A Thomistic Solution to the Problem of Evil

Volume 2 - March 2012

ANG UGNAYANG AKO–IKAW LAMPAS AKO–ITOTungo Sa Pagtuklas ng Diyos Bilang Ubod–Tigib–Apaw–Ikaw (Isang Pilosopikal na Sanaysay)FR. MAXELL LOWELL C. ARANILLA, PH.D.

THE NARRATIVITY OF HISTORY AND THE HISTORICITY OF NARRATIVITYA Review of Paul Ricoeur’s Insight on Historical and Fictional NarrativesFR. LORENZ MOISES J. FESTIN, PH.D.

PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORYAt The Crossroads of Epistemology and Metaphysics

FR. RAYMUN J. FESTIN, PH.D.

A THOMISTIC SOLUTION TO THE PROBLEM OF EVILNAPOLEON M. MABAQUIAO, JR., PH.D.

THE FOUR LOVESARISSE PAOLO R. LAURENTE

FREEDOM AS ROOTED IN AUTHENTIC EXISTENCEFRANCIS ROI A. MADARANG

ALTRUISM IN TAOISMJOSE MARIE M. VILLAS

MARVIN M. CRUZEditor

RAMON MIKHAIL PAULO E. NICDAOAssistant Editor

VICTOR CARLO G. IRENEXAVIER PAUL Y. JACOMEJOHN PAUL C. MIRADOR

Staff

FR. LORENZ MOISES J. FESTIN, PH.D.Moderator

STAFF

THEORIA, translated as contemplative activity or study, is what Aristotle identifies as the highest operation of man’s intellectual faculty that constitutes the highest form of life. THEORIA is the official journal of the San Carlos Seminary Philosophy Department which aims to gather articles from students, graduates and professors.

San Carlos Seminary reserves the rights to all the articles. Mass reproduction and photocopy is highly discouraged without explicit permission from the Editor.

Philippine Copyright © 2012 by San Carlos SeminaryISSN 2094-9448

March 2012 - Volume 2

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ANG UGNAYANG AKO–IKAW LAMPAS AKO–ITO

Tungo Sa Pagtuklas ng Diyos Bilang Ubod–Tigib–Apaw–Ikaw (Isang Pilosopikal na Sanaysay)

FR. MAXELL LOWELL C. ARANILLA, PH.D.

1. Ako-Ito at Ako-Ikaw

Ang pakikipagtalaban ng tao ay karaniwang mula sa sarili patungo sa mga katotohanang labas sa kanya. Nakikipag-ugnayan siya sa bawat meron sa dalawang paraan. Ang mga ito ay ang mga ugnayang Ako–Ito at Ako–Ikaw. Ang Ako na tinutukoy sa dalawang paraan ay ipagpapalagay natin, tulad ng nararapat, na iisa ngunit kung ating pag-uusapan na ang ugnayang nagaganap, atin na itong ipagpapalagay na magkaiba. Sa una, ang merong Ako ay nakikipagtalaban sa isang Ito bilang obheto ng obserbasyon, repleksyon at paggamit sa kanyang paligid. Sa relasyong ito idinidiin ng Ako ang kanyang kaibhan sa Ito. Higit pa rito ay ang kanyang pagiging higit sa Ito.

Sa kabilang dako, ang merong Ako sa ugnayang Ako–Ikaw ay nakikipagtalaban sa isang Ikaw bilang lampas sa pagiging obheto, ibig sabihin may pagtitig din sa pagiging suheto ng Ikaw. Sa ugnayang ito para bang ipinapantay, kung mula sa ibaba ang kalagayan ng Ikaw, ang Ako sa kinaroroonan ng Ikaw; o kaya naman ay pakikipagtagpo, kung mula sa itaas ang kinarorornan ng Ikaw, ang Ako sa Ikaw sa tulong na rin ng Ikaw na Ako ay makatalaban.

Sa parehong ugnayan maaaring makaugnayan ng Ako ang isang Ito o Ikaw sa tatlong “spheres”: ang buhay ng Ako sa kapaligiran, ang buhay ng Ako sa tao, at ang buhay ng Ako sa Diyos. Ang pagakakaiba, sa isang punto, ay hindi sa kung sino ang katalaban bagkus kung anong uri ng pakikipagtalaban ang nagaganap.


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Sa sumusunod na pagninilay, sisikapin kong patingkarin ang pagkakaiba ng dalwang ugnayan: Ako–Ito at Ako–Ikaw. Bagama’t di tuwiran at ayon sa pagkakaayos, maaaninagan din ang pagkakalapat ng relasyon sa tatlong “spheres” na nabanggit. Ngunit higit sa lahat, bibigyang tingkad ng pagninilay ang ugnayang tao sa Diyos bilang lampas ugnayang Ako–Ito at kahit pa Ako–Ikaw bagkus ang relasyon ay ang Ako–Ubod–Tigib–Apaw na Ikaw.

2. Pagninilay

Nagmamadali ako noong umakyat, papunta sa “Powerbooks” ng Shangrila-Edsa na nasa pinakamataas na palapag. Natural upang mapadali ang aking lakad, gumamit na lamang ako ng elevator. Sa kabila ng nag-uusok kong mga paa, matiyaga pa rin akong naghintay sa pagbaba ng elevator na sa pagdating ko sa unang palapag ng gusali ay nasa ikaapat na palapag pa. Tatlong minuto akong naghintay at sa wakas umilaw na ang labas ng elevator. Bumukas ang pinto at ako’y pumasok. Wala akong kasama sa loob kundi ang operator na sa loob ng ilang taon kong paminsan-minsang pagsakay doon ay ni hindi ko naitanong ang pangalan. Gaya ng nakasanayan, isinenyas ko sa pamamagitan ng aking mga daliri ang palapag na aking pupuntahan. Salamat sa Diyos at dire-diretso ang elevator. Umilaw na ang bilang na patutunguhan kong. Bumukas ang pinto at ako’y lumabas. Tatakbo akong lumabas ng elevator ngunit naalala kong hindi pa pala ako nagtatanghalian. Pinili ko munang dumaan sa kalapit na restawrant. Habang ninanamnam ko ang ubod na sarap na pancit na aking pinagpipistahan ay bigla kong naalala ang mga titik ni Martin Buber hinggil sa relasyong Ako–Ito at Ako–Ikaw. Naalala ko ang isang tala na nagsasaad na kahit na raw ang relasyong tao sa tao ay nagiging relasyong Ako–Ito. Ako–Ito ang relasyong impersonal, kontrolado, na para bang ayaw magbukas ng Ako sa Ito. Isang relasyon ng tao sa halaman, tubig, kahoy, libro o pancit. Ugnayang obheto ang turing sa katalaban. Yun tipong preserbado ang pagkakaiba at hindi binigyang pansin ang pagkakapareho. Basta iba Ako sa Ito.

Nagtanong ako sa aking sarili: Paano mangyayari na ang tao ay itinuuring na Ito gayung ang natura naman dapat ng tao ay isang Ako? Sa pag-iisip ko, bumalik ang karanasang sariwang-sariwa pa sa aking isipan. Isang karanasang halos hindi ko na nabigyang pansin (salamat


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na lang at walang wala na akong magawa kundi mag-isip habang kumakain). Naalala ko ang aking karanasan ilang saglit lamang ang nakakaraan, sa pagsakay sa elevator. Binigyang pansin ko ang elevator at ang operator. Pawang sinuri ko ang ugnayan ko sa elevator at doon sa operator. May pinag-iba o pagkakahalintulad ba? And tanda ko, kaharap ko pareho ang dalawa. Pareho din akong hindi sumambit ni isang salita sa dalawa. Natural di ko makakausap ang elevator dahil di naman tutugon… dahil hindi siya taong tulad ko… dahil siya’y obheto. Pero ang inaantok na operator. Tao siya at hindi obheto pero hindi ko rin siya kinausap. Ultimong ang pagpapabatid sa kanya kung saang palapag ako pupunta ang isinagawa ko pa sa pamamagitan ng pagsenyas. Totoong napaka-impersonal ng aking pakikitungo sa kanya. Napakalimitado at kontrolado na maaari namang hindi sana.

Sa patuloy kong pagninilay, nagising ako sa katotohanan na para bang inilebel ko ang elevator sa operator. Parang pinindot at kinontrol ko na rin lamang siya.

Batid kong hindi dapat makulong sa ganito ang pakikipagtalabang tao sa tao. Kinakailangang malampasan ang Ako–Ito tungo sa relasyong Ako–Ikaw. Isang relasyong mararanasan ang katagpo bilang kaharap, may mukha, personal, may kaakibat na damdamin; na sa pagkilala ko na iba ako sa kanya ay mahihiwagaan ko ring may misteryong namamagitan.

Kung magagawa ko ngang ituring at gawing suheto ang isang bagay, halimbawa sa pakikipagtalaban ko sa regalong “stuffed toy” na na bigay sa akin ng isang mahal sa buhay. Kinakausap, inaalagaan at may damdamin akong nakatali sa laruan, dahil nakatali ang laruan sa personang aking minamahal, anupa’t hindi maging suheto ang bawat taong siya namang tunay na may kakayahang magpahayag at itirik ang sarili bilang suheto.

Ang karanasang aking nabanggit ay isang karanasang nag-aakay at nagbibigay din naman ng liwanag sa karanasan ng tao sa Diyos bilang Absolutong–Ikaw. Absoluto dahil nakapaloob sa pagiging Ikaw ng Diyos ang lahat ng maaring mag-Ikaw. Ang ugnayang “stuffed toy” na nakatali sa isang personang mahal sa akin kung kaya’t ang nauna ay mahal na rin sa akin ay maihahalintulad na rin sa relasyong lahat ng



nagmemeron na nakatali sa pagka-Ikaw ng Diyos ay sa aki’y mahal. Dahil sa katotohanang ito, walang pagtataka akong makaranas ng kakaibang (dahil higit pa sa karaniwang karanasan) pagka-Ikaw sa bawat nagmemeron, sapagkat malinaw lamang itong pagpapatunay na ang merong aking katalaban ay merong nagpapatotoo sa pagmemeron ng isang Meron na Merong sa kanyang kakayahan ay isa ring Ikaw. Higit pa’y Ubod-Tigib-Apaw na Ikaw.

Ito ang pagka-Ikaw ng Diyos—napaka-personal sapagkat siya’y personang nadarama. Hindi man sa paraang kasing kongkreto ng pakikipagtalaban ko sa tao o bagay na kapit sa tao ay tunay namang naririyan.

Naalala ko ang isang karanasan ng pagka-Ikaw ng Diyos sa aking buhay. Madalas akong nagtatanong, Paano ko malalamang ako’y Kanyang dininig sa aking tawag gayong wala naman akong tinig na naririnig bilang tugon. Naganap ito noong lumabas ako sa seminaryo matapos ang limang taon sa paghuhubog, Makailang ulit ko noong itinanong sa aking sarili kung ang bokasyong pagpapari ba ay dapat ko pang ipagpapatuloy. Sa aking pagtatanong, nagulat na lamang ako minsan na ako pala’y nakikipagtalaban na sa aking Diyos sa pamamagitan ng aking mga karanasan at pangyayari sa pang-araw-araw na buhay.

Damang-dama ko ang pahayag at pagpapahiwatig ng Diyos ng Kanyang tugon sa pamamagitan na rin ng ibang meron—ang merong kapit, dahil nagmula, sa Kanyang Meron. Sa aking pakikipagtalaban at pakikipagtagpo sa ilang mga tao na aking masasabing nakausap hinggil sa bokasyon, damang-dama ko ang lampas-meron na Meron na tumutugon sa pamamagitan ng taong aking kaharap. Hindi ito madyik o milagro. Hindi din naman ilusyon o absolutong mabilisang pananampalataya. Ito’y karanasang totoong-totoo, konkreto sa pandama at aking nauunawaan bagama’t lubusan, nakikita bagama’t di tulad ng pagkakakita ko sa taong aking kaharap. Isang karanasan ng Ikaw na higit pa sa karanasan ng pagiging personal ng “stuffed toy” na bigay sa akin ng isang mahal. Alam kong hindi karaniwan. Alam kong di palagian. Pero alam ko ring totoong-totoo, dahil higit sa damdaming katalaban ko ang isang Ikaw na totoo. Mas may kiliti at paghipo. Mas may pagmumulat. Pero alam kong hindi simpleng nagmumula sa aking katalaban. Pero may pinanggagalingan. May pagiging personal. Higit sa



merong Ikaw kung kaya’t ito ay Merong-Ikaw. Isang Merong-Ikaw na angkop na angkop sa aking pagmemerong-Ako. Isang Merong Ikaw na itinuturing din akong isang-Ikaw dahil hindi Niya ako kontrolado (sa negatibong aspeto) bagkus malaya akong nakikipagtalaban sa Kanya. Damang-dama ko ang paglalapitan naming dalawa, diwa sa diwa at puso sa puso. Yun tipong inilelebel Niya ang Kanyang Absolutong Ikaw sa aking pagkalimitadong-ikaw upang siya’y maranasan, pero sa kabila nito ay nababatid ko pa rin na Siya’y higit sa aking pagka-Ikaw.

Ang Diyos ay hawig-ibang Ikaw kumpara sa ka-Ikaw-an ng tao o bagay. Hawig dahil may pagka-personal at iba dahil higit ang pagka-personal na sa pagbubukas mo ng sarili ay maaring madama ang pag-ibig Niyang di mahindian ngunit di naman mapilit. Ang Diyos na Ikaw na karelasyon ko sa isang relasyong lampas Ako-Ito. Iba sapagkat hindi katulad na katulad sa paraan ng pagtatalaban ng pagka-Ikaw ng tao sa isa pang pagka-Ikaw ng tao. Kung kaya’t ang talabang tao-Diyos ay isang talabang hawig-iba sa talabang tao-Diyos.

3. Pagpapalalim sa Dalawang Paninindigan at Pagninilay

Ang sabi ng pantas na si Gabriel Marcel, nagkaroon daw ng kaganapan ang pagmemeron ng isang tao kapag siya ay makikipag-ugnayan sa iba pang pagmemeron. Ang uri ng pakikipag-ugnayan kung saan ay nadarama ang lubhang-kalaliman ng relasyon ay yaong pakikipagtalaban kung saan nakatagpo mo ang isa pang meron bilang isa pa ring persona. Kung kaya’t ang relasyong ito ay pinatitingkad ng pagkakaroon ng ugnayang personal—magkaharapan, may damdamin, may nadaramang pagmamahal at humahantong sa pagiging tapat.

Ang ganitong uri ng pagpapalagay na ang relasyong persona sa persona, maging ito man ay tao sa tao o tao sa bagay na kapit sa tao, ang siyang sulyap sa pagdanas ng relasyong persona sa Persona, Diyos.

Ang relasyong persona sa persona ay inilarawan sa nauna—unang bahagi bilang isang pakikipagtagpo sa banal at relasyon o diyalogong Ako–Ikaw lampas Ako–Ito, na kung sa atin pang palalalimin at palalampasin sa karaniwang karanasan ay yaong Mahal Banal at Ako–Ubod–Tigib–Apaw na Ikaw. Ang dalawang nauna ay tumutukoy sa relasyong meron sa meron at ang dalawang nahuhuli ay relasyong



Meron sa Meron. Sa madali’t sabi’y relasyong tao sa tao o bagay at tao sa Diyos.

Kung ating titingnan may mga elementong nakapaloob sa ugnayang tao sa Diyos, persona sa Persona, Ako–Ubod–Tigib–Apaw na Ikaw, tao sa Mahal-Banal.

Litaw na litaw na sa relasyong tao sa Diyos, walang namamagitang balakid tulad ng pagnanasang gamitin lamang ang pagmemeron ng Diyos sa ikaluluwalhati ng sarili na nagiging sanhi ng pagbaba sa Ako-Ikaw, mayroong pagbubukas ng mga sarili, sa diwa at puso sa puso. Ang walang kundisyong pagbubukas na ito ng tao sa Diyos at ng Diyos sa tao ay may pag-akit na tumungo sa relasyong pinagtibay ng pagiging tapat.

Sa pagiging tapat ng Diyos sa tao at ng tao sa Diyos nagkakaroon ng higit na mas malapitang ugnayan sa konteksto ng pag-ibig. Tulad ng karanasang tawagin natin ang ating kasintahan na “Loveski” o “Sweetie Pie” bilang pagpapahayag ng ating di mapantayang katapatan ng pag-ibig, ang karanasan natin sa Diyos na kinukulayan din naman ng katapatan at pag-ibig ay parang pinatutunayan na rin ng pagtawag natin sa Kanya bilang Ikaw o Mahal-Banal. Sa palayawang nagaganap para bang paulit-ulit na sinasambit natin sa Diyos na ating Mahal at ating Ikaw na: Sa Iyo ako umaasa, nananalig at nagtitiwala. Ikaw ang nagpupuno ng aking kakulangan, nagpapalakas ng aking kahinaan. Higit mong pinadarama sa pamamagitan ng suklian ng pag-ibig na ako na tulad mo ay isa ring Ikaw… may halaga sapagkat isang merong na sa tulong Mo’y higit na naititirik ang sarili sa gitna ng sangkameronan. Binibigyang dignidad at higit sa lahat, patuloy na sinasang-ayunan ang aking pagmemeron dito sa sangkameronan, bilang tao, bilang Ikaw.

