Soul: A Comparative Approach 9783110319415, 9783110319095

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Christian Kanzian, Muhammad Legenhausen (Eds.) Soul A Comparative Approach

Christian Kanzian, Muhammad Legenhausen (Eds.)

Soul A Comparative Approach

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Table of Contents Christian Kanzian, Muhammad Legenhausen Preface of the Editors

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Maḥmūd RAJABĪ Welcoming Remarks: On the Value of Science in Islam

9

‘Abdullah Javadi AMULI Knowledge of the Soul as Path

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Mohammad Fanaei ESHKEVARI Self-Knowledge and the Soul

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Ghulām Riḍā FAYĀḌĪ Substantial Motion and Islamic Theology

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Georg GASSER Is Hylomorphism a Neglected Option in Philosophy of Mind?

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Hans GOLLER Are Near-death Experiences Evidence for the Existence of the Soul?

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Christian KANZIAN The Immateriality of the Human Soul— An argument of Ayatullah Misbah, its roots in Mulla Sadra, and its correspondence in Western Philosophy

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Mahmoud KHATAMI Becoming Transcendent: Remarks on the Human Soul in the Philosophy of Illumination

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Hans KRAML The Soul, Disposition or Substance?

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Muhammad LEGENHAUSEN A Muslim’s Spirit

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Peter MARINKOVIC Concepts of the Soul in the Bible and in the Ancient Mediterranean World

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Muhammad Taqi MIṢBĀḤ YAZDĪ Two Problems in the Theory of Substantial Motion

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Mahmoud Namazi ESFAHANI Gnostic Elements in Mīr Findiriskī’s Theory of Knowledge and the Body-Soul Relation

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Josef QUITTERER How can I Survive? The Concept of the Soul and the Problem of Diachronic Personal Identity

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Abbas A. SHAMELI The Soul-Body Problem in Islamic Philosophical Psychology

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Mohammad Ali SHOMALI The Creation of the Human Soul: An Islamic Perspective

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Matthias STEFAN The Simple View of Personal Identity and its Implications for Substance Dualism

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Erwin TEGTMEIER Two Kinds of Ontological Dualism

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Daniel WEHINGER On Subjects

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List of Contributors

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Preface

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Preface of the Editors Christian Kanzian & Muhammad Legenhausen Our volume investigates the topic “soul” in a comparative way: Islamic and Western traditions are brought into dialogue with the focus on our general theme. Our project is comparative also because it brings together several disciplines concerned with “soul”: empirical psychology, philosophy of mind, epistemology, ontology, and theology. The history of the treatment of the soul in these disciplines is represented, as are current debates. Most of the collected papers in our book are results of contributions to a workshop organized by one of the editors of the volume, Professor M. Legenhausen, as an integrated part of a visit of a delegation from the University of Innsbruck and the University of Munich to the Imam Khomeini Education and Research Institute (IKERI) of Qom in May 2008. The editors are happy to have the welcoming remarks from Professor M. Rajabi published in this book. The organizational frame of the workshop and also of this edition is the partnership between the IKERI and the University of Innsbruck in Austria—the first formal high-level academic partnership between an Iranian Institution and a European University. Our project is motivated by the observation that the roots of Islamic and of Western Philosophy are very similar. Especially concerning “soul” we can state that our traditions are concerned with the same questions and problems, and have developed comparable strategies for solutions. Some of the articles in this volume are dedicated to the history of philosophy, in Islamic thinking as well as in Western traditions. M. Taqi Miṣbāḥ and M. Khatami deal with one of the most important theories in the modern history of Islamic philosophy and bring it into the context of our volume: substantial motion. C. Kanzian compares lines of argumentation for the immateriality of the human soul in Islamic and Christian traditions. Most of the articles are concerned with actual systematic questions in different philosophical

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disciplines. A. Javadi Amuli, M. Namazi Esfahani, and M. Eshkevari discuss epistemic questions and questions concerning intellectual capacities with reference to our topic. The access of empirical and philosophical psychology to the soul is the leading question of H. Goller and A. Shameli. Soul is a topic which has philosophical and theological implications. G. Rida Fayadi (Substantial Motion and Islamic Theology), P. Marinkovic (“Soul” in the Bible) and M. Shomali (The creation of the Human Soul) lay stress upon this point. Last not least, there should be mentioned those articles whose authors try to focus to reflect critically on new options in the philosophy of mind and the ontology of the soul: G. Gasser (Hylomorphism as new option), H. Kraml (The soul as a disposition?), M. Legenhausen (A Muslim’s Spirit), J. Quitterer (“Soul”, diachronic identity, and survival), M. Stefan (The simple view of personal identity), E. Tegtmeier (Ontological Dualism), and D. Wehinger (On Subjects). Our leading idea is to focus on the common roots and to increase awareness of the possibilities of systematic philosophical dispute, with the aim to promote a substantial dialogue on an academic level. The topic we chose seems to be especially well suited for such a project: it has an important history in both traditions, and makes obvious the common roots we share; and it has systematic relevance for the current debate in philosophical and theological research. We thank the authorities of the Imam Khomeini Education and Research Institute and the University of Innsbruck, especially Ayatullah Miṣbāḥ Yazdī and Dr. Matthias Schennach, respectively, the Theological Faculty of Innsbruck University, especially Dean Professor Jozef Niewiadomski, and the Head of the Institute for Philosophy at the Theological Faculty, Professor Josef Quitterer, and last not least, our Bishop Dr. Manfred Scheuer for his manifold support of this volume. Special thanks go to Ontos-Publisher and Dr. Rafael Hüntelmann for the acceptance of the volume in its program. May our common efforts help to build bridges between our cultures, and facilitate substantial dialogue via philosophical and theological analysis. Christian Kanzian & Muhammad Legenhausen

November 2009

Welcoming Remarks: On the Value of Science in Islam Maḥmūd Rajabī, Qom Praise be to Allah, Lord of the worlds, and blessings and benedictions to Muhammad and his progeny the pure, especially the Remainder from Allah on the earth [the Twelfth Imam], may Allah hasten his noble appearance. I consider your presence and participation in our conference on the soul to be most valuable; and I hope that these sessions will be very beneficial for you and for the professors and researchers of the Imam Khomeini Education and Research Institute. I also hope that all the participants will find the sessions to be effective for approaching the truth. God willing, in these scholarly sessions, as in the past, happy memories will be made about the ways of dialogue and reflection, and there will be valuable conclusions as fruits of the discussions. We hope that this will increase your interest and that of the responsible parties of our institute for continuations of our thinking together and cooperation in this area and in other scientific fields. I pray that in the light of these scholarly discussions, the Lord will grant you success and fill your hands with the advancement and progress of knowledge, the publication of truths, and the strengthening of the faith of the people of the world. Sincere dialogues and conferences in scholarly areas have many great effects and blessings. It is for this reason that scholarly discussions are held to be of great worth by the heavenly religions, especially in the religion of Islam and the Shi‘ite denomination. Attention to these effects and blessings is beneficial for understanding the greatness of these sorts of efforts at thinking together and for increasing motivation in this regard. In these brief remarks I will confine myself to mentioning some of these effects and benefits. At the end, I will indicate to some methodological points and cus-

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toms of scholarly conversations that contribute to making them more fruitful. 1. The first effect of this sort of scholarly discussion is recognition of delicate points, faults, ambiguities, and flaws in theories and views. The presentation of theories and views among researchers and scholars who have different basic ideas and various intellectual backgrounds provides for reflection and consideration of problems from a multidimensional perspective. This sort of view illuminates the strong and weak points, the clear and obscure aspects, the positive and negative results and implications of the problems under review, and helps to achieve clarification and strength of the theories developed. Imam ‘Ali, peace be with him, in advice to his own son, Muḥammad Ḥanafiyyah, said, “Whoever welcomes different views, will know the occasions of error” (Ḥurr al-‘Amilī, Wasā’il al-Shī‘ah, II, 262). 2. Another effect of scholarly dialogues is the more precise understanding of problems, and also the formulation of new questions. Scientific conversations and the investigation into various angles to be reviewed results in a more exact understanding of the problem in question, the precise formulation of it, and the discovery of new questions in this area. Both the more precise formulation of the problem and the new questions are signs of new knowledge. In the words of Mawlana (Rumi), “Both questions and answers arise from knowledge.” These two are the components of the background needed for the flourishing of the sciences. Many of the differences of opinion about scholarly matters are the result of a lack of precision in the formulation of the problem, or a lack of familiarity with the basic problem and the key points of the subject in view. If the various aspects of the subject are properly recognized, and if the scientific problem is formulated properly and precisely, the solution to it will be found quicker and more completely, and the process of scientific progress will accelerate more quickly

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than otherwise. Imam Ḥasan, peace be with him, said, “To question well is half of knowledge” (Arbalī, Kashf al-Ghummah, I, 571). 3. The third effect of scholarly dialogues is help with the better and more exact discovery of the truth. The presentation and review of different views on a given subject and the exchange of views on it prepares the ground for a better understanding of the answers to the problems and an approach to the truth. In addition to the fact that usually the course of research by an individual is much longer than that which can be achieved in conference with others in which there is an exchange of views, in addition the groundwork for the discovery of what is correct is also prepared. Imam ‘Ali, peace be with him, said, “Exchange views with one another, and this will give rise to what is correct” (Tamīmī, Ghurar al-Ḥikam, no. 442). He also said, “Taking part in discussion produces what is correct” (Ṭabrasī, Mustadrak al-Wasā’il, XIII, 452). 4. A fourth result of scholarly discussions is the opening up of new horizons of research. Scholarly discussions among experts who have various views and areas of specialization, and who look at issues from different points of view, prepares the ground for the discovery of new horizons of research. Different methods of identifying and solving problems, various attitudes toward an issue, and the perfection and correction of them, as well as new horizons beyond the issue under investigation are shown through different springs of thought, such that research into these new horizons will extend the boundaries of human knowledge. 5. The fifth result of scholarly discussions is the elevation in quality and quantity of the knowledge of the scholars. In scholarly discussions, the participants, in addition to presenting their own ideas, become aware of information, experience, and the fruits of the reflections of others on the topics of their own interest. This increases their knowledge. Knowledge of this sort of scientific information, gives rise to the development of

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knowledge and the scientific flourishing and elevation of the participants, both in itself and as a support for further research. Imam ‘Ali, peace be with him, said, “The most knowledgeable of people is one who gathers the knowledge of the people to add to his knowledge” (Tamīmī, Ghurar al-Ḥikam, no. 442). 6. Another result of scholarly discussions is the preparation of the intellectual and spiritual groundwork for harmony in heart and language on the way toward scientific cooperation. Familiarity with scientific views and religious teachings in the language of the scholars of each denomination or religion prepares the ground for the avoidance of error and incorrect prejudgements with respect to one another, and the correction and completion of previous information in this regard. With the removal of ambiguities the spiritual and intellectual ground is prepared for further cooperative scholarly work. 7. Another benefit from such scholarly conferences is the recognition of common scientific goals and the mutual recognition of the abilities of other researchers that can be employed for the development of further scholarly cooperation. Each scholar from a scientific center and the scholars of the various divine religions enjoy abilities, specialties and experiences particular to them. A lack of familiarity with these abilities and opportunities would be a hindrance to the mutual benefits they could bring. In such conferences, these abilities become highlighted, and the grounds are prepared for more benefits four our common purposes. 8. During the present age, the divine religions are in need of one another more than during any age of the past, for sympathy and unity and cooperation to guard religious teachings and the faith of the followers of the religions. Indeed, unity and sympathy on the basis of the truth is a fundamental need of the human community. One of the fruits of these conferences is the recognition and emphasis on common intellectual points that can be a basis of a kind of unity and sympathy among the scho-

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lars and followers of the denominations, and a tiding of unity and harmony in the human community toward divine and spiritual goals. 9. Another of the results of such conferences is the grasping of needs and priorities in research in the areas of inquiry and in other areas. In scholarly dialogues, both the needs and priorities in research that are common among the scholars are recognized and also, through probing and investigating the various dimensions of the topic of discussion, other needs and priorities for research are illuminated as foundations and conditions or results and outgrowths of the topic. Following this, some parts of scientific and religious research will find their own direction. 10. A tenth result of these conferences, which is an indirect result but is very important, is assistance to the human community for reaching felicity and salvation. Precise and scientific theories that are the products of these conferences that pave the way to the solution of problems, guide people to the truth, and provide the conditions for faring the way to felicity and truth. It is not possible to fare the way toward felicity without proper knowledge of true felicity and the way to reach it. This sort of knowledge can be a result of such conferences. The results and benefits mentioned can be attained in a desirable manner when, in the words of the Noble Qur’ān, the dialogue takes place in the best way (29:46); and some general points in this regard will be offered below. A. Dialogues should take place in a tolerant atmosphere with sympathy and sincerity on the basis of mutual respect for the views of the parties. The employment of insulting expressions and presentation and criticism of issues in a hateful or angry spirit should be avoided because such expressions keep one from reaching the truth. Imam ‘Ali, peace be with him, said, “Anger corrupts reason, and keeps one from what is right” (Ṭabrasī, Mustadrak al-Wasā’il, II, 11).

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B. The goal of dialogue should be the discovery of the truth, the utterance of the truth should be accepted no matter who utters it, and the utterance of what is false should be cast aside no matter who utters it. In other words, human lusts, satanic prejudices, and group or individual interests should not be allowed to interfere with the quest for truth. Jesus, peace be with him, said, “Take the truth from the folk of falsehood, but do not take the false from the folk of truth. Be critics of speech” (Majlisī, Biḥār, 2, 96). Imam Ṣādiq, peace be with him, said, “What is most correct is what is in opposition to desire” (Majlisī, Biḥār, 75, 314). Likewise, this Imam, in explanation of vain debate, which is condemned in the Qur’ān, said, “What is meant by vain debate is when for the purpose of not accepting what is false from others, one rejects the truth from them” (Majlisī, Biḥār, 70, 404). C. In dialogue, emphasis should be on what is common, and the starting point of movement and the springboard toward the truth should be accepted by all parties to dialogue, and what is common should be the basis for solving differences. In the Noble Qur’ān, the followers of the divine religions are invited to take common points as a basis, and it says, Say, ‘O People of the Book! Come to a word

common between us and you: that we will worship no one but Allah, and that we will not ascribe any partner to Him (3:64). When conversing with the followers of the heavenly books, Muslims are also ordered to use the best method to emphasize common points. Do

not dispute with the People of the Book except in a manner which is best, barring such of them as are wrongdoers, and say, ‘We believe in that which has been sent down to us and has been sent down to you; our God and your God is one, and to Him do we submit. (29:46). D. Emphasis should be on matters that are reliable and certain, and relying on matters that are speculative and tentative should be avoided. What is certain should be taken as a standard for judging what is speculative and tentative. The Qur’ān (18:46; 22:8; 31:20) repeatedly condemns those who speak in dialogue without aware-

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ness or scientific reasons or on the basis of desires or following the devil, and who dispute about God and religious teachings. E. In order for scholarly dialogues to include the presentation and review of various opinions and views, and since everyone intends to explain their own views and review those of others, it is very important to have sound management of discussions, final summation of them, orientation of conversations toward coming to conclusions and the discovery of the truth, and the avoidance of disorder and the confusing of views, otherwise, with the confusion of views and criticisms without any correct orientation, the truth will be missed, and a clear answer to the problem will not be achieved. Imam Ṣādiq, peace be with him, said, “When answers are confused, what is correct remains hidden” (Majlisī, Biḥār, 2, 60). In conclusion, I will return to what I indicated at the beginning, and that is the high position and status of scholarly discussions from a religious perspective, especially in Islam. In this regard, I will bring my discussion to a close with the narration of a valuable report from the dear Prophet of Islam, peace and blessings upon him and his progeny, regarding the status of scholarly dialogue from a religious perspective. The differences in the rewards mentioned in this narration for scholarly discussions and for attendance in them is due to the differences in such discussions with regard to the subjects under review, the motivations of the participants, the manner of dialogue, and their conclusions. Abu Dharr, one of the his special companions reports that the Apostle of Allah said, “Attending sessions in which there is an hour of scholarly discussion is more favored than a thousand nights in which there are one thousand bowings performed in each night; and the sessions in which scholarly discussion is more favored by Allah than a thousand expeditions led by the Prophet himself, or the recitation of the entire Qur’ān.” Then the Apostle of Allah said, “Is an hour of scholarly discussion better than the recitation of the entire Qur’ān?” The Apostle of Allah said, “O Abu Dharr! An hour of scholarly discussion is better than the recitation of the entire Qur’ān twelve thousand times. O Abu Dharr! Attending ses-

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sions of scholarly discussions is better for you than the worship of a year in which one fasts during the days and holds vigils during the nights” (Majlisī, Biḥār, 1, 198).

References Arbalī, ‘Alī ibn ‘Īsā (1364/1985) Kashf al-Ghummah, Qom: Adab alḤawzah. Ḥurr al-‘Āmilī, Muhammad ibn Ḥasan (1409/1988) Wasā’il alShī‘ah, Qom: Mu’assassah Āl al-Bayt li-Iḥyā’ al-Turāth. Majlisī, Muḥammad Bāqir (1403/1983) Biḥār al-Anwār, Beirut: Dār Iḥyā al-Turāth al-‘Arabī. Ṭabrasī, Mīrzā Ḥusayn al-Nūrī (1408/1987) Mustadrak al-Wasā’il, Beirut: Mu’assassah Āl al-Bayt li-iḥyā’ al-turāth. Tamīmī, ‘Abd al-Wāḥid al-Āmidī (1407/1987) al- Ghurar al-Ḥikam, Beirut: Mu’assassah al-a’lamī li-l maṭbū’āt.

Knowledge of the Soul as Path ‘Abdullah Javadi Amuli, Qom 1. Introduction In the Name of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate. The knowledge of the soul (ma‘rifat al-nafs) is the most important, or one of the most important, discussions in philosophy and theology. The discussion of the knowledge of the soul requires several principles. By now, the difficulties pertaining to these principles should be familiar. The main issue to be addressed is that of substantial motion and how this doctrine is used to explain the relation between body and soul. Historical issues related to the doctrine of substantial motion and its development after Mulla Sadra are secondary. So, fasten your seat belts! Here we go! One of the most prominent of our religious teachings is that man may come close to God. The prophets, especially the Apostles of God, such as the blessed Messiah, peace be with him, and the blessed Seal of the Prophets, peace be with him, have come close to God. To come close to God, one must follow the path of perfection, which is called “the straight path” in the religious language of Islam. The philosophical way is a way that is the same as the wayfarer. Sometimes one goes on a journey over land, and for this one must fasten one’s seat belt for the land journey. Sometimes one goes on a heavenly journey, and this requires that one fasten one’s heavenly seat belt. Sometimes, one travels on an inward journey, in which the traveler is identical to the path traveled. For this one must fasten the seat belt of the soul. If Mulla Sadra, may God have mercy on him, was successful in his efforts on the path, it is because he knew this path and followed it. A substantial transformation occurred within him. First, he underwent substantial motion, afterwards he understood what substantial motion is. First, he found his own corporeal origination and

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spiritual survival (jismāniyyah al-ḥudūth wa rūḥāniyyah al-baqā’), and only then did he communicate it to others. We have to recognize this path, first, and then, secondly, we must follow it. Once it has become clear that there is a path between us and God, but not in time or over the earth, and when it becomes clear that this path and the one who travels it are one, and when it becomes clear that one must seek this path within the soul, we are left with ourselves and our inner search. Let us see what there is within ourselves that can be the path, and what there is that can mislead us on this path.

2. Finding the Path Within When we review the domain of the soul, to see what path there is between us and God, we see that in the domain of the soul there are a series of conventional expressions (anāwīn-e i‘tibārī) that have application in the literary sciences: we call one thing by a certain word, and apply another word to something else. This depends upon conventions and does not have any share in reality. These do not constitute the way. There is a series of concepts that are called seconddary logical intelligibles. They remain in the circuit of the soul and have no share in reality. They are not the way. There is also a series of secondary philosophical intelligibles that are in the domain of the soul, and that do not go any further than the soul. These, also, cannot constitute the path between us and God. There is another set of primary intelligibles, that are called the substantial and accidental quiddities, but since they are also subjective, they also have no share in reality. They also do not constitute the way from us to God. The only truth (ḥaqīqat) between us and God is being. God is at a high degree of being and we are at a low degree of being. We have to cross over this being so that we can approach Him. If the puzzle of how to make this passage can be solved, the difficulty of understanding substantial motion will be solved, corporeal origination and spiritual survival (jismāniyyah al-ḥudūth wa rūḥāniyyah al-baqā’) will be solved, the approach to God will be solved, the understan-

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ding of religion will be solved, and the fruits of philosophical effort will also be made clear.

3. The Fundamentality of Existence If what has reality in the world are quiddities or whatnesses, such as the genus tree or treeness and stoneness, and if they had existence, there would be no way for there to be substantial motion, and there would be no way for there to be corporeal origination and spiritual survival (jismāniyyah al-ḥudūth wa rūḥāniyyah al-baqā’), and there would be no way to approach God—no philosophical way, and no religious way—because between us and our God there would be a series of discrete quiddities that provide the realities of things and constitute reality; but these quiddities are separate from things. From one separate and distinct thing to another, there is no path— neither substantial motion would be possible so that one could find a way from one separate thing to another, and there would be no way for there to be corporeal origination and spiritual survival (jismāniyyah al-ḥudūth wa rūḥāniyyah al-baqā’), because the one would be separate from the other, and it would be impossible to approach God. When a person recites the Qur’ān, it is customary to encourage him by saying, “Read and ascend!” or, “There are many degrees. Try to approach near to God!” From this it is evident that He is at the peak of reality. Between us, who are in the foothills of that peak, and the summit there is a path that is not separate, and that may be followed. This way must be existence, not quiddity. It must be gradual, not discrete; it must be continuous, not broken. When Mulla Sadra realized the truth that what is fundamental to reality is existence and not quiddity, then either simultaneously or subsequent to that he also reached the two subsidiary principles of substantial motion and corporeal origination and spiritual survival (jismāniyyah al-ḥudūth wa rūḥāniyyah al-baqā’). Why? Because for him it had been proven that what has reality in the world is existence, and existence is not separate, and it is not the case, as some

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say, that substances are discrete, that they are separate; rather, existents constitute a vast truth or reality (ḥaqīqat) that has a base, middle and summit. If they are one truth, and if this truth is directed under a higher leadership, and if they are all emanations from the All-emanating, the Bestower of all grace, and if the descending of emanation from above is possible, then the return ascension from below of what was emanated is also possible.

4. The Two Arcs With the witnessing of this truth, Mulla Sadra also understood that there is a path, that the path is the same as the one who travels it, and that the traveler himself constructs time. Since time is in the control of the traveler, sometimes he reaches the point that this time becomes like his garment or clothing, so that he can remove it and become atemporal. Since it is so, there is a path, part of which is temporal and part of which is spatial and has a location. Since the path is gradual, some of it is without time or place, and time and place are the construction of the one who moves himself. Time and place are like the traveler’s clothing. He removes the clothing and reaches a place that has no time or location. After that he becomes immaterial. We find what is meant here in our own souls. This is not something to be demonstrated. To a certain extent it is a matter of intuition (wijdānī), and with this intuition the intensity of the difficulty of the topic is somewhat attenuated. When the difficulty is lessened, the faculty of one’s fancies (wahm) that raises objections is calmed; then reason has the opportunity for analysis, and finds the cause. The explanation is that we find the cycle of ascension and declination within ourselves, that is, we find that there is something that is material, it then appears to be half-immaterial, and finally is found to be immaterial. Also, there is something that is completely immaterial that becomes half-immaterial and finally material. When we find these two arcs of ascent and descent within ourselves every day, not at the level of demonstration, but rather exemplified in our own inner lives, then God willing, if we take into consideration the

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examples that we have mentioned, the intensity of the difficulty will gradually be decreased. With regard to these two arcs or courses, sometimes we understand a deep issue of philosophy, and we consider how to help someone understand this matter, and we formulate the problem with regard to the sort of language it would be appropriate to use. Shall we use an introduction and two chapters and reach a conclusion? The deep intellectual issue of philosophy that has no language is thus brought down and is formulated in the imagination. For example, we may decide to express the matter in Farsi, or Arabic. Then, when we have formulated the matter in language by saying it, or with the pen by writing it down, we explain the matter to our audience by speaking or writing. Thus, the topic becomes something communicated through what is material, and we say, “I said the same thing to you that I understood.” This “sameness” is a kind of disclosure (tajallī), not conveyance (tajāfī). Conveyance occurs when the very thing that was above comes down. When it is above, it is not below, and when it is below it is not above—like a drop of rain. A drop of rain falls from above, is not below when it is above, and it is not above when it is below. This is called conveyance. On the other hand, there is something that at the same time that it is above, without coming down, its place of descent is manifested in an intermediate state, and then in a lower state, so that its lowest stage is in a stage even lower than the intermediate state. This is called disclosure (tajallī), whereby something may be above, in the middle, and below, all at the same time is above. We say that the very same thing that we understood is what we told you. Although there is a huge difference between the example given and what it is intended to indicate, it is only through examples that we can approach this matter, so that the mind can gain some distance from its fright and calm down—so that one can say what he wants to say. Another example is that what we hear from a teacher, or the pattern we see in a book, are material things, either a sound wave that reaches the ear or a picture that reaches the eye. These are material things, and according to the conventions regarding words and meanings, first, the words that are heard or read come into our

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minds in these same forms. Second, the relation between the words and their meanings appear at the level of imagination. Third, the soul of the person addressed, if he has the power of analysis, sets aside the words, and gets to the depths of their meaning. Then he says, “I understood the same philosophical point that the teacher explained.” At this level, there is no Arabic or Farsi. So, we have these two arcs: sometimes from above to below, and sometimes from below to above. If there is no path, neither descent nor ascent is possible. If concepts, expressions, or quiddities were fundamental, there would be no path. If existence were fundamental but discrete, there would also be no path. However, existence is fundamental, and it is gradual and has degrees. We are constantly going up and down in this inner elevator. What has reality in the world is being, and being is a gradual reality (ḥaqīqat) that is continuous and ordered by dependence. It is not cut, dispersed or scattered. The grace of this being, in religious terms, is that God has told us that He has sent down this religion and way just as a rope is sent down. He has hung down the rope; He has not thrown it down. God sent down rain, that is, He threw it down. He sent down the Qur’ān, that is, He has hung it down. When the Qur’ān was thus suspended, one end of it is in God’s hand and one end of it is in our hands. Between us and God there is this way. If quiddity were fundamental, then this rope would not be. If concepts and terms were fundamental, again, there would be no rope. If existence is fundamental but reality was discrete, again, there would be no rope. Since existence is fundamental and reality is a matter of degree, there is a rope that God has hung down, not thrown down. If so, the sending down of grace from above to below is made possible, and also going from below to above by the grace of God is also possible. Likewise, what Mulla Sadra said was according the abilities of his students in that age. Otherwise, he should have said that man is corporeal in origin, spiritual in survival, intellectual in survival, and higher and higher… until it is no longer permitted. Because the discussion here is about reality, what we have said and heard are a series of words and concepts that do not have the ability

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to communicate to us self-knowledge, the substantial journey of the self, the fact that the self is corporeal in origin and spiritual in survival, and loftier knowledge. Why? Because these are concepts but those are reality. Concepts cannot play the role of realities. So, many problems remain unsolved. Rumi says that love cannot be explained by reason. Why? Because love is a reality in the external world, while reason is a series of acquired sciences and concepts. The flaw of perception is this state and speech, Washing blood with blood is impossible, impossible (Mathnavi, Bk. III, 4727).

This means that if something has been stained with blood, you will have to wash it with water, not with more blood. These concepts that we have presented here are theoretical concepts and are complicated. What does corporeal in origin and spiritual in survival mean? What does substantial motion mean? How can matter become immaterial? These are concepts, and concepts are blood, and they cannot be washed with more concepts. These difficulties have to be solved by means of the instances [of these concepts] in the external world. The things in the external world are water, while the concepts are blood. This blood must be dissolved with that water, not by more blood. We are trying to solve a series of theoretical concepts by using a series of self-evident concepts. It is as though we were trying to use some light blood to wash away some dark blood. It cannot be done. The flaw of perception is this state and speech, Washing blood with blood is impossible, impossible.

However, a thirst can be produced in a person so that the person will be motivated to travel the path that others have taken. I will not take any more time. What has been said is a drop from the sea of Christ, and it is also like a dew drop, which is also a trace of the sea. If you become familiar with this teaching, these problems will gradually be solved for you, one after the other, God willing.

Self-Knowledge and the Soul Mohammad Fanaei Eshkevari, Qom 1. Introduction Self-awareness or direct knowledge of the soul is a mode of knowledge that is called knowledge by presence in Islamic Philosophy. Reflection on this type of knowledge is considered a key in solving many crucial philosophical questions including questions related to epistemology and philosophy of mind. In this brief article after laying down some preliminary discussions about this type of knowledge, a number of key metaphysical questions regarding the nature of the soul and its existential position are examined.

2. Knowledge and the Soul The human soul has been one of the most serious subjects of philosophical reflection throughout the intellectual history of mankind. Many questions have been raised about this subject. Some of these questions are as follows: Do human beings, besides their bodies, have souls? Is the human soul a substance or does it only stand for some accidents of the body? If the human soul is a substance, is it a material substance or an immaterial one? Does the human soul exist prior to its body or does it come into existence after the formation of the body? What is the relation between the body and the soul? What happens to the human soul after death? Is it immortal? Another series of challenging philosophical questions relates to human knowledge. Is knowledge possible? Is certainty attainable? Do we have a priori knowledge? What is the criterion for self-evident truths? Islamic philosophy suggests that self-awareness is a key in answering questions related to both the soul and knowledge. Here, I try only to state the main ideas without going into details.

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3. Self-Awareness First, we need to ask what self-awareness is. Do we know ourselves? What is the nature of this knowledge? The most fundamental principle is that we know ourselves. This awareness is prior to any kind of thinking or doubt, such as is found at the starting point in the philosophy of Descartes. Thinking and doubt are acts of mind that sometimes occur to one. We can imagine a period of time in which we do not think or doubt about anything. Before thinking about or doubting anything—even with regard to ourselves—we are aware of ourselves. This awareness is not an action or a reaction that sometimes occurs in our minds; rather, it is identical with our very existence. Even in dreamless sleep and drunkenness this awareness is present. This awareness is prior to any intentional act and is its necessary condition. Self-awareness is independent of any external senses. We do not perceive ourselves through our external senses. This awareness is not through any concept, image or any mental act; rather it is direct and immediate. It is a non-propositional and pre-epistemic awareness. Sohravardi (1945, 70) described a mystical trance in which the reality of knowledge was disclosed for him, and he realized that selfawareness is our primary knowledge, a knowledge without any mediation. For any mediation is “he” not “I.” “I” is different from “he”, for the subject is different from the object. If I know myself through an image or concept, that will not be “I”; rather it will be “he.” The image is the object of knowledge, not the subject. The subject or “I” is the one who knows through the image; therefore, the knower is different from the image that is a mediator in knowledge. The real I is the performative I, while the I that is the object in this consideration is passive; therefore, it is something other than the subject I. Self-awareness is a permanent attribute of the soul; it is always with us; whereas sensory and conceptual sorts of knowledge are not so. Sensory knowledge depends on our senses, just as conceptual knowledge depends on our intention and attention, and in both ca-

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ses external factors are effective. However, self-awareness does not depend on any external factors. In self-awareness the possessor of knowledge, knowledge, and the known are all one and the same. The subject-object distinction is not applicable to this knowledge, whereas in sensory and conceptual knowledge they are different. Since self-knowledge does not involve any multiplicity, the question of correspondence or conformity is irrelevant in this knowledge. Correspondence is a relation between what is in our mind and what is in reality; however, this duality is not applicable to selfknowledge; based on this, this type of knowledge is errorless.

4. Two Types of Knowledge Upon discovering self-awareness, we reach a reliable starting point in epistemology: an immediate, indubitable, necessary knowledge that can be a foundation for the formation of human knowledge. In Islamic philosophy this type of knowledge is called knowledge by presence (ilm al-ḥuḍūrī). In this knowledge the object itself is present for the knower, not its mental representation. Knowledge that we acquire through mental representation, i.e. images and concepts, is called knowledge by correspondence (‘ilm al-huṣūlī) (Ha’iri Yazdi 1992, ch. 3). Knowledge by correspondence involves mediation, therefore the real object of knowledge is absent from our mind. For instance, when we perceive a tree, what we have in our mind is the image of the tree, not the real tree. It is about this type of knowledge that the question of true/false and correspondence is raised. If the mediator indicates the reality as it is, it will be true; otherwise it will be false. This type of knowledge is, therefore, susceptible to doubt and question. All kinds of mental activities such as thinking and logical categories such as definition, analysis, demonstration etc. belong to the domain of knowledge by correspondence.

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4.1. Types of Knowledge by Presence Self-awareness is one kind of knowledge by presence. Any intelligent being, such as God and human beings, know themselves immediately. The criterion for this type of knowledge is unity or identity. Since there is no subject-object distinction and subject and object are identical in this type of knowledge, one is aware of him/herself immediately. The second type of knowledge by presence is one’s awareness of his/her inner states. Our awareness of our mental images and concepts belongs to this type of knowledge. We know external things through their images or concepts; however, our knowledge of these images and concepts is a direct knowledge, for if we know these images and concepts through other images and concepts, it leads to infinite regress. Therefore, they are present in our minds and we know them without any mediation. Though our knowledge of external realities belong to knowledge by correspondence, our knowledge of our mental images and concepts is through knowledge by presence. In this view, any corresponding knowledge will ultimately depend on knowledge by presence. In other words, all mediatory knowledge depends on some immediate knowledge. Our awareness of our mental states and emotions—such as sadness, happiness, love, pain, fear etc—is a type of knowledge by presence. The very existence of these states is identical with awareness. It is impossible to suffer from a pain without being aware of that pain. Pain and feeling pain are identical. The knowledge that an efficient cause has of its effect also belongs to this category of knowledge. The criterion for this knowledge is not identity of subject and object, for neither soul nor mind is identical with its states; the criterion is the sustaining attribute of the cause with regard to the effect (al-qayyūmiyyah). The states of soul belong to the soul and depend on the soul; that is why the soul is aware of them. God’s knowledge of creatures is of this type of knowledge by presence. He knows Himself; and whatever is caused by Him is present for Him.

