coined expression, empiriological
sciences. Speaking of empirical sciences is objectionable,
though customary, since empiricism is said in contradistinction
to scientific knowledge. Empiriological sciences are not mere
empiricism, but a system of experience organized by an essential
reference to a principle of intelligibility.
How physical thinking organizes itself around either pole of its
object can be best evidenced by investigating the way physical
definitions are constructed and justified. A typology of
physical concepts is the real key to the opposition between
philosophy of nature and positive science.
Let us try to ascertain rigorously the meaning of a word found
both in philosophical and in positive contexts. The example
chosen may be very simple. To the question what does the word
"man" mean? the answer will be "rational animal"; now, none of
the elements of this definition presents a character of
irreducible clarity. Take one of them, for instance, animal.
What does this word mean. A correct definition would be: "a
living body endowed with sense knowledge," and these are so many
terms which badly need clarification. Take for instance the
expression "living." I would say that a body is a living one
when it moves itself, when it is the active origin of its own
development. If we go one step further, we go beyond the limits
of physical thought. In order to render the idea of life
clearer, we would have to define it as self‑actuation. The
concept of self‑actuation does not imply any reference to the
proper principles of corruptible and observable things: it is a
metaphysical concept. Its elements are identity and casuality.
Identity is the first property of being. Causality can be
analyzed into potency and act. Identity, potency, and act are so
many concepts directly reducible to that of being, which is, in
an absolute sense, the first and the most intelligible of all
concepts. We have reached the ultimate term of the analysis, the
notion which cannot be defined and which does not admit of any
beyond.
This is the kind of analysis that the word "man" suggests when
it is used in certain contents. Everybody would agree that a
discourse which demands such an analysis is a philosophical one.
But the same word "man" is often used in contexts which neither
demand nor could stand such an analysis. I happen to find the
word "man" in a treatise of zoology: explaining it in the way we
did just now would seem perfectly ridiculous. An analysis whose
term is the concept of being has obviously nothing to do with
the behavior, the method, the spirit and the principles of that
discipline we call zoology. Should a univocally‑minded
philosopher try to enlighten a zoologist by giving him
explanations about self-actuation as a particular form of
relationship between potency and act, no doubt the zoologist
would declare that all these things are perfectly nonsensical
for him as a scientist.
The zoologist would be right and the philosopher would be
univocally‑minded. Both philosopher and zoologist consider man,
but they have a different way of defining objects and of
answering the question "what does it mean?" For the zoologist,
man is a mammal of the order of primates. How would he define
such a term as mammal? A vertebrate characterized by the
presence of special glands secreting a liquid called milk. How
is milk defined? In terms of color, taste, average density,
bio‑logical function, chemical components, etc.
Here the ultimate and undefinable element is some sense datum;
it is the object of an intuition for which no logical
construction can be substituted and upon which all the logical
constructions of the science of nature finally rest. In some
cases, the explanation of a positive definition quickly demands
recourse to sense experience. This often happens in the least
elaborated parts of science. The elaboration of scientific
concepts generally postpones the time when the recourse to sense
intuition appears indispensable. But sooner or later it always
imposes itself unmistakably. It is the possibility of being
ascertained through sense experience which gives the concept its
positive meaning. For the positive scientist every concept which
cannot be, either directly or indirectly, explained in terms of
sensations, is meaningless.
The philosophy of nature can be defined as a physical
consideration whose conceptual instruments call for an ascending
analysis, positive science as a physical consideration whose
conceptual instruments call for a descending analysis. The very
opposition of the two analyses provides an invaluable rule for
the determination of the point of view prevailing in our studies
about nature. Let us think of the ambiguous literature which
stands on the borderline between philosophy and positive
science. Then a philosopher informed of positive science or a
scientist interested in philosophy considers philosophical
problems raised by the study of positive questions, the
philosophical and the positive point of view appear successively
in his expositions; generally the writer is not aware of the
shift. The resulting confusion can easily be removed provided we
carry out the analysis of a few key concepts. According as this
analysis goes up or down, according as the concept demands to be
explained in more and more characteristically ontological terms
or in terms which refer more and more directly to definite
experiences, we know whether we have to deal with a
philosophical or a positive treatment.
This description of positive science as a consideration of the
ens mobile seu sensibile, which puts the emphasis upon
mobile seu sensibile and centers around the observable
aspects of things, throws a novel light on the notion of the
science of phenomena. Let us have a glance at the adventurous
history of this notion.