Ganyan ang relasyong Ako–Ikaw o tao sa Mahal-Banal. Ganyan ang personal na pakikipag-ugnayan ng merong tao at Merong Diyos. Hindi na tanong sa paghantong sa ganitong relasyon ang: Umiiral ba talaga ang Ubod-Tigib-Apaw na Ikaw o ang Mahal-Banal? Kundi: Tunay ba para sa akin ang personal na pagmemeron Niya? Ang huling tanong ay maaring sagutin ng isang nagmamahal, ng isang tunay na Ako at tunay na Ikaw. Ang kaganapan ng pagmemeron ng isang minamahal, Mahal-Banal o Ikaw, ay hindi nababatay sa mata o ano mang



pakuldad na pandama, ni sa lohikal o impraktikal na pamamaraan, bagkus sa kaibuturan ng damdamin, wika nga ni Roque Ferriols. Ang damdaming ito ay bumubulusok kasabay ang karanasang dahil may pagnanasang sumandig at lumayo dahil sa di mawaring kahiwagaan. Ang damdamin ding ito ay kasing gaan ng damdaming noong minsan kang mapagod at nais magpahinga ay may uuwian ka, may tahanan ka. Ito ay isang pagdanas na ang katagpo ng iyong damdamin ay isang tahanan na bukal ng pagkalinga at pagmamahal. Ang damdamin ring ito ay masigla na parang laro. Yung may karanasang ligaya sa paglalaro na walang paligsahan bagkus basta’t natutuwa ang bawat naglalaro.

Ito ang karanasan ng Diyos bilang sumasameron dahil nagmemeron, Persona dahil nadarama at nakikipag-ugnayan, at tunay siyang malapit at kapit na kapit, pasok na pasok sa karanasan ng meron.

4. Ang Diyos: Sabay Lampas at Personal na Meron

Tunay na may naglalagablab na pagsusumikap at pagnanasang mahiwatigan ng tao sa kanyang pagtatanong ng kung anu-anong meron sa daigdig tulad ng kanyang pagmemeron ang Diyos. Malinaw din na ipinamumukha ng kasaysayan ng Pilosopiya mula kay Platon sa mga nauna pa sa kanya hanggang sa mga pilosoper sa kasalukuyang panahon, saan mang sulok ng mundo, na may mga kasagutan naman, bagamat hindi absolute, buo at malinaw, dahil na rin sa pagiging limitado ng tao, sa mga pagsusumikap na ito.

Sa aking pagsusumikap sa loob ng aking abot-tanaw, namalas ko ang katotohanan na nagpapahiwatig ang Diyos o mailalarawan Niya ang kanyang sariling pagmemeron sa pamamagitan ng kanyang nilikhang sangkameron. Sa kanyang pagpapahiwatig lumabas sa aking pagsasaliksik at pagninilay na ang Diyos ay nagpapahiwatig kung kaya’t maaaring mahiwatigan bilang sabay lampas at personal. Sabay, dahil sa pagtugon ko sa Diyos ay lumalabas, bagamat sa direksyong malabong palinaw, na Siya’y lampas sa sangkameron subalit personal rin namang nakikipagtalaban sa tao.

a. Lampas. Lampas ang Diyos tulad ng namamalasan ko sa karanasang hindi lamang Siya sukdulan sa mga baytang ng meron, bagkus totoong hindi maihahanay ayon sa pag-unawang limitado ng sangkameron, bawat merong nakatirik sa bawat baytang, ang Diyos. Ang Diyos rin ang



Siyang Mismong Kaayusan, Kabutihan at Kaisahan na aking natuklusan sa pagkilala sa bawat meron. Bagamat napakahabang panahon na rin ang nakaraan nang ito’y unang makita ng mga naunang pilosoper, mabibigyang patotoo ko pa rin ito sa pamamagitan ng aking personal na karanasan. Ang pagiging lampas na ito ay isang katotohanang tinanggap, tinatanggap at malaking posibilidad na tanggapin parin ng mga sumusunod na mag-iisip at magninilay hinggil sa Diyos. Subalit hindi ito isang negatibong konklusyon upang ihanay sa mga pananaw ng mga nagdududa sa pagmemeronng Diyos at dahil hindi naman ang pagpapahiwatig na ito ay paghanay sa kawalan at pagiging-kaduda-duda ng pagmemeron ng Diyos. Isa ko itong pagtanggap na iba Siya sa atin kung kaya’t Siya’y Diyos. Walang himig na pagiging desperado ang karanasang ito o kung mayroon man ay dahil naghahari sa tao ang paghinto at di pagtingin sa kabilang mukha ng pagpapahiwatig ng Diyos at yaon ay ang kanyang pagiging personal.

b. Personal. Personal ang Diyos dahil siya ay persona, nararanasan dahil nagpaparanas, nauunawaan dahil nagpapaunawa, nararamdaman dahil nagpaparamdam, nahihiwatigan dahil nagpapahiwatig, natutuklasan sa pamamagitan ng kasaysayan at kabutihan sapagkat nagpapatuklas o sa madalit sabi’y nakikipagtalaban. Ang karanasang nakikipagtalaban ay kaugnay pa rin ng kanyang pagiging sumasaloob sa kanyang sangkameron, nilikha. Bagamat kinakailangan nating bigyan linaw na ang pagpapasaloob na ito ay hindi nangangahulugang pagkakakulong ng kabuuan ni ng bahagi sapagkat ang Diyos bilang espiritwal ay di nakukulong o nababahagi. Ang pagiging personal na ito ay misteryo—na bagamat misteryo ay naliliwanagan pa rin ng abot-tanaw at limitadong pag-iisip ng tao. Ito’y nagiging posible dahil sa karanasan ng tao sa daigdig ng meron. Ang Diyos din ay personal dahil siya’y nakikipag-diyalogo bilang isang Ikaw. Ikaw na hawig bagamat higit sa pagiging Ikaw na ating natuklasan sa pakikipagtagpo sa isa pang meron, tao. Isang diyalogo na nagaganap na hawig pero higit sa diyalogo ko sa aking kaharap dahil ito’y diyalogong lumalampas sa ordinaryong pakikipagtalastasan dahil ang totoo nama’y ang personang ating katalaban dito ay hindi ang mismong ating kaharap bagkus tali, hindi sa negatibong pagpapalagay at aspeto, sa ating mga kaharap at nakikitang meron. Ito ay isang persona na tulad ng naidiin sa unang bahagi ay lampas pero sabay personal.



Sa pagbalik ko sa praseng sabay lampas-personal. Nais kong ipagdiinan hindi ito kontradiksyon. Sa mga maaaring magtanong na paanong sabay lampas at personal gayong mahirap itong pagkabitin, nais kong magbigay linaw sa abot ng aking makakaya. Tulad ko, nais kong bumalik tayo sa ating karanasan nang ito’y mahiwatigan at mabigyang linaw. Sabihin nang mahirap ang pagkakasabay na ito pero ito’y isang kahirapan na madaranasan kung magpapakulong tayo sa maka-Matematikang pamamaraan. Hindi ganito ang naging paraan ng aking pagtuklas pero hindi din naman eksaktong tulad ng Teyolohiya na pagtanggap ng oryentasyon at dikta ng simbahan sa higit na mas mabilisang paraan.

5. Ang Diyos Bilang Ubod-Tigib-Apaw-Ikaw

Sa pagsulyap kong ito sa meron at sa kaugnayan ng meron sa iba pang meron, naaaninagan ko pang husto na ang Diyos talaga ay umiiral kung kaya’t Siya’y meron ding katulad ko. Oo, katulad ko ngunit hindi tulad na tulad bagkus hawig-iba, sa parang analohiya. Sa pagpapatuloy, higit ko nakita na ang Diyos ay lampas sa ating daigdig. Lampas sapagkat di maihanay sa baytang ng meron. Lampas sapagkat di tulad ko ay umaapaw sa kahit anong aspeto ng Kanyang pagmemeron. Lampas dahil totoo namang di mahihiwatigan kung ang gagamitin ay ang empirikal na pamamaran. Kung kaya’t masasabi na ang pagiging lampas na ito, kung hihinto tayo sa punto ng pagninilay, ay maaring ipalagay na “Wala” ang Diyos at hindi “Meron.”

Ngunit hindi dito ako huminto. Higit ko pang napasok ang higit na mas mayamang katotohanan. Oo, tulad ng kahit anong yaman, hindi ganoon kadali at kaordinaryong mahihiwatigan. Pero nahihiwatigan pa rin. Kailangan ng paghinto, pagmamasid, pagtunganga o sabihin nang “pagtanga.” Sa aking “pagtangang” ito namulatan ako na ang Diyos din palang ito ay personal. Ang pagka-Personal Niya ay hawig pero iba pa rin sa pagka-personal ng tao. Hawig dahil may kaakibat na damdamin, tugunan at pagmamahalan sa isa’t isa. Iba dahil higit na higit sa karaniwang karanasan ng pagtutugunan at pagmamahal. Nag-uumapaw ika nga. Bilang personal higit ko pang naaninagan na Siya na Diyos ay isang Ikaw rin na pwedeng ipasok, dahil Siya mismo ay may inisyatibong pumasok, sa isang relasyong Ako-Ikaw.



Ang relasyong Ako–Ikaw na ito ay masasabing pinakamataas na antas ng pakikipagtalaban ng tao kung saan higit na nagkakaroon ng kapupunan ang kanyang pagka-tao, ang sariling pagmemeron. Ang totoo’y lampas pa nga dito ang maaaring pakikipagtalaban ng tao sa Diyos. Kung higit na nanamnamin ang nadaranasan na pakikipag-ugnayan, lilitaw ang kahiwagaan na ako pala ay nakikipagtagpo sa isang walang hanggang-Ikaw o ang Ubod-Tigib-Apaw na Ikaw.

Dahil na rin sa paglalim ng aking pagninilay nasilayan ko na ang pakikipagtagpo pala sa Diyos ay isang pakikipagtagpo sa Mahal-Banal. Oo, ang Diyos na aking nakatagpo ay Mahal-Banal dahil may malalim na pag-iibigang namamayani sa aming pagtatalaban. Isang karanasan itong damang-dama ko ngunit hindi ko lubusang mailapat sa mga salita. Ang tangi ko lang maipapahayag ay ang aking damdaming sabay paglapit at pag-urong, damdaming hindi Siya iba sa akin at damadaming sa kakaibang paraan ay nakakaaliw.

Ang Diyos nga pala’y sabay Lampas-Personal na Meron. Sa paninindigang ito ngayo’y sumasalalay ang aking pananampalatayang binigyang linaw ng pilosopiya. Malapit nang magwakas ang sanaysay, pag-iisip at pagninilay na ito. Ngunit para sa akin ay hindi pa ito ang tunay na wakas. Ang nagwakas lamang ay aking pagkakatam at heto na ang aking pinagkataman. Ngunit mas mahalaga pa rin ay ang natira sa aking kinatam: ang katotohanan, ang sangkameronan kung saan ako ay meron kung saan ang Diyos ang Meron na Meron. Sa aming pagtatalaban ay malinaw na malinaw na ang Diyos ay isang Ubod-Tigib-Apaw-Ikaw.

Lubos na pasasalamat kina Rudolf Otto, Martin Buber, Gabriel Marcel at Karol Wojtyla para sa kanilang mga aklat at artikulo na naging kapaligiran at kaugnay na literatura sa pagsusulat ng pagninilay na ito. Higit sa lahat ay kay Padre Roque Ferriols na siyang nagpakilala sa akin sa mga pangunahing salitang Filipino na ginamit sa sanaysay na ito tulad ng meron, sangkameronan at Ubod-Tigib-Apaw-Ikaw.


Page 13

THE NARRATIVITY OF HISTORY AND THE

HISTORICITY OF NARRATIVITY A Review of Paul Ricoeur’s Insight

on Historical and Fictional Narratives

This paper was presented by the author in a symposium held on 23 January 2012 in celebration of the 8th Annual Philosophy Week of San Carlos Seminary with the theme, “History, Memory and Narrative: Exploring the Interpretative Dimension of Philosophy.”

1. Introduction

Towards the end of last year 2011, and before the new year 2012 was ushered in, there was a suggestion that the resumption of classes in some areas in Mindanao, particularly Cagayan de Oro and Iligan City, be postponed to February. The idea came on the heels of the devastation wrought by the tropical storm ‘Sendong’ which generated a deluge of rushing waters, killing hundreds of lives and leaving thousands homeless. With school buildings flooded or destroyed, it was just reasonable for teachers and pupils not to hold classes just as yet. The schools were still to be emptied of mud, if not totally rebuilt.

Brother Armin Luistro, Secretary of the Department of Education, however, thought otherwise. And he had good reasons not to allow the postponement. It was important, he pointed out, and even necessary for pupils to come to school because that would be therapeutic for them. He figured teachers could assist in regard thereto by helping students narrate the tragedy that struck the community.

I totally agree with the Education Secretary. I believe that by recounting what happened to them, the kids can more or less make some sense

FR. LORENZ MOISES J. FESTIN, PH.D.


Page 14 THE NARRATIVITY OF HISTORY

of this harrowing experience. For how can one narrate something without identifying some direction in the flow of one’s story? By making an account of one’s experience, one already tries to see the interconnectedness of events. One cannot but attempt to search for the meaning thereof. Even if one fails to see the sense of it all, at least the search for it is a promising sign that the person is hopeful that someday he would be able to comprehend.

A disaster can surely destroy not only one’s properties but also one’s spirit. Already at this point, a dozen of suicide cases in the evacuation camps have been reported. One reason is depression, of which the most common sign is the victim’s silence and failure to articulate the sentiments that wear one down. By giving expression to one’s despondency in uttered words, one is at least able to see in a more or less objective manner the misery one is undergoing. By crying one’s heart to another, one realizes that one is not all alone in bearing one’s predicament. The other can assure one and say, “I know. I understand. You’re not alone in this quandary.”

Incidentally, the theme of this year’s Philosophy Week tackled among others this important aspect of human life, namely, narrative. This is quite significant considering that the two other issues, history and memory, are essentially of this nature as well. History is a narrative or at least is accounted in the form thereof, while memory bears a structure resembling the narrative character of human expression.

In this paper, I would like us to focus on the two elements of history and narrative. Reflecting on Paul Ricoeur’s insight on the narrative function of history and fiction, I will explore how narrative very much forms part of human life and of our understanding of history.

2. Narrative as Function of Human Life

Paul Ricoeur accepts Ludwig Wittgenstein’s argument that language has multifarious functions. Human speech is not only for describing reality. It can be employed in many ways and for different purposes. For that, Wittgenstein likens language to a game.

The word “game” can refer to a number of human activities. It can be said not only of indoor and outdoor sports but also of human


Page 15THE NARRATIVITY OF HISTORY

relationships, which represent a wide array of human activities and for which there is no one common rule. In fact, even among the various sports, we can recognize a diversity of mechanics. Besides, the outcome of any game is unpredictable. It can go in any way.

Language is very much similar. It has likewise a certain kind of unpredictability. It can be employed for a number of purposes. As in different games, there is no one common rule governing the exercise of our linguistic skill. Language game or Sprachspiel can be as varied as the manner and the point in which we employ it is diverse. According to Wittgenstein, we can only recognize therein resemblances or Familienähnlichkeiten, which are likewise descriptive and reflective of the conduct of everyday life. Ultimately, language games are wide-ranging because human activities are varied and diverse.

Ricoeur concentrates however on the narrative function of language. By narrative, he means the human activity of recounting a story for the purpose of understanding and explanation. In the narrative, we look for the sense of our experience by considering the interconnectivity of things and events that follow one after another.

There are different forms that a narrative can take. One is the historical narrative whereby real events in the past are viewed as adding up to an integral whole, and this is because they appear to be tied up with one another. There is also the fictional narrative which, though essentially a creation of human imagination, is able to make sense of our understanding because we can recognize that it mirrors reality as we know it.

3. The Centrality of Plot

Crucial to any narrative is the plot which binds it together. Without the plot, narrative disintegrates into a mere collection of unrelated statements or assertions. The plot acts like a thread, stringing various elements together into one integral whole. It arranges events in a certain succession as to effect interconnection and coherence among them.

A narrative’s plot works in such a way that it directs the storyline to a conclusion. The conclusion here serves as the goal or the point to



which the narrative progressively proceeds. As in Aquinas’ theory on the order characteristic of a society, whereby society’s finis or goal is seen as its organizing point and the foundation of coordination among its members,1 so we can consider the narrative’s conclusion as that which holds together the manifold events leading thereto. Ricoeur states, “the ‘conclusion’ of a narrative is the pole of attraction of the whole process.”2

The narrative’s conclusion nonetheless is not marked by determinism in the same way that conclusions are necessarily drawn from premises of a syllogism or from the results of a scientific experiment. Instead there is a certain kind of indetermination or randomness marking the way a narrative is brought to a close. Ricoeur comments, “a narrative conclusion can neither be deduced nor predicted. There is no story unless our attention is held in suspense by a thousand contingencies. Hence we must follow the story to its conclusion. So rather than being predictable, a conclusion must be acceptable.”3

4. Sequence and Figure

Ricoeur identifies two elements constitutive of the narrative character of any account or story, namely, sequence and figure. Sequence refers to the order in which events are placed in relation to one another. This is what Ricoeur calls the episodic dimension of a narrative, which consists in the chronological placement of the said events.