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The third type of knowledge by presence is the knowledge that an effect has of its efficient cause. In Islamic mysticism it is said that in the state of fanā’ (annihilation) a mystic’s awareness of God is of knowledge by presence. The criterion for this knowledge is the annihilation of the mystic in God (Ha’iri Yazdi 1381/2002, 20). He/she discovers that his/her reality is the very dependence on God. A mystic’s self-awareness includes his awareness of God (see Fanaei Eshkevari 1375/1996, ch. 3). By analyzing the nature of knowledge by presence, contemporary Muslim philosophers try to deal with fundamental questions in epistemology. On this basis they argue for the possibility of valid knowledge and the existence of self-evident truths and reject absolute skepticism and relativism; and upon this solid base they deal with other philosophical questions.

5. The Soul One of the branches of philosophy that is closely related to knowledge by presence is philosophical psychology (‘ilm al-nafs). The first question in this regard is about the existence of the soul/self. According to Islamic philosophy, there is no doubt about the existence of self, for it is known immediately through one’s self-awareness. The self is present in self-awareness as both subject and object of knowledge. Awareness is the very reality of one’s self, so one cannot deny or doubt it. Ibn Sina tries to explain this concept in a hypothetical experience. In his view a human being is aware of himself in all states of mind. He says that if we imagine a person at the beginning of his creation, who is healthy, having no memory of anything, situated in an empty and moderate space, having no thinking or feeling anything, even his own body—nonetheless such a person is not unaware of himself (see Ibn Sina al-Ishārāt wa al-Tanbīhāt, vol. 2, 292) Thus self-awareness is not an acquired knowledge and does not depend on any process of sense perception or rational thinking. The function of thinking as a logical activity is posterior to self-aware-

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ness. Therefore our awareness of ourselves is prior to Cartesian cogito. Knowledge that follows thinking is knowledge by correspondence. From this analysis Ibn Sina concludes that human soul exists and it is not the same as the body. 5.1. The Substantiality of the Soul The second fundamental question about human soul is whether the soul is a substance or only a grope of accidents. When we reflect on self-awareness, we find that the soul must be a substance. In my self-awareness I do not find myself as a state or an accident to something else; rather I find myself as an independent being that has its own states and accidents. I see my mental images, memories, happiness, sadness etc. in relation to myself and then I say “I am happy” for instance. David Hume argues that self or “I” is not a substance, it is only the stream of consciousness. He thinks that it is impossible to perceive the soul itself without any content. Our minds construct the concept of self only on the basis of our mental contents. He writes: […] when I enter most intimately into what I call myself, I always stumble on some particular perception or other, of heat or cold, light or shade, love or hatred, pain or pleasure […]. [We] are nothing but a bundle or collection of different perceptions, which succeed each other with an inconceivable rapidity, and are in a perpetual flux and movement […]. They are the successive perceptions only, that constitute the mind (Hume, A Treatise Of Human Nature, Book 1, Part IV, Sect. VI, 252253).

The problem with Hume’s account of the soul/self is that if we deny the soul as a substance, then either we have to say that all these mental accidents are themselves substances, or they are accidents to the body, or they are accidents without a substance. According to Islamic philosophy, all these assumptions are absurd. If we take them as different substances, then we cannot relate them to one person, while there is no doubt that they are different states of one person; we are talking about the mental state of a single person. They cannot

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be accidents without any substance because the existence of an accident without a substance is impossible by definition. They cannot be accidents or attributes of body, because according to Islamic philosophy body, i.e. a corporeal being, cannot have such immaterial qualities as knowledge. Moreover, if there is no soul as a substance, then how could these multiple states of mind constitute the personal identity of a person? Mental phenomena have a transitory nature: they come and go. If we do not assume a solid substance, there will be no way to justify personal identity, whereas every individual is aware of his/her own single identity since his/her childhood. This awareness itself rejects the Humean account of personal identity. Furthermore, Hume’s analysis of self as a myth is in opposition to what each individual finds by reflection on his/her self-awareness. Upon this reflection one finds that his/her soul is different from his/her mental states; that it is a substance for its accidents, and that each individual has his/her own particular soul. If Hume means that the concept or image of the self is not a substance, or rather it is a construction of the mind, he is right; the concept or image of the self is not a substance; the mental representation of I is not I, but this does not mean that there is no real self or I. The real I is the subject I who is aware of himself without distinction between knower, knowledge and the known. Walter Stace in his analysis of mystical introvertive experience of unity claims that in this experience the mystic’s soul dissolves into the cosmic soul and experiences dissolution of individuality. He argues that if one goes beyond the surface of the soul and removes all contents of the soul, he/she will reach the pure ego which is identical with the cosmic ego. In his view, the contents of each soul are the distinguishing factors of each individual; if we leave them aside there will be no principle of differentiation and individuality. Thus he rejects the multiplicity of pure egos. He says: If A and B have suppressed within themselves all empirical contents then there is left nothing whatever which can distinguish them and make them two; and if A and B have thereby reached the mystical consciousness of their pure ego, then there is nothing to distinguish

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them or make them two pure egos […]. Hence the mystic who has reached what seems at first to be his own private pure ego has in fact reached the pure ego of the universe, the pure cosmic ego (Stace 1961, 151).

This analysis is not correct according to the Islamic philosophy, for reflection on self-awareness rejects it. In self-awareness each individual is aware of his/her own personal ego which is different from other egos and the cosmic ego. Individuality in each soul is not due to its contents; or rather, according to Islamic philosophy the principle of individuation and distinction is rooted in existence itself, so the very existence of each soul is what makes itself a distinct reality. Moreover, if we say that there is only one ego, then how can a single ego be the subject of innumerable opposite accidents? Mystics’ experience of unity can be interpreted in various ways. One of the explanations is that the experience of the transcendent unity of being does not totally reject multiplicity; rather it puts multiplicity under the umbrella of unity and takes the view of multiplicity in unity. 5.2. The Immateriality of the Soul The next question about the soul is: what kind of substance is the soul? Materialists think that mind is a material substance. What we relate to the soul is in fact related to the body. The human body, through the brain and nervous system, has all the functions that we relate to the soul. Muslim philosophers, on the other hand, argue that the soul is an immaterial substance. One of the ways by which they try to explain immateriality is through paying attention to selfawareness. As I have already stated, Ibn Sina says that in the state of self-awareness we are aware of ourselves, but we are not aware of our body and its organs. Therefore, the soul is not the same as the body; rather it must be a non-corporeal reality. Muslim philosophers argue for the immateriality of the soul in a number of other ways. I prefer to provide a short description of them as follows:

5.2.1. The Argument from Knowledge. A material being is not intelligent. A corporeal being has extension and occupies space. Each

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dimension in a physical entity is absent in relation to its other dimensions. For example, the right side of a stone is in a place different from where its left side is located, so they are absent from each other. In other words, since knowledge is simple and not divisible, its container must be simple and indivisible; however any physical being is divisable; therefore, the soul cannot be a physical being. Since in the world of immaterial things there is no obstacle to knowledge, this world is the sphere of presence. Therefore, Muslim philosophers argue that all that is intelligent is immaterial, and all that which is immaterial is intelligent (kullu ‘āqilīn mujarrad wa kullu mujarradīn ‘āqil).

5.2.2. The Argument from Universals. Universals are concepts that are true of infinite particulars whether the particulars exist in reality or not, such as the concept of horse and sun. A material being cannot correspond to other than itself; therefore, these concepts are immaterial, and consequently the soul which perceives and contains them must be immaterial. This argument is valid both according to Aristotelian and Platonic accounts of universals (see Mulla Sadra alAsfar, vol. 8, part 6, ch. 1). 5.3. The Immortality of the Soul Perhaps it is difficult to argue for the immortality of the soul directly from self-awareness. Even though mystics claim that they experience the immortality of the soul, this experience goes beyond mere self-awareness. However, after establishing the immateriality of the soul it can be used as a medium to prove the immortality of the soul. Muslim philosophers hold that since immaterial beings are simple, they are eternal.

6. Conclusion As stated earlier, for Muslim philosophers self-awareness is a key in solving fundamental questions both in epistemology and philosophical psychology. Not only is the analzsis of the soul and its various

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aspects and states are analyzed on the basis of knowledge by presence, but also the treatment of the reality of being and its fundamental principles arise through reflection on self-knowledge, as we see in the philosophy of Mulla Sadra. In Islamic mysticism, too, the importance of self-knowledge is highly appreciated, so that selfknowledge is considered the key to all kinds of knowledge. Above all, self-knowledge is the gateway to our knowledge of God, as Imam ‘Ali said: “He who knows himself knows his Lord.”

References Fanaei Eshkevari, M. (1375/1996) ‘Ilm-e Huḍurī (Knowledge by Presence), Qom: The Imam Khomeini Education and Research Institute. Ha’iri Yazdi, M. (1381/2002) Safar-e Nafs, Tehran: Naqsh-e Jahan. Ha’iri Yazdi, M. (1992) The Principles of Epistemology in Islamic Philosophy: Knowledge by Presence, Albany: SUNY. Ibn Sina (1338/1959) Al-Ishārāt wa al-Tanbīhāt, with the commentary of Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī, Tehran: Haydarī. Hume, D. (1978) A Treatise of Human Nature, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mulla Sadra (1981) Al-Asfār, Beirut: Dār Ihyā’ al-Turāth al-‘Arabī. Stace, W. T. (1961) Mysticism and Philosophy, London: Macmillan. Sohravardi, Shihab al-Din (1945) Majmu‘aye Muṣannafāt Vol. I, Istanbul: Matbasi.

Substantial Motion and Islamic Theology Ghulām Riḍā Fayāḍī, Qom In the Name of Allah, and praise be to Allah, and salutations to the Apostle Muhammad and to his family, the pure ones, and may Allah curse his enemies, all of them. Allah, the Blessed and Exalted, said, So give good news to My servants who listen to the word and follow the best of it (39:18). I would like to present here what I myself believe, after having worked on Islamic philosophy for years, and having the feeling that I have evaluated the positions that have been taken. My beliefs about the soul are based on the Qur’ān and hadith narrated by the Ahl al-Bayt (the family of the Prophet). As an introduction, “life” is used with two meanings. One meaning is used in the natural sciences, and that is for what has the features of taking nourishment, growing, and reproducing. The second meaning is used in metaphysics and theology. “Life” in this sense has the features of consciousness, power and freedom. The spirit is what forms the reality (haqīqat) of man. In truth, man is not composed of two things, spirit and body; rather the complete reality of man is spirit, which has divine life, in the metaphysical sense. As we mentioned, the marks or features of this life are consciousness, power and freedom. Although the body also has life, this is its own life, a natural life, that is, the same life that plants also have. Its marks or features are taking nourishment, growing, and reproducing. The body is like a mount that man rides, that is, that is under the control of the spirit for a period in order for it to travel to the destination that it chooses. As I said, the body is not a part of man. It is an instrument and a vehicle for traveling and advancing. God, the Exalted, created the spirits prior to the bodies, even prior to any other beings. The first creatures of God, the Exalted, were the spirits of people, with the differences that they have, for the souls of people are not individuals of one kind and do not have a single reality. God, the Exalted, who knew from eternity what path every spirit would choose, and at what destination it would aim, when it comes into the world, created the spirit that would be

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appropriate to that choice and He gives it powers that are more inclined toward what the spirit chooses, although all human beings have fundamental inclinations in common. All of the inclinations that animals have also exist in the human spirit, such as the desire for children, food, dominance over others, egoism, and other tendencies. In addition to what is common between humans and animals, there are also transcendental inclinations that are specific to humans, such as altruism, self-sacrifice, and the like. With all the differences among them, when they come into the world, all the spirits, even if they have a strong desire for something, since they are free, they can still chose other than that, although normally they do not. I will give an example. Although we all walk with two feet, we are able to walk on our hands and feet. Normally, however, we do not crawl. Just as spirits have differences from the beginnings of their creation, bodies also have differences from the beginnings of their creation. God, the Exalted, creates every body in a manner appropriate for the spirit to which it is to be attached. Someone who is to do good works will be from the offspring of Abel and of the good progeny of Adam. Someone who is to do evil works will be from the offspring of Cain, and so on according to various conditions. One person, his or her father, mother, and grandparents of their own free will never go in the direction of corruption, while another person, his or her parents and grandparents of their own free will never stop thinking of anything but doing corruption. The determining factor for all of these factors of the environment and of one’s heritage is the decision that one makes later; and God, the Exalted, with His pre-eternal knowledge, knows that decision. It is comparable to the situation in which a factory produces vehicles of various types, cars, trucks and busses, and trucks that can carry five, ten or twenty tons, with different amounts of power. All of these vehicles are produced in one factory. However, the factory must first produce various motors. One motor is not appropriate for all the vehicles. For different bodies, different sorts of chas-

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sis are built. Since each body is appropriate for a given type of motor, they place that motor in the appropriate body. Perhaps one may think that this would lead to a deterministic view. God has foreknowledge of everything we will do, so it might seem that human freedom is thereby denied. This is a problem whose duration has been as long as that of all philosophy. The answer is that we witness within ourselves by intuition that we are free. All humans are free; as is said in the Mathnavī of Rumi: This [thinking]—Should I do this or should I do that? Is [sufficient] reason for freedom of choice (ikhtiyār), O idol! (Mathnavī, Bk. V, 3024)

Each individual thinks for himself whether he or she is going to do an action or not. One hesitates, and then finally decides. This is something we intuit. Every person feels this freedom within. On the other hand, it is very clear that if something is to have an effect on someone, it would have to be by way of the person him or herself, the person’s own desires, knowledge and wants. What is outside of me will have a different existence than my existence. Another person’s knowledge cannot have any effect on me. It is like a teacher who knows that an industrious and talented student will receive honors by the end of the term, although this knowledge of the teacher has no effect on the student receiving honors. In the same way, the teacher’s knowledge that the lazy student will fail at the end of the term does not have any effect on the actions or freedom of the lazy student. Of course, there are many differences between this case and the case of divine foreknowledge. One might object that in the case of the teacher, the same lessons are given to all the students, the same books and other materials; while in the case of God, different opportunities are given to different people. My point is only that foreknowledge does not have any effect on the question of the freedom of the foreseen action. God knows in advance what people will choose of their own volition and He supplies them with appropriate opportunities accordingly. The different bodies and souls that are

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given to people by God are given to them in view of His foreknowledge of what they will freely choose. God gives a person a body and soul appropriate to their choices without impinging on their freedom of choice. The evil person retains the ability to perform excellent actions and an excellent person, such as Imam ‘Ali, instead of comforting an orphan could have thrown him into an oven, that is, it was within his power to do so. There is no freedom; freedom is very limited; freedom is only in action. However, when we are to choose to perform an action freely, God sets a body and spirit for us that are appropriate to that action, and this is not of our own volition. We are not free in all respects, only in our actions. All of these spirits—even before they come into this world, and even before they become attached to their bodies—are not idle, but they glorify and exalt God. Nevertheless, these spirits are able to acquire some perfections only after coming into this world. Just as bodies, according to Mulla Sadra, have substantial motion—from zygote, to embryo, to fetus—and there will be differences in essence because of this, likewise the spirits also undergo a course of substantial motion which depends upon their intentions, decisions, and the actions they perform on the basis of them. The point that should be emphasized here is that the spirits are not of the same kind as bodies. Spirits are abstract and are not observable, while bodies are observable. Although the spirits are not observable with these eyes, according to the philosophers they are imaginally abstract (tajarrud mithālī) and in this sense have shape, color, and volume. An analogy can help clarify this issue, but only in one respect, although there are infinite differences from what we are considering; but God, the Exalted, may be said to be in all existents, and is everywhere, although He is not of the same sort as they are and is not mixed with them. I would like to emphasize that the theory of Mulla Sadra is to be understood in view of the verses of the Qur’ān and the narrations from the infallibles; and he himself also derived his theory from reflection on the Qur’ān and hadiths, and then he provided an intel-

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lectual analysis of these reflections. His theory is that the spirits of human beings may be categorized into four groups, on the basis of the intentions they have, the decisions they make, and the actions they perform. These four groups are typified by the angel, the devil, the beast of burden, and the wild animal. Each of these groups have various subtypes. According to Islamic philosophy, each angel is of a species of its own. The devils are of various sorts, for each of them has its own form of deception: the devils of the scholars must have their own talents; the devils of the politicians must have their own talents; and likewise for the devils of the merchants, and others. Likewise, among the wild animals, one person is a wolf, another is a lion, a third is a fox. All the various kinds of wild animals are wild, but they are not of a single reality (ḥaqīqat). Likewise, among the beasts, there are cows, sheep, horses, and others, all of which are beasts, but they are not of a single reality and kind. The explanation for this is that a person who is occupied with human activities will make his decisions only on the basis of human inclinations, and all of the non-human inclinations will be subsumed under the human inclinations. These people will move in the direction of the angelic, and as a result will become different types of angels. One who is occupied with deception, trickery, and fraud, and who deceives and misleads others, will take the shape of various devils in his interior, that is, in his spirit, his substance and identity. As for those who are solely preoccupied with eating, sleeping, corporeal comforts, and sexual relations, they are the ones who move in the direction of the beasts of burden. Because of the differences among them in the manner in which they employ these animal instincts, they will be divided into different sorts of animals. Those who think about domination over others and pinching their property will be categorized among the wild animals. The point to notice here is that the variety of people in these four groups is of many more types than the number of types of animals, because people have various faculties, and each faculty requires something. On the basis of what faculty dominates, in every circumstance that comes up in the course of life, the spirits of people will take different shapes, that is, their imaginal existences will take on

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shapes that are not found in any animal. The Most Noble Prophet said that on the Day of Judgment people will be gathered such that the swine and even what is uglier than the swine will be beautiful by comparison. As has been indicated, that imaginal reality will be seen on the Day of Judgment. More importantly, there are individuals in this world who are able always to see people with their interior faces, that is, with their spiritual faces. Likewise, there are people who acquire this ability only for a few moments or a few hours, either because of the influence of a perfect man over them, or because of some extraordinary deed that they perform themselves. However, afterwards they are not able to retain this ability. As long as they do not commit any sin, that eye will be open, and they will be able to see people with their spiritual faces in addition to seeing their corporeal faces. For all people, even the most evil of people, even the most wild or the most bestial, there is a nature that can flourish as a result of the deeds one decides to perform. Even if one has spent one’s entire life in sin and corruption, all at one a great transformation can occur, and from that moment on one can be transformed into a human being. Since the mercy of God has priority over His wrath, He gives such people abundant help so that for the rest of their lives, which might not be very long, they will travel and arrive at places to which a pious person might not arrive even after a life of seventy or eighty years. With respect to the views of Mulla Sadra on this issue, the differences from the position I have outlined here are: first, Mulla Sadra believed that spirits do not exist before their bodies do; but I believe that the spirits existed before that. The second difference is the Mulla Sadra believed that all spirits at the beginning of their coming to be are all of one kind, and that it is in the continuation of their substantial motion that differentiation occurs among them. I, however, believe that right from the beginning, they are of different kinds. A third difference, which is fundamental, is that I believe that the body and spirit are two existents that are distinct from one another. The spirit has an existence for itself, while the body has

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another existence. Each of them has life in a sense specific to it. The body has a natural life and the spirit has a divine life. Mulla Sadra, however, believes that the body and spirit are a single reality, and that these two lives are the possessions of this one reality, that is, this one reality, while having a vegetable life and being material and having substance, at the same time has an imaginal existence a life that is barzakhī (literally, like an isthmus, intermediary between the sensory and the purely abstract), and which is immaterial. In addition, Mulla Sadra believes that there are people, although only a few, who also have an intellectual existence, which do not have any shape or color. In this respect, they are like God, although only in this respect. A fourth difference is that Mulla Sadra believes that material existence is a level of human existence; it is part of being human, except that it is only for a period in this world, but in the course of substantial motion, this existent that has three levels in the outstanding individual: material, imaginal, and intellectual, and that has two levels in ordinary individuals: material and imaginal, is such that after natural death occurs, the material level comes to an end. With substantial motion and the transformation that takes place internally, this existence achieves a state in which it abandons the material level. This is like a snake that sheds its skin. The skin is cast aside and the person becomes like an imaginal or intellectual existence, or purely imaginal. Ordinary people will have only an imaginal existence, but the outstanding people will have an intellectual existence. Other than these four points, we are in agreement. Both in Christianity and in Islam there are differences of opinion about the nature of the spirit. Some say that the spirit has been created prior to the body, and others deny this. All of them advance their positions in view of the same sorts of scriptural evidence, but they arrive at different philosophical interpretations of the religious sources. With regard to the prior existence of the soul, Mulla Sadra claims that there are fifteen reasons or, as he says, “proofs,” of this matter to show that it is impossible for the soul to exist prior to the body. However, I do not consider his reasons to be “proofs”. The outward meaning of the religious sources is that the soul existed before the

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body; but since Mulla Sadra believed that he had proofs that the soul could not exist prior to the body, and since rational proof has priority over the literal meaning of the religious sources, he gave them an interpretation that differed from their literal meaning. However, since I do not believe that the reasons Mulla Sadra offered are sound arguments, there is no reason to reject the literal meaning of the religious sources, even though I do not make any claim to have a rational proof for the contrary position, that is, that souls existed before the creation of bodies. There are others who have claimed to have such philosophical proofs for the prior existence of spirits, but I do not consider them to be sound. Now, since we have no sound and convincing proofs in this regard, neither for the prior existence of bodies nor for the prior existence of souls, we should accept the literal meaning of our scriptural sources.

Is Hylomorphism a Neglected Option in Philosophy of Mind?* Georg Gasser, Innsbruck 1. Two Basic Assumptions of Contemporary Philosophy of Mind How could the aggregation of millions of individually insentient neurons generate subjective awareness? We know that brains are the de facto causal basis of consciousness, but we have, it seems, no understanding whatever of how this can be so (McGinn, 1989, 349). The whole idea of objective physical reality depends on excluding the subjective appearances from the external world and consigning them to the mind instead (Nagel 1994, 66). On the most common conception of nature, the nature is the physical world. But on the most common conception of consciousness, it is not easy to see how it could be part of the physical world. So it seems that to find a place for consciousness within the natural order, we must either revise our conception of consciousness, or revise our conception of nature (Chalmers 2003, 102). How can there be such a thing as consciousness in a physical world, a world consisting ultimately of nothing but bits of matter distributed over space-time behaving in accordance with physical law? (Kim 2005, 7)

These paradigmatic quotes of leading contemporary philosophers of mind show that modern philosophy of mind is based upon two fundamental assumptions, (i) the dichotomy assumption and (ii) the privileged access assumption (I owe these terms to Jaworski 2006/7). Both assumptions, so the story goes, originated prominently for the first time in Descartes’ distinction between res cogitans and res extensa as fundamental characterizations of the mental and the physical. Ever since, they shape Post-Cartesian reflection upon

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matter and mind. For the course of argument in this article it is secondary whether it was really Descartes to bring these arguments on the table of philosophical discussion. I simply accept the thesis that modern philosophy of mind received its specific shape from Cartesian thought and therefore I refer to modern philosophy of mind as Post-Cartesian-philosophy. More important is a close characterization of the two assumptions: (i) The dichotomy assumption. Generally, modern philosophers conceive the mental and the physical as two different conceptual frameworks that are not reducible to each other. Each framework is spelled out in terms of certain characteristics the other framework does not share. Take, for instance, Donald Davidson’s claim of the anomalousness of the mental: According to Davidson, the conceptual framework for mental phenomena is anomalous, that is, there are no laws connecting mental processes. Mental processes are connected through intentionality. Physical phenomena, to the contrary, are described in a framework working essentially with nomological connections and are void of intentionality. These two conceptual frameworks are conceptually independent of each other. This conceptual independence does not imply, however, that phenomena described as mental or physical are necessarily mental or physical entities. The distinction is first of all epistemological. As is well known, Davidson himself argued that the anomalousness of the mental prevents any form of reduction of the mental to the physical (see, for instance, Davidson 1993). Nevertheless, he was not embracing any form of ontological dualism but arguing for a version of non-reductive physicalism. (ii) The privileged access assumption. The privileged access assumption serves to characterise an essential feature of the mental side of the dichotomy assumption. Basically, this assumption says that the subject of mental states is in a better position than anyone else to know that these states are instantiated, for only the subject herself has an immediate direct access to them. Mental states are always somebody’s states; they imply a subject of experience: There is “a ‘first person’, an ‘I’, that has these states”. Physical properties, on the contrary, are public, that is, every cognizing entity enjoys the

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same epistemological status towards them. This means that no “subject is necessarily better placed to know that it is instantiated than is any other subject” (Swinburne 1994, 311-2).

2. Problems Resulting from the Conceptual Divide These two assumptions lead to various problems in modern philosophy of mind. Take the zombie-argument (see, for instance, Bealer 1994): According to this argument, a system is conceivable which is physically identical to a conscious being though it lacks the conscious being’s mental states: It behaves the same way as the conscious being and from the outside none would suspect that this physical system is not experiencing conscious states at all. We might also assume that this system enjoys only some conscious states or completely different conscious states as conscious beings we know of. The point is that from a third-person perspective we cannot tell what the physical system is in fact experiencing: Its physiological states might be identical with those of the conscious being atom for atom and, nevertheless, things might look different from the firstperson perspective. Whether such systems truly could develop is secondary for the argument. Important is that they are conceivable; and there seems to be no incoherence in assuming that there might exist a universe which is physically identical to ours but without consciousness. Therefore, so the argument goes, consciousness must be a further ingredient in the ontological furniture of the world, something non-physical accessible only from “the inside”, for if it were something physical, then zombies would not be conceivable. Similar to the zombie-argument is the so-called knowledge-argument. According to this argument from the knowledge of all physical facts we cannot make any deductions to facts about consciousness. Imagine a computer knowing everything about our physiological facts without being a subject of experience. Even complete knowledge and correct reasoning of what can be deduced from this knowledge about physical facts would not enable the computer to know “what it is like for us” to experience. If this computer comes to

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make an experience itself for the first time, let’s say it feels pain, then it gains new knowledge—it learns “what it is like” to feel pain. Thus, omniscience regarding all physical facts is not omniscience simpliciter, for there are further facts to be known that are neither physical themselves nor deducible from physical facts. These and other arguments in contemporary philosophy of mind begin by establishing an epistemic gap between the physical and the mental. As the dichotomy assumption underlines, there is no epistemic relation between the two domains. From this supposed epistemic gap an ontological gap is inferred: From the zombie-argument one is to infer the conceivability of zombies—that is the conceivability of a world that is metaphysically distinct from ours though being identical in physical terms. From the knowledge-argument one is to infer that since mental states cannot be deduced from physical states, there is an ontological difference between these states. The validity of the epistemic part of these arguments is widely accepted; the drawn ontological conclusions, instead, are hotly disputed because they present an unwelcome consequence to many philosophers. Dualism is a price most philosophers are unwilling to pay; and therefore much energy is concentrated on how one might resist the conceptual divide and its possible ontological consequences. Reductive physicalism as an alternative, however, appears as well to be rather unattractive, for there are no models convincingly showing how the mental might possibly be reducible to the basic material constituents of our world. Even most elaborated versions of reductive physicalism such as Jaegwon Kim’s Physicalism or Something Near Enough confess that a global reduction of the mental to the physical appears to be untenable: Even though there are prospects to reduce the intentional and cognitive features of the mental, qualitative properties seem to resist reduction (Kim 2005, chap. 6). The remaining possibility is to argue for a new notion of matter being in nature both physical and (proto-) conscious. Though this approach seems to be on the upswing (see e.g. Brüntrup 32008, chap. 8) it appears to be rather speculative given our current knowledge about the material world (see Chalmers 2003, 129-133).

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No matter which alternative we embrace, all of them are based upon the mental/physical divide and its corresponding distinctions: inner/outer, subjective/objective and privileged/public. The Cartesian res cogitans and res extensa set the categories in terms of which philosophical reflection still takes place.

3. Aristotelian Hylomorphism as a Non-Dualist and Non-Physicalist Alternative? In the light of the current cul-de-sac in philosophy of mind it is understandable that quite a few philosophers wish to overcome the divide between the mental and the physical and its corresponding ontological commitments. Very often these philosophers argue that Aristotelian philosophy provides a salutary alternative for understanding reality in neither physicalist nor dualist terms. According to their understanding Aristotelian philosophy accounts for a more holistic and commonsensical understanding of living beings in general and the human person in particular. Proponents of the Aristotelian approach argue that the mindbody problem as most persistent Cartesian legacy plaguing modern philosophy can be overcome, if Aristotelian ontological categories are re-introduced in modern philosophical discussion (see, for instance, Wilkes 1992; Frede 1992; McGinn 2000, Jaworski 2004/5; Kläden 2005; Runggaldier 2006; Jaworski 2006/7; Hacker 2007, 21-28). Before discussing the claimed advantages of the Aristotelian framework in more detail, I would like to present the Aristotelian understanding of soul and matter as conceptual alternatives to the Post-Cartesian notions of the mental and the physical.

3.1. The Aristotelian Notion of Soul Aristotle defines the soul as the form of the body: It is the source of all characteristic activities of the living being—the ‘principle’ of life that makes the living being of the kind it is (De Anima 412a15-21).

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Thus, the soul, as Aristotle construed it, is the set of capacities the actualisation of which is typical of the living being. Consequently, the concept of soul was not reserved exclusively for mental capacities but it embraced all living processes. The general concept of soul serves to draw the general demarcation line between living and nonliving entities. What distinguishes living beings from each other are different kinds of souls. A human soul is different from the soul of a plant, for instance, because along with vegetative faculties such as nutrition and growth, it incorporates sensitive faculties such as perception, motion and appetite, and finally rational faculties such as thought and decision. The differences among organisms in terms of functional organisation, vital faculties and behaviour are not due to the presence or absence of a soul but due to its different levels of complexity. Plants have a less complex soul than animals and animals a less complex one than human beings. As principle of life the soul defines the existence and persistence conditions of a living being: Though the material constituents of an organism change over time, the soul remains the same and guarantees the functional organisation of the organism and the exercise of its faculties. Martha C. Nussbaum writes: The lion may change its shape, get thin or fat, without ceasing to be the same lion; its form is not its shape but its soul, the set of vital capacities, the functional organization, in virtue of which it lives and acts (Nussbaum 1978, 71).

Hence, the soul is not an entity attached to the body but it is its form or nature. That is, Aristotle conceives all of the various faculties of living beings as having their sources within the organism, and as a consequence these faculties show the organism to be a (partially) self-developing, self-maintaining and self-moving entity. From this it follows that the same faculty, viz. the same activity, would be of a different nature if it did not arise out of the same kind of soul: If a robot were able to reason like a human being does, then the process of reasoning, though being structurally the same, would nevertheless be of a different kind due to the fact that a robot and a human being do not share the same soul. What makes human rea-

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soning the process it is, and thus essential to our understanding of it, is that it is the actualisation of the capacity of this particular kind of entity to reason.

3.2. The Aristotelian Notion of Matter The Aristotelian notion of the soul has a deep impact on the notion of matter. Understood as principle of life, the soul is not something separate that is added to a lifeless body, such that as a result of this ‘synthesis’ an organism comes into being. The concept of soul is essentially related to the concept of matter: There is no formless matter but each parcel of matter is already formed to a specific natural body endowed with certain faculties. Frank A. Lewis speaks of a “top-down view” of matter, that is, the form or nature ‘reaches down’ as a whole and determines all the parts of which the entity consists (Lewis 1994, 250). Hence, where organisms are concerned, their matter is always “living matter” (Ackrill 1979, 68) because “the body we are told to pick out as the ‘material constituent’ of the animal depends for its very identity on its being alive, in-formed by psychē” (Ackrill 1972/73, 126; for a congenial account see Whiting 1992). As a consequence the Aristotelian notion of matter varies from case to case: Each kind of living being has a specific kind of (proximate) matter that is characteristic for this kind of being. Aristotelian matter is not physical matter in terms of which basic physical particles build up all material reality. Aristotelian matter is not prior to specific things but ‘last’ in the sense that it is closest to the form. It is that of which the form is the first actualisation (De Anima 412a29ff.), that is, the living body. Hence, primary to an Aristotelian understanding of living beings is to capture them as strong organised unity, not as physical body which can be partitioned into smaller particles. Marie McGinn underlines that “[t]he significance of the Aristotelian distinction between form and matter is that it enables us to conceive of individual natural bodies, not

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as complex collections of material parts, but as autonomous, real things possessing an intrinsic unity quite different from that of an aggregate.” (McGinn 2000, 308)

According to this understanding, the analysis of matter ought to occur posterior to the analysis of the living being itself. Starting from the living being, so to say, one can proceed to its parts and finally reach the ultimate material constituents of the organism. These material constituents are the product of a continuous process of abstraction because the organism itself and its specific form are not taken into consideration anymore when the ultimate constituents are investigated. Such a procedure is legitimate; but it has to be kept in mind that these ultimate constituents are not primary but, ontologically speaking, ultimate. To investigate basic material constituents we have to ‘remove’ them from the organism they are part of in a process of abstraction; and through this process of abstraction they are seen as (more or less) ‘formless’ particulars void of any specific nature and actualisation.