At the dawn of Greek philosophy, a science of phenomena was
deemed impossible both by Parmenides and by Cratylus. Science
demands an unchangeable and necessary object; the phenomenal
universe shows only a stream of changing appearances. The
phenomenon, owing to its mutability, is thoroughly uncongenial
to the spirit of scientific knowledge. This negation persists in
Plato. The phenomenal world is merely an object of opinion.
Science finds its object in a transcendent world of numbers and
ideas.
With Aristotle the picture is quite different. Aristotle
perceives immutable types immanent in the physical world: these
are universal natures which reveal themselves through the
regularities that are observed in the very order of phenomena.
Accordingly, the phenomenon no longer has the character of an
enemy of scientific thought. It is the phenomenon which, through
its regularities, leads the scientific mind to its object: the
universal types of things, their essences, their ways of being.
The science so defined is a philosophy of nature, an ontology of
the physical world. It does not reach its end until it is able
to answer the question "What is the thing under consideration?"
Neither Aristotle nor any of his Thomistic followers has ever
defended the unwarranted idea of an intuitive perception of
essences. Yet their scientific ideal is definitely attached to
the disclosure, the understanding of the intelligible types
immanent in the observable world. However essential the
observation of phenomena maybe in such a science, this science
is by no means a science of phenomena. It is exclusively, or
rather claims to be—for Aristotle did in fact perform great
achievements in empiriological disciplines—a science of the
essences located beyond the phenomena.
It can be safely said that the science of phenomena did not
receive an epistemological charter before Kant. The charter it
was given by Kant is idealistic. Hardly conscious of its nature
in the era preceding the Kantian Critique, the science of
phenomena, from then on, was to be acknowledged as a distinct
and fully legitimate epistemological species. But how is the old
problem answered in the Critique of Kant? What sort of
solution is given to the difficulty resulting from the sharp
conflict between the requirements of the scientific
spirit—necessity, universality, inter-subjectivity—and the most
obvious characteristics of the phenomenal world, its endless
diversity, its thorough unsteadiness? There can be no doubt
about it: the principles which, according to Kant, organize
nature, do not lie in nature, but in the mind. The scientific
object, with its characteristics of orderliness, determination,
and universality, results from the application of mental
categories to the diversity of sense‑experience data.
Most men of science, ever since the Kantian reformation, have
assented to the fundamentally idealistic view that the
characteristics of the scientific object, its aptitude to fit in
an intelligible system and, above all, to comply with the
requirements of casual identification, are a proper effect of
the synthetic activity of the mind. This stubborn adherence to
an idealistic justification of positive science conflicts
strikingly with the spontaneous realism of scientific thought.
Men of science, willingly or not, receive their philosophical
ideas from philosophers; they could not rid themselves of
idealistic prejudices so long as philosophers were teaching
idealism as the only doctrine that could account for the
unquestionable ability of the mind to treat in an orderly and
causal manner the universe of phenomena.
In his dealing with phenomena, Aristotle has no other purpose
than that of utilizing their regularities in order to know
essences. Maritain calls dianoetical intellection the act of the
mind which penetrates an essence and perceives what the thing
is. For instance, the philosophical definition of man as
analyzed above expresses an intellection which, though
inexhaustive and non‑intuitive, has succeeded in penetrating the
whatness of human nature. We know that the theoretical intellect
is not often so successful. In most cases we cannot disclose the
essences of sensible things in their specificity, we cannot
accomplish a dianoetical intellection of their whatness. All we
can do is to distinguish them through a definition calling for a
descending analysis. The intellection expressed by such a
definition does not imply any penetration of the physical
essence; it only implies a circumscription of it within a
steadily connected set of observable regularities. Nobody can
say what the essence of silver is; yet silver is a perfectly
distinct chemical species. The undisclosed essence called silver
is clearly and certainly distinguished from any other essences
by the system of observable regularities which taken together
belong exclusively to it.
In this connection let us call attention to a difficulty often
experienced by positive scientists when they try to give their
definitions a logically satisfactory form. Since we include in
the definition of silver the property of melting at 960.5°
centigrade, the property of boiling at 2000°,
etc., what does the subject, silver, refer to, if not to
something which is specified precisely by the fact that it melts
at 960.5°?