Ricoeur points out, “this dimension is expressed in the expectation of contingencies which affect the story’s development; hence it gives rise to questions such as: and so? and then? what happened next? what was the outcome? etc.”4 Since every narrative represents a progression, it cannot but involve the element of time. A narrative does not present an entirety but articulates a movement leading thereto. Accordingly, elements thereof must be in a certain order so as to lead to its proper conclusion. That is to say, a specific succession in the recounting of events is required for a narrative to make sense. This likewise means that a definite order of reading is to be observed in order for a reader to follow the narrative’s storyline. Otherwise, a different plot would be gathered or the whole account would amount to a mere chatter.



As mentioned, the second constitutive element of a narrative is figure. This is what Ricoeur refers to as the narrative’s configurational dimension, by which an account or a story adds up to an integral whole. Ricoeur remarks, “the activity of narrating does not consist simply in adding episodes to one another; it also constructs meaningful totalities out of scattered events.”5 The most important phrase here is “meaningful totalities,” which account for the cohesiveness of a narrative. So if the element of sequence indicates the aspect of movement in a story, this second element points to the organization and structure thereof. Ricoeur writes, “The art of narrating, as well as the corresponding art of following a story, therefore require that we are able to extract a configuration from a succession.”6

Let me use an illustration. One of the familiar learning exercises that kids often enjoy is that of connecting the dots. This activity is relatively easy as the only thing one needs to do is to follow the order of numbers assigned to each dot. Once the drawing of lines is completed, one is able to visually figure out the image drawn.

Quite important here is the precision by which one observes the succession of the numbered dots. Failing to do so would generate an entirely different image or picture. The same can be said of narratives. It is the specificity of the succession in which events are ordered which effectively causes a particular configuration to appear.

The two elements are thus inextricably tied up. It seems to me that the two actually correspond to the temporal and spatial aspects of reality. For, as in the episodic dimension of a narrative, one can also recognize the component of movement in time. In fact, narrating episodes after episodes of a story involves time.

Similarly, as in the configurational dimension of a narrative, there is a certain simultaneity in which elements are presented in space. Indeed, the entirety of elements needs to be presented in order for a figure to emerge, which is precisely the manner in which space enable things to appear.

Thus, just like space and time, figure and sequence are not only elements integral to a narrative. They are likewise very much closely connected in that they can factor in and have a bearing on a



narrative only in close coordination and correspondence with each other. Ricoeur writes, “To narrate and to follow a story is already to ‘reflect upon’ events with the aim of encompassing them in successive totalities.”7

5. Sense and Reference

Another important subject matter which Ricoeur tackles in his account of narratives is their sense and reference. Following Gottlob Frege’s distinction between Sinn and Bedeutung, Ricoeur acknowledges the difference between the two in the case of narratives.

It must be recalled that Frege’s famous example in this regard is that of Morning Star and Evening Star. It is pretty obvious that what each of these phrases signifies is different from each other. Frege argues that they have the same reference, in that they point to the same entity, namely the planet Venus. From here we can gather that by Sinn or sense, Frege means the significance that a word or expression bears, whereas by Bedeutung or reference, he means what it indicates in reality.8

The question that Ricoeur now preoccupies himself with is the sense and reference of narratives. Surely, finding out whether a story makes sense or not seems to be an easy venture. One need only consider whether the account adds up to something or not. More or less, we already have some idea how we can go about this, considering that we have earlier discussed the elements necessary for a narrative to make sense. These include the plot and the conclusion of the story.

Nonetheless, as to whether a narrative refers to something in reality or not is another question. Here the usual tendency is to say that historical narratives have reference in the real, while fictional narratives do not. Ricoeur, however, does not think so. His main argument is that while historical accounts may have a basis in real events, they too incorporate a fictional component. While fictional stories may have been created by human imagination, they nevertheless have a bearing on reality in that they represent and bespeak of actual human activities in real life.



6. Historical and Fictional Narrative: A Comparison

The purpose of a historical narrative is to offer an explanation of past events, but the manner in which it explains diverges essentially from the way scientific accounts do. Scientists always aim at discovering laws governing and thus accounting for physical reality, while historians base themselves on patterns and regularities gathered from past experiences. There is thus a certain kind of arbitrariness in which a historian account is formulated. For what matters most in a historical narrative is the coherence of its account, upon which its sense and meaning is founded.

This is not to say however that one may write history in any manner one wants to. For every historical narrative will always be subject to scrutiny and correction. As Hans Georg Gadamer points out, every interpretation of a text from the past is susceptible to rectification and improvement.9 What must be emphasized instead is what distinguishes history as a human science from natural sciences, in that, while the latter seeks to verify facts on the basis of experiments, the former seeks to find unities among occurrences and events.10

Thus we see here how historical narrative cannot but involve a fictional element. For one thing, it has to resort to what Ricoeur calls “imaginative reconstruction” of what happened in the past. Still, Ricoeur points out, “however fictional the historical text may be, it claims nevertheless to be a representation of reality. In other words, history is both a literary artefact (and in this sense a fiction) and a representation of reality.”11

It is also in view of this that we can see how fictional narrative can be said to represent reality. Aside from this, Ricoeur also emphasizes the mimetic function of fictional narrative. Here mimesis is to be understood not simply as consisting in imitation but in a creative activity which characterizes the act of narration. Ricoeur states, “There is mimesis only when there is ‘doing’ or ‘activity’; and poetic ‘activity’ consists precisely in the construction of plots. Moreover, what mimesis imitates is not the effectivity of events but their logical structure, their meaning.”12 In other words, fictional stories do mirror and reflect reality, except that the way they do so is marked by creativity and



imagination. In effect, fictional narratives do not just make sense. They too have a reference in reality.

Ricoeur’s simplest argument, however, in regard to fictional narrative’s reference to reality has to do with human being’s ineluctable historicity. Every activity which human being does will always be couched on his historicity. Ricoeur states, “We are members of the field of historicity as storytellers, as novelists, as historians. We belong to history before telling stories or writing history.”13

7. Conclusion

History and narrative very much characterize each other. History—if it is to be a meaningful reality—will always have to take the form of a narrative, while narratives and the act of narrating will always reflect the historical context in which they are done.

Such an inextricable connectivity between history and narrative can only be explained in view of the fact that they both reflect the constitution of human being’s existence. Human life cannot but be historical. It is historical because it is lived out always in a given historical context. Besides the experiences making up one’s human life provide content to history. What happened to the victims of the tropical storm “Sendong,” for instance, now forms part not only of their individual life stories but also of our collective history as a nation. The stories recounted thereabout constitute the details of that particular event in the annals of our recent history.

History is certainly not a mere chronological list of events. Crucial thereto is the sense and direction these events take. This we try to discover through narratives. By narrating what happen to us, we look for meaning and significance.

That is generally how we deal with our respective lives. We seek to understand it. We search for a storyline. This we do by finding interconnections among the manifold experiences we undergo. Grasping one’s existence thus founds itself on its narrative character. It is precisely on account of the prospect of its being recounted that human life can make sense.



The problem however is the tendency nowadays to reduce human life to what can be quantified. With the method of natural sciences virtually becoming the norm for human judgment and thinking, anything that evades measure in human existence is readily considered insignificant or senseless. Many have come to adopt the scientific standpoint even in matters pertaining to everyday existence as if everything in it could be translated to numbers.

Endnotes

1 See John Finnis, Aquinas: Moral, Political and Legal Theory (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), pp. 25-26.

2 Paul Ricoeur, “Narrative Function,” in John B. Thompson, ed. and trans., Paul Ricoeur: Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), p.277.

3 Ibid.

4 Ibid., p 278.

5 Ibid.

6 Ibid.

7 Ibid., p. 279.

8 J.R. Searle, ed., The Philosophy of Language (London: Oxford University Press, 1971), p.2.

9 See Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth and Method (New York: The Continuum Publishing Company, 1989) pp.295-230.

10 See Gadamer, pp. 15-18.

11 Ricoeur, p. 291.

12 Ibid., p. 292.

13 Ibid., p. 294.


Page 22

PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY

At The Crossroads of Epistemology and Metaphysics

FR. RAYMUN J. FESTIN, S.V.D., PH.D.

This paper was presented by the author in a symposium held on 26 January 2012, in celebration of the 8th Annual Philosophy Week of San Carlos Seminary with the theme, “History, Memory and Narrative: Exploring the Interpretative Dimension of Philosophy.”

The general theme of the Philosophy Week, “History, Memory, and Narrative,” is very relevant and contemporary. It is relevant because the question as to what history is, how can it be remembered, and how it should be told is a concern of abiding philosophical importance to every community of human beings. Just as a nation perishes without communal vision, so, too, a given group of people loses its way without a sense of its history, without memory, without cherished traditions in the form of narratives. We, as Filipino people, should never neglect our history, disregard our collective memory, and forget our shared narratives.

It is contemporary because present-day philosophers have shown renewed interest in the question of history, its idea and meaning, its epistemological as well as its metaphysical significance. Since the advent of modernity, history as a systematic study has gradually and successfully secured its rightful place in the body of modern sciences.

A cursory look at the theme shows us that there are three interrelated notions that are juxtaposed, namely: history, memory, and narrative.

At the outset, it is instructive to raise the question as regards the common denominator of these three concepts. What is the core idea that underlies these important terms? Why do we assemble these


Page 23PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY

three notions together to conceive a subject-matter for philosophical reflection?

There is actually an underlying idea that holds these three notions together; and threshing this out will give us a workable opening to the elaboration of the general theme and the comprehension of the notions of history, memory, and narrative.

If there is one common thing that underpins the notions of history, memory, and narrative, it is the concern to come to grips with the past.

When we speak about history in all its aspects and magnitudes, we when talk about the essence of remembering, when we tell the narratives of our people, we inevitably refer to what happened before the present—we refer to the past.

What occurred in the past is the object of historical knowledge, the subject-matter of all kinds of remembering, and the content of every narrative. The idea of the past is the essential glue that holds together the allied notions of history, memory, and narrative. It is, in fact, the staple of philosophy of history.

One fundamental question that arises insofar as the notion of the past is concerned is: If the past is the object of history as a science, how is historical knowledge possible?

If what happened is no longer accessible to our perception and observation, how can we know it? How can we possibly remember it? How do we retell what occurred in time past? How do we defend and justify any assertion of historical knowledge?

These questions are in essence epistemological. Any theory on history will have to contend with the test and challenge of epistemology. This is why philosophers of history have to deal with the primary question as to how the past, in general sense, qualifies to be a legitimate object of knowledge.

At this point, I have to make a brief digression. Before we address the question concerning the validity of the past as an object of human knowledge, it is important to mention here that the epistemological dimension of history is only one branch of philosophy of history.


Page 24 PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY

There is another aspect of history which is just as important—the metaphysics of history. Philosophy of history consists in these two essential parts which complement each other. A philosopher must take into consideration these two dimensions together, as one cannot be adequately comprehended to the exclusion of the other.

The distinction—as well as the relation—between epistemology of history and metaphysics is a traditional division. Epistemology of history concerns itself with the method of inquiry which a philosopher-historian applies to the investigation of a particular event that transpired in the past. It involves the use of evidence and sources, the inferential mode of reasoning, the technique of interpretation, and the presentation of historical knowledge in the form of propositions.

Epistemology of history is also called historiography, the science which addresses the question of how historical knowledge is possible, and how it should be written and told in historical narrative. It is history in the particular sense.

On the other hand, metaphysics of history addresses the questions about the meaning of time, the notion of historical process and the origin of rationality. It is called the science of human nature, since it inquires into the evolution and development of human nature and human consciousness over time. It also delves into the unspoken assumptions that underpin the worldview of a particular community or civilization that existed in the past. It is history in the universal sense.

As we have mentioned, these two branches of philosophy of history overlap, since a philosopher-historian must not only investigate the particular history of her community and narrate that history in written forms but also address questions of universal interest such as the history of time, the evolution of human nature, and the development of human ideas.

We shall presently show and explain the bridge that connects these two provinces of philosophy of history. But, at this point of our exposition, we have to revert back to the question we raised a moment ago: How is historical knowledge possible? How can the past be the object of investigation if it is no longer accessible to us?



If history is a scientific study, then the object of its knowledge must somehow be made available to us in a consistent and systematic way.

So the most basic question is: How do we know the past?

This question is philosophical since it belongs to that sphere of philosophy called theory of knowledge or epistemology.

There is a school of thought that implicitly denies that historical knowledge is possible. It is called the Oxford realist school, the school of thought that flourished in Oxford shortly before the outbreak of World War II.1 The Oxford realists implicitly deny—I stress the word implicitly—that the past cannot be known because, for them, the act of knowing is a simple and direct apprehension of an object. In other words, the object of knowing must be present before the inquiring at any given moment.

For the Oxford realists, the act of knowing is not a complex mechanism. Once a knower is in the right position to apprehend an object, then she or he can have knowledge about it. The act of knowing simply requires this basic condition.

How does one, for instance, know the color of a thing, say a car? Simple. The car must be immediately accessible to the questioning mind—here and now.

So the realists by implication deny that any historical is possible on the ground that, for them, the fundamental condition of knowledge is that the object should be presently and directly given to the mind.

Since history is about the past, it cannot be a science according to the epistemological criterion of the Oxford realists. An event that took place in the past is already beyond the confines of time, and there is no way of reliving or reviving something that happened years ago.

One may try to remember an occurrence in the past, say the EDSA I Revolution, but memory is not a reliable means to recall what precisely transpired 25 years ago. It is the nature of memory to fade in time, and one group’s recollection of the same event may differ from that of another group according to the dictates of their interests and prejudices.



One contemporary philosopher who defends the legitimacy of history as a science and as a branch of philosophy is R. G. Collingwood. Born in 1889 in England, he was a contemporary of such prominent figures like Ludwig Wittgenstein, G. E. Moore, Francis H. Bradley, Alfred North Whitehead, Bertrand Russell, Jean-Paul Sartre and Martin Heidegger. Although Collingwood is not as well-known as these philosophers, he is on a par with any of them. He is equally brilliant, equally imaginative, and equally important in contemporary history of philosophy.

Collingwood is unique among his peers because of his deep sense of history. He was not only a philosopher; he also practiced as professional archaeologist and historian. Perhaps no thinker is better qualified to claim the title of philosopher of history par excellence than Collingwood.

He always considered a given philosophical problem or issue from the standpoint of history on the ground that one can fully understand it by looking into how it has evolved and developed to its present state. As historian he specialized on epistemology of history; and as philosopher he devoted his genius to the defense of metaphysics of history. As we shall see, his idea of history combines the two dimensions of history.

Never for a moment did Collingwood doubt that history is a science. However, unlike exact fields of study like mathematics, biology, and physics, history is a science of a different kind.2 This is because history deals with past events and occurrences that are not available to present observation.

History is different from other sciences in that it proceeds inferentially in order to access some past event. It does not grasp the object directly but indirectly because it does not have the rigorous measure of precision of an exact science. History is an inferential science because the task of a historian is to interpret the evidence at hand.

Two important notions are introduced here. The first is the role of evidence; the second the method of interpretation. In historiography—or, in epistemology of history—it is important to have access to evidence or data. Without evidence, there is no history. An event in the past that did not leave any shred of evidence cannot be an object of historical knowledge.



Evidence, therefore, is the foundation of history. Without available evidence, there is nothing to interpret, and we cannot know a particular event that occurred in the past.

For Collingwood, anything can be evidence—be it an ancient document or inscription on an ancient papyrus, or some prehistoric flints or shards of glass, or some wood carvings or remains of a Roman Wall. A piece of evidence is evidence not because of its materiality but because of the critical or philosophical attitude of the historian whose task it is to interpret it.3

In other words, an object is evidence only insofar as the historian knows how to raise critical questions about it and insofar as the historian has the serviceable method of interpreting it. For Collingwood, the past is not dead;4 it is a living and dynamic inheritance “incapsulated”5 in the evidence found in the present. It is the task of the historian to examine and interpret the evidence in order to relive and reconstruct the past.

In this respect, the office of the historian or historiographer is similar to the work of CSI Miami investigators. For Horatio MaCaine and his team, a drop of blood in the crime scene can be crucial evidence to the solution of a murder case. Nonetheless, the team of investigators should know how to raise relevant and sharp questions so that they can reconstruct through the use and interpretation of evidence exactly what happened.

There has to be a certain measure of logical consistency in posing the right questions concerning a particular piece of evidence or interrogating a suspect. A wrong question raised regarding the evidence can skew the entire investigation. In other words, a lead-in question must elicit an answer, and this answer, in turn, should generate further question until the whole process of questioning eventually leads to the truth.

The methodic questioning involved in the investigation is part and parcel of the mode of interpretation. Through the interplay of question and answer, the historian or investigator is engaged in the art of interpretation, which is nothing but the activity to gain insight and arrive at the truth.



Collingwood calls his method of interpretation the logic of question and answer. It is an art of interpreting that is both methodologically and philosophically based.

I have already mentioned that Collingwood was historian-archaeologist. He conceived developed his historical method—the logic of question and answer—when he was engaged in some excavation work in England. As writes in his Autobiography:

[L]ong practice in excavation had taught me that one condition—indeed the most important condition—of success was that the person responsible for any piece of digging . . . should know exactly why he was doing it. He must first of all decide what he wants to find out, and then decide what kind of digging will show it to him. This was the central of my ‘logic of question and answer’ as applied archaeology.6

It is therefore important that before a historian or archaeologist or crime investigator applies himself to the task at hand, he must know what sort of information he wants to get or what problem he wants to solve.

This is the methodological basis of Collingwood’s historical method. But it also has philosophical foundation. The logic of question and answer is derivative of Platonic/Socratic inspiration. This is because the act of raising a question presupposes the prior knowledge that a person does not know. To admit one’s ignorance or lack of knowledge requires a measure of openness which enables a person to proceed further in the path of questioning, and consequently, of knowledge.