3.3. Aristotelian Lures If this account of Aristotelian thought is correct, then its purported superiority over Post-Cartesian philosophy becomes apparent: Within the Aristotelian framework, the separation of body and mind can hardly arise, because the living being itself and not its material constituents and their properties are seen as the primary subject of metaphysical investigation. As actualisation of the body, the soul guarantees the organism’s unity and tells us its specific existence and persistence conditions, that is, what it is to be this specific kind of organism synchronically and diachronically. Obviously, the faculty of reason is distinctive for human beings and therefore of most interest. Nevertheless, also this faculty has its source in the soul in the same way as all other less complex biological faculties do. Most importantly, if each organism is considered as an inseparable living entity, then from an Aristotelian perspective, our modern

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account of matter as last physical particles of reality looks not only impoverished but also seems to be something which is not real stricto sensu. As mentioned, the notion of a single, uniform matter accessible to quantitative means of measurement is the result of a thought process abstracting from the notion of form as internal principle of organisation and change. If, however, the organism’s body is conceived in this way as nothing else than the structured sum of its material constituents, then the notion of form as internal principle of organisation and development of the body becomes superfluous. As a consequence, the body and its functions are seen as the subject matter of natural science describable from a third-person perspective, whereas mental capacities apparently bound to a first-person perspective are not to be integrated in such a framework. Body and mind start drifting apart: The toehold for either dualistic thinking or for physicalist reductionism has been created. Kathleen V. Wilkes, for instance, argues along these lines when she enumerates several dimensions of the Aristotelian concept of soul in order to demonstrate its superiority over Post-Cartesian conceptions of the mind. I would just like to mention: (i) the emphasis of the unity for all the brain and behavioral sciences; (ii) the emphasis on capacities or functions rather than individual mental items; (iii) the accentuation of the heterogeneity of the human soul; and (iv) the attribution of no particular importance to the mental (Wilkes 1992, 116-125). For reasons of clarity I comment shortly on (i) and (ii). First, according to Wilkes, the insight that all faculties arise out of the soul underlines that human beings are just one species in the animal kingdom among others. The faculty of reason is not separated from our other faculties that we share with animals. Rather, the unity of the soul indicates their interlocking nature showing that we could not reason as we do without our sensory apparatus and that we could not sense as we do without our locomotion system. Modern science seems to prove this insight: Modern developmental psychology stresses the gradual articulation of the full set of vital capacities of an organism from less complex ones; and cognitive science dem-

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onstrates the intimate connection between bodily and mental states, for instance, in studying motor cognition and neuro-psychological disorders (Wilkes 1992, 116ff.). Secondly, Wilkes argues that the notion of soul focuses attention on faculties and capacities rather than on specific mental items, and on types of behavior rather than on single actions. In Post-Cartesian philosophy, instead, the epistemological concern is to find immediate conscious introspection of the contents of the mind. The mind is conceived as an inner space in which mental items are accessed from our inner eye similar to our observation of external objects with our senses. The human mind, however, is not a kind of entity; rather, it becomes apparent in human behavior. Talking about the mind is the result of an abstraction from our talk of human beings and their specific rational faculties. William Jaworski also argues in a similar fashion as Wilkes. According to his understanding, contemporary psychological discourse analyses the observable behavior of persons in terms of postulated inner (mental) items which cause the observable behavior to happen (Jaworski 2004/5 and 2006/7). An instructive example for such a theory is Davidson’s causal theory of action. It claims that reasons for action must be causes of action if reasons are to play an informative role in our action explanations (see Davidson 1963/2001). Davidson’s account starts from observable behavior and argues that a full explanation of this behavior can only be provided if the reasons given for it are part of the causal story resulting in the observed behavior. So the rather elusive nature of reasons ought to be transformed in the concrete and tangible nature of physical causes. Otherwise, reasons for the action might rationalize the behavior but not explain it because it is unclear how they could figure in the causal process effecting the observed behavior. It is apparent that such an analysis of human action works with Post-Cartesian distinctions such as inner (“causes in the agent”)/outer (“behavior of the agent”) and mental (“reasons for action”)/physical (“causes of action”). Within a hylomorphic framework, instead, these distinctions are sidestepped. Human actions are described neither as something

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mental or physical but as the exercise of human capacities that are at once both psychological and bodily. The behavioral events which constitute the tipping of this paper exhibit a characteristic form of intentional human action. Reference to the firing of the neurons, the flexing of the muscles and their effects on my computer will not suffice for an adequate explanation of the behavior under discussion. These events take place as the realization of an intentional bodily performance. Their occurrence is determined by their being an integral part of a sequence of events which forms a unity by the meaning of the action that it physically realizes. A hylomorphic account of human behavior includes expressions that are action and body inclusive (Jaworski 2006/7, 213; McGinn 2000, 312-313, makes the same point speaking of the human body as psychophysical unity). Such an approach underlines from the very beginning that a human agent is at once living being, cognizer and decider: The whole array of organic, sensitive and rational faculties a human individual is able to utilize is required for describing her actions adequately. It becomes clear that a hylomorphic account is first of all descriptive, that is, the ‘form’ of the behavior is analyzed: It tells us what an individual can do, that is, with which capacities an individual is endowed. In a next step it can be asked which organic structures enable the exercise of these capacities. It is natural science which ought to investigate these structures and detect the material elements that make the organism’s behavior possible. Hence, human action in particular and the behavior of organisms in general are conceived as multi-structured phenomena that can be accessed from different perspectives: The ‘formal’ perspective tells us what array of behavior is constitutive of this organism, whereas the ‘material’ perspective tells us which elements work in which way for enabling the organism to perform it. By holding such a point of view, hylomorphism does not solve the mind-body problem—it sidesteps and thereby dissolves it (see also Hacker 2007, chap. 8 and 9).

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4. Remaining Costs and Overlooked Problems I just presented several reasons in the light of which philosophers prefer an Aristotelian over a Post-Cartesian framework for analyzing the human person (as well as organisms). It has to be kept in mind, however, that every philosophical framework comes packaged with certain costs of its own. In the remaining part of my contribution I would like to address some costs resulting from the Aristotelian framework. Indicating these costs shall help to determine whether a hylomorphic account truly is preferable over approaches influenced by Post-Cartesian reflections. (i) One purported drawback of Post-Cartesian thinking is a dichotomous understanding of reality: inanimate quantitatively describable matter on the one hand, and experiencing mental subjects on the other hand. This dichotomy goes through organisms themselves, for not all organisms are on a par: Fungi, bacteria and plants—all organisms that are non-sentient and thus unable to have any experiences—would just be complex structured bodies functioning according to biochemical mechanisms. With the capacity to sense qualitatively, however, the ontological furniture of the world becomes enriched: All organisms capable of experience are not their bodies (at least the “are” needs further qualification) but are subjects of experience having a complex structured body (see, for instance, Lowe 2004, 853-856). As seen, hylomorphism avoids such a dualist understanding of organisms endowed with certain faculties. Nevertheless, it is committed to a fundamental ontological dichotomy as well, namely between living beings and non-living beings: As the first actualisation of a living body, the soul makes a living being into a unified entity stricto sensu. In the light of our current knowledge about the evolution of life, however, this Aristotelian claim seems to be on unstable ground. The first living beings were nothing more than organic molecules which for some reason started to replicate themselves. Such primitive living beings are minimally distinct from other nonliving macro-molecules. Both things are entirely analyzable in biochemical terms. It is unclear why we should assume that, ontologi-

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cally speaking, something new comes into being with these self-reproducing biochemical molecules. This is not to deny that the evolution of these biochemical structures might be an astonishing fact in natural history. It seems much more astonishing, however, that at some point in natural history simple organisms began to experience “what it’s like” to sense warm or cold, dark or light, loud or silent. If this reasoning is correct, then the Cartesian insight seems to be more fundamental than the Aristotelian one: It is granted to Aristotle that with the evolution of life new ways for describing the behaviour of the evolved organisms became necessary, and the concept of soul provides explanations of why living beings are categorized as the kind of things they are. With the evolution of organisms capable of experience, however, subjects came into being and with subjects the ontological furniture of the world changed: From now on there was someone in the world taking a particular stance towards it. What a dualist philosopher claims is that the Aristotelian emphasis on the biological does not yet hit ontological ground: There is something deeper, more fundamental about the world we live in than the rise of life—it is the rise of subjects of experience. Advocating such a view does not imply rejecting the intimate connection between the various biological faculties of an organism and its faculties to sense and to reason. It implies that these faculties appear to be so essential and so fundamentally different from other biological faculties such as growth, photosynthesis or digestion that we seem to be justified in arguing for an ontological divide between the bearers of the former faculty and those of the latter ones. Bearers of sensations are organisms in a derivative sense: As said, they are organisms in virtue of having an organic body as opposed to non-sentient organisms being their body. For Wilkes it is a merit of Aristotelian philosophy that it does not assign to consciousness the salient role it plays in modern philosophy. To me it seems that hylomorphism is able to maintain the unity of the human person (and of other sentient animals) exactly because a metaphysical analysis of consciousness is largely ignored. According to P.S.M. Hacker, it was a major misfortune for philosophy that in contrast to Aristotle no great philosopher in modernity was a

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biologist (Hacker 2007, 24). In the light of the foregoing considerations, it seems correct to say that Aristotle’s metaphysical conception of living beings was indeed so deeply influenced by biology that he skipped over a closer scrutiny of consciousness—contrary to Descartes. Descartes emphasized that consciousness presupposes a change of perspective for conceiving it; it presupposes a first-person perspective because there is someone being conscious and able to experience. Growth, photosynthesis, digestion and other vegetative faculties, to the contrary, are entirely describable from a thirdperson perspective in the same way as all other physical processes. (ii) Here is a further argument raising doubts about the outstanding value of hylomorphism for metaphysical reflection: According to hylomorphism two identical processes in terms of their material components might be different in nature. Let’s suppose that one process of digestion takes place in the stomach of an organism whereas the other process of digestion is an artificial reproduction of the first one for the scientific study of digestion. Both processes are identical in terms of biochemistry but only the first one would count as a process of digestion. This is so because what makes a process of digestion the process it is, is the actualization of the faculty of the organism to digest. For an adequate understanding, the digestion of food requires the reference to the actualization of the corresponding faculty of the organism which it has in virtue of its soul. The second, artificially reproduced process of digestion lacks, so to say, the soul as its grounding principle of actualization. Philosophers sympathetic towards hylomorphism underline that the soul or form of an organism does not add a mysterious vis vitalis to the organism; it adds, instead, a further level of understanding to what happens: Only due to the reference to the organism itself we realize that this case of metabolism covers the specific needs of a particular living being and not just the thirst for knowledge of scientists studying metabolisms. Drawing a distinction in this way sounds reasonable. It is unclear to me, however, which role to the notion of soul is assigned in this case. It seems that the soul is not conceived as a metaphysical principle that is constitutive for living beings rather than as a mere heu-

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ristic tool for explanatory purposes. An appeal to the soul would merely tell us that in one case the metabolism serves for the survival of an organism and is thus, a natural process, whereas in the other case no living being is involved and thus it is just an artificial reconstruction of a natural process. As informative as such an insight might be in terms of the circumstances in which both processes take place or in terms of their teleonomic features, it does not provide us with any ontological insight. As in my first criticism, hylomorphism seems to provide not so much a framework for metaphysical reflection as one for empirical investigation: It reminds natural scientists not to forget the larger context of their specific research. (iii) Finally, I would like to rebut the claim that a hylomorphic theory of mind helps us to present the language we use to describe human action in a more adequate way than the Post-Cartesian distinctions between mental/physical and inner/outer. Wilkes and Jaworski are right that the emphasis upon singular mental items in the mind of an agent can be seen as an outcome of Cartesian thinking. To conceive reasons for action as causes of action presupposes a consideration of mental states as distinct entities in an agent’s mind to which the agent presumably has privileged access. Such an interpretation of our mental states, however, is not the only viable conceptualization in the light of Post-Cartesian philosophy of mind. On the contrary, it appears to be a gross misinterpretation because our mental states are considered to be on a par with external objects; just their nature and location is different: The first ones are mental and accessible in virtue of our ‘inner eye’, while the latter are physical and accessible through our ‘outer senses’. According to this picture, both kinds of entities are accessible externally–once from the perspective of an inner observer and once from the perspective of an outer observer. The Post-Cartesian distinction between the first- and the thirdperson perspective does not commit us to this sort of interpretation of mental states. Rather, we should say that an agent has an intimate epistemological access to her mental states which is essentially first-personal. If, for instance, an agent makes one of her mental states (or a combination thereof), such as a determinate belief that p

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or a determinate desire for y, her reason for action, then the agent has a particular relation to the reason she acts upon: Among the many mental states that qualify as possible reasons for action, the agent picks out a determinate one which becomes her personal reason for acting. The agent can only make a reason for action to her personal reason for action if there is intimate epistemological access to this reason from the side of the agent. The chosen reason is not something private in terms of its propositional content. Rather, the relation of the agent to this reason is something distinctively subjective for the agent chooses this (possible) reason for action to be her reason for action. As Jaegwon Kim notes: For when you deliberate, you must call on what you want and believe about the world—your preferences and information—from your internal perspective, and that’s the only thing you can call on. The basis of your deliberation must be internally accessible, for the simple reason that you can’t use what you haven’t got (Kim 1998, 78).

It is a first-personal as opposed to a third-personal account that characterizes reasons for action in contrast to causes of bodily behavior. And this characterization of reasons for action is spelled out in a Post-Cartesian rather than an Aristotelian framework. An Aristotelian framework construes the analysis of human action entirely different. There are two levels of discourse accounting for human behavior: Psychological discourse describes the structure of reasons in human behavior; whereas the natural sciences describe which physical substructures enable rational behavior to occur. Human action is conceived as a multi-structural phenomenon, natural science referring to the lower structures and psychology to the higher ones (see Jaworski 2006/7, 216ff.). Formulating human action as a multi-structured phenomenon appears to presuppose that human action is accessible from the ‘outside’; we just ought to be careful which level of human action we are referring to with which framework. Such an analysis of human behavior seems to neglect exactly the point that is crucial for Post-Cartesian philosophy: The true distinction between the framework of natural science and the framework of

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psychological discourse is not a distinction in terms of “different levels or types of human behavioral organization or structure” (Jaworski 2006/7, 219). It is a matter of changing one’s perspective—from the third-person to the first-person. If psychological discourse aims at explaining why an agent reasons, decides and acts as she does, then this context is necessarily a first-person context. Jaworski and Wilkes gloss over this point; it seems to be, however, the real reason why the framework of natural science and of psychology refer to different aspects of human action. Natural science is void of any first-person-access in contrast to psychology. It does not pick out a level of human action which is not complex enough, such as the neuron’s firing and corresponding muscular movements. It is simply the wrong level for understanding human behavior at all.

5. Conclusion I indicated some supposed advantages of an Aristotelian framework and discussed its drawbacks. According to my understanding, Descartes brought topics on the table of philosophical reflection that are essential for any metaphysical reflection about ourselves and other animals, such as subjectivity and the first-person perspective. Of course, Post-Cartesian philosophy has problems of its own which provoke the search for possible alternatives. My own opinion is that the costs of the Aristotelian alternative are prohibitive, and I tried to argue that this strategy is ultimately a failure. However, since many philosophers are sympathetic with the general moves underlying Aristotelian hylomorphism, I think it ought to have a rightful place at the table in serious discussions about how to conceive material objects, living beings and the human person.

References Ackrill, J.L. (1972/3): “Aristotle’s Definition of psychē”, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 73, 119-133.

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Ackrill, J.L. (1979): “Aristotle’s Distinction Between Energeia and Kinesis”, in J. Barnes, M. Schofield & R. Sorabji (eds.) Articles on Aristotle, IV: Psychology and Aesthetics, London: Duckworth, 6575. Aristoteles, De Anima/Über die Seele. Mit Einl., Übers. und Kommentar hrsg. v. H. Seidl, Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag. Bealer, G. (1994) “Mental Properties”, Journal of Philosophy 91, 185-208. Brüntrup, G. (32008) Das Leib-Seele-Problem. Eine Einführung, Stuttgart: Kohlhammer Verlag. Chalmers, D.J. (2003) “Consciousness and its Place in Nature”, in S.P. Stich & T.A. Warfield (eds.) The Blackwell Guide to Philosophy of Mind, Malden, MA: Blackwell, 102-142. Davidson, D. (1963/2001) “Actions, Reasons and Causes”, Journal of Philosophy 60, reprinted in D. Davidson (ed.) Essays on Actions and Events, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 3-20. Davidson, D. (1993) “Thinking Causes”, in J. Heil, and A. Mele, (eds.) Mental Causation, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 3-17. Frede, M. (1992) “On Aristotle’s Conception of the Soul”, in M.C. Nussbaum & A.O. Rorty (eds.) Essays on Aristotle’s De Anima, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 93-107. Hacker, P.S.M. (2007) Human Nature: The Categorial Framework, Oxford: Blackwell. Jaworski, W. (2004/5) “Hylomorphism and the Mind-BodyProblem”, Proceedings of the American Catholic Philosophical Association 78 (2004), 179-192. Jaworski, W. (2006/7) “Hylomorphism and Post-Cartesian Philosophy of Mind”, Proceedings of the American Catholic Philosophical Association 80 (2006), 209-224. Kim, J. (1998) “Reasons and the First Person”, in J. Bransen & S.E. Cuypers (eds.) Human Action, Deliberation and Causation, Dordrecht: Kluwer, 67-87. Kim, J. (2005) Physicalism or something near enough, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

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Kläden, T. (2005) Mit Leib und Seele…Die mind-brain-Debatte in der Philosophie des Geistes und die anima-forma-corporis-Lehre des Thomas von Aquin, Regensburg: Verlag Friedrich Pustet. Lewis, F. A. (1994) “Aristotle on the Relation Between a Thing and its Matter”, in T. Scaltas, D. Charles & M.L. Gill (eds.) Unity, Identity and Explanation in Aristotle’s Metaphysics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 247-277. Lowe, E.J. (2004) “Non-Cartesian Dualism”, in J. Heil (ed.) Philosophy of Mind. A guide and anthology, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 851-865. McGinn, C. (1989) “Can We Solve the Mind-Body-Problem?”, Mind 98, 349-366. McGinn, M. (2000) “Real Things and the Mind Body Problem”, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 100, 303-317. Nagel, T. (1994) “Consciousness and Objective Reality”, in R. Warner & T. Szubka (eds.) The Mind-Body-Problem. A Guide to the Current Debate, Oxford: Blackwell, 63-68. Nussbaum, M.C. (1978) Aristotle’s De Motu Animalium, Princeton. Runggaldier, E. (2006) “The Aristotelian Alternative to Functionalism and Dualism”, in B. Niederbacher & E. Runggaldier (eds.) Die menschliche Seele. Brauchen wir den Dualismus?, Heusenstamm: Ontos, 221-248. Swinburne, R. (1994) “Body and Soul”, in R. Warner & T. Szubka (eds.) The Mind-Body-Problem. A Guide to the Current Debate, Oxford: Blackwell, 311-316. Whiting, J. (1992) “Living Bodies”, in M.C. Nussbaum & A.O. Rorty, (eds.) Essays on Aristotle’s De Anima, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 75-91. Wilkes, K.V. (1992) “Psuchē versus the Mind”, in M.C. Nussbaum & A.O. Rorty (eds.) Essays on Aristotle’s De Anima, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 110-127. This research-project was made possible by financial support from the Austrian Science Fund (FWF), grant P201860-G14.

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Are Near-death Experiences Evidence for the Existence of the Soul? Hans Goller, Innsbruck 1. What is a near-death experience? In his bestseller “Life after life, the investigation of a phenomenon— survival of bodily death”, Raymond Moody, a philosopher and medical doctor, offers an example of a near-death experience (NDE) that includes all of the common elements found in the reports of persons who had such an experience. “A man is dying and, as he reaches the point of greatest physical distress, he hears himself pronounced dead by his doctor. He begins to hear an uncomfortable noise, a loud ringing or buzzing, and at the same time feels himself moving very rapidly through a long dark tunnel. After this, he suddenly finds himself outside of his own physical body, but still in the immediate physical environment, and he sees his own body from a distance, as though he is a spectator. He watches the resuscitation attempt from this unusual vantage point and is in a state of emotional upheaval. After a while, he collects himself and becomes more accustomed to his odd condition. He notices that he still has a ‘body’, but one of a very different nature and with very different powers from the physical body he has left behind. Soon other things begin to happen. Others come to meet and to help him. He glimpses the spirits of relatives and friends who have already died, and a loving, warm spirit of a kind he has never encountered before—a being of light—appears before him. This being asks him a question, nonverbally, to make him evaluate his life and helps him along by showing him a panoramic, instantaneous playback of the major events of his life. At some point he finds himself approaching some sort of barrier or border, apparently representing the limit between earthly life and the next life. Yet, he finds that he must go back to the earth, that the time for his death has not yet come. At this point he resists, for by now he is taken up with his experiences in the afterlife and does not want to return. He is overwhelmed by intense feelings of joy, love, and peace. Despite his attitude, though, he somehow reunites with his physical body and lives.

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Later he tries to tell others, but he has trouble doing so. In the first place, he can find no human words adequate to describe these unearthly episodes. He also finds that others scoff, so he stops telling other people. Still, the experience affects his life profoundly, especially his views about death and its relationship to life” (Moody 1976, 21-23).

Moody describes a set of nine traits that define NDEs. I would like to focus on one particular trait, namely the Out-of-body experience (OBE). I will argue that the OBE is the most important feature of the NDE.

2. What is an out-of-body experience? OBE is an experience characterized by floating outside one’s body while retaining a sense of personal identity and a heightened sense of consciousness. Most people report looking down from above at their physical bodies and can relate from this vantage point perceptions of events occurring that were later verified by participants present (see: Beauregard & O’Leary 2007, 157). Moody describes a typical OBE in the following way: “Frequently about the time that the doctor says, ‘We’ve lost him or her,’ the patient undergoes a complete change of perspective. He feels himself rising up and viewing his own body below. Most people say they are not just some spot of consciousness when this happens. They still seem to be in some kind of body even though they are out of their physical bodies. They say the spiritual body has shape and form unlike our physical bodies. It has arms and a shape although most are at a loss to describe what it looks like. Some people describe it as a cloud of colors, or an energy field” (Moody 2005, 9).

A person in a spiritual body is inaudible and also invisible to the people around her. Her spiritual body is weightless and also lacks solidity; physical objects in the environment appear to move through it with ease, and she is unable to get a grip on any object or person she tries to touch (see: Moody 1976, 44).

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A person experiencing an out-of-body state is separated from her physical body creating a qualified sense of isolation from others. She can see other people and understand their thoughts completely, but they only see her material body and are not able to communicate with her. The reduction of possible communication leads to a sense of profound isolation and loneliness (see: Moody 1976, 53). Moreover, as has been noted, OBEs are characterized by an altered sense of temporality. People who have undergone a NDE say that time is greatly compressed and challenges our common notions of time. They have described this state as analogous to “being in eternity”. One woman, when asked how long her NDE lasted, reflects this tendency—she stated: “You could say it lasted one second or that it lasted ten thousand years and it wouldn’t make any difference how you put it” (Moody 2005, 16).

3. Research on Near-death experiences Research on NDE has not been limited to recording and evaluating the narratives and memories of those claiming to have had a NDE. Systematic research has been performed on NDEs that presents both retrospective and prospective studies. (a) Retrospective studies Most of the data collected on NDEs have been obtained from retrospective studies. In these studies, 5 to 30 years may have elapsed between the occurrence of the experience and its scientific investigation (see: van Lommel 2006, 136). This time frame often prevents an accurate assessment of physiological and pharmacological factors. Further, it is often difficult to ascertain exactly how close to death many of these persons really were. Indeed not all people claiming to have had a NDE were in actuality close to death. Sometimes the overriding belief that I have to die now, this is the end of my life; is sufficient to trigger a NDE.

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Retrospective studies have been performed by Raymond Moody (1976), Michael Sabom (1982, 1998), Kenneth Ring (2006), Peter Fenwick (1996), and Hubert Knoblauch (2002). I will present the most significant findings of each of these studies. The philosopher and medical doctor, Raymond Moody interviewed some fifty persons claiming to have had a NDE. He coined the term ‘Near-Death experience’ in 1975. The American cardiologist Michael Sabom found Raymond Moody’s bestseller, ‘Life after life’, to be horribly unscientific. Sabom’s interest was not deterred: “But I refused to leave science behind. I was convinced that the near-death experience, if properly studied, could be reduced to a simple scientific explanation. Five years and 116 interviews later, I found that I was wrong. No explanation had been found” (Sabom 1998, 175). The psychologist Kenneth Ring, cofounder and past president of the International Association for Near-Death Studies, interviewed 31 blind persons, 14 of them blind from birth. Twenty-one of them had a NDE. Eighty percent of the 31 blind respondents claimed to be able to see during their NDEs or OBEs (see: Ring 2006, 81). This lead Ring to speculate: How can any of these blind persons “see” during a NDE or an OBE given their physical condition? Yet their perceptions were not lucky guesses, fantasies or reconstructions. Then he points out: If we can trust these reports we cannot avoid the implication that there is some conscious aspect of ourselves that can separate itself from the physical body and no longer be bound by its physical limitations. One is inclined to think of the soul. The concept of “the soul”, however, has no place in modern science. The question thus remains—how else can we view these findings? (see: Ring 2006, 90-91). Hubert Knoblauch and his colleagues performed a survey in Germany which took 2044 persons as a random sample of the total German population. Eighty-two of the respondents, or 4.0% of the total group, reported a NDE (see: Schmied, Knoblauch & Schnettler 1999, 228). Most of these respondents mentioned car accidents, surgery, heart attacks, and other acute illnesses as external cause of

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their NDEs. The survey was undertaken before the fall of the iron curtain. The authors found differences between the reports of NDEs in East Germany and West Germany. Sixty percent of the East Germans versus 28.6% of the West Germans reported negative experiences. Sixty percent of the West Germans reported positive feelings, in contrast to only 40% of the East Germans (see: Schmied, Knoblauch & Schnettler 1999, 234). Nonetheless, both populations shared similar core experiences: life review, encounters with deceased friends and family members, and the presence of a being of light. Although religious interpretations of NDEs were more common among West Germans, most of the total respondents were convinced that their NDE had nothing to do with religion. Are NDEs little more than unsupported verbal reports or neurological artifacts of a dying brain? NDEs are inherently subjective, deeply private, and often indescribable. Therefore, all of the testimony of those who claim to have had such an experience depends upon their truthfulness, and on the reliability of their memories. They themselves are convinced that what they have experienced was no dream, no fantasy or hallucination. Most of them say, that their NDE was “more real than life itself” or “more real than you and I sitting here taking about it” (see: Ring 2006, 55-56). Nonetheless, accounts of NDEs describe the “dying process”, the experience of being close to death, not death itself. (b) Prospective studies In prospective studies the researcher studies the participants before they have their NDEs, and thus has basic information about the individuals and a greater degree of control over the circumstances in which the experience will take place. NDEs have occurred with increasing frequency because of the improved survival rates resulting from modern techniques of resuscitation (see: van Lommel et al. 2001; van Lommel 2006). Studies on cardiac arrest patients have been performed independently by Michael Sabom and Bruce Grey-

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son in the US, by Peter Fenwick and Sam Parnia in England; and by Pim van Lommel in the Netherlands. Physiologically and clinically, a cardiac arrest is the closest state to the dying process. Experiences arising during a cardiac arrest shed the most light on the state of the human mind at the point of death. During cardiac arrest the clinical criteria of death are met for a variable length of time ranging from a few seconds to tens of minutes. By medical definition, patients during cardiac arrest have at least two out of the three criteria of clinical death (e.g.: the heart stops beating, and there is no respiration) and often manifest the third criterion (fixed dilated pupils) rapidly with the subsequent loss of brainstem functions (see: Parnia & Fenwick 2002, 6). Michael Sabom launched with The Atlanta Study in 1994 a comprehensive research project, that included some 160 patients, most of them drawn from his own clinical practice. He found that 47 patients out of 160 had a NDE (see: Sabom 1998, 32). Peter Fenwick and Sam Parnia likewise did a study at the Southampton General Hospital in England that focused on cardiac arrests and NDE. More specifically, they wanted to find out whether NDEs occur before unconsciousness, during unconsciousness, during recovery, or after recovery. Over a one-year period they interviewed all the survivors from cardiac arrest (see: Parnia et al. 2001, 150). Out of 220 people who were admitted for cardiac arrest during that period, only 63 survived. Fifty-three of them (89%) could not recall any memories during their cardiac arrest. Seven patients (11%) had memories and four of them (6.3%) met the criteria for a NDE according to the NDE scale developed by Bruce Greyson (1983). These four patients had lucid memories, which were highly structured, narrative, easily recalled, and coherent. However, no OBEs were reported in this study. William Cash quoted Peter Fenwick in his National Post article (March 3, 2001) where he argued that the data Fenwick collected provides the first medical evidence that proves the mind can continue to exist after the body is clinically dead and thus a form of an afterlife is now scientifically explainable. “Those who return all

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report that they have been changed”, he wrote, and further—“Those who were religious found their faith renewed. Those who had no faith often acquired at least a belief in some form of an afterlife.” In a study performed by Greyson (2003) 15.5% of 116 survivors of cardiac arrest reported a NDE. Prospective studies show that the percentage of cardiac arrest survivors who reported a NDE ranges from 11% to 18%. The most extensive prospective study was performed by the Dutch cardiologist Pim van Lommel and his colleagues. This study entailed 344 patients who were successfully resuscitated after cardiac arrest in ten Dutch hospitals between 1988 and 1992 (see: van Lommel et al. 2001). All patients had been determined clinically dead as established mainly by electrocardiogram records. The study held to the following parameters: “We defined NDE as the reported memory of all impressions during a special state of consciousness, including specific elements such as outof-body experience, pleasant feelings, and seeing a tunnel, a light, deceased relatives, or a life review. We defined clinical death as a period of unconsciousness caused by insufficient blood supply to the brain because of inadequate blood circulation, breathing, or both. If, in this situation, CPR (Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation) is not started within 5-10 minutes, irreparable damage is done to the brain and the patient will die” (van Lommel et al. 2001, 2040).

Within a few days after resuscitation a short standardized interview was performed. The patients were asked whether they recollected the period of unconsciousness, and what they recalled. Van Lommel et al. (2001) found that 282 of the 344 patients (82%) had no recollection of the period of cardiac arrest. Sixty-two patients (18%) reported some recollection at the time of clinical death. Of these patients, 21 had a superficial NDE and 41 had a core experience. Twenty-three of the core group (7% of the total group) reported what could be termed “a deep or very deep” NDE. Therefore, of 509 resuscitations, 12% resulted in NDE and 8% in core experience. The discrepancy between the numbers reflects the fact that some indivi-

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duals were resuscitated more than one time. No patients reported distressing or frightening NDEs. At a two-year follow-up study, 19 out of the 62 patients with NDE had died and six refused to be interviewed. Thus, the researchers were only able to interview 37 patients for the second time. All the patients were able to retell their experiences almost exactly as they had done two years prior. People who had a NDE showed a significant increase in their belief in an afterlife and a decrease in their fear of death as compared with people who did not have a NDE. Lommel emphasizes that the results of his study show that medical factors cannot explain the occurrence of NDEs. Although all patients had been clinically dead, most did not have a NDE. If purely physiological factors resulting from cerebral anoxia cause a NDE, most of the patients of Lommel’s study should have had this experience. However, as only 12% of the patients recounted a NDE the purely physical causal connection seems suspect. “We found to our surprise that neither the duration of cardiac arrest nor the duration of unconsciousness, nor the need for intubation in complicated CPR, nor induced cardiac arrest in electrophysiological stimulation (EPS) had any influence on the frequency of NDE. Neither could we find any relationship between the frequency of NDE and administered drugs, fear of death before the arrest, nor foreknowledge of NDE, gender, religion, or education. An NDE was more frequently reported at ages lower than 60 years, and also by patients who had had more than one CPR during their hospital stay, and by patients who had experienced an NDE previously. Patients with memory defects induced by lengthy CPR reported less frequently an NDE. Good short-term memory seems to be essential for remembering an NDE” (van Lommel 2006, 137).

Several theories have been proposed to explain NDEs. Van Lommel could not show that psychological, neurophysiological, or physiological factors caused these experiences after cardiac arrest. “With a purely physiological explanation such as cerebral anoxia, most patients who had been clinically dead should report an NDE. All pati-

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ents in our study had been unconscious because of anoxia of the brain resulting from their cardiac arrest” (van Lommel 2006, 137). And yet, neurophysiological processes must play some part in NDE. OBEs can be artificially induced through electrical stimulation of the cortex. Blanke et al. at the University Hospitals of Geneva and Lausanne in Switzerland described the repeated induction of an OBE by focal electrical stimulation of the brain’s right angular gyrus in a patient who was undergoing evaluation for epilepsy treatment. The angular gyrus could be a crucial node in a larger neural circuit that mediates complex own-body perception. Blancke and his colleagues concluded, that the experience of dissociation of self from the body may be due to the failure to integrate complex somatosensory and vestibular information (see: Blanke et al. 2002, 269). Near-death-like experiences may also occur after the use of drugs like LSD, and mescaline (see: Schröter-Kunhardt 1999). These artificially induced experiences can consist of unconsciousness, outof-body experiences, perceptions of light or flashes, and of recollection from the past. These recollections, however, consist of fragmented and random memories unlike the panoramic life-review that can occur in NDE. Thus, artificially induced experiences are not identical to NDE. Van Lommel points out: “With lack of evidence for any other theories for NDE, the thus far assumed, but never proven, concept that consciousness and memories are localized in the brain should be discussed. How could a clear consciousness outside one’s body be experienced at the moment that the brain no longer functions during a period of clinical death with flat EEG” (van Lommel 2001, 2044).

4. When did the reported near-death-experiences exactly take place? A crucial question is the timing of the NDE. When did the reported NDEs actually occur? Did they really occur during the time of the cardiac arrest, when the EEG was flat, or might they have occurred

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shortly either before cardiac arrest or during the recovery period after successful resuscitation, with the patients thinking that the experience had occurred during the period of their cardiac arrest? Anecdotal reports of patients who had an OBE and were able to see, hear, and recall specific details of what happened in the emergency room during their cardiac arrest, can help to answer this question. Especially, when the hospital staff or other witnesses can verify what the patients claim to have seen and heard during their OBE. Perceptions during OBEs can, at least in principle, be checked and corroborated by independent witnesses. Do they consist of verifiable accurate perceptions that would have been impossible to perceive from the vantage point of that person’s physical body? Peter Fenwick calls this the “cutting edge question” in NDE research (see: Fenwick 2007, 15). Van Lommel underlines, that OBEs are scientifically important because doctors, nurses, and relatives can verify the reported perceptions, and they can also corroborate the precise moment when the OBE occurred during the period of CPR (see: van Lommel 2006, 139). This also indicates that the reported OBEs are neither hallucinations nor delusions. A hallucination is a conscious perception in the absence of any external stimuli, and an illusion is a real perception that is given bizarre significance. In an OBE a person claims to leave her body and watch her own resuscitation by the doctors in the emergency room. Von Lommel reports the case in which a coronary-care nurse removed dentures from a comatose forty-four-year-old heart-attack victim and placed them in a drawer in the crash car. The patient was revived by CPR (Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation) and a week later the nurse saw him again on the cardiac ward. She reported a veridical OBE of a resuscitated patient: “During a night shift an ambulance brings in a 44-year-old cyanotic, comatose man into the coronary care unit. He had been found about an hour before in a meadow by passers-by. After admission, he receives artificial respiration without intubation, while heart massage and defibrillation are also applied. When we want to intubate the patient,

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he turns out to have dentures in his mouth. I remove these upper dentures and put them onto the ‘crash car’. Meanwhile, we continue extensive CPR. After about an hour and a half the patient has sufficient heart rhythm and blood pressure, but he is still ventilated and intubated, and he is still comatose. He is transferred to the intensive care unit to continue the necessary artificial respiration. Only after more than a week do I meet again with the patient, who is by now back on the cardiac war. I distribute his medication. The moment he sees me he says: ‘Oh, that nurse knows where my dentures are’. I am very surprised. Then he elucidates: ‘Yes, you were there when I was brought into hospital and you took my dentures out of my mouth and put them onto that car, it had all these bottles on it and there was this sliding drawer underneath and there you put my teeth.’ I was especially amazed because I remembered this happening while the man was in deep coma and in the process of CPR. When I asked further, it appeared the man had seen himself lying in bed, that he had perceived from above how nurses and doctors had been busy with CPR. He was also able to describe correctly and in detail the small room in which he had been resuscitated as well as the appearance of those present like myself. At the time that he observed the situation he had been very much afraid that we would stop CPR and that he would die. And it is true that we had been very negative about the patient’s prognosis due to his very poor medical condition when admitted. The patient tells me that he desperately and unsuccessfully tried to make it clear to us that he was still alive and that we should continue CPR. He is deeply impressed by his experience and says he is no longer afraid of death. 4 weeks later he left the hospital as a healthy man” (von Lommel et al. 2001, 2041).