The vice of circularity seems inevitable. The statement that
silver melts at 960.5°
resembles very much the statement that a black cat is black. Or,
if we wish to avoid mentioning the predicate in the logical
subject, we are confronted with a host of predicates hailing
upon nothingness as a subject. In fact a subject is not lacking,
but whereas the many predicates belong to the order of
phenomena, the subject belongs to another order. Throughout the
chapter of chemistry which constitutes the definition of silver,
a certain ontological x designated by this name, silver, is
present, though undisclosed, to the mind. The logically
satisfactory definition of silver would be: x melts at 960.5°,
boils at 2000°,
etc.; we give the name of silver to the hidden essence which we
circumscribe by this steadily connected set of observable
regularities.
Whereas the being of things is successfully penetrated by the
dianoetical intellection used in philosophy of nature, it is
only circumscribed by the perinoetical intellection of
empiriological science. The intelligible element which enables
empiriological knowledge to transcend empiricism is not revealed
to the mind, nor is it imposed by the mind upon the phenomena as
a form upon a matter. It is grasped inside a system of
phenomenal regularities, circumscribed by this observable system
and never disengaged from it. Thus the science of which
Aristotle had no clear notion— although he practiced it a great
deal— the science which has for its object the phenomenal
regularities themselves, is defined as possible on a realistic
basis. The orderly character of the phenomena is guaranteed by
the ontological x which is confusedly grasped together with them
by the empiriological analysis. With Maritain, the science of
phenomena was given for the first time a justification which
owed nothing to the idealistic interpretation of the mind's
activity.
It is clear that in this conception a positive science of nature
can exist independently of any mathematical treatment of natural
phenomena. The Kantian statement that "the amount of genuine
science found in each department of natural knowledge cannot be
greater than the amount of mathematics found in it" shockingly
conflicts with the fact that most important developments whose
scientific character can hardly be questioned seem to be by
nature refractory to mathematical forms (in biology and
psychology especially). Whenever the mind seizes an essence, a
ratio entis, albeit in the imperfect way proper to the
perinoetical intellection, a genuinely scientific treatment
remains possible. Any universal and necessary form of being,
even if it is understood in a very obscure manner, constitutes a
matter to which the mind can apply the principles of scientific
thought, that is, causal and explanatory schemes. With great
care Maritain pointed out that causal ideas and principles, when
applied in empiriological sciences, have to be reconsidered and
reshaped. The concept of efficient cause, for instance, is
originally an ontological concept, that is, a concept defined by
reference to being; in this original condition it is not
directly applicable outside the ontological order. When we go
down to the empiriological level, the concept of being undergoes
a trans‑formation. Here, being no longer appears as the lighted
spot of the thing under consideration, but merely as an
undisclosed principle of orderliness which guarantees the
steadiness of the phenomenal regularities.
Causal concepts have to undergo a transmutation completely
analogous to that undergone by the concept of being. This
operation can make them hard to recognize, and this is how some
extreme forms of positivism have been able to construct the
ideal of a science exclusively concerned with laws and which
would owe nothing to causal concepts. But it is well known that
the spontaneous development of positive sciences has constantly
given the lie to this ideal limit of positivism.
Considering again the contention that Thomism cannot account for
modern epistemological developments, let us now remark that it
refers especially to the mathematical aspect of modern science.
Did not the Cartesian reformation consist in the substitution of
a mathematical interpretation of the physical world for the
Aristotelian interpretation of nature in terms of ontology?
The mathematical treatment of physical nature was not unknown to
ancient and medieval Aristotelianism. Astronomy, optics, and
acoustics, are referred to in the works of Aristotle and his
medieval for towers as so many mixed sciences, whose form is
mathematical and whose matter is physical. In this connection,
it is necessary to correct current statements concerning the
lack of explicit distinction between philosophy and positive
science in ancient and medieval doctrines. Old Aristotelians
failed to distinguish clearly two types of thought,
corresponding to distinct degrees of abstraction within the
first order, and the term physicus is taken by them as entirely
synonymous with the term philosophus naturalis. In that sense it
is true that up to the modern era philosophy embraced all
sciences of nature. But this holds only so far as positive
research follows purely physical ways. Ancient and medieval
philosophers seem to be rather keenly aware of a discrepancy
between the ways proper to the philosophia naturalis and
those proper to physico‑mathematical sciences. Whereas it never
occurs to them to set in opposition the physicus and the
philosophus naturalis, they currently set in opposition
the philosophus physicus and the astronomer, thus showing
some realization of the non‑philosophical character of the
mathematical interpretation of nature.