Moreover, the one who asks questions acts like a midwife; just as a midwife “assists” in drawing out the baby from the mother’s womb, so too, a philosopher who asks questions literally “draws” knowledge out of the person being questioned.

For Collingwood knowledge is the interplay between question and answer. In Platonic terms, it is “dialectic,” the “interplay of question and answer in the soul’s dialogue with itself.”7

It is a dynamic, forward moving activity that incorporates by continuous questioning whatever is previously known. At the same



time, it is also a retrospective process, for “it is only when the knower looks back over his shoulder at the road he has traveled, that he identifies knowledge with assertion.”8

So we see here that Collingwood’s historical method, or his epistemological method of the logic and answer is philosophically grounded.

At this point, we have to note that we only have covered Collingwood’s views on epistemology of history. There is another part which we should inquire into: his metaphysics of history. From the philosophical point of view, his notion of metaphysics of history is of weightier significance because it is for his metaphysics that he is more famously known as a philosopher.

Collingwood’s doctrine of metaphysics is his most original contribution to the history of philosophy. It is a philosophical notion conceived against the overarching backdrop of history.

For Collingwood, metaphysics as a branch of philosophy is an investigation into the web of absolute presuppositions that hold up the worldview of a particular civilization or community that existed in the past.

In order to comprehend Collinwood’s conception of metaphysics as a historical science, it is important to have some idea of what he precisely means by the phrase absolute presuppositions.

Collingwood holds that the act of presupposing is an essential aspect of human thinking and human disposition. When a person raises a question, say, “Are you going to see a movie tonight?” there are a lot of things that are presupposed by the question.

One presupposes, for instance, the existence of a place called movie house. If one denies that there is such a place, it does not make sense to raise the question. Not only that. If one presupposes the existence of a movie house, one also takes for granted the reality of chairs, doors, windows, lights, sounds, popcorn, soft drinks, movie tickets, etc. The question also presupposes the fact that one needs to have money to enjoy the film, since one can enter the movie house only by paying a certain amount of money.



Furthermore, by posing the question—“Are you gong to see a movie tonight?”—one also presupposes existence of cars and other means of transportation because how else one can go the movie house except by a car or tram? If one presupposes the reality of objects such as cars, one also necessarily supposes that existence of things like fuel and gasoline station; and it also presupposes the existence of other people.

It is very remarkable to note that a simple and ordinary question presupposes the entire external world. This is because in order for the human mind to function, it has to take for granted self-evident aspects of reality. In order words, it is the nature and character of the human mind to presuppose some basic things as given.

Now, the act of presupposing is not a function of reason; it is a function of belief. This means that when the human mind engages itself in the act of presupposing it has to take for granted—or it has to believe—some given basic things as facts.

When we learned to count or when we learned our alphabets, we did not doubt that there are such things as numbers or ABCs. We simply accepted them as part and parcel of our everyday life. Nor do we question what our teachers taught us in our elementary school. We simply trusted our teachers and accepted the things they taught as true, reliable, and useful.

The human mind does not ask for proofs or demonstration; it simply takes for granted self-evident things. That is why we do not question the existence of the world, the presence of other people, the reality of light and day, the materiality of TVs and cars; we simply presuppose them in the operations of our human thinking.

Things that we take for granted or presuppose in our everyday life are called presuppositions, which can either be relative presuppositions or absolute presuppositions. Relative presuppositions are presuppositions that depend on other presuppositions to stand.

We presuppose, for example, the reality of the human mind. We neither doubt nor question it. This presupposition, however, is dependent on the further presupposition that human beings exist.

It means that the reality of the human is logically dependent on the fact that human beings exist. In order words, we cannot assert its reality



without implicitly presupposing at the same time the existence of human beings. Without human beings, there will be no human minds.

Absolute presuppositions, on the other hand, are those unspoken assumptions that do not depend on other presuppositions to stand. They are the fundamental presuppositions that underlie the collective thinking, way of life, and worldview of a particular community.

Collingwood holds that absolute presuppositions are the reference-points of “our researches into the nature of the world,”9 the basis of every scientific questioning,10 the prerequisite of “every kind of systematic or orderly human thinking,”11 and the unspoken assumptions that underlie the way of life and conduct of a given civilization.12

The following are some examples of absolute presuppositions which Collingwood gives. That there is a single, unifying principle or substance in reality is the absolute presupposition in the thinking of the Presocratics.13 That “God exists” is the fundamental, unspoken assumption of the entire Christian civilization.14 “In Newtonian physics it is presupposed that some events . . . have causes and other not.”15 “Nature [is] to the eighteenth-century historian an absolute presupposition of all historical thinking.”16

These examples show that absolute presuppositions are pre-reflective experiential attitudes shared by the members of a community who are rooted in their common way of life, language, practices, and tradition. A given community or group of people does not consciously assume a set of absolute presuppositions. They are products of a historical process in which people gradually shape and form their worldview. They assume the character of religious attitudes, cultural convictions, and collective beliefs.

Absolute presuppositions do not emerge as upshots of reason; rather, they are the result of a gradual evolution and development in the life of a group of people. Thus, they are beyond the question of truth of falsity. Nor are they open to testing or justification.

Now, since for Collingwood metaphysics as a science is the investigation into the set of absolute presuppositions which a civilization or community held in the past, its function by nature is historical. This entails that his metaphysics is actually metaphysics of history. It is the



task of the metaphysician-historian to inquire into and examine why and how a group of people in the past acquire such and such network of unspoken assumptions that lies beneath their worldview.

Like the office of a historian or historiographer, the role of a metaphysician-historian is to deal with the past; and in doing so, he or she has to proceed to interpret pertinent evidence and materials at hand.

We have stated that history is a special science in that its method of investigation is inferential. This suggests that insofar as content and method are concerned the office of historian-historiographer and the role of the metaphysician-historian coincide. They both deal with the past and proceed by interpreting evidence.

This is where we locate the bridge or link between Collingwood’s epistemology of history and metaphysics of history. They both employ the logic of question and answer as method of investigation and interpretation. Collingwood’s philosophy of history, therefore, has two interrelated aspects: epistemology of history and metaphysics of history. It is only by taking into consideration these two provinces of history that we can have an adequate grasp of Collingwood’s philosophy of history. In Collingwood’s idea of history, these two aspects of history are the two sides of a coin. Having explained Collingwood’s views on the two dimensions of history, there is still one important question which I would like to discuss.

We have stated that for Collingwood metaphysics of history is an investigation into the absolute presuppositions of a particular civilization that existed in the past. The last question I would like to raise here is: Why is it that Collingwood found it relevant and important to inquire and examine absolute presuppositions?

For Collingwood, it is necessary to investigate absolute presuppositions of a particular group of people because absolute presuppositions do not only form its worldview; they do not only show us how human nature or human mind evolved and developed over time; they are also the historical manifestations of Being. Absolute presuppositions are disclosures of Being.



This explains Collingwood’s insistence on the importance of studying history. It is only against the comprehensive backdrop of history that we can gain an adequate grasp of human nature as historical phenomenon and acquire understanding about how Being manifests itself in the different worldviews of human beings in time. In Collingwood’s configuration, the metaphysical perspective of history, therefore, is the most viable perspective from which we can study human nature and inquire into the manifold disclosures of Being.

Another reason why Collingwood gives attentive emphasis on the absolute presuppositions of specific civilizations is that every people, in its singularity, has its own unique access to reality and to Being itself. Reality is not grasped as it is; it is only grasped through the cultural prism of a given people. In the same way, Being does not reveal itself as it is; it only manifests itself historically in every culture, language, and tradition.

This is why history is such an important field of human knowledge. Although its object is not accessible directly to our observation, it is still within the reach of our knowledge. History does not only give us knowledge obtained through inferential reasoning and interpretation of evidence, it also furnishes us with knowledge of ourselves as human beings, how our nature and mind evolved in time; and, above all, it also provides us with valuable insights into what Being is and how it discloses itself in history.



Endnotes

1 R. G. Collingwood, Autobiography (London: Oxford University Press, 1939), 25. Collingwood calls Oxfordian realists the group headed by John Cook Wilson and supported by prominent members such as H. A. Prichard and H. W. B Joseph.

2 Collingwood, The Principles of History and other Writings in Philosophy of History, ed. by W.H. Dray and W.J. van der Dussen (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 6.

3 Collingwood, The Idea of History (London: Oxford University Press, 1946), 12.

4 Collingwood, Autobiography, 97-8.

5 Collingwood, Autobiography, 100.

6 Collingwood, Autobiography, 122. Emphases are mine.

7 Collingwood, Speculum Mentis (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1942), 77.

8 Collingwood, Speculum Mentis, 77.

9 Collingwood, An Essay on Philosophical Method, eds. James Connelly and Giuseppina D’ Oro, rev. ed. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2005), 397.

10 Collingwood, An Essay on Philosophical Method, 240.



13 Collingwood, The Idea of Nature, ed. T. M. Knox (Oxford: Clarendon, 1978), 30.





Page 35

A Thomistic Solution to the Problem of Evil

NAPOLEON M. MABAQUIAO, JR., PH.D.

This paper is a revised version of an unpublished paper “Aquinas on the Problem of Evil” by the author, which was read at Quadricentennial International Philosophy Conference on the theme “THOMISM AND ASIAN CULTURES: Celebrating 400 Years of Dialogue Across Civilizations,” held on May 23-26, 2011 at the University of Santo Tomas.

1. Introduction

The problem of evil basically refers to the apparent incompatibility between the belief in the reality of evil and the belief in the existence of God. For being wholly good, God should desire to eliminate evil completely; and for being omnipotent, God should have the power to eliminate evil completely. Given this, God should have already eliminated evil completely or have already prevented it from occurring; and, as a result, evil should have not existed at all. But we see evil in its various forms around us and experience it ourselves when we suffer, feel pain, and have been wronged by others. So, either God is not really wholly good (in that He does not really desire to eliminate evil completely though He has the power to) or He is not really omnipotent (in that He does not really have the power to eliminate evil completely though He desires to do so); or the evil that we see and experience are unreal.

J. L. Mackie, in his classic essay “Evil and Omnipotence” (1955), maintains that the only adequate solution to the problem of evil is to deny either the reality of evil or the existence of God. Either way, the problem of evil poses a formidable challenge to theism which accepts


Page 36 A THOMISTIC SOLUTION TO THE PROBLEM OF EVIL

both the reality of evil and the existence of God. Moreover, it seems to be a more serious objection to the existence of God compared to the criticisms made of the traditional proofs for the existence of God—such as the five proofs of Aquinas and the ontological proof of Anselm, for what these criticisms ultimately show is that the belief in the existence of God lacks rational and empirical evidence, while what the problem of evil shows is that it is contradictory to believe in the existence of God given the reality of evil.

In this essay, however, I shall endeavour to show that there can be an adequate solution to the problem of evil while maintaining both belief in the reality of evil and the existence of God. We can describe this solution as Thomistic for it makes use of Aquinas’ views on the nature and causes of evil as laid down in his seminal work, the Summa Theologica (1937, henceforth ST). In effect, I shall therefore use a Thomistic framework in defending the coherence of the theistic position against the challenge of the problem of evil. I shall divide my presentation into two parts. In the first part, I shall expound on Aquinas’ account of the nature and causes of evil; whereas in the second, I shall argue for the adequacy of such an account as a framework to resolve the problem of evil.

2. The Nature and Causes of Evil

Aquinas does not directly define evil; what he directly defines is its opposite concept, which is the concept of good. For this reason, evil is defined as the opposite of what good stands for; as Aquinas (ST, P1, Q48, A1)1 remarks: “One opposite is known through the other, as darkness is known through light. Hence also what evil is must be known from the nature of good.” This, as will be shown later, is in keeping with the primacy that he accords to the type of existence (or ontological status) that the good has over the type of existence that evil has (basically, as evil is the privation of good, the existence of evil is dependent on the existence of the good). Now Aquinas defines the concept of good in terms of desirability: the good being that which is desirable. As Aquinas explains: “For a thing is good according to its desirableness” (ST, P1, Q6, A1), and “…good is everything appetible” (ST, P1, Q48, A1). Given this we thus derive the idea that evil is that


Page 37A THOMISTIC SOLUTION TO THE PROBLEM OF EVIL

which is undesirable. As anything that is desirable is good, anything that is not desirable is therefore evil.

Let us now turn to how Aquinas views the reality of evil. Aquinas begins with the consideration that there are two fundamentally desirable things or basic goods for any nature, substance, or thing that exists, namely its (1) existence and (2) perfection (or, more particularly, the perfection of its natural capacities). This means that any possible object desires its existence (to keep and prolong it) and perfection (to actualize its inherent potentials). Now as existence as such is good or desirable, the mere existence of things is guarantee enough for the reality of good. That is to say, as anything that exists is good in so far as it exists, the fact that there are things that exist assures that the good exists or is real. Now what about evil, what guarantees its reality? Before we can deal with this, we need to clarify first what it means for evil to be real. To begin with, if existence itself is good and evil is the opposite of good, then the reality of evil cannot be accounted for in terms of existence. As evil cannot be a thing, a substance, or a nature that exists, its reality can only therefore be conceived in terms of the absence of good. As Aquinas (ST, P1, Q48, A1) writes: “Hence it cannot be that evil signifies being, or any form or nature. Therefore it must be that by the name of evil is signified the absence of good.” In sum, for good to be real is for things to exist; in contrast, for evil to be real is for the good to be absent.

This absence, however, can be taken in two senses; namely in the negative and privative senses (ST, P1, Q28, A3). In its negative sense, the good that is absent in something is not part of this thing’s perfection. Aquinas gives the example of a human lacking the swiftness of a deer and the strength of a lion. Such swiftness and strength are not part of human potentials and thus cannot constitute as part of human perfection. In contrast, in its privative sense, the good that is absent in something is part of this thing’s perfection. Aquinas gives the example of human blindness as the privation of human sight. Sight is part of human potentials and thus constitutes a part of human perfection, and so its absence in humans is a privation of such perfection. Aquinas then clarifies that only in the privative sense that the absence of good is evil. For, as Aquinas argues, if it includes the negative sense as well then everything will be evil in some way as there will always be



something that anything does not have, such that a human being will be evil because it cannot fly or a rock will be evil because it cannot swim, which is absurd.

Given that evil is the privation of good, what then guarantees its reality? If the reality of good is guaranteed by the very existence of things, Aquinas tells us that the reality of evil is guaranteed by the corruption of certain things that exist (ST, P1, Q48, A2). As things exist, there is good; but as certain things are corrupted, there is evil. Accordingly, in the corruption of certain things, the good in these things is lost thereby resulting in the privation of good. For instance, as humans lose their inherent capacities when they grow old, such as clearness of sight, the privation of certain types of human good sets in. Aquinas, however, does not stop here. He further provides a justification for the existence of corruption in the world. According to Aquinas, the perfection of the universe, which God aims at in creating the world, requires that all grades of goodness be actualized. As Aquinas (ST, P1, Q47, A2) writes: “Therefore, as the divine wisdom is the cause of the distinction of things for the sake of the perfection of the universe… For the universe would not be perfect if only one grade of goodness were found in things.” Among the grades of goodness, the two basic ones are (1) those that are incorruptible or those which cannot lose their goodness and (2) those that are corruptible or those which can lose their goodness.

After discussing the nature of evil in terms of what it means and what guarantees its reality, let us now turn to how Aquinas accounts for the causes of evil. This task requires us to first clarify what for Aquinas are (1) the kinds of cause that can be attributed to evil and (2) the kinds of evil that Aquinas distinguishes. For the first consideration, Aquinas argues that evil, being the privation of good, can only have a material and efficient cause. Aquinas claims that evil, due to its lack of substantiality, has no formal and final causes. To quote Aquinas on this point (ST, P1, Q49, A1):

And if we consider the special kinds of causes, we see that the agent, the form, and the end, import some kind of perfection which belongs to the notion of good. Even matter, as a potentiality to good, has the nature of good. Now that



good is the cause of evil by way of the material cause was shown above (Question 48, Article 3). For it was shown that good is the subject of evil. But evil has no formal cause, rather is it a privation of form; likewise, neither has it a final cause, but rather is it a privation of order to the proper end; since not only the end has the nature of good, but also the useful, which is ordered to the end. Evil, however, has a cause by way of an agent, not directly, but accidentally.

We can understand this to mean that we cannot talk of the form/design and purpose of something that is not a thing; and thus evil has no formal and final causes. Its material cause is its subject or the thing in which the privation of good takes place; and thus in so far as the subject of evil is good, Aquinas, though rather confusingly, claims that the material cause of evil is good. Man, for instance, can be the material cause of blindness. The efficient cause of evil, on the other hand, is the agent that brings about the privation of good. In so far as it is through the will of an agent that the privation of good comes about, Aquinas generally identifies the efficient cause of evil as the will. However, there is a critical qualification that Aquinas points out: as the will is always directed at the good, the will causes evil only in an indirect or accidental way.2 What the will directly aims at is the good, but in the process an evil can indirectly be caused by the will.3 The critical consequence of this is that in so far as efficient cause or agent of causation is concerned, evil can only have an indirect cause. Aquinas (ST, P1, Q49, A1) illustrates this using the example of fire being an agent whose accidental effect is the privation of air and water:

Hence that evil and corruption befall air and water comes from the perfection of the fire: but this is accidental; because fire does not aim at the privation of the form of water, but at the bringing in of its own form, though by doing this it also accidentally causes the other. But if there is a defect in the proper effect of the fire--as, for instance, that it fails to heat--this comes either by defect of the action, which implies the defect of some principle, as was said above, or by the indisposition of the matter, which does not receive the action of the fire, the agent.