Here is another case documented by Raymond Moody: “Another woman had an out-ob-body experience and left the room where her body was being resuscitated. From across the hospital lobby, she watched her brother-in-law as some business associate approached him and asked what he was doing in the hospital. ‘Well, I was going out of town on a business trip’, said the brother-in-law. ‘But it looks like June is going to kick the bucket, so I better stay around and be a pallbearer’. A few days later when she was recovering, the brother-inlaw came to visit. She told him that she was in the room as he spoke to his friend, and erased any doubt by saying, ‘Next time I die, you go off on your business trip because I’ll be just fine.’ He turned so pale that she thought he was about to have an NDE himself” (Moody 2005, 17).

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Kenneth Ring reports the case of a female migrant worker. Maria, who, while visiting friends for the first time in Seattle, had a severe heart attack. She was rushed to Harbor-view Hospital emergency room and then placed in the coronary care unit. A few days later, she had a cardiac arrest but was quickly resuscitated. She had an OBE during her cardiac arrest and told her social worker Kimberly Clark about it. She recalled how she was able to look down from the ceiling and watch the medical team at work on her body. She noted that she did not remain looking down from the ceiling, instead, she found herself outside the hospital. On the third floor of the north wing of the building she saw a tennis shoe on the ledge of the building. She described the shoe in minute detail, observing that the little toe had a worn place in the shoe and that one of its laces was tucked underneath the heel. Finally Maria asked Clark to please try to locate that shoe: she desperately needed to know whether she had “really” seen it. Clark went up on the third floor of the building, but did not find any shoe until she came to the middlemost window on the floor, and there, on the ledge, precisely as Maria had described it, was the tennis shoe (see: Ring 2006, 65-66). Kenneth Ring convinced of the evidential weight of the report, exclaims: “Now, on hearing a case like this, one has to ask: What is the probability that a migrant worker visiting a large city for the first time, who suffers a heart attack and is rushed to a hospital at night would, while having a cardiac arrest, simply ‘hallucinate’ seeing a tennis shoe—with very specific and unusual features—on the ledge of a floor higher than her physical location in the hospital? Only an archskeptic, I think, would say anything much other than ‘Not bloody likely’!” (Ring 2006, 66)

The case of Pamela Reynolds The documentation of thirty-five-year-old singer and songwriter Pam Reynolds provides us with the most scientifically corroborative confirmation of the near-death experience (see: Sabom 1998, 3752). Doctors discovered a grossly swollen blood vessel in her brain

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stem (a giant basilar artery aneurysm) that would kill her if it burst. Reynolds consented to a risky operation performed by Robert Spetzler in Phoenix, Arizona. Spetzler used a rare technique to treat Pam Reynolds, called the “Hypothermic Cardiac Arrest”, or “Operation Standstill”. Spetzler would take Reynolds body down to a temperature so low that she was “essentially” dead, but then would bring her back to a normal temperature before irreversible damage set in. Pam’s temperature fell to 60 degrees Fahrenheit (15.6 Celsius) as opposed to the usual 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit (37 Celsius). At such a low temperature, the swollen vessels become soft, allowing for a less risky surgery. Also, at this temperature the cooled brain can survive longer without oxygen, though it obviously cannot function in that state. When all of Reynolds’s vital signs were “stopped”, the surgeon began to cut through her skull with a surgical saw. At that point, she reported that she felt herself “pop” outside her body and hover above the operating table. From her out-of-body position, she could see the doctors working on her “lifeless” body. She described, with considerable accuracy for a person who knew nothing of complex surgical practices, the Midas Rex bone saw used to open skulls. Reynolds also heard and reported what had happened during the operation and what the nurses in the operating room had said (see: Beauregard & O’Leary 2007, 154). During “standstill”, Pam’s brain was found “dead” by all three clinical tests: her electroencephalogram was silent, her brainstem response was absent, and no blood flowed through her brain. Interestingly, while in this state, she encountered the “deepest” near-death experience of all Atlanta Study participants with a score of 27 on the Greyson’s NDE Scale (see: Sabom 1998, 49). The case of Pam Reynolds is unique for two reasons. First, she had an OBE at a time when she was fully instrumented under medical observation and known to be clinically dead; second, she was able to recall verifiable facts about her surgery that she could

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not have known if she were not in some way conscious when these events were taking place (see: Beauregard & O’Leary 2007, 155). Sabom raises the following question: “With this information, can we now scientifically assert that Pam was either dead or alive during her near-death experience? Unfortunately, no. Even if all medical tests certify her death, we would still have to wait to see if life was restored. Since she did live, then by definition she was never dead. Doctors can save people from death and rescue some who are close to death, but they cannot raise people from the dead. Conversely, if Pam had died, the tests indicating death would have been confirmed” (Sabom 1998, 49-50).

Sabom then poses the question: When does death actually occur? Even when a person is deemed “brain dead” by strict clinical criteria—that is, when spontaneous movements or respiration is absent, no response results from painful or auditory stimulation, and no brain stem, cough, gag, or respiratory reflexes can be observed; still if brain activity can be demonstrated days later, the question is raised again whether and when, if at all, death had actually occurred. Thus, the problem with defining the moment of death lies not only in our lack of sufficient scientific tools, but also in our understanding of the concept itself. There is no definable moment of death, but only a process of dying (see: Sabom 1998, 51). Dr. Spetzler, Pam’s surgeon, was interviewed along with Pam and Dr. Sabom. Spetzler emphasized with regard to the Hypothermic Cardiac Arrest procedure, that: “If you would examine that patient from a clinical perspective during that hour, that patient by all definition would be dead. At this point there is no brain activity, no blood going through the brain. Nothing, nothing, nothing.” When asked about Pam’s near-death experience, the surgeon delicately avoided verifying the occurrence remarking only that: “One thing that I learned after spending so many years of dealing with the brain is that nothing is impossible” (Sabom 1998, 50).

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5. Do Out-of-body experiences occur apart from the physical body? Is there actually something in us, which can get out, perceive, and act apart from our body? Is the self able to perceive and experience apart and at a distance from the physical body? In the Atlanta Study, 26 of the patients described their experience in these very terms. Is this really possible? What does it mean to be out of one’s body? (see: Sabom 1998, 201). Greg, a subject of the Atlanta Study, recalled his OBE 26 years later: “As God is my witness, I was out of my body and up by the corner ceiling of the hospital room looking down on the situation. I was trying to figure out how I could do that—be up there and be down there at the same time […] I thought to myself, Now this is strange” (Sabom 1998, 202). How can consciousness function outside of one’s body when the brain is clinically dead? Such a brain would be like a computer that continued to operate with its power source unplugged and its circuits detached. It could not hallucinate, it could not do anything at all (see: van Lommel 2006, 142). Paradoxically, OBEs do occur during cardiac arrest when the brain no longer functions and clinical criteria of death have been reached. These OBEs are characterized by heightened, lucid awareness, logical thought processes and robust long term memory formation. This raises perplexing questions with regard to our current understanding of the relationship between consciousness and brain processes. Sabom points out: “Here, independent verification of the accuracy of out-of-body observations, such as Pam’s stunningly accurate description of the Midas Rex skull saw used by her surgeon, lends support to the claim that the experience truly occurred apart from the body. But, frustratingly, at the same time, our scientific paradigms are not designed to entertain such a possibility. As I have considered this conundrum over the years, I now believe that the near-death experience occurs while the soul is separating from the body. The spiritual mechanism of death seems best understood as a process and not as a single definable moment” (Sabom 1998, 202).

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Sabom speculates, that during the dying process, an in-between state may momentarily exist where connection is still maintained with the physical brain but where the person’s spirit or soul is in the process of separation from the body. If the soul continues to depart, death occurs, and physical memory ceases. If the soul returns, the person revives and may report an out-of-body experience. But there are still mysteries here. How the soul can “see”, a physical process requiring the optical mechanisms of the eye, from a vantage point distant from the body is not understood (see: Sabom 1998, 203). Sabom draws the following conclusion from his research findings: “After more than two decades of studying the near-death experience, this is where I end up: The NDE is a powerful spiritual experience which causes dramatic changes in one’s behavior and beliefs. [...] at the point of an NDE, one’s soul is partially separated from one’s body, being in the midst of the dying process” (Sabom 1998, 222).

6. What are the neural correlates of near-death experiences? Neuroscientists argue that consciousness is associated with the activity of large groups of so-called cell assemblies which are distributed throughout the brain. Results of cerebral localization studies using neuroimaging techniques, such as functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging (fMRI) and Positron Emission Tomography (PET) support this view. These studies show that mental phenomena like thoughts, perceptions, and feelings correlate with the metabolic activity in specific regions of the brain. Changes in the type of mental activity correlate with changes in the type of brain activity. Without brain activity there seems to be no mental activity. The mind appears to be rooted deep in the brain. However, up to now we do not have the faintest clue of how billions of active neurons are supposed to generate subjective phenomena like sensations, perceptions, and feelings. This puzzle constitutes one of the biggest challenges to neuroscience (see: Goller 2003).

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What could the neural correlates of NDEs possibly be? Prospective studies on cardiac arrest survivors show that NDEs occur at a time when the brain activity can be described at best as severely impaired, and at worst, as absent. It is known, that in cardiac arrest loss of cortical function precedes the rapid loss of brainstem activity. When the brain is so dysfunctional that the patient is deeply comatose, the cerebral structures which underpin subjective experience and memory must be severely impaired. A globally disordered brain is not expected to be able to produce coherent thought processes, together with robust long term memory formation. The reported NDEs in cardiac arrest, however, are not confused, disordered, chaotic, or incoherent. In fact, they indicate a heightened awareness, attention and consciousness at a time when one would not expect consciousness and memory formation to occur. Any cerebral insult leads to a period of both anterograde and retrograde amnesia. Memory can be used as a very sensitive indicator of brain injury and the length of amnesia before and after unconsciousness is an indicator of the severity of the brain injury. Therefore, events that occur just prior to or just after loss of consciousness would not be expected to be recalled. Complex experiences such as those reported in NDEs and OBEs should not arise or be retained in memory. Such patients would be expected to have no memories at all, as is the case in most of the cardiac arrest survivors. From a scientific point of view, the occurrence of these experiences would therefore seem highly improbable and paradoxical. However, the fact that they do occur, raises some questions regarding our current views on the nature of human consciousness and its relationship with the brain (see: Parnia & Fenwick 2002, 8-9). Van Lommel emphasizes that science should attempt to explain new mysteries rather than stick with old facts and concepts. With our current medical and scientific concepts it seems impossible to explain all aspects of the subjective experiences as reported by patients with a NDE during a transient loss of all brain functions (see: van Lommel 2006, 145).

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Most of the people who have had a NDE lose their fear of death. According to van Lommel, this is due to the realization that there is a continuation of consciousness. Consciousness continues and retains all past thoughts and experiences, even those occurring after you have been declared dead by a doctor. Although you are separated from your lifeless body, you retain your identity and a clear consciousness with the ability to perceive. Man appears to be more than just a ‘body’ (van Lommel 2006, 140-141).

7. What conclusions can be drawn from the available data on NDEs? If people who have had an OBE can literally leave their bodies, then human personality must be something distinct from the body itself. The person who leaves her or his body and then returns to it must be something more than just the very complex organism whose properties are revealed by physical science. Such a person would need to be some sort of nonphysical being that lives in the body (see: Almeder 1992, 163). Neuroscientists keep telling us that consciousness is totally dependent upon a functioning brain within a functioning organism. Without a functioning brain there is no consciousness, perception or memory formation. According to the mainstream position in neuroscience consciousness cannot survive brain death, because consciousness ceases when brain activity ceases. The available data on veridical perceptions during OBEs, however, contradict the claim that consciousness and memory formation cannot occur without a functioning brain in a functioning organism. Direct evidence of how neural networks produce the subjective aspects of mental phenomena is still lacking. It is difficult to understand, how patterns of neural activation could themselves cause the qualitatively experienced aspects of sensations, perceptions, and feelings (see: van Lommel 2006, 143). The existing research findings on OBEs suggest that consciousness may be experienced independently of a functioning brain. If the

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findings on veridical perceptions during OBEs can be confirmed by numerous further studies under controlled conditions, then that would support alternative interpretations of the widely held credos about the mind-body relationship in contemporary neuroscience. It would, for example, support the view, that consciousness may actually be a fundamental entity in its own right irreducible to anything more basic (see: Parnia & Fenwick 2002, 9; Chalmers 1996). It would also support the conviction that mind, consciousness, and self can continue when the brain no longer functions (see: Beauregard 2007, 166). Nevertheless, I think the available data on NDEs and OBEs cannot be regarded as scientific evidence for the existence of the soul. The existence of something invisible and immaterial like the soul cannot, by definition, be demonstrated or proven empirically by applying the scientific methods commonly used in neuroscience. Further, all the existing accounts of NDEs and OBEs come from people who were very close to death, but who were successfully resuscitated. Their narratives are reports about the process of dying, about the experience of being close to death, not about death itself. In spite of that, some authors interpret these reports as a glimpse into life after death, as a view of the other ‘world’. While the research findings on NDEs and OBEs fail to conclusively prove our survival of death, nonetheless, they seem to justify a rational belief in some form of postmortem personal survival.

References Almeder, R. (1992) Death and personal survival. The evidence for life after death, Lanham, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Beauregard, M. & O’Leary, D. (2007) The spiritual brain. A neuroscientist’s case for the existence of the soul, New York: HarperCollins Publishers.

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Blanke, O., Ortigue, St., Landis, T. & Seeck, M. (2002) “Stimulating illusory own-body perceptions”, Nature 419, 269-270. Blanke, O., Landis, T., Spinelli, L. & Seeck, M. (2004) “Out-of-body experience and autoscopy of neurological origin”, Brain 127, 243258. Blanke, O. & Arzy, S. (2005) “The out-of-body experience. Disturbed self-processing at the temporo-parietal junction”, The Neuroscientist 11, 16-24. Blanke, O., Mohr, C., Michel, C. M., Pascual-Leone, A., Brugger, P., Seeck, M., Landis, T., & Thut, G. (2005) “Linking out-of-body experience and self processing to mental own-body imagery and the temporoparietal junction”, Journal of Neuroscience 25, 550557. Chalmers, D. J. (1996) The conscious mind. In search of a fundamental theory, New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ehrsson, H. H. (2007) “The experimental induction of out-of-body experiences”, Science 317, no. 5841, 1048. Fenwick, P. & Fenwick, E. (1996) The truth in the light: An investigation of over 300 near-death experiences, New York: NY Penguin. Fenwick, P. (2007) Science and spirituality: A challenge for the 21st century. The Bruce Greyson Lecture from the International Association for Near-Death Studies 2004 Annual Conference, available at: http://www.iands.org/research/important_studies/dr._peter_ fenwick_m.d._science_and_spirituality.html French, Ch. C. (2001) “Dying to know the truth: visions of a dying brain, or false memories?”, The Lancet 358, 2010-2011. Goller, H. (2003) Das Rätsel von Körper und Geist. Eine philosophische Deutung, Darmstadt: Primus Verlag. Greyson, B. (1983) “The near-death experience scale: Construction, reliability, and validity”, Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease 171, 369-375.

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Greyson, B. (2000) “Dissociation in people who have near-death experiences: out of their bodies or out of their minds?”, The Lancet 355, 460-463. Greyson, B. (2003) “Incidence and correlates of near-death experiences on a cardiac care unit”, General Hospital Psychiatry 25, 269-276. Greyson, B. (2007) “Near-death experiences: clinical implications”, Revista de Psiquiatria Clínica 34, supl. 1, 49-57. Knoblauch, H. (2002) Berichte aus dem Jenseits. Mythos und Realität der Nahtod-Erfahrung, Freiburg: Herder. Knoblauch, H. & Schmied, I. (1999) „Berichte aus dem Jenseits. Eine qualitative Studie zu Todesnäheerfahrungen im deutschen Sprachraum“, in H. Knoblauch & H.-G. Soeffner (Hrsg.),

Todesnähe. Interdisziplinäre Zugänge zu einem außergewöhnlichen Phänomen, Konstanz: UVK, 187-215. Knoblauch, H. & Soeffner H.-G. (Hrsg.) (1999) Todesnähe. Interdisziplinäre Zugänge zu einem außergewöhnlichen Phänomen, Konstanz: UKV. Moody, R. A. (1975, 1976) Life after life. The investigation of a phenomenon—survival of bodily death, Mockingbird edition, Covington, Georgia 1975, Bantam edition, New York 1976. Moody, R. A. (2003) Leben nach dem Tod. Die Erforschung einer unerklärlichen Erfahrung (4. Aufl.), Reinbeck bei Hamburg: Rowohlt. Moody, R. A. (2005) The light beyond. The extraordinary sequel to the classic bestseller Life After Life, London: Rider. Parnia, S., & Fenwick, P. (2002) “Near-death experiences in cardiac arrest: visions of a dying brain or visions of a new science of consciousness”, Resuscitation 52, 5-11. Parnia, S., Waller, D. G., Yeates, R. & Fenwick, P. (2001) “A qualitative and quantitative study of the incidence, features and aetiology of near death experiences in cardiac arrest survivors”, Resuscitation 48, 149-156.

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Ring, K. & Cooper, S. (1997) “Near-death and out-of-body experiences in the blind: A study of apparent eyeless vision”, Journal of Near-Death Studies 16 (2), 101-147. Ring, K. (2006) Lessons from the light. What we can learn from the near-death experience, Needham, Massachusetts: Moment Point Press. Sabom, M. (1982) Recollections of death: A medical investigation, New York: Harper and Row. Sabom, M. (1998) Light and death: One doctor’s fascinating account of near-death experiences, Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan. Schmied, I., Knoblauch, H. & Schnettler, B. (1999) “Todesnäheerfahrungen in Ost- und Westdeutschland. Eine empirische Untersuchung”, in H. Knoblauch & H.-G. Soeffner (Hrsg.), Todes-

nähe. Interdisziplinäre Zugänge zu einem außergewöhnlichen Phänomen, Konstanz: UVK, 217-250. Schröter-Kunhardt, M. (1999) “Nah-Todeserfahrungen aus psychiatrisch-neurologischer Sicht”, in H. Knoblauch & H.-G. Soeffner (Hrsg.), Todesnähe. Interdisziplinäre Zugänge zu einem außergewöhnlichen Phänomen, Konstanz: UVK, 65-99. van Lommel, P., Wees, R., Meyers, V. & Elfferich, I. (2001) “Neardeath experience in survivors of cardiac arrest: a prospective study in the Netherlands”, The Lancet 358, 2039-2045. van Lommel, P. (2004) “About the continuity of our consciousness”, Advances in Experimental Medicine and Biology 550, 115-132. van Lommel, P. (2006) “Near-Death experience, consciousness, and the brain: A new concept about the continuity of our consciousness based on recent scientific research on near-death experience in survivors of cardiac arrest”, World Futures: The Journal of General Evolution 62, 134-151. van Lommel, P. (2007) Eindeloos bewustzijn. Een wetenschappelijke visie op de bijna-dood ervaring, Uitgeverlij Ten Have.

The Immateriality of the Human Soul— An argument of Ayatullah Misbah, its roots in Mulla Sadra, and its correspondence in Western Philosophy Christian Kanzian, Innsbruck (0) Philosophical reasoning about man in Islamic and in WesternChristian traditions has the same main questions and also the same main problems. And this is not accidental. The last aim of “philosophical anthropology” in both traditions is to understand man as the proper object of eschatological hopes. A central concept of every philosophical theory about man developed in religious contexts— that is, in the context of eschatological hopes—is “soul”. Therefore “soul” is a topic that is perfectly suitable for doing comparative philosophy. “Human soul” (and in what follows I don’t care about purely vegetative and animal souls, and mean by “soul” always “human soul”) in religious traditions stands for an immortal live principle. Soul survives physical death. Many assume that this is a necessary condition for understanding human beings as objects of eschatological hopes, as bodily resurrection is. One of the minimal preconditions of the soul as immortal or indestructible live principle is immateriality—without immateriality no immortality. In my talk I am looking for a philosophical framework for such a religious anthropology in a comparative way. My main focus (as the title of my article indicates) is on arguments for the immateriality of the soul. I start with one of the arguments for the immateriality of the soul given by Ayatullah Misbah in his Philosophical Instructions (here: Misbah Yazdi 1999), and try to explain why I think that the argument can be traced back to Mulla Sadra. Then I turn to Western Philosophy, where we can find in the history—I focus especially on Kant—lines of argumentation that can be compared with those of Mulla Sadra and Ayatullah Misbah. These lines are, as I want to mention finally, important for contemporary discussions in the metaphysics of human beings. The common line of argumentation

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for the immateriality of the human soul may perhaps guide us to an understanding of its immortality, and of the resurrection of the whole human being. (1) Beginning with Ayatullah Misbah, let me start with a quotation of a passage in Misbah Yazdi 1999, lesson 44 (“Kinds of Substances”), section two, “Proofs for the Immateriality of the Soul”. (I refer to the second:) Another argument for the immateriality of the soul is that when we pay precise attention to our own existence, the ‘I, the perceiver,’ we see that the existence of ‘I’ is a simple indivisible thing. For example, it cannot be divided into two ‘half I’s’, while the most fundamental characteristic of body is divisibility […]. However, such a characteristic cannot be found in the soul, and it is not subject to the body in being divisible, so there is no other alternative but its immateriality (ibid. , 368).

The passage does not require of further explanation: Ayatullah Misbah explicitly starts with the I—the I, mind you, as perceiver. Human perception has a special characteristic: It has a significant unity. And the only possible bearer of such a unified perception or act of consciousness is the I, which must also be a unity, and as such simple, that means in its identity not analysable and thus not reconstructable from a diversity of basic constituents. Since materiality necessarily implies complexity, the I or the self cannot be material. For exactly whatever the term “soul” may stand: for I, for the self, the bearer and principle of all human capacities, of human perception included, it must share the demonstrated metaphysical characteristics: unity, simplicity, and thus immateriality. (2) I come to my next step and try to refer this line of argumentation for the immateriality of the soul to classical Islamic Philosophy, that is, to Mulla Sadra. Of great help for me has been Ayatullah Muhammad Khamenei’s book on “Transcendent Philosophy” (here: Khamenei 2004). I especially refer to the chapter “Soul—Eschatology”. (Here I cannot deal with Mulla Sadra’s metaphysics of the soul in general: about the corporal origination of the soul, its

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developing from the stage of pure materiality, over the vegetative stage and the animal stage to the stage of rational human soul, with the possibility of reaching the stage of actual intellect, as Ayatullah Khamenei says: of the holy soul. Here is also not the place to talk about Mulla Sadra’s metaphysical principles which are the prerequisites for an adequate understanding of this kind of diachronic dualism: the principle of the priority of existence and the dynamical mode of existence itself, the last metaphysical ground of what is also called substantial motion. However: The soul is, according to Mulla Sadra no static subject.) What I want to point out is a terminological point and an argumentative one: The terminological point is that according to Mulla Sadra, as Ayatullah Khamenei makes us aware of, we clearly can identify man’s soul with the above mentioned I or self. “Man’s soul is his very ‘I’ and ‘self’” (Khamenei 2004, 102). This identification can be interpreted as the legitimation to transfer all the basic characteristics of the I or the self to the life principle which is called in classical philosophy “soul”. That seems to be important, because, if we are able to prove some characteristics for the I and the self, we can transfer, according to this terminological stipulation, these characteristics to the life principle in question. (This is also a confirmation of what I have stated above concerning the quoted passages in the Philosophical Instructions.) I proceed to the argument, which I try to reconstruct with reference to passages included in point 3 and 4, Khamenei 2004, 103. All man’s internal and external effects and acts belong to his ‘self’ and soul and originate from it. The unity, which is specific to human effects and acts, is derived from the unity of their bearer. The unity of the human self is so basic that it must be regarded as a simple, indivisible, and, I would add, unanalysable subject. (Without such simplicity and indivisibility we could not get a unity which can be regarded as bearer of specifically unified human acts.) Every body or corporal thing is made of matter. Essential for matter is extension. Whatever has an extension is composed of several components. Every body is a complex, thus divisible, and, I would add, analysable with reference to its parts, which can thus be

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interpreted as basic and constitutive elements of the complex. Such a composition is necessary (and sufficient) for corporality. The self or the I doesn’t have such a composition. That is why the self or the I cannot be corporal. If we identity the life principle called soul with the self or the I, we can transfer, in accordance with the mentioned terminological stipulation, these characteristics to the soul. The soul as simple, indivisible and unanalysable life principle is immaterial. Taking into account the before mentioned dynamic view of human souls, we can make the thesis more precise: The human soul at a mature stage has developed to a non-corporal or non-material kind of existence. The soul achieved independence of its corporal origins. That can be proved by reference to the specific unity of rational acts, which the matured soul is able to bear. (3) So far I have examined classical and contemporary Islamic Philosophy, and a line of argumentation, which seems to be of some importance for proving the immateriality of the soul. I proceed by turning to Western Philosophy, some would say to Continental Philosophy: Immanuel Kant. In Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason we find an argument, which can be analysed in a way very similar to what we have heard now about Mulla Sadra. I start with Kant, and refer his argumentation to contemporary philosophy. Just to mention it: I cannot speak about Kant’s philosophy in general, especially not whether it is exegetically correct to use the argument I am going to discuss for a theory of metaphysical characteristics of the self, the I, the soul. Indeed, the author of the Critique of Pure Reason would deny that emphatically. But, as Kant himself claims to understand historical authors, such as Plato, better than they understood themselves (cf. ibid. B 370), we can try to understand Kant in a free, but systematic way—without any claim of exegetical correctness.

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I quote the relevant passage in the Critique of Pure Reason: Every composite substance is an aggregate of several substances, and the action of a composite, or whatever inheres in it as thus composite, is an aggregate of several actions or accidents, distributed among the plurality of the substances. Now an effect which arises from the concurrence of many acting substances is indeed possible, namely, when the effect is external only […]. But with thoughts, as internal accidents belonging to a thinking being, it is different. For suppose it be the composite that thinks: then every part of it would be a part of the thought, and only all of them taken together would be the whole thought. But this cannot consistently be maintained. For representations […] distributed among different beings, never make up a whole thought […] and it is therefore impossible that a thought should inhere in what is essentially composite. It is therefore possible only in a single substance, which, not being an aggregate of many, is absolutely simple (A 352).

Kant starts, as the quoted Islamic thinkers do, with an important characteristic of human perceptions or of human thoughts, as Kant says. Human thoughts are wholes, which must be considered as unities in a specifically strict sense. They are the results of the different unifying human capacities, which are distinguished in Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason extensively. I leave aside Kant’s much differentiated rational psychology. I just mention the Transcendental Apperception or the Unity of Self-Consciousness as the core capacity, responsible for the unification of “thoughts”. The next step is more important and very close to Ayatullah Misbah and to Mulla Sadra, as I interpret him according to Ayatullah Khamenei: human thoughts must belong to a bearer, which is able to constitute the mentioned unity of these thoughts. The bearer of human thoughts must be a unity in a strict sense. It must be simple, undividable and unanalysable. Kant's argument is that if it is supposed that the non-simple, the composite thinks, then every part of it would be a part of the thought, and only all of them taken together would be the whole thought. But this cannot consistently be maintained.

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I see no difference with the arguments mentioned above in the context of Islamic Philosophy.1 The same holds for the result, namely, since it is essential for corporal beings to be complex, dividable into parts, and being analysable as components of these parts, the bearer of human thoughts, the I or the self, cannot be corporal. (4) (Historical excursus) Historically considered, I interpret Kant’s argumentation as a reaction to the problems of John Locke’s account on the self or on personal identity. In the famous chapter 27 of his An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, Locke starts with self-consciousness, and deduces the self and the identity of the self from this capacity. The identity of a person reaches as far as his selfconsciousness. According to Locke, I, Kanzian, am identical with myself five years ago because I, now, am conscious of myself for instance as participant of the last Mulla Sadra World Congress 2004 in Tehran. Kant takes it the other way round. He assumes the identity of the self as the last ground of the unity of personal self-consciousness, and in consequence to all human thoughts (which are necessarily self thoughts). With this strategy Kant can immunize his theory against Bishop Butler’s (1692-1752) criticism addressed to Locke, that self-consciousness may be a(n) (epistemic) criterion of personal identity, but no (metaphysical) ground for it—because self-consciousness presupposes personal identity and is thus no candidate for its constitution (cf. his Of Personal Identity, re-edited in Perry 1975). In Kant exactly that is the case. Also Thomas Reid’s (1710-1796) argument based upon the transitivity of identity is a good argument

1

Professor Ali Misbah made me aware that in Mulla Sadra, and his followers in Islamic Philosophy, the simplicity and undividability of the bearer of human “thoughts” can be recognized by “knowledge by presence”, while in Kant, just to mention him, this recognition is the result of a “transcendental” procedure of looking for conditions of the possibility of our thoughts’ unity. I concede the point. Perhaps I should better say I see no difference in the metaphysical results of the arguments for the simplicity of the soul, though there are some differences in the epistemological access to these results.

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against Locke, but not against Kant (cf. his Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, re-edited in Perry 1975). The reader may know the story of the brave soldier who was flogged when a boy at school, who took a standard from the enemy in one of his first campaigns, and was promoted to be general, advanced in years. Since the general remembers the taking of the standard as one of his actions, and the young soldier remembers being flogged as something that happened to himself, but the general has no self remembering of his schooltime, the general would be, according to Locke, identical with the young soldier, the young soldier with the school boy, but the general not with the school boy. This is impossible with regard to the standard interpretation of identity as transitive relation, but follows from the Lockean theory of self or personal identity. We must come to the conclusion: either logic or Locke! Kant has no problem with the transitivity of identity. The self or the I as simple bearer of the unity of consciousness and in consequence of all self thoughts is always the same, independent of the actual capacity of rememberring: it is the same of the boy, of the young soldier, and of the general in Reid’s story. (5) However, let me switch to a modern version of Kant’s argument, which is explicitly considered as the “Unity of Consciousness”argument. I refer to William Hasker’s book The Emergent Self (here Hasker 2001), not because I think that all of Hasker’s theses are adequate (“emergentism” itself seems to be more an explanandum than a solution of any problem), but because in one of his preliminary chapters he refers to Kant as we did before, and makes the decisive point discussable in the terminological context of actual debates. I start with a quotation of a passage in Hasker’s book: The point is simply that […] awareness […] is essentially unitary, and it makes no sense to suggest that it may be ‘parcelled out’ to entities each of which does not have the awareness. A person’s being aware of a

complex fact cannot consist of parts of the person being aware of the fact. A conjunction of partial awareness does not add up to a total awareness (Hasker 2001, 128, emph. H.).

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How can we understand Hasker’s point?—Hasker starts by considering a complex visual field. According to materialistic interpretations of such a state of consciousness (as well as of others, like perceptions and the content of thoughts in general) the subject or the bearer of them is something bodily: the brain. The brain is aware. The brain perceives. The brain thinks.—This is materialism. Hasker is arguing against such a point of view: Let us imagine the smallest part of the brain (Hasker calls it “V”), that contains the modelling of all the information, for example, of the mentioned visual field. Is it possible to say that this smallest part is aware of the complex visual field?— Perhaps so, but we need to consider the composition of V […] we can say that V is a whole composed of physical parts. Many of these parts model information from various parts of the visual field. But no proper part of V models all of this information, so it is not possible for any of these parts to be aware of the entire visual field. But if V is a whole composed of parts each of which is not aware of the visual field, how can V itself be aware of it? [Hasker illustrates his points:] […] this would be like saying that each student in a class knows the answer to one question on an examination, and that in virtue of this the entire class knows the material perfectly! It is true that the members of the class are able, working together, to reproduce all of the information, but there may in fact be no one at all who knows or is aware of all of it (ibid.).

In conclusion, it is false to say that the brain or a part of it is aware of something, perceives, and thinks. Awareness, states of consciousness better to say, are essentially unitary. Something essentially unitary cannot inhere in something non-unitary or in something complex, as the brain is. Consciousness, I would restrict myself to saying human consciousness, must be grounded in something noncomplex, that means in a simple unity. Another quotation: “[…] that in fact […] [an] experience inheres in a number of different entities (brain-parts), each of which does not have that experience as a whole—is I think simply unintelligible“ (Hasker 2001, 134).