Maritain describes the epistemological crisis which broke out at
the time of Galileo and Descartes and is still so far from being
settled as a tragic misunderstanding.
When the historic conflict between the Aristotelian physics and
the new physics broke out, both sides were equality convinced
that this was a conflict between two philosophies of nature. The
physico‑mathematical science founded by Descartes was considered
by its founder as a philosophy of nature and the only possible
one. The decadent Aristotelians with whom Descartes was
confronted did not even think that the Cartesian world‑picture
was possibly a physico‑mathematics sophisticated into an
ontology. Then it happened that the Cartesian mechanism achieved
the obliteration of the old distinction between the philosopher
of nature (physicus) and the mathematic at interpreter of
nature (astrologus). When we reread the great work of
Newton significantly entitled Principia Mathematica
Philosophiae Naturalis we realize that the Newtonian
science, once considered by positivists as the archetype of
positive knowledge, was far from having rid itself of
ontological ambitions.
Thanks to his felicitous description of a non-philosophical
approach to the physical world within the first order of
abstraction, Maritain found himself in a favorable position to
investigate the principles of physico-mathematical knowledge and
to account for the increasingly complete autonomy which marked
its latest developments. In this undertaking, Maritain had at
hand two effective instruments: one was the theory of
perinoetical intellection and descending analysis; the other was
the conception of the mathematical object as a preter‑real
entity always affected by some conditio rationis and
which often turns out to be a mere ens rationis with a
foundation in the real.
It is comparatively easy to see how the law of the descending
analysis which prevails in all fields of positive knowledge
applies to the mathematical interpretation of nature. Whereas in
the case of a non-mathematical positive science the law of
descending analysis amounts to the necessity of resolving all
concepts into observable data, this law, when applied to a
science of physico-mathematical type, signifies the necessity of
resolving all concepts into measurable data. In several domains,
nothing in general makes sense for the positive scientist except
what can be explained in terms of measurements. A great deal of
confusion often results from the fact that the philosopher of
nature and the physicist use the same terms without being aware
of their referring to widely different objects. One and the same
term refers to the being of things when used by the philosopher
and, when used by the physicist, to the aptitude of things to be
the matter of accurate measurements.
No wonder that such widely different points of view give birth
to statements which in appearance conflict sharply. The conflict
generally vanishes as soon as we understand that identical words
convey typically different concepts and refer to distinct
objects. A particularly clear example is supplied by the recent
discussions about the determination of natural phenomena. Many
philosophers and scientists attribute to the so-called
indeterminism of modern physics revolutionary consequences with
regard to our philosophical conception of the natural and even
of the human world. Yet it should be remarked that the point of
reference used by the physicist in his definition of determinism
is quite distinct from the point of reference used by the
philosopher in the definition of a concept which bears the same
name. True to the law of ascending analysis which is that of
philosophical thought, the philosopher considers that an event
is determined when in some way or other it happens necessarily;
necessity itself is defined as the property of that which cannot
be otherwise than it is. The reference is ontological; the
concept so defined makes absolutely no sense for the physicist.
Being and the possibility of being otherwise are not things
which fall under his measurements. Accordingly, in order to be
of any use in physics the concept of determinism has to be
reshaped so as to satisfy the following proportion: the
determinism of the physicist is to the determinism of the
philosopher as the measurable is to being. Thus we are led to
realize that whereas the philosopher understands by determined
event an event which follows from its causes in such a way that
it cannot fail to happen, the physicist understands by
determined event an event whose coordinates at the time t can be
accurately calculated on the basis of an initial system of
spatio‑temporal data. The determinism of the physicist is an
empiriometrical determinism.
Because of the intervention of the mathematical ens rationis
the gap is wider between philosophy of nature and
physico-mathematics than between philosophy of nature and other
parts of positive science. In so far as physics is a formally
mathematical science, in so far as it obeys the law which is
that of its form, it participates in the indifference of
mathematics to the reality of its object. This consideration
accounts for the particular form taken in our times by the old
conflict between science and common sense.