For the second consideration, Aquinas (ST, P1, Q48, A5) distinguishes between two general types of evil: (1) the evil of pain and (2) the evil



of fault. The evil of pain occurs when something is subtracted from the proper nature (or the inherent capacities) of something, or when there is a “subtraction of the ‘integrity and form’ of something”—as Aquinas puts it. For instance, blindness in humans is an evil of pain because the capacity of sight is subtracted from humans. Subsumed under the evil of pain are two further kinds of evil; namely the (a) the evil of corruption and (b) the evil of penalty. The evil of corruption occurs when a corruptible thing, generally referring to anything that is subject to change, loses its existence; whereas the evil of penalty occurs when punishment is inflicted on something in order to establish justice and to prevent the occurrence of the evil of fault, which we shall now turn to. Now the evil of fault occurs when rational beings such as humans voluntarily fail to act in accordance with the divine will or the will of God. In the words of Aquinas (ST, P1, Q48, A5): “the evil which consists in the subtraction of the due operation in voluntary things has the nature of a fault; for this is imputed to anyone as a fault to fail as regards perfect action, of which he is master by the will.” Needless to say, the perfect action here refers to human action freely willed by humans in accordance to the divine will of God. It is important to note here the affinity of Aquinas’ division between the evil of pain and the evil of fault to the contemporary division between natural or physical evil and moral evil, respectively. As such, physical evils such as the sufferings of humans that are brought about by sickness and natural calamities are due to the corruptibility of certain things.

Let us now turn to the critical consideration: Is God the (efficient but indirect) cause of evil? The answer of Aquinas is categorical: the cause of moral evil is not God but humans through their free will, while the cause of natural evil both in the form of penalty and corruption is God Himself. It is important to note, however, that humans in causing moral evil can also cause natural evil, as when one physically injures another as a result of or in the course of violating the other’s moral rights. In the light of this consideration, we must therefore qualify that when Aquinas claims that God is the cause of natural evil, he means in particular that God is the cause of natural evil not caused by humans. In any case, Aquinas also justifies why God causes natural evil. God causes the evil of penalty to establish justice and to prevent the occurrence of the evil of fault. As Aquinas (ST, P1, Q49, A2) remarks:



“Nevertheless the order of justice belongs to the order of the universe; and this requires that penalty should be dealt out to sinners. And so God is the author of the evil which is penalty, but not of the evil which is fault…” God, according to his wisdom, causes the evil of corruption as a consequence of making the universe perfect—which requires that all grades of goodness be actualized. It should also be recalled that God causes all these kinds of evil only in an indirect or accidental way. For while the evil of penalty is an indirect effect of God establishing justice in the world and preventing humans from causing moral evil, the evil of corruption is an indirect effect of God’s wisdom in giving perfection to the world. In other words, as regards the evil of penalty, what God directly intends to do is to establish justice but in the course of doing so He has to punish wrongdoers as this is required in the establishment of justice; likewise as regards the evil of corruption, what God directly intends to do is to give perfection to the universe but in the course of doing so He has to create corruptible goods in addition to the incorruptible ones as the perfection of the universe requires that all grades of goodness be actualized.

3. The Problem of Evil

The reality of evil has become problematic for it apparently contradicts the benevolence and omnipotence of God. God’s benevolence, or His being wholly good, requires Him to eliminate evil while His omnipotence, or His being all-powerful, guarantees that He has the capacity to do so. The fundamental question is, if God desires to eliminate evil and He has the power to do so, why does evil continue to exist in the world? The usual alternative answers are as follows: first, evil does not really exist in that what we normally regard as evil is not really evil; second, God is not really wholly good in that while He has the power to eliminate evil completely He does not really want to; and third, God is not really omnipotent in that while He wants to eliminate evil completely He does not really have the power to do so (He has perhaps the power to eliminate some types of evil but not evil in its entirety.)

Nonetheless, a God that is neither wholly good nor omnipotent is not truly God. This means that to assert the reality of evil one has to reject the existence of God; and to assert the existence of God one



has to reject the reality of evil. What are the reasons for rejecting the reality of evil? It seems that evil is one of the undeniable facts about this world. To deny the reality of evil would entail, among others, that the pains that we feel, the sufferings that we undergo, and the gross violations of human rights or disrespect for human values would all be illusory, which is absurd. For this reason, what the problem of evil puts into question, more than anything else, is the existence of God. The challenge posed by the problem of evil for the theists then would be how to show that the reality of evil is not really incompatible with God’s goodness and omnipotence, or generally, with God’s existence. Thus, I shall show now that Aquinas’ views on the nature and cause of evil can very well meet this challenge. In effect, I shall argue that Aquinas’ views on the nature and causes of evil can serve as a good defense for theism in light of the challenge posed by the problem of evil.

First and foremost, one advantage of a Thomistic solution to the problem of evil is that it does not go against our common intutions about evil and God. With regard to evil, we have seen that while Aquinas defines evil as the privation of good, he is quick to qualify that evil is as real as corruption. Technically speaking, the non-substantiality of evil is not a claim regarding the ontological status of evil but a claim on the type of ontological status evil has. In simple words, Aquinas, in saying that evil is the privation of good, is not denying the existence or reality of evil but is denying that evil exists as a kind of substance very much like the good. This shows us that a Thomistic solution to the problem of evil will not run up against common intuitions about the reality of evil. It is important to note here, however, that some have mistaken Aquinas’ privative view of evil as already constituting a solution to the problem of evil. Some have thought that in defining evil not as a thing one has already resolved the problem of evil as formulated in the following way: God is the cause of everything, evil is not a thing, therefore God is not the cause of evil. It is clear in the account of Aquinas that even if evil is not a thing it is nonetheless real and, as such, one still has to account for its cause in light of God being the cause of all reality. My view is that Aquinas’ privative conception of evil is only a preliminary move for a Thomistic solution to the problem of evil.



With regard to God, we have seen that Aquinas attributes certain types of evil to God. This shows us that a Thomistic solution to the problem of evil does not resort to a denial of God having causal relations with the happenings in the world, including the evil ones. Perhaps here we can say that Aquinas parts ways with Aristotle, who believes that God is absorbed with His own perfection such that He does not have any personal dealings with the happenings in the world.

Given the beliefs in the reality of evil and God as the cause of some types of evil in the world, let me now proceed with showing how on a Thomistic perspective these two beliefs will not run into a contradiction. In this regard, the crucial question that we have to deal with is, why is it that in causing certain types of evil in the world God is not contradicting His goodness and omnipotence? In light of the three general types of evil that Aquinas identifies—the evils of penalty and corruption (subsumed under the more general evil of pain) and the evil of fault, this question breaks down into the following particular questions:

1. How is it that God’s act of causing the occurrence of human free will that eventually causes moral evil or the evil of fault is consistent with His divine nature?

2. How is it that God’s act of inflicting pain as a form of penalty and as a preventive measure for the occurrence of moral evils is consistent with His divine nature?

3. How is it that God’s act of creating the perfect universe which, because it must actualize all grades of goodness, gives rise to the evil of corruption is consistent with His divine nature?

On closer inspection, questions 1 and 3 can be collapsed into the following question: How is it that God’s act of creating the perfect universe which contains the evil of corruption and the evil of fault falls within His divine nature? The reason is that giving humans the capacity of free will can be regarded as one of the grades of goodness that the universe must contain if it were to be a perfect universe. This type of goodness eventually giving rise to the evil of fault is very much like the corruptible type of goodness leading to the evil of corruption. The critical question here is thus, why would God create such grades



of goodness when part of their consequences would be some forms of evil? First, being wholly good, does not God desire to eliminate such forms of evil? Second, being all-powerful, cannot God create a perfect universe where these grades of goodness would not give rise to such forms of evil?

The evil consequences of these grades of goodness are part of what defines the nature of these grades of goodness. Human free will would not really be free if it does not have the capacity to choose evil; and the corruptible good would not really be corruptible if it does not lead to the evil of corruption. Hence, eliminating their consequences would be tantamount to eliminating them and God eliminating their consequences would be tantamount to God eliminating these grades of goodness in the universe. Some would like to pursue this by asking, why would a world not containing these grades of goodness and thus not containing the evils that they generate as well be a lesser world compared to a world containing them along with the evils they generate? A Thomistic answer here is that the ontological status of goodness is superior to that of evil, as evil being the privation of good is dependent on good. Thus, the presence and absence of good is not of equal weight to the presence and absence of evil. Suppose we attach some numerical values to good and evil as follows: the presence of a good as +2 while its absence as -2; on the other hand, the presence of an evil as -1 while its absence is +1. Accordingly, the presence of a good and an evil would amount to +1, the value of subtracting 1 from 2; whereas the absence of a good and an evil would amount to -1, the value of subtracting 2 from 1. +1 is greater of course than -1; thus, given the privative nature of evil, it is indeed wise for God to prefer creating a world containing a certain grade of goodness along with its evil consequence to creating a world lacking such grade of goodness along with its evil consequence. A Thomistic answer to questions 1 and 3 would thus be because it is in accordance with God’s wisdom.

On the other hand, we can simply reply to question 2, using the framework of Aquinas, that it is God’s sense of justice that makes His act of inflicting the pain of penalty as a godly or divine act. We can also add here that it is however God’s mercy that makes His act of inflicting pain on wrongdoers or sinners in order to prevent them



from performing further moral evils or inflicting further physical evils on other humans a godly or divine act.

What we see here therefore is that these acts—God’s acts of allowing or causing certain types of evil to occur in this world—are justified by certain divine attributes of God. The problem of evil, as traditionally formulated, is a problem only because it relates the reality of evil only with God’s attributes of benevolence and omnipotence. As J. L. Mackie (“Evil and Omnipotence,” 1955: 200-201) explains, what the problem of evil consists in is: “In its simplest form the problem is this: God is omnipotent; God is wholly good; and yet evil exists. There seems to be a contradiction between these three propositions, so that if any two of them were true the third would be false.” It is true that God is wholly good and infinitely omnipotent, but He is, among others, also just, merciful and wise. It is the interplay of these attributes that defines the divinity of God. If God will eliminate evil in all forms, it will conflict with His other attributes such as justice and wisdom. On the other hand, God’s omnipotence is not defined simply by his possession of infinite power but also by His capacity to exercise such infinite power in a godly or divine manner.

Now it may be said, however, that God’s benevolence or being wholly good already includes the other attributes. His goodness already includes the rest of His divine attributes such as His justice, wisdom and mercy among others. If this is the case, then it would not really be the case that God’s being wholly good would not mean that God will desire to eliminate evil completely or evil in all its forms, for some forms of evil may be allowed by God in virtue of His sense of justice, wisdom and mercy. Furthermore, it may be objected that with existence of evil in this world there is therefore something wrong with the divine attributes of God. It may be insisted that if God is really a God then it should be a divine act for Him to eliminate evil completely. If one is willing to attribute to God the attributes of benevolence and omnipotence because God is defined as a perfect and divine being, it will be absurd to deny of God the other attributes of being just, merciful and wise among others.



4. Conclusion

It is true that if God is benevolent then He desires to eliminate evil, but not if evil is required by justice or by the perfection of the universe as God sees it according to His wisdom. It is also true that if God is omnipotent then He has the power to eliminate evil, but it is up to God to exercise His power in accordance to His divine nature; and it is in fact in accordance with His divine exercise of His omnipotence that He causes or allows the occurrence of certain types of evil. When God does not prevent some forms of evil from happening, it is therefore not the case that it is because God cannot do so; it is only because God chooses to exercise His infinite power according to His wisdom. On the whole, a Thomistic solution to the problem of evil dissolves such problem; for such problem only arises as a consequence of limiting God’s divine nature to the desire to eliminate evil and the capacity to do so.

Finally, it may be remarked that granting the consistency of the reality of evil with the existence of God, or vice-versa, does not in any way change the fact that there are still sufferings in the world—diseases, natural calamities, heinous crimes, abnormalities, poverty, greed, massive killings, and so many others. Yes, this is very much true, but the problem of evil is not really about eliminating evil but about having the proper attitude towards evil in relation to one’s belief in the existence of God. For once we have acquired such proper attitude, our sufferings do not only become more bearable but more meaningful as well.



Endnotes

1 “P1” stands for the First Part, “Q48” for Question 48, and “A1” for Article 1. All succeeding reference to the Summa Theologica follows this format.

2 Aquinas actually uses the word “accidental,” but his usage indicates that he intends it to mean as “indirect.” The word “accidental” may give the connotation of non-accountability, which is not intended by Aquinas. Even if the will accidentally causes evil, such will can still be accountable for it. For this reason, we shall use “indirect” instead of “accidental.”

3 This, of course, does not mean that the agent is excused of accountability, for the agent is still free on whether or not to cause evil albeit indirectly. The rapist, for instance, is still accountable for his act although what he directly aspires for is the good of the pleasure that he will derive from doing such immoral act.

References

Aquinas, Thomas. The “Summa Theologica” of St. Thomas Aquinas. Part 1 QQ. XXVII.—XLIV. Literally translated by Fathers of the English Dominican Province. London: Burns Oates & Washbourne, Ltd., 1937.

__________. On the Truth of the Catholic Faith: Summa contra gentiles. Translated by James Anderson. New York: Image Books, 1955.

Bill, King. “Thomas Aquinas on the Metaphysical Problem of Evil.” Quodiblet Journal Volume 4, Numbers 2-3 (Summer 2002). Database online: www.quodiblet.net/king--aquinas.shtml.

Mackie, J. L. “Evil and Omnipotence.” Mind, New Series, Volume 64, Number 254 (April 1955): 200-212.

Plantinga, Alvin. “The Free Will Defense” in Philosophy of Religion. Edited by Steven M. Cahn. New York: Harper & Row Publishers, 1970.

Reichenbach, Bruce. Evil and a Good God. New York. Fordham University Press, 1982.


Page 48

THE FOUR LOVES

ARISSE PAOLO R. LAURENTE

Introduction

Love has its rightful place in the field of philosophy. A general view on the concept of love in philosophy is not at all irrelevant. As a matter of fact, even the term ‘philosophy’ itself involves this very concept (‘philia’ means love). The concept of love is however polysemic; it is understood in different ways. The question, “What’s love?” has been discussed widely by those who are puzzled by this existential phenomenon. Indeed, what is love? Nowadays a lot have their own idea about love. Each has his own convictions and beliefs about love. Some even describe it as blind. Others say that love is “in the air.” In his encyclical Deus Caritas Est (2005), Pope Benedict XVI writes, “Today, the term ‘love’ has become one of the most frequently used and misused of words, a word to which we attach quite different meanings.”1

This paper is a discussion of the so-called “Four Loves” by C.S. Lewis (1898-1963). This will take up the main divisions of this study: Affection, Friendship, Eros and Charity. At the end is a synthesis and evaluation of these topics.

1. The Four Loves

C.S. Lewis’ The Four Loves (1960) discusses extensively the subject of love. In this book, Lewis’ takes the words of the letter of St. John in the bible: “God is love.” In writing this book, he claimed to be guided by the evangelist’s words as he believed that this very notion of love is very simple and concrete. Lewis “thought that his [John’s] maxim would provide [him] with a very plain highroad through the whole subject.”2


Page 49THE FOUR LOVES

It also made him think that “human loves deserved to be called loves at all just in so far as they resembled that Love which is God.”3

a. Affection

Lewis begin his treatment of the subject with “the humblest and most widely diffused of loves.”4 He calls this love Affection. According to Lewis, Affection serves as the beginning of the “road to the higher loves.”5 He points out that “it is the love in which our experience seems to differ least from the animals.”6 The Greeks used the term storge, which Lewis simply calls Affection. He defines storge “as affection, especially of parents to offsrping; but also of offsrping to parents.”7 In the definition given, we see the mother-figure as an example for this love; we can imagine a mother who takes care of her child or baby. We can imagine the picture of a dog nursing its newborn puppies. Any instance would do as long as there is “the smell of young life.”8 Similar to this, Sadler points out in an article how “parents express love through concern, by caring about the whole being of each child. Parental love requires not merely the bestowal of trust and affection but also guidance according to intelligence, worldly knowledge, and self-restraint.”9 Affection is indeed seen in the love between parents and offspring.

Nonetheless, “Affection extends far beyond the relation of mother and young.”10 Affection goes beyond the bounds of family relationships. “It is indeed the least discriminating of loves,”11 because “almost anyone can be the object of Affection.”12 Its subjects and objects can be anybody. It can exist even in those who are unlikely to have something common between them. Lewis writes,

There need be no apparent fitness between those whom it unites. It ignores the barriers of age, sex, class and education. It can exist between a clever young man from the university and an old nurse, though their minds inhabit different worlds. It ignores even the barriers of species. We see it not only between dog and man. But more surprisingly, between dog and cat. Gilbert White claims to have discovered it between a horse and a hen.13

“But Affection has its own criteria. Its objects have to be familiar.”14 This is why the role of familiarity plays significance to Affection. “Familiarity is the soil in which Affection will best take root.”15 Lewis


Page 50 THE FOUR LOVES

gives the instance of a “child who will love a crusty old gardener who has hardly ever taken notice of it and shrink from the visitor who is making every attempt to win its regard.”16 Here, Affection arises from the child’s familiarity with the gardener who barely knows him. “But it must be an ‘old’ gardener, one who has ‘always’ been there—the short but seemingly immemorial ‘always’ of childhood.”17 On the other hand, no Affection has come between the child and the new visitor. Affection is not there because of the lack of familiarity.