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The result of Hasker’s analysis is very well comparable with the result of Kant’s consideration, and with the results of the Islamic thinkers to which I referred above: the bearer of our states of consciousness must be a simple unanalysable unity. Because this rules out the material constitution of the bearer, it must be immaterial, however we call it: I, self, or soul. (6) Finally I want to reflect on the relevance and on some conesquences of these considerations for the metaphysics of human beings. I have two remarks, and brief discussions of both of them. The first remark: The proper aim of all the reported arguments is anti-materialism, that is, the immateriality of the human soul. As I mentioned at the beginning, it is important to recognize immateriality as a necessary (or minimal), but not sufficient condition, for immortality. Thus, immateriality is not enough for us, if we want a metaphysics of human beings suitable for our religious, especially our eschatological perspectives. The second remark, perhaps more consoling: The assertion of the immateriality of the soul as it is argued here does not commit one to any kind of strict or substance-dualism in a Cartesian style. That means we are open to find a philosophical anthropology that is not materialistic but also not paralysed by the problems of Cartesianism. I come back to my first remark: An argument in the style of a Unity of Consciousness-argument is not sufficient for a proof of the immortality of the soul. But I think it is a good starting point for such a proof. The acceptance of a simple unanalysable subject of human consciousness raises the question of how we might understand the (natural) destruction of such a subject. (“Natural” stands in opposition to “supernatural”, as the extinction of the soul by God would be. Leibniz introduces this distinction in his Monadology, points 5 and 6.) Natural destruction is dissolution into constituting elements. To destruct this chair means its dissolution into some pieces of wood and metal. The destruction or the bringing to death of an organism means the dissolution of its corporal parts to such an extent that these constituents loose their unity. If something has no

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constituting elements, no parts at all, its destruction is impossible. From the impossibility of the natural destruction of something we can deduce its natural indestructibility or immortality. In the history of philosophy we find prominent authors, from Plato (e.g., in his Phaidon, third argument) to Leibniz, who took this way to prove the immortality of the soul, that means the survival of the human soul after bodily death. My thesis: They all stick, sometimes implicitly, to a kind of Unity of Consciousness-argument to get the decisive premise for such a proof, which is the absolute simplicity of the soul. I finally come to a brief comment on my second remark. Our argumentation does not commit us to Cartesian Dualism. Thus it is open for all those metaphysical interpretations of human beings that rely on the acceptance of some immaterial constituents. According to my own conviction, the immaterial constituent in question should be interpreted as a part of the specific human individual form, which, together with the individual material aspect, constitutes the whole existent: the human being. This part of the human individual form is immaterial and immortal, but metaphysically it is considered incomplete (because of its status as part and because of its status as part of a form) without the unity of the whole human being. That is why we can understand the need for the resurrection of the whole human being, not only of the immortality of its individual form. But of course, to explain this would be too much for this occasion. What I want to point out here is that, as I mentioned at the beginning, philosophical anthropology in Islamic and in Western traditions is not only very similar in its main questions and its theoretical aims, but also in central lines of argumentation in favour of the immateriality, and, in consequence, of the immortality of the soul. Summing up I will try to present the structure of an argument, which partly (1-5, Concl.I) relies upon the common line of argumentation in all the theory-parts I mentioned in this paper, and partly (Concl.II, via 6) can be deduced from this line. 7 needs some additional premises to lead us to further conclusions, but should be recognized (also without these premises) as compatible with 2,3,4,6.

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1 Human “thoughts” are wholes with a specific unity. 2 Human “thoughts” need a bearer. 3 The bearer must be able to constitute this unity. 4 A bearer able to constitute this specific unity must be simple (non-complex). 5 Complexity is necessary for materiality. Concl.I Human “thoughts” need an immaterial bearer. (Outlook on a theory of the immortality of the soul:) 6 Something simple (non-complex) cannot be destroyed in a natural way. Concl.II Natural destruction of simple (non-complex) bearers of human “thoughts” is impossible. 7 Incompleteness is an essential characteristic of the simple, indestructible bearer. Our traditions are similar, and we can profit mutually from one another’s efforts to develop a religious anthropology. And this is interesting and worth examining with more scrutiny than I can offer here on this occasion.

References Hasker, R.W. (2001) The Emergent Self, Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Khamenei, M. (2004) Mulla Sadra’s Transcendent Philosophy, Tehran: SIPRIn Publication. Misbah Yazdi (1999) Philosophical Instructions, transl. by M. Legenhausen & A. Sarvdalir, Binghamton: Global Publications. Perry, J. (ed.) (1975) Personal Identity, Berkeley: University of California Press.

Becoming Transcendent: Remarks on the Human Soul in the Philosophy of Illumination Mahmoud Khatami, Tehran 1. Introduction In the Illuminative tradition of Persian thought one finds the notion of man linked to a metaphysics of descending and ascending. As for the former, descending down from the perfect zenith of being (God), man is a comprehensive totality, a macrocosm within which and through which the world is created; while as for the latter, ascending up to that zenith (God), he is a singular individual, a microcosm shattered and fallen from his celestial status, which is pure light, to the earthy appearance which is the darkness of the earthy prison (Sohravardi 1977b, 274-297). The course of exile and expulsion which is called the Fall (hubūṭ) is the ontological dialectic process of becoming and being human (Mulla Sadra 1362-68/1983-89, Vol.4, 135-36). This is a hermeneutic understanding of the following Qur’anic verses: Verily, We created man of the best constitution; then We descended him to the lowest of the low level. (95: 4-5). What facilitates it and makes this dialectic flexible is but a very specific creature with a twofold immaterial-material essence that mirrors his creator who is immaterial but creates the material world entirely. This creature is the human image (al-ṣūrah al-insanī), which is the truth of the human being substantiated as the soul (nafs) that still has the color of the divine essence (al-nafhat al-ilāhī) within him. The word “soul” (nafs) has a complicated usage in the Illuminative texts. Thanks to the mystical spirit of this tradition, this word is used in a purely immaterial sense; in this sense it equals “spirit” (rūḥ), and is restricted to the human being; meanwhile, it is also used in a general sense which includes vegetative and animal faculties and not purely the divine and immaterial (see Mulla Sadra

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1981a, Vol. 4, 1-2). In terms of its divine essence and its descending status, this creature is named “the grand spirit (al-rūḥ al-‘aẓam)” (Mulla Sadra 1362-68/1983-89, Vol. 5, 398), “the first issued (alṣādir al-awwal)” (Mulla Sadra 1354/1975a, 188-192), “the first Intellect (al-‘aql al-awwal)” (Mulla Sadra 1362-68/1983-89, Vol. 5, 398), “the Muhammadian truth (al-ḥaqīqah al-Muhammadiyyah)” (Mulla Sadra 1362-68/1983-89, Vol.5, 398, 128), and “the divine image”(al-ṣūrah al-ilāhī) (Mulla Sadra 1368/1989, Vol. 5, 19, 22), while with regard to the ascending status, it is named “the human spirit (al-rūḥ al-insānī)” (Mulla Sadra 1360/1981c, 9, 4; also: 105), “the latter divine Intellect” (al-‘aql al-akhīr al-rabbānī) (Mulla Sadra 1362-68/1983-89, Vol. 5, 398), and “the human image (al-ṣūrat alinsān)” (Mulla Sadra 1362-68/1983-89, Vol. 3, 67,). I would like here to highlight first the former aspect of this notion, which is the source of the latter, and then consider the metaphysics of the latter in the development of the illuminative role of the heart in the ascent of the human soul and its becoming transcendent.

2. The Ascending Human Soul According to the philosophy of the Illumination, the illuminative man, being the vicegerent of God (khalifat Allaah), is both all in all and nothing in anything, named infinitely and infinitely nameless, everywhere and nowhere, illuminating all and beyond all in a brilliant darkness (Mulla Sadra 2007, 51; Āmulī 1368/1989a, 134-35). As developed by the Illuminative thought, this metaphysics seeks to indicate that, divinely made, the human being is a unitary light whose truth is tashkīkī (graduated, having degrees) in the sense that it is distinct precisely by its indistinction, different thanks to its indifference, absent in its presence—in short, transcendent through its incomprehensible immanence (Mulla Sadra 1362-68/1983-89, Vol. 4, 180). This is the core metaphysics of the Illuminative interpretation of the human being; and it stands very clearly in line with a two-leveled descent of the divine: from itself into itself, as though

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from nothing into something (Rāzī (1365/1986), 157), which structures the overall metaphysics of procession, return, and remaining. According to the Illuminative metaphysics, in a first moment the super-essential God descends into intelligible images (called “the fixed objects (al-a’yān al-thābitah)” in the terminology of the philosophy of the Illumination) of all things, which God generates within Himself through His Imaginary domain, which is the beginning of all Being, Life and Intelligence. The term “fixed objects”, created by Ibn ‘Arabi, was employed and developed in the later period of the Illuminative philosophy including Mulla Sadra’s school. (For a discussion of the fixed objects and its mystical structure see Khatami 1385/2006). This is the moment that is called “the most sacred grace (al-fayḍ al-aqdas)” within which the human theophanic image is created, (again in terminology taken from Ibn ‘Arabi). In a second moment that is called “the sacred grace (al-fayḍ almuqaddas)”, God manifests the effects created through the human theophanic image within the world, which is both intelligible and sensible, and gives the proper existence to each human being according to its requirements. This intermediate status of the human being constitutes its essence as the integration of the divine inward (bāṭin) as well as outward (ẓāhir) names (Khārazmī 1380, 427). Thus, the human being is the comprehensive soul (al-nafs alkuliyyah) emanated from God while intersticed between the divine and the worldly realities (Āmulī 1368/1989b, 93-4). The situation of the human soul that is generated as a divine image, is elucidated through the Qur’anic verse laysa ka-mithlihī shay (42: 11), which is generally interpreted as “There is nothing that is His like”, but is more precisely interpreted as “There is nothing as His like”, which admits the existence of a being similar to God, which no other creature resembles (Ibn ‘Arabi 1293/1876, Vol. 2, 458-59). This being is the illuminative man, who faces, and mirrors, God the eternal but not created, on the one hand, and the world, the created but not eternal, on the other. Man alone is both eternal and created. (Mulla Sadra 1362-68/1983-89, Vol. 2, 11, 12). Man was created as God's vicegerent (khalifat Allah) while the entire world is a particularization of what exists in him. (Mulla

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Sadra 1362-68/1983-89, Vol. 5, 350; also 410; Mulla Sadra 1368/1989, 19). The world was thus created through man and for man, even though in the visible world man appeared last. The illuminative man is similar (mithl) to God, and the example (mathal) in whose form God was determined (for details see Jilī, 1981, 207ff.). The illuminative man, in his capacity as God's vicegerent, like Him can create by uttering the command "be", is keen on exhibiting his ability to control nature, and exhorts people to worship God and hand over their property to Him. Thanks to his intermediate position between God and the world in the one Being, the status of the illuminative man may be further examined from the quasi-complementary divine and worldly points of view (Ibn ‘Arabi 1293/1876, Vol. 2, 458ff.). From the divine point of view, the position of the illuminative man in the one Being is presented through an exploration of the process of creation. In His unfathomable Self, God perceived Himself by Himself in the perfection of His essence. He then desired to perceive His perfection through His names, though these are determined only by their effects. He consequently manifested Himself in the form of the Universal Intellect (al-‘Aql al-kullī), (Jilī 1981, 163ff.) in which the general image of all things was decreed in accordance with God's absolute Imagination (al-khiyāl al-munfaṣil) of it (Jilī 1981, 177). Through this manifestation the divine Self became reflected in reverse as in a mirror. God then turned to this mirror with His face, the inner reality of every thing, and in this way the particular things became externally manifested. (Jilī 1981, 182ff.). When God perceived Himself in this mirror, namely in His image as the illuminative man, He saw determinations and definitions which He could not perceive when being in Himself, though in reality all of them exist only in Him (Mulla Sadra 1362-68/1983-89, Vol. 4, 135; also Vol.5, 120) The creation of the illuminative man, who reflects the image and inner harmony of the entire universe, is the polishing of the mirror and the forming of a spirit for the world (Āmulī 1368/1989a, 380). From the earthly point of view, the divinity of the illuminative man is derived from his comprehension of all the divine names that were aimed toward the world, the only, though important, exception

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being that of the necessarily existent. While every other creature reflects one divine name, in man all the names are epitomized in the most exalted God (Ibn Arabi 1293/1876, Vol.2, 237). It is from such a point of view that the illuminative man is regarded as the locus of God's manifestation, while the illuminative man is, at the same time, regarded as the locus of manifestation of all the realities of the world. From here it follows that in this state, man parallels the image of God, in Whose image (‘ala ṣūratihi) he was created as His Exalted Face (wajheh-el 'ulyaa). (See Suhravardi 1976, 294-96; Ibn Arabi 1946, Faṣṣ 1, Faṣṣ 25.) Moreover, from this worldly point of view, it is the cognitive capacity of the human soul, as the essence of the universe that determines the image of God (Āmulī 1368/1989b, 94), and at this point, the indispensable and very powerful anthropological dimension of Illuminative thought becomes quite clear. This Illuminative notion of man maintains that in himself, and as the divine example, the human reality is invisible and incomprehensible. However, the illuminative man becomes both manifest and comprehensible by certain signs when he is materialized in various sorts of individual bodies (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol.9, 68); and while he becomes externally apparent in this way, he still remains internally invisible, and while he breaks out into various figures comprehensible to the senses, he never abandons the incomprehensible state of his essence. Having this interpretation of human being in perspective, Illuminative thought seeks a way to elucidate the logic of human transcendence and to free the human soul from spiritual externalization and material realization in this physical world which is but a lower level of Being, and, metaphorically speaking, a dark prison and black hole (Suhravardi 1977b).

3. Metaphysics of the Ascending Soul Significantly enough, this tradition finds in Mulla Sadra’s transcendent school an innovative justification for liberty of the human soul from this prison and its ascent towards the real position. Sadra

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holds that, being an exclusive image of God, the human soul is an imaginal isthmus that bridges up the upper level of being with the lower level (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol. 1, 265; Mulla Sadra 1362/1983a, 222);and being transcendent as belonging to the upper level, the human soul, however, appears as materialized in sorts of individual bodies and particular identities in this physical world and the lower level of Being to upgrade the material. Sadra demonstrates that the human individual soul is still a simple immaterial substance in its essence with the same colour of the divine essence that the human being has in its descending status (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol.3, 161; also Mulla Sadra 1368/1989, 414, 515; Mulla Sadra 1358/1979, 79, 92). However, as a worldly individual, it emerges along with the material body so that it becomes “the first entelechy (perfection) of the body.” (Mulla Sadra, 1981a, Vol. 8, 7; 8ff.). Sadra interprets this classic definition of the human soul according to his own ontological principles. (For the soul’s substantiality see Mulla Sadra, 1981a, Vol. 8, 23ff., and for its simplicity see 287ff); he offers about fourteen reasons to demonstrate his position. The human soul seems to be initially revealed and shaped as a totally corporeal entity. There is, however, one being which passes through various stages of perfection, and in every stage it exhibits a unique pattern appropriate to that stage. (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol.2, 185). This indicates the corporeal origin of the individual soul, which is not still a human soul, strictly speaking, at its origin. Even in this state, however, the emergent soul of the human individual is not a quality of the body. While he argues for physical emergentism, Sadra explains that the spiritual soul emerges from its corporeal origin but remains spiritual in its survival. (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol.8, 4, 347; Mulla Sadra 2001, 150). This principle implies three interrelated theses: First, it indicates that that soul depends on the body for its identity and generation but not for its substance; second, it indicates that there is a special kind of change through which the soul emerges; and, third, the soul emerges from the body through a substantial motion, which is metaphysical and existential (Mulla Sadra1981a, Vol.8, 390).

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On this principle, which is in its turn based on Sadra’s specific theory of Being, and a reformulation of the principle of potency-act in the traditional metaphysics (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol.3), the soul comes into being in the form of spiritual existence and then through its substantial motion it passes through physical stages towards its refined nature. It is not the case that the soul comes to the body from outside; rather, the very reality of the soul, as Sadra saw it emerges from the material body at the beginning of its temporal course; and then the actualisation of the physical reality under the principle of substantial motion ends in the spiritual stage. In other words, human existence changes and develops by itself and this change is from the less intense to the more intense; this change and movement constitutes the entity of the soul, and because of this developmental motion, new possibilities open up. (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol.8, 330, 346; Mulla Sadra 2001b, 221). The same principle demands that since the soul emerges on the basis of matter, it cannot be absolutely material, for ‘emergence’ requires that the emergent must be of a higher level than that which it emerges out of or on the basis of; and then the identity of the body is due to the soul which is its final form. From this the irreducibility of the emergent soul follows: The emergent soul is irreducible to and unpredictable from the lower-level matter from which it emerges. Sadra writes: The truth is that the human soul is physical in its temporal occurrence and participation, whereas it is spiritual in its subsistence and intellection; in that it is spiritual in its participation in the material world, it is corporeal, while by its intellection of its own essence and of the essence of its cause, it remains spiritual (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol.2, 268).

Given an extreme interpretation, this theory leads to a restatement of the spiritualization of the human body already suggested in Suhravardi’s works. In this manner, the traditional dualism of human nature tends to a unity in the Sadraean approach. Man, instead of being a composite of body and soul, is considered as a single and simple reality that comes into being in a body and gradually be-

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comes transformed into a spiritual substance, as if the body of man were a catalyst by which the physical reality ascends to the spiritual: It is evident that the human form is the ultimate stage of the physical reality as well as the initial stage of the spiritual reality (Mulla Sadra 1346/1967, 95).

The substantial change of the soul from its corporeal genesis into a spiritual entity leads to the total actualisation of the spiritual faculty, which is just a potentiality in the primitive stages of the development of the soul, that is, when the soul has not yet cast away its vegetable and animal shells. The soul is the inner force behind the entire developmental processes; it is in its vegetable stage when man is still a fertilised cell; then it passes through the animal kingdom, which in turn culminates in the initial stage of humanity, wherein the spiritual faculty is poised to achieve actualisation. Thus, the intellect becomes manifest after the full realisation of the sense organs and the internal faculties like perception, memory and the others (Mulla Sadra 1368/1989, 128-32; Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol.2.,223-43). The soul has its being as a continuous reality at all these levels and at each of these levels it is the same in one sense and yet different in another sense because, as the hierarchic doctrine of existence (tashkīk) demands, the same being can pass through different levels of development (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol.4, 21, 60-3) So considered, the soul becomes purified and realises its actualities as it is existentially provided with a variety of faculties and powers. Faculties are the ‘modes’ or ‘manifestations’ of the soul. In total harmony with the Illuminative depiction of the human soul as the image of God, it is one of the novel aspects of Sadra’s theory that he attributes the quality of having powers, organs and faculties to the human spiritual soul and not to the physical body, which would make the soul a function of the body. This celebrated position is indeed a radical departure from the major approaches in classical as well as contemporary philosophy of the soul. Sadra claims that this interpretation of the soul removes the difficulties experienced with the definition of the soul; further, it raises the soul from the status of a purely physi-

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cal form to a form that, although in matter, is capable of transcending it, for the extent of its immanence in matter is less than that of a simple physical form. This position plainly corresponds to the principles of physical emergentism and substantial change. Sadra claims that the human spiritual soul in its own unity is all of the faculties (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol.8, 221). Indeed, when the soul, which is an existential unity, achieves its highest form through substantial motion, it contains all the lower faculties and forms within its simple nature to create whatever it requires. The soul has a supra-power to create by and in itself all forms (Mulla Sadra 1981a, 114 ff.). The human soul, though generated with/in the body, is not of the body; but something higher than it, and employs spiritual functions. As for sense perception, its subject is also the soul, not the sense organs. Physical organs are required for sense perception but only thanks to the accidental fact that we exist in a material world. The reason for this is that the external sensible objects and the heart of the sense organ are merely preparatory and provide the ‘occasions’ for the creation of the perceptible forms in and by itself from within (Mulla Sadra 1362/1983b, 51, 53). The soul is provided with sensory faculties through its substantial movement. So, in the case of audition, for example, it is not the case that the external sound produces a movement in the air that is exactly transmitted through successive airwaves to the interior of the ear until hearing takes place. The movement of the air and its airwaves are merely preparatory conditions for the sound to be heard, but they do not transmit the sound (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol. 8, ch. 4; Vol.9, ch. 9). This idea is supported by Sadra’s doctrine of the identity of the knower, known, and knowledge, which is interpreted in terms of existence. This doctrine indicates that knowledge in general, including perceptive and imaginative knowledge, cannot be merely interpreted in terms of abstraction; it is not the case that the soul abstracts forms from mater or material attachments (Mulla Sadra 1346/1967, 242 ff.; Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol. 3, 312 ff.; Mulla Sadra 2001a passim).

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During its substantial movements, the human soul reveals its substantive independence in all aspects of human life, and transmigrates by extending its faculty towards a total self-realization of its divine being, which falls far beyond its current spiritual capacities and remains still incomprehensible. Now, this human soul as "divine example" constitutes an image of God, both to the degree that it becomes self-conscious in and through its own self-expression as well as by ultimately proving through that very self-consciousness to be incomprehensible to itself. The divine image of the human soul is distinctive in that it is both self-conscious and incomprehensible to itself. The Illuminative anthropology, insisting on the incomprehensible image of the divine in the human soul, here comes to give a decisive role to the human heart in the ascending soul. In the rest of this paper, I will try to develop some remarks on this vital aspect of the ascending soul in the school of the Illumination. This aspect of the issue has a deep relationship with the dialectical consciousness of the human “self,” for in knowing the deepest incomprehensibility of the human, we come in fact to know that such incomprehensibility is at the same time the very ground of self-consciousness, for it is, precisely, the incomprehensibility of a self-presence in and through which alone self-consciousness is realized. (see: Sohravardi 1976, 38ff., 474-489; Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol. 1, 293, 345, 382; Mulla Sadra 1354/1975a, 81, 110; Mulla Sadra 1346/1967, mashad 1, shāhid I, ishrāq 12).

4. The Role of the Heart in Ascent of the Human Soul The ontological involvement of the human soul in the physical situation whose mechanism is explained by Sadra according to the theory of the substantial movement, ends with the immaterializing of the human being; but it does not indicate that it necessarily meets the divine spirituality and transcendent conditions which require willing conscious actions and fulfilment through them. Sadra argues that there is a kind of change that originates from the physical aspect of the individual human being on which the spiritual aspect,

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however, depends. In its turn, this dependency yields a very specific affectivity, which is the characteristic feature of human spiritual dynamism, conditioned by the reactivity of the body, which is a characteristic of its somatic movement. The connection between the human soul and the soma in their dynamic aspect is an important element in the soul’s substantial movement and its ascending and becoming transcendent (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol. 3). Since an ontological genesis of the human soul from a physical origin may stop at the appearance of common-sensually (rational and emotional) behaviours that are devoted to and guaranteed to be bestowed to the human kind in a normal and natural way, it should not be expected that every human individual will be able to ascend to the threshold of the human reality, that is, to his celestial image of humanity, and get rid of the earthy life. To this end, the individual soul should be trained morally and equipped with divine wisdom. In this status, the human soul finds within itself comprehensive equipment which, once properly trained, mirrors the perfect being and conducts the human soul to assimilate it. This equipment, which is called the heart (qalb), is indicated in the Qur’an by the word lubb to mean the highest degree of human cognitive faculty. The human heart should not be confused with the animal heart, which is a biological organ. The heart (qalb) in its purely divine status is metaphorically called jām-e jam in Persian literature; jām-e jam is a comprehensive monad that mirrors the entire world inside itself. This concept is widespread throughout Persian mystical poetry and literature. When the heart is achieved, it integrates all the lower cognitions to the benefit of soul’s profound and transcendent cognition of being absorbed in the perfect being in order to become worthy of the celestial image of humanity. (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol. 4, 145). This is the dialectical intellect that is named “the holy intellect (al-‘aql alqudsī)” or the “intellect of the intellect (‘aql al-‘aql)” which far surpasses calculative reason and the reasoning intellect (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol. 1, 386; 420, 516). This concept of heart is then considered as the depth of the human being. We now try to explore this notion a little more to find its role in the human soul ascending up

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to its real celestial status from which it has fallen to the earthy prison. The heart is the depth (bāṭin) of the human being and the most glorious shape of the human soul and individual intellect just because it experiences and celebrates the depth of Being in its entire presence (Mulla Sadra 2001c, 39). This is a purely ontological state, and should not be confused with a physical or biological heart. Again, it is not exactly even a psychological state in the scientific sense; and this is why, therefore, we must avoid identifying depth with the psychological unconscious. In this respect, any “depth psychology” lays as many traps as it uncovers truths. The psychological unconscious certainly seems to be one gauge of what is profound. It is undeniable that we are affected by the unconscious and sometimes—in the case of certain privileged experiences—more deeply than we would dare to admit. We join up with ourselves in an experience of emotional certitude. Nevertheless, what is the heart here is not so much the psychological unconscious per se as it is our present experience of uniting psychologically ourselves with this unconscious and identifying ourselves with what we have been, aided by a peculiar perception testifying to the unconscious. It is a triple experience. First, we form an integral unit with ourselves and become one, in spite of our temporal diffusion. Second, we take on the extra weight of the unconscious in an experience by which we are assured of our substantiality without the unconscious's weight dragging us down into the in-itself, since the totality of our unconscious is not the positivity of thinghood but the affirmation of an existence. Finally, we experience the irresistible flow of time, while at the same time possessing something within us that is invulnerable to time, because our unconscious is not abolished and does not become something foreign and distant. It is thus that we experience the dimension of interiority, that which grants us depth—in short, our power of joining ourselves to ourselves and of escaping time within time by founding a new time through fidelity to memory and to promises. But it is not the psychological unconscious by itself which has depth. The psychological unconscious as such does not affect

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me. What really affects me is the make up of my ontological presence. Depth arises, therefore, in the use that I make of this presence. Just as depth is not quantitative, it is also not a matter of physical extension. If time or space come into the discourse, they are to be considered as of the meta-material (barzakhi) world, that is, entirely within an ontological extension of it. This is a pillar of the anthropocosmology developed in the Persian school of Illumination. Sohravardi talks about meta-material time and land in his amazing short treatises (compiled in Sohravardi 1977c; for a description in English see Corbin 1977). The depth in the human being is in command of the celestial duration (dahr) (Mulla Sadra 1378/1999a, 101). The inexorable flow of one moment into the next is no more than an occasion to evoke the human presence so as to fashion its meta-material image (al-ṣūrah al-barzakhī) and commit oneself to existence. (Mulla Sadra 1362-68/1983-89, Vol. 5, 402). If there is any depth in the moment itself, that is, if I am entirely present within it and consecrate it with my presence, then that moment will not pass away. In this sense, depth is a figure of eternity insofar as the heart is present. My depth can have a relationship with the present moment only to the extent that this moment is filled with me, arising from an ontological stage which I am and not from one in which I am. That is, my depth refers essentially to the self, to the plenitude and authenticity of my being, and my depth is my heart only to the extent that the heart is myself (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol.8, 281; Mulla Sadra 1346/1967, 344). To own depth means to situate oneself at a certain level where one’s heart becomes sensitive throughout one’s being, where one collects oneself together and commits oneself. Having such depth can best be understood in contrast with those ways of being indifferent, detached, or superficial when one is not really oneself. As such, one lives at the whim of the moment, project-less in the course of mere succession which is neither a recovery nor a commitment, as if his actions were no more than movements under the control of a sort of mechanical causality. To own depth means to reject the idea of being a thing that is always external to itself and is dispersed. This means becoming a heart capable of an inner life, collecting oneself

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within oneself, acquiring intimacy, and having a devoted love to achieve and assimilate perfect being. The echoes of all this are contained in the word “self-consciousness,” which connotes the emergence of a for-itself, not as the power of negation, but as a power of affirmation. Heart comes from this depth or, say, gets to build it up. It is in the depth that, in a very specific sense, heart becomes God’s throne. It is heart that embraces existence, and is inspired by it. In any event, heart exhibits signs of the perfect being. It involves, first, a total presence on the part of the human being, for whom the perfect being is present only because the human being is present. As long as all celestial love exercises my heart, I detach myself from personal individuality and become more impersonal. Before the perfect being, on the other hand, I am neither a pure consciousness nor a pure look, since my [divine] glance (naẓar) is laden with all that I am. The perfect being does not really belong to me unless I belong to it. This relationship is purely existential. Heart is the depth because the perfect being takes the ascending soul absorbed and reaches into the being that constitutes me. My depth is immanent in what I am—it is not the result of a psychological unconscious which binds me into the final term of a causal sequence, but the seat of a mutual presence between me and the perfect being in which I am conjoined with my real self. This presence which I am gives a density to my heart, and a penetrating quality to my glance. All the events from my heart become myself, and originate from this depth. I appeal to the perfect being through the spiritual heart which in its essence is but the divine whiff (al-nafhat al-ilāhiyya) in me who am capable of being affected by His grace (fayḍ) and mercy (raḥmat), through the substantial and yet non-material density of a deep and profound self. The more I lay myself open to the perfect being, the more present will my heart be to its inspirations (ilhāmāt) (Mulla Sadra 1962, 44). This is why the experience of celestial love is not a matter of indifference in this situation—not because it gives me a taste of something about the perfect being itself, but because it also instructs me by giving the perfect being a greater hold over me, and my heart a greater absorption.

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The spiritual heart is my depth not only because it unifies me but also because it opens me up. Inner life or the life of the heart is not to lead the human being into the obscure meanderings of earthy involvement. Rather, the real life of the human being is manifested in loving the perfect being, and to become and be similar to Him, which simultaneously is manifested above all in its power of laying open the transcendent self. Having depth means being available to the perfect being and receptive to Him, and it is by the same movement that I lay myself open. From the Illuminative point of view, it is within the depth, within the horizon of our heart, that we can open ourselves to the perfect being in one and the same movement. There is reciprocity between the heart and the perfect being. In the present case, such reciprocity is at work at a spiritual level. Being similar to Him designates the pure relationship to the self and shows the substance of the self that possesses the depth. And, in fact, to lay myself open is merely to be conscious of the perfect being, and to associate myself with Him. The spiritual heart is a seat of communion to which I bring the entirety of my being. The spiritual heart is the depth, therefore, by this type of confidence which it inspires with regard to the perfect being (Mulla Sadra 1362/1983a, 139). This is possible only when the spiritual heart is pure and sound (sālim) to mirror the perfect being. Precisely in this status it is a laying open, a mode of attention. The spiritual heart operates without forcing itself. The perfect being is transparent to the heart, but with the transparency of a sign (ayah) which is its own meaning. The mirroring of the perfect being is alive in proportion to the fullness of our presence and, consequently, to the richness of our consciousness. By this, the real meaning penetrates into the heart just as directly, but this meaning is richer because it enlivens the heart more deeply. This is why the spiritual heart can receive and welcome the entire world within itself and become the macrocosm (al-alam alakbar). The human heart is a wide seat of the inward meanings implanted by the divine inspirations in it through its spiritual journey. This is why being human involves the grasping of an integrated meaning of the perfect being. This implies a discovery of a meaning

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within or beyond appearances, which they offer only to the human being who knows how to decipher them. How is this meaning deciphered? To say that this is done by judgement is to invoke rational thinking without showing its celestial origin or advent, as well as to presuppose an object already given to this thinking. To say that it is the result of learning and that nature teaches us from the repetition of contiguities is to much of a simplification of the issue. For one thing, certain meanings appear to the human being at once, in an immediate spiritual experience. Thus the human being is in accord with his heart, comprehending the divine verses inwardly and outwardly: ayātinā fī al-afāq wa fī anfusihim (Qur’an, 41:53) as soon as he is capable of certain modes of signs, long before reason has been able to establish stable associations and fix them in him (Mulla Sadra 1378/1975b, 160). The mechanical link between sign and thing signified does not constitute a signification for the human being. There is signification only if two conditions are fulfilled. First, this link must be realized in the heart by inspiring a certain authority. Meaning is not primarily something that I rationalize with detachment and abstraction but something that concerns and determines my depth, resonating in my heart and moving me towards the perfect being. The second condition, which underlies the superior spirit of meaning, is that the meaning be grasped immediately in the heart only when I become capable of interrogating signs and seeking their signification. I can decipher signs and comprehend the divine verses only when I have already had the experience of the signified. I am capable of bringing about a higher synthesis of the signified and the signifying only because this synthesis is already given to me and present in my heart. It is, however, a matter of gradual fulfilment, and comes along with the unity of the soul expressed through self-realization that is simultaneously a conscious response to values. But the inclusion of the conscious response to values takes place with a specific empathy to them. Human empathy to values based in the spiritual heart grounds a spontaneous character; in this respect it manifests the same traits as enthusiasm itself towards the perfect being, which always reflects what in the human being takes place in a “spiritual

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way”. Because of this spontaneous empathy to values the heartful potentiality supplies the will with a special kind of raw material— since in any choice, an act of will is always a spiritually defined intellectual response to values (Mulla Sadra discusses the relation between the act of will (‘azm) to enthusiasm in Mulla Sadra 1354/1975a, 8, and 4, 219). This is why human transcendence requires conscious action (Mulla Sadra 1981a Vol. 3, 340, Mulla Sadra 1362-68/1983-89, Vol. 1, 241). Conscious action, in this sense, depends on the functioning of the heart. The free exercise of the will is variously modified by this side of the human soul. These modifications are of great import here. Nevertheless, we first have to consider them as an aspect, or perhaps a dimension, of self-consciousness. Self-consciousness reflects human presence; but, at the same time, it lets the human being have the experience of the self, to have the experience of itself and of its acting. The human heart is somehow engaged in experiencing its depth (Mulla Sadra 1378/1999b, 162). This experience is linked with the reflecting function of consciousness, and hence is also guided by self-presence, whose participation is easily noticeable in a certain shaping of what becomes the content of consciousness and is subsequently experienced. Self-presence constitutes the emblem we have of ourselves in consciousness which is relocated in the operation of the reflexive function of consciousness and which realizes its content. In the acts of self-presence, human soul gains self-consciousness as a whole (Mulla Sadra 1354/1975a, 81). As for comprehending depth, self-presence relies to a great extent on the particular apperceptions and inspirations that occur in the spiritual heart. We know that neither the organism, with all its composite inner structure, nor the particular vegetative processes going on in it can be the object of self-presence or self-consciousness. This is because, according to the philosophy of Illumination, self-presence or self-consciousness reaches only as far into the physical organism and its life as the human soul allows it to reach, since, according to Mulla Sadra, all bodily capabilities belong to the human soul, and the soul employs the body-organs as instruments to fulfil and realize its abilities. This idea is widely accepted in the Persian

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Illuminative school. According to this interpretation, there is a corresponding corporeality in the human soul which is called the imaginal body (al-badan al-mithālī) which undertakes and executes all that we ascribe to the physical body in our ordinary every day life (Mulla Sadra 1981a Vol. 6, 149; Mulla Sadra 1378/1999b, 162). Very often, for instance, owing to disease, which activates the corresponding spiritual apperceptions, a human being becomes aware of one of its organs or of a vegetative process within itself. Significantly, furthermore, Sohravardi has interpreted the integrated psychosomatic powers of the human being as the contents of the world (earthly and celestially), such as oceans, mountains, birds, etc., and conversely interprets the world as a human being (Sohravardi 1977c, 466). Generally, depth becomes the object of experiences first of self-presence and self-consciousness. The experience of depth, at this level, has acts of apperception. Nevertheless, a human being not only feels its depth, but also is aware of it. (Mulla Sadra 1354/1975a, 110). The sphere of heart in the human being has an objective wealth of its own. To some extent (e.g., in the mystical experience) this wealth corresponds to the structure of the human being, as well as of the order of Being. This is in harmony with the amazing traditions narrated in the Islamic heritage, including those that indicate that the human heart is the throne of God. The differentiation of the heart is qualitative, and in this respect it comes in a hierarchical order. The qualitative order of the heart gives substance to the human spiritual life and allow it to become transcendent. It is also worth noting that the heartful life of a human being exerts a remarkable influence in the configuration of its actions. This interesting point is also well recognized in the school of Illumination: in a broad sense, the spiritual heart may in some respects enhance our actions, but in others it has a limiting effect on what is essential in acting, namely, the exercise of the free will. The contribution of the free will in acting is limited to action insofar as it is seen as conscious. Here we are dealt with what may be named the "heartfulization of consciousness," that is to say, the definite affection of the heart on the consciousness of acting (Kāshānī 1380/2001, 637ff.).