The congeries of current notions that we call common sense is
far from being homogeneous. Maritain distinguishes in it a
system of images and a rudimentary ontology. The imagery of
common sense expresses mostly the laziness of uncultured
intellects and their willingness to content themselves with
cheap representations. No wonder that this imagery has always
conflicted with science and generally with every form of
rational thinking. But inasmuch as physics incorporates entia
rationis and follows the mathematical tendency to treat
indifferently entia rationis and entia realia,
even the sound part of common sense, its ontology, may enter
into conflict with the most sound scientific speculations. The
concept of relative simultaneity, for instance, appears very
shocking to common sense; common sense unhesitatingly believes
that the question whether two events happen at the same time
must be answered by yes or no. Ontologically considered,
simultaneity is absolute. Yet the concept of relative
simultaneity makes sense if referred to definite possibilities
of accurate measurements; this reference is thoroughly
unfamiliar to common sense. Relative simultaneity is a
physico‑mathematical ens rationis founded in the real and
inescapably imposed upon the mind of the physicist by the very
nature of his scientific point of view.
From this it does not follow that the constructions of the
physicist should be considered as mere "hypotheses" or
conventions incapable of apprehending the real in any way.
Maritain would not agree with the superficial statement that the
philosopher has never to worry about agreements or disagreements
with the physicist, on the ground that philosophy and physics
are two separate domains of thought. His epistemological
pluralism is by no means absolute. Let us give an idea of the
distinctions which should be made and of the issue which should
be surveyed in order to appreciate the bearing of physical
theories with regard to the knowledge of the real.
1. The principles previously developed make it clear that a
concept may be a genuine expression of the real without
pertaining to the ontological type. A description of a
non-ontological character is not thereby deprived of real
bearing. Real, being, knowledge are so many analogical
terms. An ontological description is more real than a
non-ontological one, yet a non-ontological description may well
be a description of the real.
2. Even within the first order of abstraction the mind often
uses fictitious constructions in its approach to the real. Yet
so long as were main in the first order, the realistic spirit of
science is not held in check. Except for possible failures,
fictions never play more than a transitional role; they are used
as mere means in view of achieving a representation of the real
which cannot be brought about in a more direct fashion.
3. As soon as positive science assumes a mathematical form,
something entirely novel takes place. The very nature of
mathematical abstraction renders mathematical thought
indifferent to the reality of its object. Consequently
physico-mathematical science, in so far as it yields to the
attraction of its mathematical form, tends to make no difference
between ens reale and ens rationis.
4. Should this tendency prevail without check, it could be said
truly that physical theories do not trace phenomena to their
real causes and do not tell anything about the real world. Such
is the conception of physics upheld by Pierre Duhem. For
Maritain this interpretation, though not without basis, amounts
to an oversimplification. In fact, the attraction exercised on
physics by its mathematical form is not unchecked. If the form
is mathematical, the matter remains physical, and accordingly
there is in the very structure of the science a counteracting
tendency to adhere to the real and to look for explanations by
real causes. Actual science is probably a compromise between
these two opposite and complementary tendencies.
However incomplete it may be, this exposition sufficiently shows
that for Maritain the problem of the relationship between
science and philosophy does not admit of any easy solution.
Maritain is quite aware of the great improvements in knowledge
which can be expected from the cooperation of the philosopher
and the scientist; but he does not seem to believe that such a
cooperation can ever work smoothly and without frictions. The
ample system of our knowledge of nature—philosophical,
empiriological, empiriometrical—is apparently destined to
present ever‑lastingly a spectacle of restlessness, of
precarious equilibrium, with sharp conflicts breaking out in
times of crisis. Such a lack of harmony would be sufficiently
accounted for by the psychology of the scientist and that of the
philosopher. It is difficult, not to say impossible, for each of
them not to be biased by his own habitus to the point of being
unable to understand his partner. But even if a perfect
philosopher were also a perfect physicist, or vice versa, there
still would be within the mind, provided with such habitus,
ground for conflicts between the two visions of the world.
Maritain says that there is some melancholy in the realization
that no complete continuity can be established among our various
approaches to the natural world. It is not the least merit of
his extensive and profound exploration of the most diverse
fields of rational activity to have removed the optimistic
illusion of a perfect harmony among the functions of the mind.
Compared with the teaching which prevailed in Thomistic
textbooks thirty years ago, Maritain's philosophy of science
appears as a tremendous novelty. Yet whoever is familiar with
the physical and epistemological writings of St. Thomas will
admit that no Thomist has ever written a more authentically
Thomistic book than The Degrees of Knowledge.
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