Yet, Affection is hardly even noticed. Lewis “doubts if we ever catch Affection beginning.”18 Affection is not easily recognized unless it has been lingering there for a long time. “To become aware of it is to become aware that it has already been going on for some time.”19 There really is no need for Affection to be noticed. This is because “Affection […] is the humblest love. It gives itself no airs.”20 The subjects and objects of Affection do not delight in this love nor are they proud of it. “Affection is modest—even furtive and shame-faced.”21

The especial glory of Affection is that it can unite those who most emphatically, even comically, are not, people who, if they had not found themselves put down by fate in the same household or community, would have had nothing to do with each other.22

Affection unifies people who are very different from each other. Affection unites those individuals who barely had anything in common. It joins those who have nothing else but familiarity. It exists not only in the mother-child relationship but also in those whose worlds are separate from one another. It is the love that connects distinct individuals regardless of what they are. In addition, Affection also does not consist in a sexual endeavor. This kind of love appears among individuals who are not even sexually related or in any sexual relationships.

b. Friendship

The second kind of love is Friendship. Lewis initially discusses this by comparing two perspectives. He distinguishes the modern from the ancient point of view. “To the Ancients, Friendship seemed the happiest and most fully human of all loves; the crown of life and the school of virtue.”23 On the other hand, “very few modern people think Friendship a love of comparable value or even a love at all.”24 Unlike



people of ancient times, modern individuals tend to view friendship as something that is useless. “The modern world, in comparison, ignores it.”25 Philosophers such as Camus (1913-1960) and Binswanger (b.1944), for example, take this kind of understanding of friendship among friends. Sadler writes, “a brilliant portrayal of the phenomenon of friendship was made by Albert Camus in his deeply humanistic novel, The Plague.”26 Camus believes that “in friendship they [friends] maintain a common stance in a shared history which is directed toward the goal of fulfilled human existence and involves personal risk in warding off those forces which would prohibit it.”27 Lewis’ own view of friendship shares affinity with this idea that friendship involves a common stature among individuals. For him, very few experience this kind of love. This is because Friendship is “something quite marginal; not a main course in life’s banquet; a diversion; something that fills up the chinks of one’s time.”28 Just as how modern people see it, Friendship is really something contingent. It is love that is superfluous; it is not supposed to be needed. Lewis writes,

Friendship is—in a sense not at all derogatory to it—the least natural of loves; the least instinctive, organic, biological, gregarious and necessary […] Without Eros none of us would have been begotten and without Affection none of us would have been reared; but we can live and breed without Friendship.29

Anyone may live without it. Life would still move on without Friendship. Compared to Affection (which for Lewis is a love that needs to be needed), Friendship tends to be otherwise. The concept of Need-love does not apply to this kind of love. Nonetheless, Friendship still produces something good. In this sense, it can be called a Gift-love. It may serve as a school of virtue. Before proceeding further, we should first understand how Friendship originates, which Lewis traces to the seed of Companionship. He writes,

Friendship arises out of mere Companionship when two or more of the companions discover that they have in common some insight or interest or even taste which the others do not share and which, till that moment, each believed to be his own unique treasure (or burden).30

The key then to Friendship is the commonality among individuals. In contrast to Affection, what is needed in Friendship is commonality.



Furthermore, Lewis observes,

It is when two such persons discover one another, when, whether with immense difficulties and semi-articulate fumblings or with what would seem to us amazing and elliptical speed, they share their vision—it is then that Friendship is born.31

While Affection is hardly noticed, Friendship is a love that is simply apparent because of the shared commonality that exists between its subjects. This commonality needs to be recognized or else Friendship will not come about. This commonality can only arise from the matrix of Companionship, which is the field where individuals can find something in common which they possess. Lewis observes,

The Companionship was between people who were doing something together—hunting, studying, painting or what you will. The friends will still be doing something together, but something more inward, less widely shared and less easily defined; still hunters, but of some immaterial quarry; still travelling companions, but on a different kind of journey.32

Here, we see that Friendship is something of greater value than Companionship, but there would not be Friendship at all without Companionship. Friendship starts in Companionship. Nonetheless, Friendship need not arise from Companionship, because, as discussed above, Friendship is really unnecessary. Companionship can remain as such as long as certain commonality among individuals exists.

Now we go back into the good Friendship produces among individuals. Individuals enter into Friendship with a good purpose in mind. Their commonality puts them together to pursue an end that would benefit one another. As such Friendship brings good to society, but likewise it can also bring evil. “Friendship (as the ancients saw) can be a school of virtue; but also (as they did not see) a school of vice.”33 Herein lies the danger that may come from Friendship. Brought out from an evil intention, formed Friendships may go against society. It can pose a danger in a community as such. “The whole list, if accepted, would tend to show, at best, that Friendship is both a possible benefactor and a possible danger to the community.”34 Friendship can bring forth good but it can also bring forth evil.



c. Eros

The third natural love that Lewis presents is Eros, which is defined as “that state which we call ‘being in love,’ or if you prefer, that kind of love which lovers are in.”35 Here Lewis focuses his discussion on human sexuality. “His analysis of Eros does include a discussion on the role and impact of sexuality and sexual experience.”36 He offers a distinction to his readers: the difference between Eros and Venus. Simply speaking, the latter refers to the “carnal or animally sexual element within Eros.”37

Eros and Venus differs in terms of viewing human sexuality. “Sexuality fueled by Venus views sexual experience as a Need-pleasure requiring immediate satisfaction. On the other hand, when sexuality is fueled by Eros it ‘wonderfully transforms what is par excellence a Need-pleasure into the most Appreciative of pleasures.”38 Venus, in contrast with Eros, is then a sexuality that is bound to an end. “For those under the influence of Venus, sexuality is but a means to an end,”39 which they associate with mere satisfaction or pleasure. Venus in itself is sexual experience. “It is mere sexuality—sexuality reduced to a purely carnal and animalistic satisfaction of the sexual appetite.”40 Its human subjects are influenced by the drive for satisfaction. “Their regard for each other is motivated by the urgency of utility rather than the careful restraint of Appreciative love.”41 Here we notice that Venus is not (in Lewis’ vocabulary) a Need-love. Rather, it is a Need-pleasure which can consequently be evil. In Venus, no love arises; it is just mere satisfaction of oneself. Neither does Appreciative love take place under its influence.

Now we turn to Eros. Eros is something that is more valuable than Venus. If under the influence of Venus, an individual is driven only by his hunger for satisfaction and pleasure in which his beloved becomes a mere object of pleasure and not of love, in Eros,

A man who is ‘in love’ [finds] delight in constantly thinking about the woman who is the object of his affection. A man in this state is not so much thinking of sex as he is thinking of the woman who is his beloved. As such, she is valued more for who she is as a person rather than for what she can provide as a means of sexual pleasure. He is content simply to think of his beloved – to appreciate her as one would



appreciate a fine work of art, which is of course, as God’s creation she is.42

In Eros, human sexuality is given higher meaning. Satisfaction or pleasure is transformed into a natural love. The Need-pleasure becomes Appreciative love. Eros raises satisfaction to a higher kind of pleasure. “When Eros transforms sexuality from a Need-pleasure to a Pleasure of Appreciation, it puts things in the order God originally intended.”43 This then gives sense to man’s living and propagation. Moreover, in Eros, the Beloved is not seen as a mere object of pleasure; rather, she is perceived as someone who has more value than satisfaction. Value is placed on the personhood of the beloved.

For Lewis, however, Venus still plays its part in the operation of Eros in individuals. It exists within Eros. In Eros, “the pleasure of Appreciation would (naturally) lead to the pleasure of sexual desire and its subsequent fulfillment.”44 Here Venus turns out to be good in according to its place in the whole order. Appreciative love should exist prior to the desire for pleasure and not the other way around. Else Venus resolves in a wrong manner. Eros should arise first and Venus would then serve as fulfillment of the benefits of Eros. If Venus is left uncontrolled, the process is then reversed and love becomes a demand.

Eros places greater value on the Beloved than on the pleasures of sexual desire. Eros is willing to wait for the appropriate time and context for the gratification of sexual desire. Since Eros values the Beloved for its personhood, patience can only enhance the satisfaction gained in sexual fulfillment.45 Hence, patience is something essential to Eros. Without it, Eros easily dies out and the influence of Venus would dominate. Hence Lewis claims that “Eros is notoriously the most mortal of all loves.”46

d. Charity

The first three categories presented are called “natural loves.” In contrast, Charity is not. Basically, it is the love of God. Lewis insists that “the natural loves are not self-sufficient.”47 Malanga says that “Charity, the love of God, shines brightest when contrasted against its rivals—the natural loves of Affection, Friendship, and Eros.”48 The three natural loves are rightly rivals to Charity “in the sense [that] they are



all capable of being inordinate. By inordinate is meant in proportion not merely ‘insufficiently cautious’ or ‘too much.’ Thus a wife may love her husband too much in proportion to her love of God.”49 “It is the smallness of our love for God, not the greatness of our love for the man that constitutes the inordinacy.”50 Thus, it is actually a matter of which we value or love more. Choice then is given importance here. “It is here where the natural loves interfere. They meddle, partly out of concern not to offend, and partly out of the fear of loss.”51

In comparison with the natural loves, Charity is the self-sufficient love because God, in his perfect being, does not lack anything. He is never in need of anything to perfect his actuality. “The self-sufficiency of God is what sets his love apart from the natural loves.”52 Herein lies the uniqueness of God’s love from the natural loves. Lewis writes,

God, who needs nothing, loves into existence wholly superfluous creatures in order that He may love and perfect them. […] If I may dare the biological image, God is a ‘host’ who deliberately creates His own parasites; causes us to be that we may exploit and ‘take advantage of’ Him. Herein is love. This is the diagram of Love Himself, the inventor of all loves.53

Since God himself is the source of all loves and he alone brings completion to the love he has created, Charity then is the love that completes all three natural loves. Without Charity, the natural loves would have no sense at all. Thus, Charity occupies a higher value than the other loves. It sets our hearts to love God the most and directs us to shift our focus to God himself who has given us love. Charity then gives meaning to our human nature as well because we do need God in order to live and love. In this sense, God gave us his love. “When He created us God gave us the capacity to love.”54 Lewis writes,

God, as Creator of nature, implants in us both Gift-loves and Need-loves. The Gift-loves are natural images of Himself; proximities to Him by resemblance which are not necessarily and in all men proximities of approach. A devoted mother, a beneficent ruler or teacher, may give and give, continually exhibiting the likeness, without making the approach. The Need-loves, so far as I have been able to see, have no resemblance to the Love which God is.55



Charity is then solely referred to as a Gift-love. It is not a Need-love. It is the love that only gives. It is not a love that needs because God himself does not need anything. Only natural loves are referred to as Need-loves. The Gift-love resembles the likeness of God who gave them to us. “By possessing them, we exhibit the likeness of God whether or not we make the approach toward Him.”56

2. Conclusion

Natural loves—Affection, Friendship and Eros--are insufficient in themselves. These loves are associated with the dual concepts of Need-love and Gift-love. We saw how these loves are derived from something else that makes them true and essential. Affection arises from familiarity; it is the love between parents and their offspring. Friendship is the love between friends, which is born from a certain commonality among individuals. Eros is the love that is directed to value the personhood of the one who is the object of this love. All these three natural loves are not independent. They can die and become nothing in value. These natural loves depend on the perfect love of Charity. “Separated from Charity the natural loves promise what they cannot deliver.”57 This love is self-sufficient because it originates from God who is Divine and perfect. “By contrast, Charity is unnatural and therefore is, in the best sense, inhuman.” It is only God who can bring out Charity: “[It] is love that is not of this earth. [It] comes to us from God in Heaven. It intrudes into our existence for the sole purpose of making us aware that the longings, the cravings created by the natural loves can be satisfied, but not by any love that is natural.”58



Endnotes

1 Pope Benedict XVI, Deus Caritas Est (Pasay: Paulines Publishing, 2006), p. 7.

2 C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1960), p. 1.

3 Lewis, The Four Loves, p. 1.


5 Michael Malanga, “The Four Loves: C. S. Lewis’s Theology of Love” in C.S. Lewis: Life, Works, and Legacy, p. 61.




9 William Sadler Jr., Existence and Love (Canada: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1969), p. 343.






15 Malanga, “The Four Loves: C. S. Lewis’s Theology of Love,” p. 61.













26 Sadler, Existence and Love, p. 336.

27 Sadler, Existence and Love, p. 337.



































Page 60

Freedom as Rooted in Authentic Existence

FRANCIS ROI A. MADARANG

1. Introduction

Man is a free individual. This is a truth about life as long as man lives in this world. This truth is presupposed when man started to exist, though there may be different understanding and notion about it.

In our society today and even before, the concept of freedom has been subjected to questions. Mankind needs to check what freedom really is. Knowing that man is free—meaning one is capable of choosing what to do, of initiating an act or of relating to others—freedom can make him unique and it can give meaning to his existence.

Existentialism is a field in philosophy that is concerned with the existence of man and all its facets. Existentialism commits to the study of man’s unique existence, freedom, choice and becoming. In this paper, the author will focus on Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855) who puts emphasis on man’s existence and freedom. For Kierkegaard, “to exist implies being a certain kind of individual, an individual who strives, who considers alternatives, who chooses, who decides, and who, above all, makes a commitment.”1 This summarizes his view of man as a free individual.

The aim of this paper is to show that freedom is rooted in one’s authentic existence. In the philosophy of Kierkegaard, man’s unique and authentic existence can be found in the religious stage and in this stage freedom is in its true nature and meaning. This work will try to expose how Kierkegaard understands freedom and how it is rooted in authentic existence, that is, one can only know real freedom when one authentically exists.


Page 61FREEDOM AS ROOTED IN AUTHENTIC EXISTENCE

2. Freedom in the Three Stages on Life’s Way

Kierkegaard provides three stages of life or spheres of existence namely aesthetic, ethical and religious. He divides humanity into these spheres of existence. Each of these spheres has its own ideals, motivations, characteristics and modes of behavior. Each stage is or can be likened to a complete human world. These stages should not be understood as sequential because anyone can find himself in any of these stages. They are paradigms of existence and not mere periods of life. One can freely choose and find himself in any of these stages consciously or unconsciously. The main point of this division is to find what stage can produce an authentic individual where freedom can rightly be exercised.

Each stage has its own understanding of what freedom is. What will be discussed below are the stages in relation to freedom and how freedom can really be exercised and realized in each of these stages.

a. Freedom in the Aesthetic Stage

Kierkegaard believed that naturally man behaves according to his sensations. Man is motivated to perform activities that would satisfy his desires which are rooted in his senses. Those who manifest pure activity according to their feelings and senses are called “aesthetes.” For Kierkegaard, this stage is equivalent to subhuman form of existence because it consists of a biological form of existence which man shares with other forms of animals. In this stage, man’s only goal in life is to satisfy himself by pursuing all the pleasures he can attain and fleeing from the reality of pain. Kierkegaard further states,

The aesthetic individual has no fixed principle except that he means not to be found to anything or anybody. He has but one desire which is to enjoy the sweets of life – whether it’s purely sensual pleasures or the more refined Epicureanism of the finer things in life and art, and the ironic enjoyment of one’s own superiority over the rest of humanity; and he has no fear except that he may succumb to boredom.2

An aesthete does not believe in or does not know any moral norms and religious beliefs; he only desires the acquisition of the vast variety of pleasures of the senses. “Life has no principle of limitation except one’s own taste; one resents anything that would limit one’s vast freedom of


Page 62 FREEDOM AS ROOTED IN AUTHENTIC EXISTENCE

choice.”3 Emotion and impulse govern the life of an aesthete, in other words, he is governed by the principle of sensuousness. A life that is worth living is a life that enjoys the variety of pleasures and a life that acquires everything. One can readily assume that for the aesthete “if it feels good then do it.” One can readily turn everything to pleasure like getting drunk on a cheap wine, beating a business competitor or discussing a crucial point in a literary piece.

Man demands to be free wherever he would go and in whatever he would do because man always pursues to live his own satisfaction. Man disregards or rejects anything that would hinder his goal of satisfying himself. He finds ways not to feel any pain whether physically, emotionally or psychologically. For him, this is what it means to exist and this is enough for him. By doing all sorts of things just to satisfy himself, however, man instead of having control over himself loses the governance of his own self. He is no longer in control of himself; he is now governed by the external contingencies and by the pleasurable things around him. The freedom he once enjoyed becomes the chain that binds him. “Furthermore, aesthetes never achieved a truly human form of existence because they are guided by the same principles that motivate amoebas and slugs. Pleasure and pain are, after all, fundamentally biological in nature.”4

An aesthete has only one aim in life and that is the endless search for pleasure. His constant search for the things that would satisfy his pleasures will eventually lead him to the experience of doubt and boredom. Man, during his stay in this world, thinks that he would easily acquire or achieve endless pleasures. He presumes that since the world offers an infinite number of pleasurable things, he can acquire them by having money, power and fame. Instead of satisfying himself, however, he begins to doubt and realize that no pleasure will ever suffice for him. He becomes bored in attaining his goal because he realizes that the more he seeks pleasure, the more he becomes hopeless in front of the infinite desires.