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The core point is that the different forms in which the heartful occurrences (al-ṣawānih al-qalbiyyah) appear and transpire in a human being are not only reflected in consciousness, but also influence in their own definite way the icon that is shaped in consciousness of different objects, including, of course, the human self and its actions (Mulla Sadra 1981a Vol. 4, 74). Various feelings of the heart heartfulize consciousness, that is to say, they blend with the functions of consciousness thereby modifying, in one way or another, their character. This is first manifested in the icon shaped in consciousness, which misses its aloofness with regard to the heart and the objects that the heart is emotionally involved in. This aloofness of consciousness is because of self-presence, which to a certain extent possesses the power to objectify the heart and its apperceptions and inspirations. In this way the meaning of the heartful occurrences becomes accessible to consciousness, and thus it can preserve its aloofness from them and from the objects they point to (Jilī 1981). The depth of human being occurs and is constituted in this way, and due to this, the human being can in a way control the heart, while being controlled by that heart. The control of the heart by consciousness has an implication for the inner unity of the human being (Mulla Sadra 1981a Vol. 1, 89; Vol. 4, 190). Obviously, the control consciousness exercises over the heart is not achieved outside the field of the will and without its cooperation. Thus, thanks to this control, we can shape human values insofar as consciousness and the will are concerned. (see: Jāmī 1360/1981, 108 ff.). The heartfulization of consciousness starts when the icon of the meanings of the particular heartful occurrences and of the relevant objects lighten in consciousness. This is virtually equivalent to a collapse of self-presence; for consciousness, without stopping to reflect the heartful distances just as they come, loses its controlling approach toward them. The objective approach of consciousness toward the heart and its feelings disintegrates when self-presence ceases to objectivize. It does not constitute meanings and so does not hold the heartful occurrences in spiritual subjection. This is basically because of the strength or intensity of heartful occurrences,

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their changeability, and the speediness with which they may follow. Considering also the higher or lower effectiveness of self-presence, the heart has to conform with the laws of effectiveness, so that its ability to cope with its proper goal may vary. Feelings come in the heart as if in waves. But every human being has, as an objective spiritual component, an especially heartful enthusiasm, which expresses itself in the intensity of particular feelings. The role of selfpresence in this regard is crucial, and that is why its effectiveness is so important. This performance entails that the heart be at a certain level of intensity. At first, the heart still reflects the higher feelings as something that happens in it, but when their intensity is further enhanced or self-presence becomes for the time less effective, the heart still reflects the feelings as something inspired, although now it is as though they had lost their relation to the individual self. The depth of the heart, in this state, stays at the background while the feelings seem uprooted. Nevertheless, when this process gains ascendancy, the heart enhances directly the actual inspirations, while it still continues to reflect feelings of a hyper level; but now their reflection is devoid of the element of objectivation or comprehension. At this level, which the human soul will be illuminated with glancing at, listening to and witnessing the celestial facts, the human being is then aware, but it does not willingly control its heart which is full of enthusiasm (al-shawq) and love (al-ḥubb/ al-‘ishq) (Suhravardi 1977c, 286-88).

5. Final Considerations As final considerations, I intend here to mention only some remarks concerning this later fact, inasmuch as it assists the constitution and integration of the human soul in its ascent to its spiritual status. In this Illuminative perspective, enthusiasm draws a unified image of love. The heart as the vital motor for raising the human soul up to its real status in the order of being benefits from an enthusiastic movement (al-harakat al-shawqiyyah) from within itself (Mulla

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Sadra 1362-68/1983-89, Vol.1, 45, Mulla Sadra 1981a Vol. 1, 237). This enthusiastic movement which may be seen as running between the heart and the perfect being, leads to a holy and hyper-spiritual status which is called love (Mulla Sadra 1354/1975a, 152; Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol. 3, 177; 188). Apparently the function performed by love is based on the heartful occurrences which come along with the ontological dialectic between the heartful love raised within the human soul and the reactive love of the divine who pulls up the soul towards Himself. In spite of the distinctive difference between these loves, they are closely interrelated and condition each other. All that fulfils and constitutes the spiritual transcendence of the human being—its attitude toward truth, good, and beauty with the accompanying faculty of self-realization—stimulates a very deep heartful reverberation in human being. The reverberation—its quality and intensity—is thoroughly individual and in its own way also fulfils the quality and intensity of transcendence, or at any rate provides a special basis for transcendence in human being (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol. 3, 188). This begins effectively at the point where substantial movement is accomplished and where simultaneously enthusiasm comes closest to the divine response to the human heart. Enthusiasm, which ends in true love, is strictly connected with the operation of the divine stimuli (Mulla Sadra 1362/1983a, 135). The human reactivity consists in the ability to react to the divine stimuli. Alongside this ability and very close to it there seems to be another one, namely, the ability to love. This ability also consists in the reception of the divine stimuli whose effect is spiritual and is expressed and manifested in the human heart. It is conditioned by and transcends through the divine reaction. (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol. 3, 173, 174). This ontological enthusiastic process concerns the depth of the human heart, and lets the human being emerge from and above what may be called the “subjectivity of the depth.” While such “subjectivity” is in itself closely related to the divine reactivity and to a large extent remains unrecorded in consciousness, the spiritual subjectivity, which emerges together with enthusiasm in the heart, is already included in the consciousness of the human presence. For

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enthusiasm as such constitutes a cognitive element of the human presence, which thus becomes accessible to self-consciousness; because of enthusiasm, the depth becomes an objective content of consciousness and is reflected in it (Mulla Sadra 1981a, Vol. 3, 342). The relation of enthusiasm to consciousness is of fundamental significance for love. First, enthusiasm plays a decisive role in enabling human being to have an experience of its depth. In this experience enthusiasm is included in consciousness and combines with it to form a single common basis of experience, though enthusiasm differs from subjective awareness. The whole inner love of the depth remains, however, beyond the reach of consciousness, although in being conscious of the depth, human being also has a kind of general awareness of its inwardness and its inner love (Naraqi 1382/2003, chapters on shawq and ḥubb). Enthusiasm is a necessary condition for experiencing love. In this experience, depth and love are bound together by enthusiasm, which is the most elementary manifestation of the human heart as well as the nearest reflection in it of what is spiritual in human being. This experience we have of our own depth allows us to establish an objective contact with it and at the same time reveals the spiritual subjectivity unified with the entire faculties of the human soul. Does not this enthusiastic experience "happen" within the heart and does not this "happening" reveal love? The human soul has no mobility of its own by which to ascend to its real status; it is this enthusiastic experience that subordinates the human soul to the perfect being. It is this enthusiastic experience that is the condition of self-realization and thus also of ascendance and transcendence; it is the condition of the realization of the human soul and allows it as much insight into spirituality as it needs for self-transcendence. In the same way, the human soul reaches its real place in the order of being, to an ontocognitive status that the Persian Illuminative poet, Hātif Isfahānī describes in his famous tarjī’band:

Open the eye of the heart that thou mayst behold Being, that thou mayst see that which is not to be seen... Thou seekest a candle whilst the sun is on high:

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the day is very bright whilst thou art in darkest night. If thou wilt but escape from thy darkness thou shalt behold all the universe the dawning-place of lights. Like a blind man thou seekest guide and staff for this clear and level road.

References Āmulī Haydar (1368/1989a) Jam‘ al-Asrār, ed. H. Corbin and O. Yahya, Tehran: Nashr Elmi Farhangi. Āmulī Haydar (1368/1989b) Asrār al-Sharī‘ah, Tehran: Entesharat Elmi Farhangi. Corbin, Henry (1977) Spiritual Body and Celestial Earth, tr. N. Pearson, Princeton: Princeton University Press. Ibn Arabi (1946) Fuṣūṣ al-Ḥikām, ed. A. Afifi, Beirut: Dār al-kutub al-‘Arabī. Ibn ‘Arabi (1293/1876) al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyya, Cairo: Bulaq. Ibn Sina (1375/1996) Al-Shifā’, Kitāb al-Nafs (Book of the Soul) Qom: Marakaz al-I‘lām al-Islāmī. Jāmī, Abdorrahman (1360/1981) Lavāmī’ va Lavāyeh, ed. I. Afshar, Tehran: Manuchehri. Jilī, ‘Abdulkarīm (1981) al-Insān al-Kāmil, Cairo: Maktaba al-Bābī wa al-Alavī. Kāshānī, Abdurrazzāq (1380/2001) Majmu‘ah Rasā’il wa Muṣannafāt, ed. M. Hadizadeh, Tehran: Mirath Maktub. Khatami M. (1385/2006) “A‘yān thābitah nazd-e Ibn ‘Arabi”, in Jashnnāmeh Doktor Jahāngīrī, Tehran: Hermes. Khārazmī, Ḥusayn (1380/2001) Sharḥ-e Fuṣūṣ, ed. H. Ḥasanzādeh Āmulī, Qom: Daftar-e Tablīghāt. Majlisī, Muḥamamd Bāqir (1362/1983) Biḥār al-Anwār, Vols. 58, 65 and 101, Tehran: Dār al-Kutūb. Miṣbāḥ Yazdi, Mohamamd Taqi (1380/2001) Sharh-e Jeld-e Hashtom-e Al-Asfār al-‘Arba'ah, Vol. 2 Qom: The Imam Khomeini Education and Research Institute Press.

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Mulla Sadra (1386/2007) Iqāẓ al-Nā’mīn, ed. M. Khwansari, Tehran: Bonyad Hikmat Sadra. Mulla Sadra (2001a) “Ittiḥād al-‘Āqil bi al-Ma‘qūl”, in al-Rasa’il, Beirut: Dar al-Ihya. Mulla Sadra (2001b) Sharḥ al-Hidayah, ed. M. Foladkar, Beirut: Dar al-Ihyā. Mulla Sadra (2001c) al-Arshiyyah, ed. M.K. al-Laboun Foladkar, Bayrut: Mu’assassah al-Tārīkh. Mulla Sadra (1378/1999a) Risālah fī al-Ḥudūth, ed. H. Musaviyan, Tehran: Bunyad Hikmat Mulla Sadra. Mulla Sadra, (1378/1999b) al-Maẓāhir al-Illāhiyyah, ed. M. Khamenehi, Tehran: Bonyad Hekmat Sadra. Mulla Sadra (1368/1989) Mafātih al-Ghayb, ed. M. Khajavi, Tehran: Mu’assasah-yei Mutali‘āt va Tahqīqāt-e Farhangī. Mula Sadra (1362/1983a) Ajwibāt al-Masa’il, ed. J. Ashtiyani, Tehran:. Mulla Sadra (1362/1983b) al-Masa’il al-Qudsiyyah, ed. J. Ashtiyani, Tehran: Daftar-e Tablīghāt. Mulla Sadra (1362-68/1983-89) Tafsīr al-Qur’ān, ed. M. Khajavi, Qom: Entesharat Bidar. Mulla Sadra (1981a) Asfār, Beirut: Dār al-Ihyā’ al-Turāth al-‘Arabī. Mulla Sadra (1981b) Muqaddimāt al-Shawāhid al-Rubūbiyyah, fī alManāhij al-Sulūlkiyyah, with the comments of Sabzavari, Mashhad: Markaz al-Nashr al-Jāmi‘ī. Mulla Sadra (1360/1981c) al-Asrār al-Āyāt, ed. M. Kajavi, Tehran: Anjoman Falsafeh Mulla Sadra (1358/1979) al-Wāridāt al-Qalbiyyah, ed. A. Shafi‘iha, Tehran: Mu’assasah-yi Mutali‘at va Tahqiqat-i Farhangi Mulla Sadra (1354/1975a) al-Mabda’ wa al-Ma’ād, ed. J. Ashtiyani, Tehran: Anjoman Falsafeh. Mulla Sadra (1354/1975b) Risāleh Seh Aṣl, ed. H. Nasr, Tehran. Mulla Sadra (1346/1967) al-Shawāhid al-Rubūbiyyah, ed. J. Ashtiyani, Mahdad: University of Mashhad Press. Mulla Sadra (1962) Kasr al-Asnām al-Jahiliyyat, ed. M. T. Daneshpajoh, Tehran: University of Tehran Press.

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Mutahhari, M. (1369/1990) Ḥarakat wa Zamān, Vol. 2, Tehran: Hikmat. Mutahhari, M. (1366/1987) Maqālāt-e Falsafī, Vol. 1. Tehran: Hikmat. Naraqi, Mahdi (1382/2003) Mustanad al-Shi’at, Qum: Āl al-bayt, vol. 2. Rāzī, Najm al-Dīn, (1365/1986) Mirsād al-‘Ibād, ed. A. Riyahi, Tehran: Entesharat Elmi Farhangi. Shomali, M. A. (2007) “Psychic Substance: A Meeting Point between Metaphysics & Spirituality” in Substance and Attributes: Western and Islamic Traditions in Dialogue, ed. C. Kanzian and M. Legenhausen, Frankfurt: Ontos. Sohravardi, Shihāb al-Dīn (1976) Majmū‘ah Muṣannafāt Shaykh Ishraq, Vol. 1, ed., H. Corbin, Tehran: Anjuman-e Falsafeh. Sohravardi, Shihāb al-Dīn (1977a) Hikmat al-Ishraq in Majmū‘ah Muṣannafāt Shaykh Ishraq, Vol. 2, ed., H. Corbin, Tehran: Anjuman-e Falsafeh. Sohravardi, Shihāb al-Dīn (1977b) Qiṣṣah al-Ghurbah al-Gharbiyyah in Majmū‘ah Muṣannafāt Shaykh Ishraq, Vol. 2, ed., H. Corbin, Tehran: Anjuman-e Falsafeh. Sohravardi, Shihāb al-Dīn (1977c) Muṣannafāt Shaykh Ishraq, Vol. 3, ed., S. H. Nasr, Tehran: Anjuman-e Falsafeh.

The Soul, Disposition or Substance? Hans Kraml, Innsbruck “The soul is the first activation of the potentiality for life that is in organic physical—or natural—bodies.” With this formulation Aristotle in his book “On the soul” (2, c. 1 (412a27-28)) had handed a heavy load over to his successors. It contains the essence of Aristotle’s ontology, and it has to do with the problem of dispositions and their activation or actualization. This problem of dispositions became famous in Western philosophy of science, because it haunted the empiricist philosophers of the Vienna-Circle and many of their followers to the present day (Carnap 1987). The problem for philosophers of empiricist outlook is that dispositional terms are ubiquitous in scientific theories, but dispositions are not immediately observable and are not reducible to cases that may be described with observational terms without assumptions that transcend the field of empirical statements. Nevertheless, dispositional terms are common to our scientific as well as everyday life. The properties of elements and molecules and their compounds in chemistry are dispositions as well as the most elementary aspects of our meals, tools, and other objects. Dispositions are transformed into events or properties, if the objects that bear these dispositions are brought into suitable circumstances. Sugar dissolves, if put into water; a copper-wire conduces electricity, if connected to a source of electricity; a smell or sound is registrated, if there is a nose or an ear to take notice of it. For Aristotle, there are sorts of dispositions that become actual events or properties only if there is a soul to set them into action. There are different dispositions that become actual only if the soul has ceased to exert its activity. For a plant to grow is the result of the activity of its soul; the decay of the plant, although a natural process, is due to the absence of the soul. Is this explanation of the relevant cases and processes at all worth while?

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First of all, it is a statement of the relevant facts, not an explanation. To sum up: the soul is stated to be the act of certain kinds of dispositions that exist in certain kinds of physical bodies, namely organic bodies. Again, what an organic body is can only be described by recourse to certain dispositions. The soul is that which provides for the existence of the dispositions in a body and which enacts the dispositions under suitable circumstances. This makes it difficult to assess the precise role of the soul. It is the actualization of the possibilities of organic bodies, its matter, to which these dispositions belong as cases of possibilities, and in this sense matter. But as such it is able to put the possibilities in action at will as it seems, at least some of the possibilities. Thoughts, for example, and reasoning can be started in the soul voluntarily as well as by outer events. Perception is different, it is caused by the object to be perceived, although it is again the soul that actualizes the disposition required for perception. Perception, whenever it occurs, is a singular event in which the potentiality of the soul is actualized completely. So, if my eyes are directed to a white wall, my potency to have the impression of white is actualized, whereas other different possibilities are not actualized. But when the wall turns green, my ability to see green is actualized. This is a particular case, and every time I perceive an object, the potentialities of my senses are actualized individually. In this case, the perception and that which is perceived are at any moment of perception identical. My perception of green consists in the green I perceive and vice versa. This is perhaps clearer in the case of the other senses. The sound I hear is the perception of the sound itself, the smell I scent is my perception of the smell, and so on, and in all these cases, the perception is the thing perceived, as the smell perceived is the smell itself. There is no further possibility of talk about a representation of the smell perceived, although such a possibility is often taken for granted in the case of vision while the other senses are notoriously disregarded by philosophers. This is an important point, because it should help us to understand some of the crucial remarks on the intellect and the discussion of these remarks in the theories based on Aristotle’s investigations.

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A second point of importance is that in the case of perception the potentiality of the soul is in each case totally actualized. There is no possibility left, which means that there is no perception of the perception. This again constitutes an important difference from the case of the intellect. This intellect is, according to Aristotle, clearly the highest function of the rational soul, or of the rational part of the soul. Nevertheless, for its proper functioning it needs the lower parts of the soul or the lower souls. Aristotle never decides on the question whether there are different souls in rational beings or different parts in their souls, at least in his books “On the soul”. The intellect is the actualization of the soul’s disposition or potentiality to grasp universality and generality. Although the soul is the act of the organic body, it is able to play in case of rational beings, like humans, the role of matter for the universal forms that actualize the things in the universe. These forms, on the one hand, actualize their proper matter, thus making real the different entities in the whole universe, but on the other hand, these same forms are able to actualize the possibility of the intellect to adopt such forms in itself. This so called potential intellect (intellectus in potentia, dynamei nous, ‘aql bil-quwwa) is the matter for the forms to be received in the intellect. If a form is thus received in the intellect, the intellect is actualized (intellectus in actu, energeia nous, ‘aql bil-fi‘l). So far the situation is intentionally construed parallel to the case of the perception. But there are at least two additional aspects to be taken into account. The first point is that the intellect, although it is to some extent passive, is nevertheless impassible, although in a different respect it not only passively receives the forms but actively applies those forms. The intellect therefore is able to become everything and to produce everything (430a14-15). It receives the forms of the things from outside, and receiving them it produces these forms as forms in the intellect. Having produced these forms it is able to use the forms in order to build sentences and theories and to draw conclusions from them. Whereas the perceptions disappear if the object perceived is removed, the forms impressed on the intellect can remain and be revoked at any time, independently of the presence of

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an object. In order to achieve this performance, the intellect uses the imaginative power, which depends on perception, but is a result of interaction with memory. But this is a ramification that will not concern me further. When confronted with things outside the mind with their own matter and form, the intellect is moved from potentiality to actuality, thus producing the forms of the things in the way in which they can appear and exist in the intellect. In interpreting the Aristotelian text one may get the impression that the forms that are finally the possession of the active intellect must somehow have been collected or acquired by the intellect. This, it seems to me, was the reason Alexander of Aphrodisias postulated the “acquired intellect” as something like the basis of the active intellect (see Théry 1926). Aristotle does not mention anything of that kind in the treatise on the soul, but he spoke of an aspect of the intellect that comes to the soul “from outside”— thyrathen—in his work “On the generation of the animals” (II, 3. (736b27-28)). This point is important for Alexander, but it was interpreted quite differently, as far as I can see, by Farabi for instance (Farabi 1938, p. 20, n. 24, and p. 22-23, nn. 29 and 30). It seems that Alexander interpreted Aristotle in the sense that the ability of human beings to abstract the forms of the things and to handle them in discourse and argument, depends on the fact that an independent aspect of intellect is brought into the human soul that does not belong to the capacities of the soul itself, but to those of an intellect outside the human mind that governs the universe and gives forms to the things that exist in matter. There is constantly a tension between the question of the activity of the human intellect in itself or the activity of an intellect outside the human intellect that acts upon that intellect and causes it to recognize the real forms of the things outside the mind. The acquired intellect of Alexander seems to be an intellect that enters the soul from outside and that is an intellect or part of an intellect that has its proper existence outside the mind elsewhere in the cosmos. But in the case of Farabi this outside intellect obviously is the agent intellect which is the intellect of the lunar sphere and the “dator formarum” for the things in the sublunar world as well as for

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the human intellect. The acquired intellect in this case is the intellect after having collected the forms of the things in the potential intellect through its actualiziation by the forms of the things that impress themselves on the possible intellect by the aide of the active intellect that makes the forms of the things outside the mind intelligible. In Farabi’s theory, the acquired intellect is the form of the soul in its lower functions (Farabi 1938, p. 23, n. 30), and it is the task of this intellect to get as close as possible to the agent intellect. For both Alexander as well as Farabi, it is clear that the intellect has to do with something that goes beyond the human ability to find out general and universal aspects in the singular occurrences and things that are accessible to the senses. For both, this has to do with the activity of a universal intellect present in the whole cosmos, which is a result of the abundance in the first and divine unity. Why then is it generally accepted that Alexander has a materialist account of soul and intellect? I don’t think this is a problem that should concern us at the moment, but it is clear that he identified the active intellect with God and that he was convinced of the mortality of the human soul. The active intellect in this interpretation, as the principle of the actualization of the potential forms in the passive intellect, is identified with God, who of course is immortal, but whose activity does not imply the immortality of an individual soul. Although this is generally accepted as Alexander’s position—and this very position was proposed by Renaissance philosophers like Pietro Pomponazzi and Cesare Cremonini who declared themselves as followers of Alexander—it is far less clear what this position meant. If the soul is the form of the body as the principle of the actuality of its organic dispositions, it disappears, of course, with the end of the possible activity of the dispositions of the body. The dissolution of matter could be taken to be the result of the end of its form. But this can be looked at in at least two different ways. First, one could assume that there is a general corruption of the whole substance as a process of the destruction of its form and matter together. But one could also assume that it is the form that is withdrawn from the matter, leading to its immediate decay into a sort of matter that in

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turn acquires other forms. If an animal dies, it looses its form as an animal of this or that kind, but it does not turn into pure matter, but only into a corpse, which still is formed matter, and as long as there remains anything, it is always matter and form or formed matter or materialized form that remains. What about the form that is lost? Does it disappear or is it just withdrawn from the original substance because the destruction of form is ultimately as inconceivable as the destruction of matter? If matter acquires a different form, the original substance is destroyed, but not the matter itself. If a substance loses its form, the substance may be destroyed in so far as it is that substance, but the form as such, like matter, probably cannot be destroyed because destruction means the separation of substance and form. In this sense the soul cannot be mortal, although it probably cannot be immortal either, just because it is not living and therefore not a possible candidate for the predication of “life” or “death”. If the soul is the act of a potentially living body, it is not living itself in the same sense, because in this case it would need in its turn a soul to be the act of its life, and it would need something that serves as matter for this case. This comes close to or effectively leads to a useless regress that might as well be cut off from the beginning. But if we cut it off, we have to look for an alternative account. If the soul belongs to those things for which it doesn’t make sense to apply terms of life and death, which kind of entity is it? Life and death do not apply to stones and energy waves either. Seriously speaking, the terms do not apply to things that are just subjects in stories invented by us. And they do not apply to abstract entities, such as numbers, concepts, theories and so on. Matter and form are abstract entities if we consider them in distinction to that of which they are matter or form. If the soul is the form of a body, is it an abstract entity in this sense? It then would not be mortal, but it would not be immortal either. Abstract entities are neither mortal nor immortal, just as they are neither living nor dead. It is just of no use to apply terms of that kind to them. According to Farabi, there is a different situation in the case of the soul. As the soul is not only the act of life in a potentially living organic natural body, but also the act of perception and understand-

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ding in a potentially sensitive or intellectual being, it is in itself thought to consist of matter and form. The different levels of intellect in the soul are clearly taken to be different relations of matter and form within that soul, where the acquired intellect is the matter for the active intellect, whereas the acquired intellect is form for the intellect in act, which in turn is the form for the potential intellect (Farabi 1938, p. 23-24, nn. 30-31). The potential intellect is material by definition, but it is obvious that this potential intellect is the form for the perceptive and imaginative dispositions of the sensitive soul. Therefore, the soul in itself is probably the act of the potentially living organic natural body, but it nevertheless falls under the definition of a substance. Ibn Sina, who knows Alexander’s position, arrives at a totally different conclusion, using in part the same premises, but also the reflections of Farabi. Although he admits his indebtedness to Farabi, he of course develops a lot of ideas of his own. This is especially so with the famous argument of the human being that is created in the air, which in my view gained the greatest importance in Western philosophy. If one might hesitate whether Farabi conceives of the soul as a substance of its own or just a form of a very special character, it is clear that Ibn Sina can be interpreted as making a sharp distinction between two kinds of substances, corporeal and intellectual. The distinction is based on two alleged facts, namely the utter difference between predicates used for properties of the body and those used for mental or intellectual activities and properties, and the fact that a human being would be aware of her or his mental and intellectual activities even if she or he had no access to any corporeal relations. A human being, created in the air without any contact with anything corporeal would nevertheless be aware of its being there and of its thoughts (Avicenna 1972, part 1, c. 1, p. 36-p. 37). This is a result of the other great difference between perception and intellect. Whereas perception consists in the actualization of its entire possibility, as pointed out above, the intellect’s possibility is never completely absorbed. If the intellect acquires a universal form, its potency for that form is actualized and the form exists in a new way in the intellect, different from the way in which it exists in its

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proper matter, but nevertheless as the same form. But as the potentiality of the intellect is not transformed into actuality in its entirety, but only for that specific form, there remains potency in the intellect that can be actualized by the intelligible form as it is in the intellect. In this way the intellect has insight into that which it grasps intellectually, and as this is identical with the intellect, the intellect intellectually grasps itself. This is the basis for the reflective self-awareness of the intellect and of the intellect’s awareness of other states of the soul. In this sense, the intellect is finally self-contained. Ibn Sina uses this example as a refutation of scepticism, as it is used by Descartes much later, but it is used in the same sense in the middle ages in Europe, for example by John Duns Scotus. The main point in these theories is the autonomy of the mental sphere in general. The arguments for the separation between the corporeal and the mental sphere are used even today in works on the philosophy of mind in Analytical Philosophy (for example by Chalmers). But the character of the different predicates makes clear that the situation is difficult. Predicates characterizing states and properties of bodies play their role in contexts of the use of material objects and the cooperation of human beings in the external world, whereas typically mental predicates have to do with the field of the coordination of activities, with communication and dispositions that are relevant for mutual understanding. Is this difference usefully and suitably described by postulating two different spheres of entities, two very different kinds of substances? In the course of the discussion of the problem of the soul and the intellect—two spheres of problems that are never separated and that probably should not really be separated, even if they should be kept distinct—it was Ibn Rushd for the Western world who insisted on a reading of Aristotle that concentrated on the Aristotelian writings alone without bringing in the different interpretations with their eventually rather apologetic tendencies. In the course of his interpretations of Aristotle’s “On the Soul” he realized that there were several interpretations possible, but these interpretations were not altogether in favour of certain religiously motivated ideas. If the in-

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tellect grasps that which is universal in all the individual things with which a being that is able to take notice of its surroundings and to get knowledge of its world is confronted, then this intellect grasps that which is universal generally. If this intellect according to Aristotle is identical with that which it grasps, if the intellect is that which is intellectually cognized, and if this is universal, then the intellect itself is universal. And this is the possible intellect. The result of Averroes’ reading of Aristotle was that the intellect is not that which individualizes human beings or whatever beings at all. Therefore the immortality of the intellect has nothing to do with the immortality of the soul, and if that immortality depends on the universality of the intellect, then it is not an immortality of the individual soul (Averroes 1562, lib. 3, text. 5, 149 va F). In fact, if the soul according to Aristotle is the act of a potentially living body, it could not be a substance, because it constitutes a substance. One would have to plead for a special sort of substance, for example human beings, the form of which could in itself be a substance, constituted of matter and form. Both options, the soul as a substance and the soul as mere form, were taken into account in the course of history, and there are two different stances, one systematic, the other interpretative of Aristotle’s theory. The problem is not easy to be settle—if it can be settled at all, because its solution would need the clarification of the different premises and presuppositions behind the problem. I myself am presently trying to stay with the idea of the soul as the form of any being that can be considered as having a soul. This would be a dispositional interpretation of the soul’s capacities and an actualizing interpretation of the soul’s proper function. That means that it is the whole substance that is acting in growth, perception and intellectual cognition, and such a substance is for instance every human being. Anything like the immortality of the act of such a being is not really understandable. How about the religious theme behind that? To put it again with Ibn Rushd: The religious question is that of the resurrection of the human being (Ibn Ruschd 1875, 118). Whether there is something like an immortal soul or not, and what the term “soul” means, is a philosophical question that is to be tackled with

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philosophical means alone. The assumption of an immortal soul in the Neoplatonic sense is not essential to any religious belief, on the contrary, rather. The viability of such an approach is open to question, at any rate.

References Farabi (1938) Risalat fi’l-‛aql. Texte arabe intégral, établi par Maurice Bouyges, S.J., Beyrouth: Imprimerie catholique. Averroes (1562) In Aristotelis “De anima”, Venetiis: Apud Iunctas. Avicenna (1972) Liber de anima seu Sextus de Naturalibus, ed. S. van Riet, Bd. 1, Löwen-Leiden: Brill. Carnap, R. (1978) “Dispositions and Definitions”, in R. Tuomela (ed.) Dispositions (Synthese Library Vol. 113), Dordrecht: Reidel, 3-16. Ibn Ruschd (1875) Kitab al-Kaschf, ed. Marcus J. Müller, München: G. Franz. Théry, G. (1926) “Texte du De intellectu et intellecto”, in Autour du Décret de 1210: II. Alexandre d’Aphrodise. Aperçu sur l’influence de sa noétique, Kain: Le Saulchoir, 74-82.

A Muslim’s Spirit Muhammad Legenhausen, Qom OH HOW colorless and formless I am! When will I ever see the am that I am?

The Soul, Dispositi Where is up or forthon or within this middle Substanc that I am? When will my soul be still? It movese? when motionless,

You said: The secrets that you know, bring forth, put out, talk up!

the animal I am. My sea has drowned within itself; what a strange and shoreless sea I am! Not in this world not in the next should you seek me out; both this and that have vanished in the world I am. Like non-existence nothing profits me and nothing harms— What a wondrous useless-harmless thing I am! I said Friend, you are just like me! (Rumi, Dīvān-e Shams, Ghazal 1759, translated by Lewis 2008, 159)

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1. Introduction A topic that has gathered attention in recent years among philosophers of religion in the West is that of the nature of the soul. Of course, the topic itself is anything but new, and even a visit of Western philosophers to Iran where the nature of the soul would be discussed is said to have taken place some time during the sixth century during the reign of the Sassanid king, Khosroe I. The visit is said to have taken place after Justinian closed the Academy in 529 (reported in Agathias 1975 II:29-31). There is currently a debate about whether Christian beliefs about the immortality of the soul and the rewards and punishments of the afterlife require the Cartesian substance dualism with which these doctrines have come to be associated. Opponents of dualism have argued that the Aristotelian hylomorphic account of substances and his theory of the soul as entelechy were accepted by Christian theologians and philosophers before Descartes, and do not require dualism (see Runggaldier 2006). Christian materialists have argued that versions of the hylomorphic account are compatible with materialism. Defenders of dualism have argued that versions of dualism can be formulated that avoid the objectionable features of Cartesian dualism. (See Zimmerman’s defense of “emergent dualism” in Peterson and VanArragon 2004, 315-326.) In Islamic philosophy, it is possible to find positions that are very similar to those that have been proposed by Christian philosophers. There are Muslim defenders of materialistic theories, as well as dualists. There are those who consider the soul to be an entelechy, and those who consider it to be an immaterial substance that is temporarily attached to the body. Of course, this is not to say that the theories in Christian and Islamic philosophy correspond exactly. There are subtle differences that would repay comparative study, but the main lines of argument are roughly similar. There are exceptions to this rough correspondence, the most important of which is the theory of the soul elaborated by Mulla Sadra. In what follows, I will attempt to outline the main structural fea-

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tures of Mulla Sadra’s theory of the soul after surveying the theological and philosophical background.

2. Theological Constraints on a Theory of the Soul Every language has its own terms that are used to describe the self. In English we have: self, soul, spirit, mind, and sometimes borrowed from the Greek, psychē. In Qur’ānic Arabic there are nafs and rūḥ. The terms nafs, spirit and psychē seem related by the pneumatic imagery in their etymologies. The breath is nafas. In this respect, however, nafs and rūḥ are also rather close. There is pneumatic imagery in the etymologies of both. Rūḥ means spirit and rīḥ means wind. Usually, nafs is translated as soul or self while rūḥ is reserved for spirit. However, I will use “spirit” for the eternal element of the human that is subject to reward and punishment because of the similar etymological association of both with breathing. This element is sometimes called rūḥ in Islamic texts, although in the Qur’ān, rūḥ is used for the spirit of God, for the Holy Spirit (rūḥ al-qudūs), and for other divinely sent spirits, and never for the spirit of an individual human being. The breath provides a link between the soul of man and God’s spirit, because it is through the breathing of the spirit of God into clay that the human being is created. When your

Lord said to the angels, ‘Indeed I am about to create a human being out of clay.| So when I have proportioned him and breathed into him of My spirit, then fall down in prostration before him.’ (38:7172) (Also see Qur’ān (15:29).) Although rūḥ is not used for the human spirit in the Qur’ān, this usage is found in narrations in abundance. One can also find it in early theological works, for example, in Shaykh Ṣadūq’s creed of the 4th/10th century, we find: Our belief regarding souls (nafs, pl. nufūs) is that they are the spirit (rūḥ, pl. arwāḥ) by which life (ḥayāt) is maintained, and they were the first of created things (Shaykh Ṣadūq 1982, 45-46).

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Shaykh Ṣadūq continues that the souls were created to be lasting (baqā’) and not for perishing (fanā’). He narrates from the Prophet (ṣ) that you were created to last and not for perishing, and that the souls are imprisoned in their bodies. After their separation from their bodies, they survive and receive divine rewards or punishments. However, the hadith cited by Shaykh Ṣadūq is not strongly authenticated, and some have argued that since in the Qur’ān it is written Everyone on it [the earth] is perishing, yet lasting is the face of your Lord (55:26-27), the souls should be understood as perishing and not as eternal (Shaykh Ṣadūq 1982, 46, 130). Others held that “perishing” can be interpreted as losing corporeal existence, that the verse attributes “perishing” only to things on the earth, and hence not immaterial souls, and there were numerous other interpretations about how to understand mortality, the soul, and the “face” of God (which, according to some narrations, indicated the members of the family of the Prophet (ṣ), the Ahl al-Bayt) (see Kāshānī 1982, Vol. 5, 110). Some of the early Shi‘ah held that the human soul was an atom of an ethereal substance or a subtle body that existed from preeternity and that it cannot be destroyed; and there are even indications that some believed in reincarnation and metempsychosis, although such beliefs were later rejected by such scholars as Shaykh Mufīd (d. 413/1022) whose condemnation came to be accepted by the majority. According to Shaykh Mufīd, man is not a material composite, but is essentially a soul that is brought into existence by God concurrently with its body. The soul is a living simple substance in which there is no movement or rest, composition, bulk or extension (McDermott 1986, 223). Mufīd is careful to distinguish the life of the soul from corporeal life and defines the living as that which is knowing and able. Mufīd also takes care to make explicit that the soul is dependent on God for its existence at every moment, even though it continues eternally. In his elaboration of his theory, Mufīd opposed the material theories of the soul that were current among the Mu‘tazilites and some of the other Shi‘ah.

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While Mufīd may have been successful in refuting reincarnation, other than that, he was not able to establish a universally accepted Shi‘ite orthodox position on the subject. By the time of Mufīd, however, the main problems that any theory of the soul would have to confront were recognized. The most import of these problems were also the focus of attention of Christian theologians: 1. the soul is post-eternally immortal; 2. the soul is subject to punishment and reward in an afterlife; 3. there is a general bodily resurrection. In addition to these common issues, there are also some features of the discussions of the soul among Muslims that differ from those of Christendom. First, the afterlife is described in the Qur’ān and hadiths much more graphically and sensually than it is in Christian sources; however, this is not generally understood as having any specific theological or philosophical consequences, and is usually explained in terms of the limited ability of the masses of believers for abstract thinking. Second, and more importantly, there is reference in the Qur’ān to a kind of individual existence prior to birth: When

your Lord took from the Children of Adam, from their loins, their descendants and made them bear witness over themselves, ‘Am I not your Lord?’ They said, ‘Yes, indeed! We bear witness.’ lest you should say on the Day of Resurrection, ‘Indeed, we were unaware of this,’ (7:172). There are also numerous narrations, especially in the Shi‘ite collections, about the pre-existence of the Prophet and Imams. Perhaps the most commonly cited of these is the following saying attributed to the Prophet Muḥammad (ṣ): “I was a prophet when Adam was between water and clay” (Kāshānī 2007, 77, citing Biḥār al-Anwār, Vol. 61, 232). These allusions to a pre-corporeal existence have been subject to much controversy. Some take the texts to be presenting parables, while others take them quite literally. In any case, anyone who wants to present a theory of the soul in Islamic theology must take the issue of pre-corporeal existence into consideration.

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There are other issues relevant to the soul, as well, on which Muslims have views that differ from Christians, such as the Return (raj‘ah)—according to which the best and the worst of men will be raised from the dead before the general resurrection for a final battle—but these differences do not pose any particular philosophical problems that do not otherwise arise.

3. Philosophical Issues Pertaining to the Soul The history of Islamic philosophy of the soul is extremely complicated. In addition to the works of Aristotle and his commentators, the Muslim philosophers made extensive use of the neo-Platonic tradition. As a result, souls were generally seen as entelechies, as in Aristotle, and were analyzed into vegetable, animal and rational aspects, according to the type of perfection under consideration. The organism has the perfection of nutrition and growth because of the vegetable soul; it senses and moves because of the animal soul; and it knows universals and acts through the exercise of the will due to the rational soul. The vegetable, animal and rational souls constitute a hierarchy in which each higher soul includes those below it. Hence, the human soul is the rational soul, which also includes the vegetable and animal souls. However, with respect to human beings, the term “soul” (nafs) is sometimes used inclusively for the rational, animal and vegetable soul, and sometimes specifically for the rational soul to the exclusion of the principles of the other, lesser, perfections (see Inati 1998). Following John Philoponus and Alexander Aphrodisias, (according to Ivry 2008), the intellect was divided into practical and theoretical, and the theoretical was divided into potential (hylic or material), habitual, actual, and acquired intellects, associated with the successively advanced cognitive functions. With the perfection of the acquired intellect comes a union or unification (ittiṣāl or ittiḥād, for Ibn Sīnā and Mulla Sadra, respectively) with the Active Intellect, which is understood as the final emanation from God that governs the sublunary sphere. In this way, Islamic psychology of the soul

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was connected to cosmology and doctrines concerning the celestial spheres. (For a sustained defense of the linkage between Islamic cosmology and the science of the soul, see Chittick 2007.) All of this is very far from the perspective of contemporary philosophy. The philosophy of mind, as it came to be called in the 20th century, begins with Cartesian dualism: extended or material substance is contrasted with non-extended mental substance. It is in terms of this contrast that the mind-body problem is formulated. The positions that can be taken include reductive and eliminative materialism, type and token identity theories, and various forms of functionalism and supervenience theories, in addition to various formulations of dualism. If we try to find a place for the likes of Mulla Sadra among these alternatives, we will be frustrated. This sort of frustration can also be found among scholars who have sought to classify Aristotle as a materialist, only to find his statements about the immateriality of the intellect (nous) awkward (see Hartman 1977, 266-269). It may be better to insist that the Aristotelian position constitutes a third alternative to physicalism and dualism (see Runggaldier 2006). Aside from the question of how to classify positions, and questions about the relationship between the soul and the body, the philosophical problems that should be treated by a theory of the soul include those of personal identity, persistence and/or endurance, separability, indexicality, agency, and cognition. These issues will arise in some form regardless of the philosophical traditions from which the theory arises.

4. Philosophical Theology of the Soul Regardless of philosophical and theological traditions, contemporary theories of the soul generally seem to coalesce into three main groups: materialist (or physicalist), dualist, and hylomorphic, although there are also less fashionable alternatives, such as idealism and neutral monism. (Donald Davidson once agreed (in conversation) that he could be considered a neutral monist.) These

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should not be taken to be mutually exclusive, for there are materialist and dualist interpretations of hylomorphism. (In his response to Lynne Rudder Baker, Dean Zimmerman argues that hylomorphism is ultimately a form of dualism. See the contributions of Baker and Zimmerman to Peterson and VanArragon 2004, 315344.) In both the Christian and Islamic traditions we can find all three major approaches to the soul, although even when the basic strategies are the same, some trends can be found among the differrences in the details. Most of the Muslim philosophers espoused some form of hylomorphic entelechy theory. They defined the soul as a perfection (kamāl, entelecheia) by which an organism has life (as described by Ivry 2008). Ibn Sīnā, however, claimed that there are two kinds of entelechy: first, the form of a living body that is inseparable from it, such as the vegetable and animal souls; and, second, the human soul which is in itself immaterial and separable from the body, and not to be considered a form of the body (see Rahman 1975, 196; Davidson 1992, 83). Both are considered entelechies, or perfections, because the human being is born with the capacity for the realization of the acquired intellect. The immateriality of the human soul is proved by means of the famous “suspended man” argument. So, from this point onward through the history of Islamic philosophy, there is a distinctive immateriality associated with the human soul that is proven through introspection, that is, through the phenomenology of awareness of the self without regard to the body. Although the analogies between Ibn Sīnā’s position and Descartes’ have frequently been pointed out, (e.g., by Davidson 1992, 83n), the differences are also important. (For an extended historical discussion that traces the common idea found in Augustine, Ibn Sīnā, and Descartes to Porphry, see Sorabji 2006, 222-229.) The main objection that has been raised against Cartesian dualism is the problem of the interaction between the mental and the physical. For the ancient, medieval, and Islamic philosophers, however, the issue was scarcely raised. Why? Part of the answer, no doubt, is to be found in the nonmechanistic philosophies of nature that were dominant, but part of the answer may lie in the general assumptions of hylomorphic

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theory: the immaterial is form and is active, while the corporeal is matter and passive. Cartesian dualists divided the world into extended substances and non-extended substances and pondered how they could interact, while previous philosophers saw the material world as the lowest and most receptive to various forms and principles. Instead of Cartesian dualism, Muslim philosophers after Sohravardi divided the world into four realms. The lowest realm was the corporeal world, and the highest was that of the immaterial intellects. The second highest world contained intellects attached to celestial spheres or to human bodies, and below this was the world of images, the imaginal world. The imaginal world was also introduced by Ibn ‘Arabi, and became an element in the metaphysics of theoretical mysticism (see Walbridge 1992, 149-159). The influence of Sufi ideas becomes especially pronounced in the work of Mulla Sadra, who finds a place in his philosophy for the sort of dynamism expressed most famously in the following couplets by Mawlavī Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī: I died to mineral, joined the realm of plants I died to vegetable, joined animal I died in the animal realm, became man So why fear? When has dying made me less? (Mathnavi 3:3901-2, translated in Lewis 2000, 417)

In Mulla Sadra’s philosophy, the doctrine of substantial motion is not only a metaphysical thesis about the nature of contingent existence, it also incorporates the ideas of the Sufi tradition about spiritual wayfaring into philosophy. The spiritual journey has ontological consequences for the nature of the self. Since the most distinctive answers to the question of the nature of the soul that are to be found in Islamic philosophy are formulated in the works of Mulla Sadra, we should turn next to the main principles of his view.

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5. Mulla Sadra on the Soul According to Mulla Sadra, not only humans and animals, but rather all corporeal existents, even rocks, exist in the material and nonmaterial realms. The human soul has its beginnings in material existence, but it evolves beyond the material and achieves eternal immateriality just as the fetus begins its existence with the womb of its mother but develops in such a way as to achieve a separate existence. This idea is encapsulated in the slogan that the soul is corporeal in origin but spiritual in survival (jismānīyat al-ḥudūth wa rūḥānīyat al-baqā’). Mulla Sadra summarizes his theory of the soul in his al-Ḥikmat al-‘Arshīyah (The Wisdom of the Throne), and we may summarize this summary as follows. The soul begins its existence as a corporeal substance, where it begins its course of development as corporeal power, natural form, then sensible soul with various levels, then the cognitive and reflective soul, and finally the rational soul. The practical intellect is succeeded by the theoretical intellect which rises through the four stages until it reaches the Active Intellect, although this stage is actually achieved by very few human beings. The five perceptual senses are generally thought to perceive what is in external objects through the bodily organs. In fact, however, what is perceived are luminous images in another world that belong to the qualities peculiar to the soul. The perceptual powers do not subsist through the organs of perception, but the organs subsist through the powers. Here Sadra offers a proof: the perceived and the perceiving cannot be in two different worlds, but the self that perceives is and what is perceived are in the same world of the soul. This may sound like idealism, but Mulla Sadra does not deny material existence. It is not that we are acquainted only with ideas, but rather that even material things have their perceptual aspects that are no mere epiphenomena but indications of the more sublime levels of their existence. In vision, for example, specific conditions in the soul and in the external world of bodies give rise to the appearance of suspended forms in the soul, images in the imaginal

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world. The imaginal world of the soul is at the same time transcendent with respect to the physical world, but also including it. The difference between this realm and the purely intellectual realm is that the soul and its world are generated while the intellect has become separate from generated being. What is perceived subsists in the soul as the act subsists through its agent. He continues: The complete manifestation of these forms and the perfection of the power of their being occurs only after death. (This is true) to such a degree that compared to the forms man will see after death, the forms he sees in this world are like dreams. This is why the Commander of the truly faithful (the Imam Ali)—Peace be with him!—said: “Mankind are sleeping; when they die, they awaken.” Then the Unseen becomes directly visible, and knowledge becomes immediate vision. In this is the secret of the “Return” and the resurrection of the body (Mulla Sadra 1981, 138. Mulla Sadra also has a commentary on the hadiths of awakening mentioned here that is discussed in Rustom 2007.).

In this is also the secret of why Mulla Sadra’s views on this topic have been anathematized by some conservative clerics, for he is saying that the resurrection of the body will take place only in the imaginal world, and not in the physical world as we now know it. Mulla Sadra rejects the analogies of the soul to the captain of a ship, because of the hylomorphic origination of the soul. Until the soul evolves into intellect, it can have no being except as the entelechy of the natural organism. However, the soul can undergo substantial change and be transformed into an independent immaterial intellect. Regarding the pre-existence of the soul, Mulla Sadra also rejects a literalistic interpretation of the relevant ayah of the Qur’ān mentioned earlier (7:172) and narrations. In the Wisdom of the Throne, he merely states that he has answered the question of how to interpret the religious claims elsewhere and lists the ayah and narrations. In the Asfār, however, he explains that the pre-existence of souls is not as separately existing entities, but only as suspended separate intellectual forms in the world of divine knowledge (Mulla Sadra 1990, Vol. 8, 332).

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Mulla Sadra cites the Theology of Aristotle (i.e., Plotinus) as correctly holding that in the world of divine knowledge there is an intelligible man, horse, plants, earth, hell, and heaven. But between the intelligible man and the corporeal man, there is also the man of soul, a man of the isthmus (barzakh). (For more on this notion, see Massi Dakake 2004.) The man of soul is essentially alive and, like the bodily man and the intelligible man, is a substance. Initially, all of these souls coincide, because the soul, at the beginning of its generation (with a particular body), is in actuality a form of perfection for sensible matter. But at the same time the soul is spiritual matter with the capacity of receiving and being united with an intellective form, thereby emerging from potency into actuality—or a delusive Satanic form, or that of a brutish or predatory animal (Mulla Sadra 1981, 145).

Mulla Sadra argues against a literal interpretation of the bodily resurrection, because it would imply a kind of transmigration of souls, which he has argued is impossible. Instead, he holds that the resurrection occurs in another “configuration” (nash’ah), not in the physical external world. Against those who argue that this makes the resurrection merely something imaginary, Mulla Sadra’s position is that the other configuration will be more real, more intense in existence, than the world as we know it. Morris translates the relevant passage as: “But the transmigration of souls is impossible, while the corporeal resurrection (in the ‘spiritual body’) is actually happening” (Mulla Sadra 1981, 146. What he translates as “actually happening” might also be put as “real” (wāqi‘). Cf. Mulla Sadra 1962, 25.). The soul can take on various forms, angelic or fiendish in accordance with the record of one’s deeds in this world, without any transmigration of the soul from one body to another in the physical world. But it is one of the properties of the soul, in its state of connection with matter, that it can take on and be united with one form after another. Moreover, the corporeal form, although in actuality a form for

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corporeal matter, is also potentially an intelligible (Mulla Sadra 1981, 147).

The man of soul or man of the isthmus is described as being at the edge between the sensible corporeal world and the spiritual intelligible world. Thus the soul is the junction of the two seas (18:59) of corporeal and spiritual things; its being the last of the corporeal realities is a sign of its being the first of the spiritual ones. If you consider its substance in this world, you will find it the principle of all the bodily powers, employing all the animal and vegetal forms in its service. But if you consider its substance in the world of the Intellect, you will find that at the beginning of its fundamental nature it is pure potential without any form in that world; but it has the capability of moving from potency to actuality with regard to the Intellect and the intelligible. Its initial relation to the form of that world (of the Intellect) is that of the seed to its fruit, or of the embryo to the animal: just as the embryo is in actuality an embryo, and an animal only potentially, so (at first) the soul is in actuality a mere mortal man, but potentially a (realized) Intellect (Mulla Sadra 1981, 148-149).

Mulla Sadra continues to explain that the Prophet Muḥammad (ṣ) is “a mere mortal like you” (18:110) with regard to potential, but that he is above other creatures insofar as his soul has been raised by God to actuality. Against Alexander Aphrodisias, Mulla Sadra argues that although few human beings attain the full realization of intellectual being, this does not mean—as Alexander thought, and as Ibn Sīnā was inclined to think—that those who fall short are destroyed by physical death, for the man of soul survives in an imaginal world that will be hellish or heavenly. In this way, there is no need to posit a vaporous or smoky body to which the soul attaches after death, or attaching the souls to heavenly bodies (as Sohravardi thought). The above summarizes Part II. A of The Wisdom of the Throne. Part B is mostly about the bodily resurrection, but it also contains much material of philosophical interest.

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6. Mulla Sadra’s Position on Issues in the Philosophy of the Soul Here, some clarity may be gained on Sadra’s position by reviewing the main lines he takes on various controversies. 1. Is Mulla Sadra a dualist? I find it tempting to read Mulla Sadra as a kind of absolute idealist, and Fazlur Rahman (1975, 267-268) has also noted the affinities with Hegel, although the similarity he points out is the dynamism rather than the idealism. Ultimately, what is real for Mulla Sadra is existence, and substance is a category of quiddity or whatness. Differences among whatnesses only occur because of the limitations that are projected onto existence due to its varying degrees. So, even if there is a kind of substance dualism in Mulla Sadra, underlying it is a more comprehensive monism. With regard to substance, Mulla Sadra does not see substances as falling primarily into two categories, material and immaterial, but into a whole range of categories from that which is primarily corporeal and whose immaterial aspects are weak to that which is primarily intellectual. So, we might better call Mulla Sadra a substance pluralist rather than a dualist, but where the elements in the plurality are divisions in a continuum. 2. What is the principle for the individuation of souls in Mulla Sadra? For Mulla Sadra, like earlier Muslim philosophers, the principle of individuation is existence itself. This sounds paradoxical, because one will object that existence is common to all existing entities and so that it cannot serve to individuate them. To the contrary, Mulla Sadra holds that it is only by virtue of existence that a thing becomes completely determinate. Without existence, no (finite?) set of physical or mental conditions can guarantee uniqueness, but by virtue of existence, an entity becomes fully determinate. This is true of entities generally, and so, also, of souls. 3. What are the conditions for diachronic personal identity? For Mulla Sadra, diachronic identity is maintained through continuity of movement. There need be no commitment to haecceities (thisnesses) or to any other such criteria as have been proposed, such as maintaining the same matter, or the persistence of memory.

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4. Are souls immaterial, according to Mulla Sadra? According to Mulla Sadra, one cannot call the soul material or immaterial. There are both material and immaterial souls of various levels. The human soul begins its existence as the entelechy of a human organism; however this principle has the capacity to develop into a purely immaterial intellect. 5. How can immaterial souls interact with bodies? This is something that is not entirely clear to me yet, but here is my guess at what Mulla Sadra would say. The immaterial can influence the body because the body is receptive of the forms introduced by the intellect. How this introduction takes place is through conditions that God sets up in the configurations of the various realms of being. The influence of the physical on the immaterial is due to the perceptive nature of the intellect to perceive physical forms. Again, the details are left rather vague and concern the structure of the configurations. 6. Where does the soul go after the death of the body? The soul doesn’t really “go” anywhere. With the death of the body, the soul becomes immaterial, but it continues in an atemporal manner to contain within it the forms of divine reward, punishment, bodily resurrection, and forms of temporal succession. However, the bodies and times of the afterlife are not entities within the living corporeal world. 7. How can indexicality and the first-person perspective be understood in Mulla Sadra’s philosophy? For Mulla Sadra, being and consciousness coincide. The first person perspective is a result of an intensity of being or consciousness given a specific location in space and time. The first person perspective, according to Mulla Sadra, is not fixed by any material or mental conditions, but evolves in accordance with natural development and the choices a person makes through life.

7. Reflections on Mulla Sadra’s Theory of the Soul There is a problem that Mulla Sadra faces with orthodoxy, because the sort of rewards and punishments of the afterlife described in the

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Qur’ān seem to be physical, while the philosophical understanding of the issue presented by Mulla Sadra is one in which there is nothing physical in the afterlife, only the imaginal reflections of physicality. This, however, is a problem that many philosophical approaches to religion face. Any philosophical explanation will meet with condemnation from those who cling to the outward aspects of religion alone. What Mulla Sadra attempts is a grand metaphysics with an integrated concept of the soul. He seeks to incorporate into his account the main points needed for Shi‘ite theology, plus what is needed to answer the deficiencies he sees in previous Islamic philosophy. The structural elements in Sadra’s theory consist in replacements of dualities by differences of degree. It is not only humans, but even inanimate objects that have souls. The person and the rock are both body and spirit. A thing is body insofar as it is to be understood in terms of physical laws and theories. To the extent that an understanding of the thing eludes the merely physical, it is nonphysical. For the rock, there is little about it we seek to understand that cannot be answered by facts about its mass, weight, shape, and composition, all of which come under the purview of physical theory. But there is more: there is the beauty of the stone, its individual history with all the peculiarities of circumstance and odd coincidence that no theory can explain. Nevertheless, the spiritual aspect of the stone is rather minimal. To understand an animal, however, we require more than physics. It has a biological existence as well as a physical existence. These are not two separate existences, stuck together or interacting through glands and organs. Instead of dividing up the world, as Descartes tried to do, into extended and non-extended substances, with our bodies on the side of the rocks and our minds on the side of the angels, we are invited by Sadra to consider all corporeal entities as having various levels of existence of various strengths. The human being has a corporeal existence, an imaginal existence, and a spiritual existence, and with the death of the body, there is no death of the soul, no death of the self, for the immaterial aspects of the self remain.

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The gradual shift of the self from the material while retaining the first person perspective captures an important part of the Islamic mystical tradition that informs Mulla Sadra’s view of the self. But it is practical rather than metaphysical, or rather the practical is given a metaphysical interpretation in the works of Mulla Sadra. This opens up a number of possibilities. Given that the metaphysical claims are extremely difficult to argue decisively, I think there are two main options: (1) agnosticism with respect to the metaphysics of the soul; (2) a reduction of the metaphysics of the soul to its practical/spiritual components. Agnosticism is safer, and reductionism is more challenging. This leads me to think that it might be best to opt for a tentative reductionism. This means that to say that the soul has various levels of immateriality is equivalent to saying that it is possible for a person to abstract from the self from various aspects of the physical while retaining the first person perspective toward the result. In this sense, with regard to immortality, the soul is indeed immortal, but not in the sense that it continues forever in time, but in the sense that there are stages of the soul that transcend our time and space, and further stages that transcend time and space altogether. The ultimate felicity is to join somehow in the being of God. For those who fail to achieve this state of awareness, however, possibilities for eternal felicity or damnation remain. Felicity and damnation are determined by how we live our lives in this world, the world of our actions. Our heaven or hell is the imaginal reflection of the actions we perform in this world. Although there are various reasonable objections that can be raised against this view, and much in it that requires further elaboration and revision, I think in rough outline it is not altogether implausible, and it may succeed in helping us to view the soul, the self, who we are, in a manner that avoids the pitfalls associated with some of the more common rival theories.

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Appendix: Mulla Sadra on the Soul in the Asfār Here I will provide a translation of the names of each part (bāb) and chapter (faṣl) of the last two volumes (8 and 9) of Mulla Sadra’s Asfār that are relevant to his conception of the soul. Volume 8 of the Asfār begins the fourth journey: “On the science of the soul, from the source of its origins, (1) from the corporeal content to its final stages, (2) and its return to its ultimate end.” Part 1: On the general precepts of the soul Chapter 1: On defining the soul Chapter 2: On the whatness of the absolute soul Part 2: On the whatness of the animal soul, an explanation of its substantiality and abstractness. Chapter 1: On its substantiality Chapter 2: On the abstractness of the animal soul, for which there are numerous proofs Chapter 3: On the rejection of what skeptics have mentioned against the substantiality of the soul Chapter 4: On the number of the faculties of the soul stemming from it in the body Chapter 5: On a rule from which the number of faculties can be known Part 3: On mention of the vegetative faculties, their actions and states Chapter 1: On the division of these faculties, in general Chapter 2: On the action of digestion, on the excretion of excrement, an indication of the existence of the repulsive faculty, an admonition about changing these four, and the determination of the instruments of the organs Chapter 3: On that these faculties are compound in some organs, on the truth of food and the stages of digestion, similar to what some of the naturalists (physicians) have truly said

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Chapter 4: On the stages of digestion, and that digestion has four stages Chapter 5: On defining the nutritive faculty and the faculty of growth defined to account for its truth Chapter 6: On the causes for the stopping of such faculties as that of growth and nutrition as required by death Chapter 7: On the verification of what is said about the faculty of formation (muṣawwarah) Chapter 8: An indication of the number of the faculties of the soul and what is outside of them by reason of production Chapter 9: On there being a single soul for each body, and how the mentioned faculties arise from the soul, and that they are the elaboration in detail of the essence of it, and the descriptions of its identity Chapter 10: On some of these stages of the soul being prior to others in coming about Chapter 11: A last way of the number of the human faculties according to the procedure of the folk of insight Chapter 12: On what is the first of the organs that comes into being Chapter 13: On the dependence of the rational soul on the body Chapter 14: On the differences of the faculties Chapter 15: On the proof of the animal faculties of man Part 4: From the science of the soul on the states of the faculties pertaining to the animal souls which are those from which arise outward perceptions, and from which arise inward perceptions, and these are very close to the world of the malakūt, and from them are the motions of the will, and it comes down in degrees from its source in summary perceptions Chapter 1: On indicating these faculties and all the benefits of them in summary Chapter 2: On touch and its states Chapter 3: On taste and some discussions of it Chapter 4: On smell Chapter 5: On hearing Chapter 6: On seeing

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Chapter 7: On what the impression theorists rely upon, and what following that, what is said against them, and mention of a proof of refutation Chapter 8: On what is said by the ray theorists Chapter 9: On the reason for the states and what is real in the dispute between the ray theorists and the impression theorists on the reasons for the states Chapter 10: On the necessity of seeing by means of transparent bodies Chapter 11: On the senses being exclusively the five Chapter 12: On what is common to the sensibles Part 5: Of the science of the soul on inner perceptions Chapter 1: On the sensus communis and its being named nabṭāsiā, that is, the tablet of the soul Chapter 2: On the imagination (khiyāl) Chapter 3: On the imagination (mutakhayilah), the illusory (wāhimah) and the memory (dhākirah) Chapter 4: On the explanation that the soul is all of the faculties Chapter 5: On the rejection of what is said on the soul not perceiving particulars Chapter 6: On the number of the ancient schools of thought about the soul mentioned by the Shaykh (Ibn Sīnā) in the Shifā’ and their flaws, and we attribute to them their words symbolically and interpret them according to the best interpretation insofar as we have power and is possible, God willing Part 6: On the explanation of the abstractness of the human rational soul with pure intellectual abstractness and its quality of having been brought about Chapter 1: On that the rational soul is not body and not a measure (extension) and not impressed in measure Chapter 2: On witnesses by ear to this matter Part 7: On the repudiation of the states of the rational soul with regard to their relation to the natural world Chapter 1: On the quality of dependence of the soul on the body

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Chapter 2: On the verification of the coming about of human souls Chapter 3: On the elucidation of this important problem and an inquiry into what is mentioned, and the wrecking of what they established Chapter 4: On that the soul is not corrupted with the corrupttion of the body Chapter 5: On that the corruption of the soul is impossible Chapter 6: On mention of the eastern promise Chapter 7: On that the cause of the rational soul is an intellectual affair separate from matter Volume 9 Part 8: On the invalidity of transmigration of souls and spirits and the refutation of what is similar to it Chapter 1: On its invalidity, by the way of the throne Chapter 2: On the refutation of transmigration by its parts, and an indication of its schools and the wrecking of the position of its theoreticians Chapter 3: On the rejection of remaining doubts based on narrations Chapter [4]: On the completion of reflections in this part pertaining to the relation between the soul and body and indications of natural death, its appointed time, and the difference between this and the appointed time of annihilation Chapter 5: On that for every human person there is an essential unity and it is the soul and it itself is the life of the hearing and seeing rational perceiver, and it is also the eater that grows and is born, indeed, the natural body that moves and grows and senses Chapter 6: On the weakness of what is said by those rejected and the rejection of what has been said about a plurality of faculties that do not go back to a single essence […] Chapter 7: On that all of the corporeal faculties are shadows of what is in the soul in psychic format Chapter 8: On the dependence of the first on the soul

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Part 9: On the account of some that the habits of the human soul and their actions and their passions, and the stations and stopping places of the human, and that some of the faculties are superior in existence, and that fewer have a capacity for refinement Chapter 1: On the human elite Chapter 2: On the attributes of half of humanity, their general morals, and their differences in nobility and rank Chapter 3: On the stations of man and degrees according to the strength of the soul Chapter 4: On the qualities of the ranks of perceivers from the lowest stations to the most elevated and a discussion of the levels of immateriality Chapter 5: On that the faculties that depend on the body some are less capable of refinement and some have the greatest capability for refinement, and how it happens that the action of one of them is exchanged to be considered the action of the person to the soul of the person and likewise to the body, and how there can be personal corporeal survival with its exchange in every instant Part 10: On an inquiry into the spiritual return and an indication of rational felicity and damnation, and felicity and damnation that are not real, and what is said about them Chapter 1: On the whatness of real felicity Chapter 2: On the quality of the acquisition of this felicity and the source of its being hidden from the soul and what remains of this world Chapter 3: On the damnation that is the opposite of real felicity Chapter 4: On the reason why some souls are excluded from the intellects, and are prohibited from felicity in the next world Chapter 5: On the quality of the acquisition of the active intellect in our souls Chapter 6: On the repudiation of states of the so-called spiritual kingdom by the mystics as the phoenix by way of symbol and allusion Chapter 7: On the explanation of felicity and damnation of the afterlife sensibles without intellectual sensibles

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Chapter 8: On the differences among different denominations of people about the Resurrection (ma‘ād) Chapter 9: On the arguments of those who deny the Resurrection Chapter 10: On the differences of the levels of the soul in perceiving the affairs of the Resurrection and the precedence of the ranks in it

References Agathias (1975) The Histories, tr. Joseph D. Frendo, Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Chittick, W. C. (2007) Science of the Cosmos, Science of the Soul: The Pertinence of Islamic Cosmology in the Modern World, Oxford: Oneworld. Davidson, H. A. (1992) Alfarabi, Avicenna, & Averroes, on Intellect. New York, Oxford University Press. Groff, P. S. (2007) Islamic Philosophy A-Z. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Hartman, E. (1977) Substance, Body, and Soul: Aristotelian Investigations. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Inati, Sh. C. (1998) “Soul in Islamic philosophy” Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Version 1.0, London: Routledge. Ivry, A. (2008) “Arabic and Islamic Psychology and Philosophy of Mind,” The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2008 Edition), E. N. Zalta (ed.), forthcoming URL = http://plato.stanford.edu/ archives/sum2008/entries/arabicislamic-mind/. Kāshānī, M. F. (2007) Kalimāt-e Maknūnah, Qom: Ishrāq. Kāshānī, M. F. (1982) Tafsīr al-Ṣāfī, 5 Vols., Beirut: Mu’assissah alA‘lami. Lewis, F. D. (2000) Rumi: Past and Present, East and West. Oxford: Oneworld.

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Massi Dakake, M. (2004) “The Soul as Barzakh: Substantial Motion and Mullā Sadrā’s Theory of Human Becoming,” The Muslim World, 94:1, 107-130. McDermott, M. J. (1986) The Theology of Al-Shaikh Al-Mufīd, Beirut: Librairie Orientale. Mulla Sadra (1990) Al-Ḥikmat al-Muta‘āliyah fī al-Asfār al-‘Aqliyah al-Arb‘ah, Beirut: Dar al-Ḥayā’ al-Tarāth al-‘Arabī. Mulla Sadra (1981) The Wisdom of the Throne: An Introduction to the Philosophy of Mulla Sadra, tr. James Winston Morris, Princeton: Princeton University Press. Mulla Sadra (1962) Kitāb al-‘Arshiyyah, Isfahan: Intishārāt Mahdavī. Niederbacher, B. & Runggaldier, E. (eds.) (2006) Die menschliche Seele: Brauchen wir den Dualismus? Frankfurt: Ontos Verlag. Peterson, M. L. & VanArragon, R. J. (eds.) (2004) Contemporary Debates in the Philosophy of Religion, Oxford: Blackwell. Rahman, F. (1975) The Philosophy of Mullā Ṣadrā, Albany: State University of New York Press. Rustom, M. (2007) “Psychology, eschatology, and imagination in Mulla Sadra Shirazi's commentary on the hadith of awakening,” Science and Islam; The Free Library (June, 22), http://www. thefreelibrary.com/ Psychology, eschatology, and imagination in Mulla Sadra Shirazi's...-a0164596589 (accessed April 21 2008) Runggaldier, E. (2006) “The Aristotelian Alternative to Functionalism and Dualism,” in Niederbacher & Runggaldier (2006), 221248. Shaykh Ṣadūq (1982) A Shi‘ite Creed, tr. Asaf A. A. Fyzee, Tehran: WOFIS. Sorabji, R. (2006) Self: Ancient and Modern Insights about Individuality, Life, and Death. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Walbridge, J. (1992) The Science of Mystic Lights: Qutb al-Dīn

Shīrāzī and the Illuminationist Tradition in Islamic Philosophy, Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Concepts of the Soul in the Bible and in the Ancient Mediterranean World Peter Marinkovic, Munich 1. Introduction We are accustomed to speak of the human being as consisting of body and soul, that is to say, that man has a mortal, material body which is subject to growth and development, to injury and disease, to deterioration and to death. This body has weight and extension, it is located at one place at a time. In many respects it resembles the bodies of the higher animals. We also believe that man has an immortal soul which is not material, not subject to growth and development, not subject to physical injury or disease, will not deteriorate and cannot die. It has no weight or extension, is not limited by time and space in the same manner as the body, but during the lifetime of the individual on earth is intimately connected with the body. In fact, it is the soul which gives life to the body. When the soul is separated from the body, the body dies, that is, it ceases to function as it should and begins to disintegrate […]. I suppose that most of us have always regarded man as consisting of body and soul, and would unhesitatingly say that this is what Scripture teaches concerning man from cover to cover. Today, however, there are those who call these self-evident facts into question. Proceeding from the standpoint of the Evolutionist who regards man as a very highly developed animal many so-called theologians today believe that religious thought too has developed from very simple beginnings to the complex religious systems we have today. They contend that in earlier ages man did not have this concept of a human soul which we today have. If that is the case, then there must be a development of this concept which can be traced in history, yes, which can be traced in Biblical literature […]. The practical value of a study such as this lies in the consequences or deductions which may be drawn from these various aspects of the concept of the soul (Vogel 1963, 1).