An aesthete enters into despair. “Despair is an intensification of doubt to the point where there is no more hope.”5 An aesthete finds “no remedy, no salvation at the level on which he stands.”6 This level cannot give an authentic existence for man. This level of existence only imprisons him in his endless desires; he is not free in this kind of existence. He can only regain himself from this despair by the choice



he will make either to remain in this kind of existence or to move to the other stage of existence.

b. Freedom in the Ethical Stage

My either/or does not in the first instance denote the choice between good and evil; it denotes the choice whereby one chooses good and evil/or excludes them. Here the question is under what determinants one would contemplate the whole of existence and would himself live… for the aesthetical is not evil, but neutrality… It is, therefore, not so much a question of choosing between willing the good or evil, as of choosing to will, but by this in turn the good and the evil are posited.7

The choice that an aesthete will make is not so much about some particular ethical code between what is good or what is bad; rather, it is a choice or decision whether to be responsible to an ethical code at all.

In the ethical stage of existence, “man accepts determinate moral standards and obligations, the voice of universal reason, and thus gives form and consistency to his life.”8 An aesthete is able to move from the aesthetic stage to ethical stage by the choice he makes and by this movement he is able to overcome aesthetic despair. Now he enters to a commitment, a commitment to be his true self.

In this level of existence, man acquires ethical obligations. For Kierkegaard, morality is universal and divine. The foundation of this morality is God whom man believes in. Man’s obligations are his duties to fulfill so that he can regain his true self lost in aesthetic despair. If a person obeys these obligations, he will likewise obey God since he is the foundation of morality. Therefore, every moral duty that a person must comply is also his duty to God.

By accomplishing his moral duties and obligations, man achieves a harmonious relationship with God. Man becomes happy by virtue of fulfilling the task given to him. Man’s freedom acquires its new meaning by his continuous free choice rather than by being controlled by external contingencies. According to Kierkegaard, though the ethical individual may fulfill his duties and moral obligations he will also consequently end up in despair—despair for the highest ideals.



Inasmuch as man fulfills his entire moral obligations, he hopes to achieve a moral perfection. However, he later discovers that what he expects will not always come to reality. He feels guilty when he is not able to fulfill every moral obligation that is presented to him since moral obligations are infinite in number. The ethical individual feels guilty and repents for whatever obligations he is not able to fulfill. Man continuously feels guilty since he cannot or can never accomplish all ethical obligations and now he falls into ethical despair. Man realizes that by his own effort, he cannot achieve the moral perfection he wanted. He will only be led to despair.

Kierkegaard gives a suggestion to the ethical individual in despair: Surrender! The ethical individual must surrender his effort to achieve his true self. It is better for the individual to despair because in doing so he is forced again to an either/or situation, a situation of free choice. If the person disregards despair, he will just continue to run away from his own self because “to will despair is to stop running from one’s self, one’s place, it is resignation.”9 Of course, it takes courage for an individual to will despair because it is not an easy choice to make. In doing so, however, man chooses to move from ethical level of existence to the religious level of existence. Man loses himself because of ethical despair but he again regains it by choosing to move to the next level of existence which for Kierkegaard will bring about the authentic self and where freedom can really find its true meaning.

c. Freedom in the Religious Stage

The third level of existence is the religious sphere. An ethical individual is able to move into this stage if he starts to acknowledge God in his life. A man who chooses to be in this stage likewise chooses God in his life, establishing a personal relationship with him. In this level, man experiences a God-man relationship and this consists in living a God-oriented life, i.e., a life of faith. For Kierkegaard, “faith is the self reflectively relating itself to itself as a synthesis of the finite and the infinite resting transparently in God.”10 Living in this stage, man begins to regain himself because he already starts to live authentically.

Kierkegaard was able to discuss this stage of existence by studying the story of Abraham and Isaac in the Sacred Scriptures. In the story of Abraham, his attempt to kill his beloved son is an act against human life—an immoral act. God tested the faith of Abraham by asking him to



do something contrary to moral norms of life. Abraham attempted to fulfill this act of immorality because of his great faith in God in a total resignation of everything. For Kierkegaard, Abraham’s act is an act of insanity, an act of absurdity. Why is it that Abraham needs to perform an act of criminal insanity? This kind of situation is unintelligent and incomprehensible. Abraham acts by “virtue of the absurd.”11

An individual who chooses to be in the religious stage renounces his own self and everything that the world offers and makes God as his sole and ultimate goal in life. On this level, faith alone can understand and realize the reality of God in one’s life.

The transitions from aesthetic to ethical and from ethical to religious are almost the same; they both produce a new self. According to Kierkegaard, the latter is more dreadful. In the first transition, an individual falls away from his old sensual self gaining a new ethical self, but in the second transition, an individual falls away from human kind. When Abraham decided to sacrifice his son, he also sacrificed his self, his very being. Abraham’s act is beyond his rationality—beyond his ethical level of existence—which Kierkegaard called the “Teleological Suspension of the Ethical.”12 Abraham loved God so much that even when God commanded him to sacrifice his beloved son, he obeyed. “Abraham was the greatest of all, great by the power whose strength is powerless, great by that wisdom whose secret is foolishness, great by the hope whose form is madness, great by the love that is hatred to oneself.”13

In this level of existence, man exists authentically by virtue of his relationship with God, a relationship that is not superficial but one that is deep in relation. The freedom that man experiences in this level of existence is the most authentic he can attain, for it is not rooted anymore in his selfish self but in God’s infinite being—a being that is perfectly free and authentic. Despair is not anymore experienced in this freedom because the individual already falls away from his own self and only rests on the infinite power and love of God.

3. Authentic Existence As Seen in the Religious Stage

In the religious level of existence, man starts to acknowledge God in his life. He realizes that he cannot do all things with his own capabilities and that he needs God’s intervention and assistance in order to



achieve the existence he wants to attain. By doing this, man is able to experience the presence of God; he chooses God in his life.

According to Kierkegaard, “faith is the self reflectively relating itself to itself as a synthesis of the finite and the infinite resting transparently in God.”14 The self becomes itself because of its relationship with God. It is essentially related to God. According to Kierkegaard, there is only one stage or form of existence which constitute a commitment to God and the recognition of his existence and that is the religious stage.

It is God who is the power that the self transparently rests on. Thus, Kierkegaard expresses the self ’s relation to God as a relation of transparency—a relationship that is intimate and open. Kierkegaard does not explain this relation further; he only puts emphasis on this relation as a kind of “infinite reflection.”15 This means that the self relates itself to itself and goes beyond itself which will eventually lead the person to a relationship with God. Through the self ’s infinite reflection, the self goes beyond itself and eventually rests transparently in its ground and Creator who in the end is the one who establishes this relationship.

God is omnipresent. God is always present in man. In all sides of man, God is there. He surrounds man; it is just that man does not recognize him every time. Man will only start to recognize God if he starts to exist authentically. Man can only find his true selfhood if he learns to recognize this relationship with God. “The self rests transparently in God, in so far as there is no opaqueness, no barrier, behind which or from within which God is absent.”16

The self has the freedom to choose either to accept the relation with infinite reflection or to ignore it. According to Kierkegaard, there are two options – either to choose faith or to choose sin. The self accepts in faith the fact that God is present everywhere and knows everything. The self can nonetheless recognize this relationship as a limitation to his private life. The self finds itself disturbed for its weaknesses and failures are disclosed and known by God. On the other hand, if the main point of this relationship with God is the idea that the self is infinitely reflected in God in every infinitude, these limitations, weaknesses and failures are all forgiven by him who creates this relationship. It rests just in the decision of man if he will freely choose this intimate relationship with God.



The relation of the self to God makes the self become itself, or makes it exist. Without God, in whom the self should transparently rest, the self will not exist authentically. It is in this relationship that the self becomes what it is. Moreover, the self can only become true if it measures itself according to the standard of the ‘Other’ who is God himself.

4. Conclusion

Man knows that in the course of his life, he faces many difficulties, failures, absurdities and sometimes tragedies. These experiences of man are inevitable; he cannot escape from these experiences. Because of these uncertainties that he experiences, his view about life starts to change. He wants to liberate himself from these uncertainties and so find ways to give answer to what is happening to him and make his life easier. Because of his efforts, he encounters and acquires many things that suggest answers to his questions about life. During this search for answers, man’s freedom is challenged by different factors which create in him notions applicable to his situation.

Now the world is changing. New forms of technology are developed to suit the needs of man with a subtle message of “just do it.” Everyday, people are fascinated with these many inventions until out of curiosity, they end up patterning their lives after these pieces of modern technology. They have been influenced by gadgets and have become governed by external contingencies of their lives. Instead of being free, they are chained to these gadgets.

Actually, there is nothing wrong about these things. In fact, man should be grateful for them because they are a big help for him in the present time. There are two problems here: (1) man loses the importance of the meaning of his existence and (2) man acquires a wrong notion of what freedom is.

Man only lives once here on earth. He is only a pilgrim, and later he will go back to where he comes from. Man is only a finite being. He has a beginning and an end. The saddest thing is that he never knows when his life will end. Knowing that his life is limited, he should live out his life and existence to the fullest. To give meaning to his existence is to live his life to the fullest. Life is not always full of happiness. If this



were the case, man would get bored. On the other hand, life is not always sadness and suffering, for if it were the case, it would be better to die than to live. Life is full of adventures. It is a mixture of positive and negative experiences.

In Kierkegaard’s philosophy of authentic existence, it is through the many ‘either/or’s’ that come his way that man can find genuine existence and the true notion of freedom to move towards the religious stage. That moment is achieved through an act of commitment. In this stage, man develops his intimate relationship with the ground and Creator of his existence who is God. For Kierkegaard, man’s goal to exist authentically is achieved by having this intimate relationship with God. By having this relationship, man also understands that freedom consists in choosing God in his life.



Endnotes

1 Samuel Enoch Stumpf, Philosophy: History and Problems (New York: McGraw-Hill, Inc., 1994), p. 483.

2 Søren Kierkegaard, Either/Or Vol. I (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1959), pp. 12-13.

3 Stumpf, Philosophy: History and Problems, p. 488 .

4 Donald D. Palmer, Kierkegaard for Beginners (Danbury: Writers and Readers, Inc., 1996), p. 84.

5 Ben Alex, Søren Kierkegaard: An Authentic Life (Scandinavia: Scandinavia Publishing House, 1997), p. 52.

6 Frederick Copleston, A History of Philosophy: Modern Philosophy Vol. VII (New York: Image Books, 1963), p. 342.

7 Kierkegaard, Either/Or Vol. II (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1972), p. 173.

8 Copleston, A History of Philosophy: Modern Philosophy Vol. VII, p. 342.

9 John D. Mullen, “Between the Aesthetic and the Ethical: Kierkegaard’s Either/Or,” Philosophy Today 23, 1 (Spring, 1979): p. 92.

10 Elizabeth A. Morelli, “The Existence of the Self Before God in Kierkegaard’s The Sickness Unto Death,” The Heythrop Journal 31, 1 (January 1995): p. 24.

11 Palmer, Kierkegaard for Beginners, p. 118.

12 Palmer, Kierkegaard for Beginners, p. 118.

13 Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling, ed. and trans. by Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983), p. 16.

14 Morelli, “The Existence of the Self Before God in Kierkegaard’s The Sickness Unto Death,” p. 24.

15 Morelli, “The Existence of the Self Before God in Kierkegaard’s The Sickness Unto Death,” p. 22.

16 Morelli, “The Existence of the Self Before God in Kierkegaard’s The Sickness Unto Death,” p. 25 .


Page 70

ALTRUISM IN TAOISMJOSE MARIE M. VILLAS

William Shakespeare once wrote a story of an aged king who wished to divide his wealth equally to his three daughters. Prior to doing so, he required them to confess their love for him publicly. The first two of his daughters, Goneril and Regan, professed their love for their father in words of flattery. The king being used to such, gave them their dowry. Then it was the youngest daughter’s turn. In her confession, she expressed her love for her father in plain unflattering words. Unsatisfied and angered by the baseness of her speech, he stripped her of her status as his daughter and left her no dowry to inherit. Soon, as the story goes on, the king realized his grave mistake. He was wrong to believe that Goneril and Regan actually loved him, and to cast away the one who loved him most.

This is the story of King Lear’s tragedy. It is a tragic story of how the king misconstrued his daughters’ affection. While the story is fictitious, its theme is relevant and quite familiar to our society today. Let us take the case our country. When the election season comes to date, many candidates for political position would flatter people without qualms. They would distribute goods and promise planned projects for the community. They carry out acts of philanthropy for show. As soon as they rise to their position, however, they too quickly forget their promises. They merely used deed of goodness to advance their agenda. One wonders then whatever happens to altruism.

In this brief study, the author looks into altruism by a revisit to an ancient Chinese tradition, namely Taoism. The purpose is to consider the practice of altruism in the Taoist tradition. We begin by analyzing what altruism means.


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French Philosopher Auguste Comte (1798-1857) defines the term “altruism” basically as a concern for others arising from an action-guiding principle.1 The word was believed to have been drawn from the French expression “le bieu d’ altri”—the right of another—which was later shortened into a legal phrase “l’altrui.” From a shorter term (which in Italian and Latin is altrui and alter respectively—both understood as “to another”), we then get the noun altruisme—in English, “altruism”—as opposed to egoism.2 In its strict sense, as defined by Batson and Shaw, altruism is “a motivational state with the ultimate goal of increasing another’s welfare,” whereas egoism is “a motivational state with the ultimate goal of increasing one’s own welfare.” 3 More so, altruism is “willingness to act in consideration of the interests of other persons, without the need of ulterior motives.” 4 To further explain this, there are three important topics to discuss here, namely: the act, the reason for altruism and the self in altruism.

For an act to be either altruistic or egoistic, it needs to be goal-directed. It must be consciously directed to an aim or purpose. Even if an act ultimately benefits oneself or the other, it cannot be strictly considered either altruistic or egoistic unless it was purposely so carried out. In addition, an action which only has a single ultimate goal can only be regarded as altruistic or egoistic, but never as both.5 Moving on to the second topic, it is undeniable that man no matter how selfless he may be would also perform acts which are basically for himself. This is true especially in matters of basic needs like food, shelter and clothing, for although he is a rational being, man is still a biological being who has to provide for his basic needs in order to survive. The question now, however, is how man can be concerned with others and their needs and how can he transcend his concern for his basic needs and show that same concern for others.

The basic answer to these questions is man’s capacity for circumspection. By his rationality, man has the capacity to be reflective by which he can be mindful of others and their needs. Because of his capacity for reflection, man seeks to understand the meaning of his life. This reflectiveness brings about the realization that each one is an outcome and at the same time, maker of his own choices. This eventually leads to the acquisition of concern and respect for others,6 which are basic manifestations of altruism. True there is meaning in living. Man realizes that this meaning can further develop to a greater


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scale. This is something man find in caring for others, moving him to exercise altruism, compassion and selflessness.

We now focus our discussion on Taoism. The origin of Taoism is basically not clear. Considered as a way of life, Taoism is said to begin with Huang Di, who was known as the Yellow Emperor. 7 In his desire to establish an ideal empire, he consulted a wise hermit in the mountains in order to acquire the secrets of the universe. At first, the hermit was hesitant. Yet eventually he shared his wisdom to the emperor. Huang Di then returned to his empire and there employed all the wisdom and knowledge he learned. He performed miracles, tamed wild beasts and cured the sicknesses of his people. Thus, he was able to establish his ideal empire. On the other hand, as a philosophy, Taoism is believed to have started with Yang Chu who marked the first phase of Taoism.

In Yang Chu’s teachings, the value of human life is strongly emphasized as well as its vulnerability. According to him, one’s life is absolutely precious and at the same time fragile, such that once it is lost, it can no longer be restored.8 Nothing can ever retrieve life once it is gone. What causes the loss of the value of self is pain and suffering, death, punishment, sickness and old age. The opposite of pain and suffering can likewise diminish one’s value of self. Consider for instance how fame, pleasure, wealth, possession and position can undermine the value one’s life, and how these things can blur one’s sense thereof. Extravagant love of these things can lead to one’s doom, even to the loss of life. At this point, it may be noted that Yang Chu’s teaching in regard to valuing one’s life is not all hedonistic. That is why it is generally called the “Principle of the Middle Way.” From the perspective of moral behavior, the principle entails one to be neither too good nor too bad. 9 To be too bad, by virtue of one’s misdeeds, results to one’s own harm and punishment thus violating the preservation of one’s life. On the other hand, to be too good results to fame, glory and honor, bringing about greater chances for the value of one’s life to be undermined. Such is the principle of the Middle Way. This is also known as the “usefulness of the useless.” Consider the text from Chuang Chu:

Chuang Tzu was traveling through the mountains, when he saw a great tree well covered with foliage. A tree-cutter was standing beside it, but he did not cut it down. Chuang Tzu asked him the reason and he replied: ‘It is of no use.’ Chuang



Tzu said: ‘By virtue of having no exceptional qualities, this tree succeeds in completing its natural span…10

Thus it can be justly claimed that Yang Chu did not at all propose any idea on altruism and its significance. However, on a positive note, he is able to present the importance of the self, although in an extreme manner. Such realization is but an initial step to the development of the altruistic character in Taoism. Fung Yu-Lan comments:

We may say that the early Taoist were selfish. Yet in their later development this selfishness became reversed and destroyed itself.11

The second phase of Taoism is largely contributed by Lao Tzu in the work Tao Te Ching. In this phase of development, Taoism focuses on the qualities and identity of the Tao as the guiding principle in the path towards enlightenment or sagehood. Accordingly, the Tao Te Ching discusses the essential qualities of the Tao: the Way, Principle, Path, Method. These are too many to mention, but a few may be taken for the present discussion. These included its identity as the Uncarved Block, the virtues of Humility and Te and its movement Wu Wei.

As the Uncarved Block, the Tao is the ultimate source of all things by which all things—carved blocks—are made. As origin of everything and being uncarved, the Tao is nameless and unnameable.12 The term Tao is but a designation of it. Early Taoists believe it can never be named. In addition, because the Tao is uncarved, it possesses the quality of absolute simplicity, the absence of complexity and complicatedness. The second quality is the virtue of humility. This is exemplified in the figures of water and woman.13 Water brings and sustains life. It always stays low such that it has been used as reference in measuring altitude. Water is closely associated with healing and cleansing and purification. However, water could also cause death and disease. It can rise so high and bring about massive damage. The image of woman is generally seen as a symbol of weakness and meekness, of helplessness and gentleness. Yet, similar to water, women can tame the wildest men. More so, they can control them like slaves for their own benefit. Water conquers, women control. This can likewise be seen in the doctrine of Wu Wei or the doctrine of inaction. It must be pointed out however that Wu Wei is not a lazy man’s slogan. It does not absolutely encourage “doing nothing at all.” The main point of Wu Wei



is the non-interference or the non-interruption of the way of Nature.14 It is “letting things be on their own way,” neither engineering them nor being overly loosed with them. To follow the path of Wu Wei is to enable one to practice its Te-virtue or that which makes a thing what it is. According to Alfredo Co: “Te would signify going-straight-to-one’s-heart.”15 Thus, the Te of a thing signifies the very essence of things.

Taoism slowly developed a concern for social matters. Lao Tzu’s and the Tao Te Ching’s idea of the sage is a clear manifestation of the significance of social order in the Taoist tradition. In truth, the idea of the sage is the Taoist solution to the decadent Han dynasty. It mainly asserts the Taoist ideal of governance and living, particularly in regard to those in power. Thus the Tao Te Ching is mainly for those in political power. 16 As for the people or the masses, the book Chuang Chu is the most relevant.

Chuang Chu is commonly attributed to Chuang Chu who marks the third phase of Taoism. Although it is akin to Tao Te Ching and Lao Tzu, it is still not certain whether the book was actually written by Chuang Chu himself. Still it has ever since been accepted as a composite work of Chuang Chu and his later disciples, including the disciples of his proceeding disciples.17 Unlike the Tao Te Ching, however, Chuang Chu employs long chatty stories to elucidate its teachings. It uses vernacular language and common experiences with which people of that time could easily relate. Among the teachings of the book, happiness appears to be the most important theme. Happiness to Chuang Chu has two types: relative and absolute.18 Relative happiness is attained when one has followed one’s own Te, one’s nature. For example, man obtains relative happiness when he is able to exercise his rationality like playing the piano, writing an essay and even cooking a sumptuous meal. Similarly, bees are able to attain relative happiness whenever they produce honey well. However, relative happiness is not happiness itself. It is a form of happiness which is fleeting and can be lost. It can be hindered by death, old age, and sickness. Then comes absolute happiness. In absolute happiness one acquires the viewpoint of the Tao. It consists in being united with the Tao.19 Accordingly, the Tao is the center of an endlessly moving circle of contradiction. As such, the Tao does not at all move, nor does it see things differently. Rather, it sees all things as one. An unenlightened man stays on one end of the circle. He is continually affected by its unending motion,



and sees things in contradiction and discrimination. He is limited by his finite view to understand the course of nature. Thus he hates death and loves life. When man becomes enlightened and is in union with the Tao and its viewpoint, he sees things as one and does not discriminate at all. Death is seen as part of life and life as part of death. 20 Man now sees things differently and does not anymore argue, for by then he understands that finite beliefs are but one-sided realizations and partial truths.

Taiosm’s pursuit of immortality began with Yang Chu’s teaching about the preservation of the self. This is realized in the doctrine of absolute happiness, by which death is not death in itself, but part of living. In fact, this is what philosophy exactly is. It mainly provides man a different mode of viewing things.

Now with a basic understanding of what is altruism and what is Taoism, particularly in its three phases of development, we can justly move to answer what altruism is in the Taoist tradition. In truth, the movement of the phases of development of Taoism can be considered true with altruism. To begin with, in the practice of altruism, a healthy sense of self is necessary. Although in the teachings of Yang Chu, the self is emphasized in an extreme manner, thereby becoming egoistic instead. Nonetheless, it is important to note that a healthy sense of self, and not an overrated one, is the initial step in the exercise of altruism. Secondly, altruism which is basically a concern for others should take its concrete form particularly in one’s concern for society to which one belongs to as manifested and exemplified by Lao Tzu and the Tao Te Ching. Altruism should respond to the social needs of the community particularly in its pursuit of achieving peace, harmony and justice among citizens and political leaders. Much more, in the second phase of Taoism, altruism in the light of Te, Wu Wei and sagehood is peculiarly man’s characteristic: that he is naturally altruistic. Aphorisms contained in the Tao Te Ching could guide well the individual in the development of an altruistic character. As for the third phase of Taoism with Chuang Chu’s doctrine of absolute happiness, altruism obtains its absolute practice. By virtue of seeing as the Tao sees, all things are regarded as one thereby achieving a sense of absolute objectivity for the reasons for altruism. In this manner, the practice of altruism does not limit its exercise to particular persons, races, sexes, color or nation. Moreover, the practice of altruism in the



viewpoint of the Tao extends its scope of concern and respect not only to human beings but to other living creatures as well, to those that dwell in bodies of water, to those that fly and to those that dwell on land. Altruism then in the third phase of Taoism achieves its perfect practice.

Endnotes

1 Ellen Frankel Paul et al, Altruism (The Press Syndicate of the University of Cambridge, 1993), p. vii.

2 Joseph T. Shipley, Ph.D., Dictionary of Word Origins (Ames, Iowa: Littlefield, Adams & Co., 1955), p. 18.

3 C. Daniel Batson and Laura L. Shaw, “Evidence for Altruism: Toward a Pluralism of Prosocial Motives,” Psychological Inquiry Vol. 2, No.2 (1991): p. 108.

4 Thomas Nagel, The Possibility of Altruism (1970), p. 79.

5 Cf. C. Batson and Shaw, “Evidence for Altruism: Toward a Pluralism of Prosocial Motives,” p. 108.

6 Cf. David Schimidtz, “Reasons for Altruism” in Altruism (The Press Syndicate of the University of Cambridge, 1993), p. 53.

7 Paul R. Hartz, Taoism: World Religions (Facts of File, Inc., 1993), pp. 16-18.

8 Cf. Lü-shih Ch’un-ch’iu, I, 3 as cited by Fung Yu-Lan, A Short History of Chinese Philosophy (The Free Press, 1948), p. 63.

9 Chuang Tzu Book (Zang Sheng Chapter, Chapter 3) as cited by Fung Yu-Lan, A Short History of Chinese Philosophy, p. 64.

10 Fung Yu-Lan, A Short History of Chinese Philosophy, p. 66.


12 Chapter 44 of Tao Te Ching in Lao Tzu’s Te-Tao Ching, trans. Robert G. Henrick (Ballantine Books, 1989), p. 188.

13 Henry Wei, The Guiding Light of Lao Tzu (The Theosophical Publishing House, 1982), pp. 13-14.



14 Alfredo Co, The Blooming of a Hundred Flowers: Philosophy of Ancient China (Manila: University of Santo Tomas, 1992), p. 131.

15 Co, The Blooming of a Hundred Flowers: Philosophy of Ancient China, p.131.

16 Hartz, Taoism: World Religions, pp. 25-26.


18 Cf. Fung Yu-Lan, A Short History of Chinese Philosophy, p. 105.

19 Cf. Fung Yu-Lan, A Short History of Chinese Philosophy, p. 67.



Page 78

Philosophy Week 2012 Winning Paper of the Philosopher’s Stone Award

PURIFICATION OF MEMORY

JOHN ALFORD L. MOLINA

I remember reading On the Way to Jesus Christ by Joseph Ratzinger. The book contains a series of reflections he gave in Rome in 1997 which were given in preparation for the Church’s celebration of the Jubilee Year. Ratzinger said that reading them again six years after brought him to ask “whether the celebration of the Jubilee Year still has some-thing new to offer the world?” His answer was yes; he wanted to imply that the Jubilee Year was not at all useless and nonsensical. He said that it still has something new to offer the world. Yet to see this, one has to have a “purification of memory.”

Our memory contains things that we have encountered in the past. There are things, for example, that we remember because they have caused us joy. There are also things we remember because they have in a way formed who we are. There are also things, however, that we remember because they have hurt us. These memories, which pro-voke in us feelings of angst and resentment, are the things that hinder us from being able to see more clearly. One who is held captive by the constricting snares of hatred will in the long run cause unsatisfying effects both to himself and to those around him. To be able to see more clearly then, I would like to suggest the “purification of memory.”

One cannot deny the fact that our history is tainted with so much antipathy. Simply looking back at the past century can show us in our imagination the petrifying shadow of the two world wars. Our country’s history, likewise, is tainted with the filth of corruption and smeared with injustice and selfishness. Hatred and anger, however, are not the proper response to these things. Responding with hatred against hatred would just worsen the dissonance of human history


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and in the end cause more damage to society. Looking at the issue from this angle then would help us understand how hate cannot drive out hate in the same way that darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only something positive can drive out the negative energies pervading society.

In the same manner, someone who is unable to relieve himself of ha-tred would find it difficult to live the present moment with joy and exuberance. He who is kept bound by the noose of past faults would find life tawdry and tedious. He would only be dismal and hateful; it would lead him further into what Martin Luther King calls: “the de-scending spiral of destruction.”

Forgiveness then would be the only way to free oneself from such ani-mosity. It is not just a denial of justice in the face of injustices; rather, it is a release from the chains that restrain us from freedom. It is a release from the irrationality that hinders us from pulling ourselves together. This, as it were, is the main ingredient of the “purification of memory.” When one forgives, he purifies his memory from the pollu-tion of past grudges. He tries to clean his eyes of the splinter. Forgive-ness is a way to cleanse our contaminated minds.

Does this mean therefore that those who have caused us pain and in-justice would immediately be relieved of the consequences of their act? Should society just forgive and set aside as mere historical oc-currences the great abominations to humanity done by individuals then and now? This is not at all the case, for forgiveness is not simply forgetting. Forgiveness is not an appeal to abrogate justice; rather it is a purification of our minds so that we could be more rational in ex-ecuting justice. Forgiveness purifies our memory in order for us to see more clearly and render justice more fittingly. Purifying the memory helps us to see what an unpurified mind cannot see. It does not just give us amnesia. It does not just leave the past; rather it lets it flow to the present until it promises a future.


Page 80

Philosophy Week Winning Paper of the Aristotle’s Award

RETURNING TO WONDERLAND

JOSE MARIE M. VILLAS

Ever been down the rabbit’s hole or high above Neverland? Have you journeyed far in the Hundred Acre Woods or followed the yellow brick road in search of escape? Ever climbed the largest beanstalk known or saved your grandma from a hungry wolf unarmed? Have you ever been persuaded by a cat in boots? Were you there when the turtle won against the hare or when the mighty lion asked the mouse for help? Perhaps, you but you just cannot remember.

Anyone who is familiar with children’s stories could classify what belongs to which story. Perhaps, one may as well enumerate each story’s characters and their roles. As to how these stories may be relevant to life, only a few could tell. For some reasons, many dismiss children’s stories as merely for children or plain entertainment, so that reflecting on them is not worth one’s while. Having gone through one’s childhood, one may as well leave their fantasies behind locked in the mind’s closet with no keys. To many, children’s stories are just like that—foolish tales—meant to lull children to sleep. They are seen also as tools to help children learn to read. Whatever they say, I have a different take on children’s stories.

Happily, there seems to be a more positive view of these stories today. For some reason, children’s stories are now being exhumed from the grave and brought to the big screen: Nickeleodeon’s The Spiderwick Tales, Disney’s Alice in Wonderland, Where Wild Things Are, Winnie the Pooh (The Tigger Movie, Piglet’s Big Movie as well as the recent ones released), not to forget the works of Dr. Seuss which had a significant impact, not only in his time, even in the present: How the Grinch Stole Christmas, The Cat in the Hat, Horton Hears a Who, and very soon, The Lorax will hit the cinemas. Each of these stories is, of course for


Page 81PHILOSOPHY WEEK 2012 WINNING PAPERS

entertainment and enjoyment. Yet, for those who are more reflective, these stories are loaded with themes very much relevant to reality and life. The Cat in the Hat, for example, illustrates the importance of parental, specifically maternal, care in the rearing of growing children. How the Grinch Stole Christmas criticizes materialism and consumerism during the Christmas season. Horton Hears a Who stresses the value of every person or creature no matter how small they are. The Lorax shows how greed can destroy the world. Accordingly, critics have commented that Dr. Seuss’ stories are not at all for young children. The reason was that the themes of these stories are not ‘childish enough’ to be read by children, and thus inappropriate. If I were to be asked which children’s story or fairy tale appeals to me the most, I would not hesitate to say, Shrek.

What I peculiarly like in this film is the value it tries to assert, which is quite contrary to the common view today, namely that love is only for those who have pretty faces. The story of Shrek achieves a breakthrough in debunking the common theme of most fairy tales. Ordinarily, the story of a fairytale is about a pretty damsel in distress (or seemingly dead one), to whom a charming prince comes out of nowhere, saves the girl from a wicked enemy (a dragon or a witch), kisses her on the lips and marries her. In the end “they lived happily ever after.”

In reality, not everyone is a prince or princess. There could not be such a perfect story. Let us be real! We need not belong to a royal bloodline to be happy. We need not possess good looks to gain genuine love. We simply have to be ourselves: who we really are, naked before truth. This is exactly what Shrek is saying. Love does not require pretty faces but only two sincere loving hearts. Shrek mirrors the true world of love, rooted deeply in the real him and her. Shrek does not end with the usual happy-ever-after. Marriage is a happy thing, yes, but the real married life begins after the ceremony, and often it is marked by conflicts and confusions which continually challenge the love binding two people together. Indeed we need more movies similar to Shrek, for they do not only entertain but also enable us to see the real meaning of life. Even in their simplicity, movies of this sort bear a most subtle and genuine meaning, and they contain the best treasures of life.


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True, stories like this might have been brought to the big screen for monetary reasons. I believe, however, that if producers or directors were only after money, they would not have resorted to children’s stories. They would have produced action or romantic films or anything more sensual and appealing to audiences, for these sorts of films readily hit the top chart. I suppose then that the main reason why producers and directors decide to come up with this type of film is that they realize the value and relevance of the content of the film. Simple as they may be, films like these can touch one’s life and have the basic power to change our value system by providing a new mode of viewing things. Stories, thus, could be instruments of transformation, not only for the individual but also for society as a whole. Even Jesus of Nazareth used parables to proclaim God’s loving word to his people. He used them as part of his mission to restore mankind to God. Chuang Chu likewise in the work attributed to him Chuang Chu was instrumental in the transformation of China. Through his often short yet chatty stories, whereby the Tao is considered the center and all things are seen as one, he offered a new way of looking at things. More notably, Aesop’s stories have contributed significantly to the progress of the human family because these stories appeal to our deeper sense of morality. In any way or any medium, stories play an important role in the lives of people of every race, age, time and even religion.

On account of the authentic values they illustrate, stories such as these have survived the surging winds of time and change. They may take various forms of expression—orally, written and audio-visually—but their value and significance have remained ever the same. In fact, their appeal transcends time and space, which suggests that there is something common among the peoples of various ages. Stories as these are thus universal and enduring. Though they may be forgotten at one point in time, they can easily make sense to anyone.


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Fr. Maxell Lowell C. Aranilla, Ph.D. is professor at the Philosophy Department of San Carlos Seminary where he teaches Epistemology, Philosophy of God and Philosophy of Education. He also teaches at De La Salle University in Manila.

Fr. Lorenz Moises J. Festin, Ph.D. is the dean of the Philosophy Department of San Carlos Seminary where he currently teaches Cosmology, Anthropology, Thesis Writing and Philosophical Synthesis. He also teaches at De La Salle University in Manila.

Fr. Raymun J. Festin, S.V.D., Ph.D. is professor of Philosophy at Christ the King Mission Seminary in Quezon City.

Napoleon M. Mabaquiao, Jr., Ph.D. is associate professor of philosophy at De La Salle University in Manila where he is currently the Chair and Graduate Program Coordinator of the Department of Philosophy.

Arisse Paolo R. Laurente earned his degree in Philosophy at San Carlos Seminary in 2012. His article in this volume is a summary of his thesis.

Francis Roi A. Madarang earned his degree in Philosophy at San Carlos Seminary in 2012. His article in this volume is a summary of his thesis.

Jose Marie M. Villas earned his degree in Philosophy at San Carlos Seminary in 2012. His article in this volume is a summary of his thesis for which he received the Zwaenepoel Award for Best Thesis in 2012. His other article won first place in the Aristotle Award Essay Contest during the Eighth Philosophy Week in 2012.

John Alford L. Molina is a third year student of Philosophy at San Carlos Seminary. His article in this volume won first place in the Philosopher’s Stone Award Essay Contest during the Eighth Philosophy Week in 2012.

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A Thomistic Solution to the Problem of Evil

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