This study will deliver historical traces of dualistic and non-dualistic concepts of the soul in the Ancient Mediterranean World, with spe-

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cial focuses on Ancient Egyptian, Biblical and Classical Greek sources. It will also deal with the question of the beginnings of dualistic concepts of the soul in the Ancient Mediterranean World. The most significant candidates are Ancient Egyptian texts and Greek authors like Plato or, even earlier, Homer. Body-soul-dualism seems to be widespread in religion and philosophy. The Gnostic Christian Valentinus (ca. 100—ca. 160 CE) conceived the human being even as a triple entity, consisting of body (Greek: soma, hyle), soul (Greek: psyche) and spirit (Greek: pneuma). According to a series of scholars this trichotomy corresponds to the division they find in St. Paul’s Epistles (e.g. in 1 Thessalonians 5:23), and therefore also in concepts of Christian anthropology: May the God of peace himself sanctify you entirely; and may your spirit and soul and body be kept sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ (1 Thess 5:23).

But only a minority of theologians argue that human beings are made up of three distinct components: body/flesh, soul, and spirit. Traditional Christian anthropologies are rather concepts of a bodysoul-dichotomy, distinguishing between material (body/flesh) and spiritual elements (soul/spirit). At death, the soul/spirit departs from the body, being reunited with the body at the resurrection. Modern theologians increasingly hold the view that the human being is an indissoluble unity. This is known as holism or monism. The body and soul are not considered separate components of a person, but rather as two facets of a united whole. It is argued that this more accurately represents Hebrew thought, whereas body-soul dualism is more characteristic of Greek philosophy. Monism also appears to be more consistent with modern neuroscience, which has revealed that the so-called ‘higher functions’ of the mind are emergent from the brain, rather than being based in an immaterial soul as was previously thought.

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2. Concepts of the Soul in Ancient Egypt The Greek historian Herodotus (ca. 484 BC—ca. 425 BC) wrote that the Egyptians have been the first who stated the immortality of the human soul, and its leaving of human corpses after death: Moreover, the Egyptians also are the first who said this account, that a human being’s soul is immortal and, when the body wastes away, it slips into another living being that is being born on each and every occasion; then, whenever it goes the round of all that’s on dry land, that’s in the sea and that has wings, it slips back into a human being’s body that is being born and it goes its round in three thousand years. Of that account there are those of the Greeks who made use, some earlier and some later, as if it were their own private, whose names I know and refuse to write (Herodotus, Historiae 2, 123, 2).

An overview of Ancient Egyptian concepts of the soul, including iconographic developments of the so called “soul bird” from its early beginnings (see e.g. Hinterhuber 2001, 26-27), shows the complexity of Ancient Egyptian anthropology. They distinguish different types of the soul and the body. The highly renowned German Egyptologist Jan Assmann (2001, 156ff) tried to outline a systematic structure behind the Ancient Egyptian terms that already appear in the 2nd millennium BC. A person lives in a bodily sphere as well as in a social sphere (in this world and also in the underworld). Each sphere is constituted by two aspects: the body and the soul. In the bodily sphere of a person we can identify the ha as the body (occasionally a plural haw, meaning approximately the sum of bodily parts) and as the soul the sheut (shadow) and the ba (personality), whereas in the social sphere sch (mummy dignity) stands for the body as well as ka (life force) and ren (name) for the soul. So the Ancient Egyptian concepts seem to provide a double dualistic structure: bodily and social sphere, body and soul. It is striking that there is also a double dichotomy concerning the soul: on the one hand sheut (shadow) and ba (personality), on the other hand ka (life force) and ren (name). Ancient Egyptians probably conceived not only of a body-soul-dualism, but furthermore also of a dual soul

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in each of the two spheres. So they could distinguish at least four types of soul. In contrast to the body-soul-dualism in Ancient Egyptian thought (see also Hasenfratz 2002), we can find non-dualistic concepts of living beings in the Hebrew Bible and in its Greek version, the Septuagint.

3. Concepts of the Soul in the Bible (Old Testament) 3.1. Hebrew Bible The most important keyword for concepts of soul in the Old Testament is nephesh, mostly translated with the Greek term psyche in the Septuagint (see e.g. Bratsiotis 1966, Lys 1966, Wolff 2002, Schroer et al. 2005, Wagner 2006 and 2009). References of nephesh in the Hebrew Bible are originally related to the:

a. concept of breath (resembling the Hebrew term ruah and similar to the Pre-Socratic use of psyche resembling pneuma), e.g. Genesis 1:30 (God speaking): “And to all the beasts of the earth and all the birds of the air and all the creatures that move on the ground—everything that has the breath of life in it—I give every green plant for food.” […]

Genesis 2:7: […] the Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.

b. The literal meaning of nephesh is “throat, gorge” e.g. Hosea 9:4: Such sacrifices shall be like mourners’ bread; all who eat of it shall be defiled; for their bread shall be for their throats only; it shall not come to the house of the Lord.

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c. The literal meaning of nephesh is then also “breath” or “breathing being”, in some cases “appetite, hunger” e.g. Job 41:13 LXX = Job 41:21 (about Leviathan): Its breath kindles coals, and a flame comes out of its mouth.

Proverbs 13:25: The righteous have enough to satisfy their appetite, but the belly of the wicked is empty.

Isaiah 5:14: Therefore Sheol has enlarged its appetite and opened its mouth beyond measure; the nobility of Jerusalem and her multitude go down, her throng and all who exult in her.

Proverbs 10:3: The Lord does not let the righteous go hungry, but he thwarts the craving of the wicked.

d. But the literal meaning of nephesh is also “desire”, “cupidity” or “lust” e.g. Genesis 34:8: But Hamor spoke with them, saying, “The heart of my son Shechem longs for your daughter; please give her to him in marriage.”

e. The term nephesh designates the person as a whole e.g. Genesis 12:13 (Abram speaks to Sara): “Say you are my sister, so that it may go well with me because of you, and that my life may be spared on your account.”

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Genesis 19:19 (Lot speaking): “Your servant has found favor in your eyes, and you have shown great kindness to me in sparing my life.”

f. In some cases it means “life” or “living” as such e.g. Proverbs 8:35 (wisdom as a person speaking): “For whoever finds me finds life and receives favor from the Lord.”

g. Occasionally nephesh is also combined with dam, the Hebrew term for “blood” e.g. Leviticus 17:11: For the life of the flesh is in the blood; and I have given it to you for making atonement for your lives on the altar; for, as life, it is the blood that makes atonement.

Deuteronomy 12:23 Only be sure that you do not eat the blood; for the blood is the life, and you shall not eat the life with the meat.

h. It is possible that nephesh serves as a personal pronoun, i. and it can describe the “vital self”, e.g. Psalm 103:1-2.22 (first and last line, cf. Psalm 104:1.35): Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and do not forget all his benefits […]. Bless the Lord, all his works, in all places of his dominion. Bless the Lord, O my soul.

Conclusions: I) Nephesh does not denote an incorporeal part of a living being surviving death of the body.

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II) The Hebrew Bible provides us with concepts of the soul that do not separate it from the body. III) In later Jewish writings, especially in the Hellenistic period after Alexander’s conquest (333/332 BC), the idea of the soul was developed further to include dualistic concepts, e.g. Sapientia Salomonis 9:15 (explicitly dealt with later, see below 5.). 3.2. The Septuagint (Greek Version of the Old Testament) In most parts of the Septuagint (LXX, further information e.g. Dines 2004) we can also find non-dualistic anthropological concepts. The semantic domain of “soul” in the Septuagint is based on the Greek psyche. In 680 of 754 possible cases it serves as the translation of the Hebrew term nephesh. The other Hebrew terms are `ish “human being”; chajjah “life, living being”; leb, lebab “heart” and ruach “breath, spirit” (see Lys 1966). It adopts the variety of meanings that are tied to nephesh in the Hebrew Bible (Lys 1966, 228). This observation corresponds to concepts of the soul that are proposed by a series of pre-Socratic philosophers and authors (e.g. Aeschylus, Antiphon, Aristides, Euripides, Hesiod, Pindar, Sophocles, see e.g. Sullivan 1997 and 2000) as well as by the post-Platonic philosopher Aristotle (384 BC—322 BC), especially in his De Anima. The works of Aristotle had a great influence on the non-dualistic concept of the soul that the Christian theologian Thomas Aquinas (ca. 1225—1274 CE) developed in his Summa Theologica (cf. 7.). For a better understanding of the Greek background of the term psyche in the Septuagint, we will take a short glance at the development of the meaning of psyche in Greek texts (see also Cumont 1949, Gladigow 2002 and Schwabl 2005). The Platonic concept of the soul seems to have its roots in Homer’s use of the term psyche as Mumm and Richter (2008) have shown. The shadow of the dead was identified with the person itself. But soon after Homer, perhaps with forerunners in late passages of the Odyssey (Dihle 1982, 16-20) the range of psyche was transferred more and more from hades to

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this world. Thus psyche was understood as the vital soul and the ego soul of living beings (definitions and further categories: Hasenfratz 1986, 105-111) combined with sentience (Schwabl 2005, 46—58) and enriched with emotional and moral attributes (Mumm et al. 2008, 40-41, with examples of Pindar, Pythiae IV 122f; Aeschylus, Persae 441-444; Sophocles, Oedipus Tyrannus 62-64).

4. Concepts of the Soul in non-dualistic Pre-Socratic Texts—A Comparison with Texts of the Septuagint Some Pre-Socratic authors like e.g. Pythagoras and Empedocles support dualistic concepts of the soul. But in a series of pre-Socratic texts with non-dualistic concepts, psyche is connoted with the following meanings:

a. breath of animals (e.g. Job 41:13 LXX = Job 41,21) and human beings, e.g. in Euripides and Pindar (Bratsiotis 1966, 63 fn. 8 and 9), cf. Job 41:13 LXX = Job 41:21 (about Leviathan): Its breath kindles coals, and a flame comes out of its mouth.

b. base or bearer of life (e.g. Genesis 9:5; Leviticus 24:17 LXX), e.g. in Antiphon and Aristides (Bratsiotis 1966, 64 fn. 8 and 65 fn. 1), cf. Genesis 9:5: For your own lifeblood I will surely require a reckoning: from every animal I will require it and from human beings, each one for the blood of another, I will require a reckoning for human life.

c. also explicitly for the life of animals, e.g. Lev 24:18 as well as in Hesiod and Pindar (Bratsiotis 1966, 64 fn. 8 and 65 fn. 1), cf. Leviticus 24:18: Anyone who kills an animal shall make restitution for it, life for life.

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d. base of feeling, perception, sensation (e.g. Jer 4:19; Job 6:7), e.g. in Aeschylus, Persai 840ff, and Sophocles, Elektra 902-903 (Bratsiotis 1966, 66 fn. 11.14 and 67 fn. 4.8), cf. Jeremiah 4:19: My heart is beating wildly; I cannot keep silent; for you, o my soul, hear the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of war.

Job 6:7: My appetite refuses to touch them; they are like food that is loathsome to me.

e. Like Hebrew nephesh Greek psyche can be combined with the term “blood” (Greek haima), e.g. Lev 17:14 as well as in Aristophanes and Sophocles, Elektra 784ff (Bratsiotis 1966, 68 fn. 9 and 10), cf. Lev 17:14: For the life of every creature—its blood is its life; therefore I have said to the people of Israel: You shall not eat the blood of any creature, for the life of every creature is its blood; whoever eats it shall be cut off.

Conclusions: I) Most parts of the Septuagint provide us with concepts of the soul that do not separate it from the body, similar to concepts of nondualistic pre-Socratic authors. II) Only in Jewish writings of the Late Hellenistic period we find dualistic concepts of the soul in pre-Christian Judaism, in the Septuagint most prominent in Sapientia Salomonis.

5. A Dualistic Biblical Concept in the Late Hellenistic Period: Sapientia Salomonis The concept of the soul is very prominent in the apocryphal/ deuterocanonical book Sapientia Salomonis (“Wisdom of Solo-

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mon”). The book was probably written in Egypt, in Alexandria, in the 1st Century BC. For many Biblical scholars SapSal 9:15 states clearly a body-souldualism: 9:14 For the reasoning of mortals is worthless, and our designs are likely to fail; 15 for a perishable body weighs down the soul and this earthy tent burdens the thoughtful mind.

But this dualistic concept can only be understood in the horizon of questions about God’s restorative justice (like the parallel development of concepts of immortality and resurrection, cf. Nickelsburg 2006). As SapSal 3:1-9 points it out: 1 But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment will ever touch them. 2 In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died, and their departure was thought to be a disaster, 3 and their going from us to be their destruction; but they are at peace. 4 For though in the sight of others they were punished, their hope is full of immortality. 5 Having been disciplined a little, they will receive great good, because God tested them and found them worthy of himself […].

The Destiny of the Ungodly is described in SapSal 3:10-13: 10 But the ungodly will be punished as their reasoning deserves, those who disregarded the righteous and rebelled against the Lord; 11 for those who despise wisdom and instruction are miserable. Their hope is vain, their labors are unprofitable, and their works are useless. 12 Their wives are foolish, and their children evil; 13 their offspring are accursed. For blessed is the barren woman who is undefiled, who has not entered into a sinful union; she will have fruit when God examines souls.

These dualistic concepts also influenced other Jewish authors of the late Hellenistic and early Roman period, especially those in Alexandria/Egypt, like Philo.

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6. The Dualistic Concept of Philo of Alexandria In the scriptures of Philo of Alexandria (20 BC—50 CE), we can also find traces of a body-soul dualism (see gig. 14), e.g. the doctrine of the body as the source of all evil and the concept of the soul as a divine emanation (logos), similar to Plato’s nous (cf. Runia 1986 and Heckel 1993, esp. 74-76). Already Hieronymus asked, whether “Plato philonizes or Philo platinizes” (Hieronymus, vir.ill 11,7). Obviously, Hieronymus’ question almost sounds like mockery. There are, however, structural similarities between Philo’s concept of the soul and Plato’s view (e.g. Politeia 9, 588B-589A or Phaidros 246A-250C, cf. Sellin 1986, 141-143). In a series of texts Philo says that the body is keeping the soul imprisoned like a shell, a jail, a grave or a coffin (see Sellin 1986, 131, with a lot of supporting textual examples, cf. also concepts of Pythagoras and Empedocles, Ratzinger 2007, 118). For the Platonic school, the soul was an immaterial and incorporeal substance. Plato considered the soul as the essence of a person. He considered this essence as an incorporeal, eternal occupant of our being. As bodies die, the soul is continually reborn in subsequent bodies. The Platonic soul comprises three parts: logos (mind, nous, or reason), thymos (emotion, or spiritedness), and eros (appetite, or desire). Each of these has a function in a balanced and peaceful soul. Joseph Ratzinger (2007, 118-119) stresses that Plato’s goal was not a dualistic concept of the soul, but rather to integrate dualistic elements in a “unity in diversity”. According to Ratzinger’s view, a Greek-Platonic dualism of body and soul does also not exist in the texts of Plotinus, the great renovator of Platonic philosophy in the 3rd Century CE, but only in modern theological treatises (2007, 120). Philo used allegory in order to harmonize Greek philosophy (especially ideas about physis “nature”) and Judaism (especially its torah, nomos “law”). He coined the term nomos physeos “natural law” (Koester 2007). Yet, his work was not widely accepted among Greeks and Jews in antiquity. Nevertheless, some early Christian theologians, like Origen of Alexandria (185—ca. 254 CE), picked up

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Philo’s ideas of a dichotomy of body and soul. As a philosopher and theologian, Origen composed the seminal work of Christian Neoplatonism, his treatise On First Principles, which established doctrines about the Holy Trinity (based upon standard Middle Platonic triadic emanation schemas); the pre-existence and fall of souls; multiple ages and transmigration of souls; and the eventual restoration of all souls to a state of dynamic perfection in proximity to god. He also insisted on the absolute freedom of each and every soul.

7. Developments from Aristotle to Thomas Aquinas Detailed studies about this topic have been delivered by Cumont 1949, Gladigow 2002 and Schwabl 2005. Aristotle stated that the soul was a form inseparable from the body. He defined the soul as the core essence of a being, but argued against its having a separate existence. For instance, if a knife had a soul, the act of cutting would be that soul, because ‘cutting’ is the essence of what it is to be a knife. Unlike Plato and some religious traditions, Aristotle did not consider the soul as some kind of separate, ghostly occupant of the body (just as we cannot separate the activity of cutting from the knife). As the soul, in Aristotle’s view, is an actuality of a living body, it cannot be immortal (when a knife is destroyed, the cutting stops). More precisely, the soul is the “first actuality” of a naturally organized body. This is a state, or a potential for actual, or ‘second’, activity. “The axe has an edge for cutting” was, for Aristotle, analogous to “humans have bodies for rational activity,” and the potential for rational activity thus constituted the essence of a human soul. Aristotle used his concept of the soul in many of his works; especially in De Anima (On the Soul). Most parts of the New Testament follow the terminology of the Septuagint, and use the word psyche with the non-dualistic semantic domain of the Hebrew Bible (see 3.) and the Septuagint, similar to concepts of non-dualistic pre-Socratic authors (see 4.). Krister Stendahl (1963) has shown that the anthropology of the

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epistles of the Jew Paul was neither introspective, nor dualistic (cf. Heckel’s comparison of Pauline and Platonic concepts 1993), unlike what St. Augustine and Martin Luther have indicated, and, due to their influence, unlike the sort of view that came to dominate the history of the reception of St. Paul’s theology. Towards the end of the 2nd century CE, some Christian theologians understood psyche more in a Greek than a Hebrew way, contrasting it with the body. In the 3rd century CE, influenced by Origen of Alexandria (185—ca. 254 CE), the doctrine of the inherent immortality of the soul and its divine nature was established (see 6.). St. Augustine (354—430 CE, Carthago, North Africa) spoke of the soul as a “rider” on the body, making clear the split between the material and the immaterial, with the soul representing the “true” person. As contemporary scholarship points out, Augustine accepts Plato’s dichotomy between body (σώμα) and soul (ψυχή) [fn 7: See Plato’s dialogues Phaedo, and Republic, book IV] and reworks it in a way which takes him to a proto-Cartesian notion of the ‘inner’ and the ‘outer’ (Sidiropoulou 2008, 5).

Taylor introduces the term “proto-Cartesian” in his account of Augustine (Taylor 1989) and shows that Augustine’s contribution lies primarily in the emergence of “radical reflexivity” or the “first person point of view” (Taylor 1989, especially 127-142; cf. Hasenfratz’ use of the term ego soul 1986, 105-111). Although body and soul were separate, it seems impossible for Augustine to conceive of a soul without its body. In the Middle Ages Thomas Aquinas returned to Aristotle’s concept of the soul as a motivating principle of the body, independent but requiring the substance of the body to make an individual. The consequences of dualistic and non-dualistic concepts of the soul for medical psychosomatics are discussed by E. Frick 2009 and for a philosophy of mind, e.g. by J. Quitterer 2003, E. Runggaldier 2003, E. Stump 2006, G. Brüntrup 2008 and in Soul, body, and survival. Essays on the metaphysics of human persons edited by K. J. Corcoran 2001. W. Achtner et al. 2005 focus on the consequences

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in the field of neuroscience and ‘neuro-theology’, whereas B. and T. Görnitz 2008 reflect on connections between concepts of the soul and consciousness in quantum physics and religion with the new developed concept of “protyposis”.

References Achtner, W., Düringer, H. Meisinger, H. & Schmidt, W.-R. (eds.) (2005) Gott—Geist—Gehirn. Religiöse Erfahrungen im Lichte der neuesten Hirnforschung, Arnoldshainer Texte Bd. 133, Frankfurt a.M.: Haag & Herchen. Aristotle (1957) On the Soul (De Anima) et al. With an English translation by W.S. Hett. Loeb Classical Library 288 (Aristotle VIII), Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, revised edition. Assmann, J. (2001) Tod und Jenseits im Alten Ägypten, München: Beck Verlag. Assmann, J. & Trauzettel, R. (eds.) (2002) Tod, Jenseits und

Identität. Perspektiven einer kulturwissenschaftlichen Thanatologie, Freiburg & München: Alber. Bratsiotis, N.P. (1966) “Nephesh-psychè. Ein Beitrag zur Erforschung der Sprache und der Theologie der Septuaginta”, in G.W. Andersen et al. (eds.), Congress volume 5, Genève 1965. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 15, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 58-89. Brüntrup, G. (2008) Das Leib-Seele-Problem. Eine Einführung, Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 3rd revised and expanded edition. Corcoran, K.J. (ed.) (2001) Soul, body, and survival. Essays on the metaphysics of human persons, Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Cumont, F. (1949) Lux perpetua, Paris: Geuthner. Dines, J.M. (2004) The Septuagint, London: T&T Clark. Frick, E. (2009) Psychosomatische Anthropologie. Ein Lehr- und Arbeitsbuch für Unterricht und Studium. Unter Mitarbeit von H. Gründel, Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. Gladigow, B. “Bilanzierungen des Lebens über den Tod hinaus”, in Assmann et al. (2002), 90-109.

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Die Evolution des Geistigen. Quantenphysik—Bewusstsein—Religion, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck

Görnitz,

B.

&

T.

(2008)

& Ruprecht. Hasenfratz, H.-P. (1986) Die Seele. Einführung in ein religiöses Grundphänomen, Zürich: Theologischer Verlag. Hasenfratz, H.-P. (2002) “Religionswissenschaftliches zur Seelenkonzeption. Am Beispiel Altägyptens”, in J. Figl & H.-D. Klein (eds.), Der Begriff der Seele in der Religionswissenschaft, Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 121-130. Heckel, T.K. (1993) “Der Innere Mensch. Die paulinische Verarbeitung eines platonischen Motivs”, WUNT 2. Reihe Bd. 53, Tübingen: Mohr. Hinterhuber, H. (2001) Die Seele. Natur- und Kulturgeschichte von Psyche, Geist und Bewusstsein, Wien & New York: Springer Verlag. Janowski, B. (2006) Konfliktgespräche mit Gott. Eine Anthropologie der Psalmen, 2nd revised and expanded edition, Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag. Koester, H. (2007) “Natural Law (nomos physeos) in Greek Thought”, in H. Koester, Paul and His World. Interpreting the New Testament in its Context, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 126142. Lints, R. et al. (eds.) (2006) Personal Identity in Theological Perspective, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Lys, D. (1966) “The Israelite Soul According to the LXX”, Vetus Testamentum 16, 181-228. Mumm, P.-A., and Richter, S. (2008) “Die Etymologie von griechisch ψυχή”, International Journal of Diachronic Linguistics and Linguistic Reconstruction 5, 33-108. Nickelsburg, G.W.E. (2006) Resurrection, Immortality, and Eternal Life in Intertestamental Judaism and Early Christianity, Harvard Theological Studies 56, expanded edition, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. NIV (1984) The Holy Bible: New International Version, Grand Rapids: Zondervan.

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NRSV (1989) The Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version. Nashville: Thomas Nelson. Quitterer, J. (2003) “Unser Selbst im Spannungsfeld von Alltagsintuition und Wissenschaft“, in Rager et al., 61-142. Rager, G. Quitterer, J. & Runggaldier, E. (eds.) (2003) Unser Selbst. Identität im Wandel neuronaler Prozesse, Paderborn: Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh, 2nd corrected edition. Ratzinger, J./Benedikt XVI. (2007) Eschatologie. Tod und ewiges Leben, Regensburg: Verlag Friedrich Pustet, Neuausgabe der 6. Aufl. 1990. Runggaldier, E. (2003) “Deutungen menschlicher Grunderfahrungen im Hinblick auf unser Selbst”, in Rager et al., 143-221. Runia, D.T. (1986) “Philo of Alexandria and the Timaios of Plato”, PhAnt 44, Leiden: Brill, 507-519. Schwabl, H. (2005) “Frühgriechische Seelenvorstellungen”, in H.-D. Klein (ed.), Der Begriff der Seele in der Philosophiegeschichte, Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 29-64. Schroer, S. & Staubli, T. (2005) Die Körpersymbolik der Bibel, Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2nd revised edition. Sellin, G. (1986) Der Streit um die Auferstehung der Toten, FRLANT 138, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Sidiropoulou, C. (2008) “A Soul in Space and Time: What Kind of Unique Self?” Paper read at the conference Subject, Self, and Soul. Transdisciplinary Approaches to Personhood, July 13-17 2008, Madrid, Spain. On-line at URL = http://www.metanexus.net/conference2008/articles/Default.asp x?id=10521 Stendahl, K. (1963) “The Apostle Paul and the Introspective Conscience of the West”, Harvard Theological Review 56, 199-214. Stump, E. (2006) “Resurrection, Reassembly, and Reconstitution”, in B. Niederbacher & E. Runggaldier (eds.), Die menschliche Seele. Brauchen wir den Dualismus? Frankfurt a.M.: ontos, 153-174. Sullivan, S.D. (1997) Aeschylus’ Use of Psychological Terminology, Montreal & Kingston, London, Buffalo: McGill-Queen’s University Press.

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Sullivan, S.D. (2000) Euripides’ Use of Psychological Terminology, Montreal & Kingston, London, Ithaca: McGill-Queen’s University Press. Taylor, C. (1989) Sources of the Self. The Making of Modern Identity, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Vogel, H.J. (1963) “The Old Testament Concept of the Soul”, Lectures read at the Pastors’ Institute held at Dr. Martin Luther College, New Ulm, Minnesota, July 8—12 1963 (see www.wlsessays.net/authors/V/VogelOTSoul/VogelOTSoul.pdf). Wagner, A. (2006) Art. “Mensch” (Altes Testament), in M. Bauks & K. Koenen (eds., Alttestamentlicher Teil) Das wissenschaftliche Bibellexikon im Internet (www.wibilex.de), Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft. Wagner, A. (ed.) (2009) Anthropologische Aufbrüche. Alttesta-

mentliche und interdisziplinäre Zugänge zur historischen Anthropologie, Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments (FRLANT) 232, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Wolff, H.W. (2002) Anthropologie des Alten Testaments. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 7th edition.

Two Problems in the Theory of Substantial Motion Muhammad Taqi Miṣbāḥ Yazdī, Qom 1. Welcoming Remarks Praise be to Allah, the Lord of the worlds. Peace and blessings to our master Muhammad and to his pure progeny. I thank God that He has granted us the success of being present with our cultured friends who are lovers of the truth. I would like very much if my youth would return so that I could also return the visit by coming with our friends to Austria, and to take an active part in their discussions. Unfortunately, our time has passed, and we have to make due with observing your activities. For my part, I would like to welcome our dear guests. I hope that the last few days have not passed very badly for them. Our facilities for hosting are very limited and because of that I would like to apologize. I would also like to thank our friends for the reception that they provided for their Iranian guests when they were previously in Austria. I hope that this coming and going will be a step toward the advancement of philosophy and theology, and that it will prepare further grounds for the exchange of ideas and culture. I am ready to be informed of the report of the work of our friends, or to answer any questions they may have, if I am able.

2. Confusions about Substantial Motion As you know, the topic of this conference is very subtle, and is one to which both Eastern and Western philosophers for a long time have given importance, and they have made great efforts in order to solve its problems and to eliminate the ambiguities related to it. It seems, however, that there is still a long way to go until conclusive results

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are achieved. Substantial motion, as you know, is one of the original theses of the philosophy of Mulla Sadra. Although this theory was first presented several centuries ago, the truth of the matter has still not been offered, and there remain dimensions of the discussion that deserve further inquiry. As you know, many scholars have compared the view of Mulla Sadra with that of Heraclitus; and they wanted to say that this was a revival of Heraclitus that took place in Islamic philosophy during the time of Mulla Sadra. However, it seems that it is no easy matter to prove that these two views are the same. In any case, one may pursue philosophical discussions such as these, each of which has its own philosophical value, such as discussions of the nature of substantial motion itself, the precursors to it among other philosophers, as well as other similar topics, such as constant creation, and how these theories compare with the view of others, including those of Heraclitus. As philosophers there is room for you to continue your investigations, and as this topic is developed and is made available to others, it may come to be included among the topics of modern philosophy. One of the immediate fruits of this theory in general philosophy or metaphysics in the broad sense and which may be solved through this theory is the inquiry into the nature of time. According to the theory of substantial motion, time is placed in the context of material existence, and is not a vessel for the universe. In any case, this theory, the theory of substantial motion, is very effective in giving one more certainty about the nature of time. One of the problems that Mulla Sadra himself claimed can be solved through this theory is the relation between body and soul. I am sure that in this regard our friends will have some good discussions about this during the next few days.

3. The Problem of the Direction of Substantial Motion What remains ambiguous in the theory of substantial motion, and which I have not been able to derive myself from the words of Mulla Sadra, although I have grasped the surface meaning, is whether

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substantial motion is always motion toward perfection, or whether there is not also constant motion, or declining motion, as types of substantial motion. For example, the time that passes within material substance, without a doubt, is motion that is constant, because time itself is not perfecting, and with respect to perfection, past, present and future do not make any difference. The source of the abstraction of time, that is, the dimension of material existence that temporal motion pictures, is a constant process. Hence, there must be some sort of substantial motion—although this is my own interpretation and is not expressly stated by Mulla Sadra—that is a constant substantial motion and is the basis for the abstraction of time. Of course, the fact that I have not found anything of this sort in the works of Mulla Sadra is not definitive, and perhaps some of our friends might do more research into the texts and make some relevant findings. Perhaps it can be said that it is certain that in Mulla Sadra’s theory, perfecting motion exists as a kind of substantial motion, and that the solution that he presents for the origination of the soul and for the relation between body and soul is in fact an instance of this perfecting substantial motion. Thus, we have two sorts of substantial motion, in my view, at least: constant and perfecting or ascending. Can we also consider declining motion as a third type of substantial motion? Perhaps texts of Mulla Sadra can be found that would show that according to him declining substantial motion is meaningless. I do not think that Mulla Sadra explicitly denies declining substantial motion, and in my opinion, some of his statements may be interpreted as affirming it. In any case, in my opinion, declining substantial motion is not unreasonable. Of course, both ascending and declining substantial motion, if it exists, are always accompanied by a constant motion which is the basis of the abstraction of time, that is, for any material existent, we can abstract time from it. This is an indication of a constant substantial motion in time. Perfecting substantial motion is a sign that there is a motion that supervenes on constant substantial motion. In order to complete this view, it should be noted that the existence of two motions or the supervenience of one on another does not mean that there exist two

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distinct and contrary things. There is one moving entity from which the mind abstracts a constant motion from one aspect and a perfecting motion from another aspect. For example, if we imagine a body that travels along the diagonal of a right triangle with base AB and diagonal AC, where the right angle is ABC, then the movement of the body toward the line BC may be considered constant motion, while if the body moves toward point C on BC, although it traverses a distance longer than either side AB or BC of the right triangle, it still covers the distance from A to B.

In other words, as the body continues along the diagonal, eventually it will cross the line BC. In conclusion, there is constant motion that accompanies any ascending motion. This does not mean that two motions take place; rather there is a single motion that is analyzed as two motions, as in vector analysis. The question with regard to declining motion is whether there could be motion to negative C that would include, under analysis, motion to B, so that the motion would be analyzed into constant motion and also descending motion.

4. Emergence or Generation? There is also a question about the solution that Mulla Sadra proposed about how the soul appears as a result of the substantial motion

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of the body. On the basis of my own study, I have not found a definite answer to this question. The question depends on an assumption, which is that when the soul exists, it is a reality, a substance, that is not of the same sort as matter. It does not have the most obvious features of matter, which is extension in three dimensions. When the spirit enlivens the body, there are two substances: the material substance which is the body, and the spiritual substance which is the soul. If the assumption is correct that we now have two distinct substances, then it will be asked when the distinction between these two substances appeared. The answer that may be obtained from what Mulla Sadra says is that we have a material substance that undergoes perfecting substantial motion in the course of its substantial motion, and in the course of its perfection it changes into spirit. Suppose that this matter has a long history and that at some moment in this history it begins a perfecting motion. Here the question that arises for us is when the ascending motion breaks off from the constant motion. Suppose that we discuss this in terms of modern science, then we may ask whether it is when the sperm and ovum become composite, or even earlier, when the sperm had not yet come into existence and was just some organic matter, or even some inorganic matter. At any rate, let us suppose there is some such point, even if it is difficult for us to determine precisely. At this point is there any trace of spirit or not? If there is, is it identical to the body or is it coupled with the matter or mixed with it? The answer that is sometimes expressed by Mulla Sadra is that, first, constant substantial motion occurs in the material body. Suppose that it is some inorganic matter that existed throughout time, and that there was a constant motion in this material substance, so that at some point it turns into organic matter, and in the same way it continues until it is transformed into a human spirit. Our question is whether there is a definite point at which it is transformed into a human spirit. If we want to picture this, is it the case that the substance continues in a straight line and then at some point shoots off at an ascending angle? The answer to this question is not clear from the writings of Mulla Sadra. There are two possibilities: first, we could say that the ascending motion starts at some specific point,

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that is, one part of the motion is constant, and then at a certain point it begins to ascend; or, second, that the ascending motion was there from the start, that is, that there is no specific point, but from the very first there is a curved line, although until now the curvature was not perceptible and we did not notice it. If it is said that this perfecting motion does not start at any definite moment, but has a long history for which no starting point can be found, then the question will be raised as to how to justify the temporal coming to be of the soul on the basis of this theory, for in this case it would appear as though the ascending motion were present from the start. If, on the other hand, it is said that the ascending motion began at a certain moment, the implication will be that this motion can be analyzed into two motions: a constant motion that continues within the body, and an ascending motion that begins at a certain point. In that case, we cannot say that the body was transformed into the soul, but that the soul came to be attached to the body at the point the ascending motion begins. These are two issues that are unclear for me regarding the theory of Mulla Sadra.

5. Philosophical Method Some may ask about how this compares with what is written in the Qur’ān, and whether what is found there is consistent with the idea of the gradual emergence of soul from matter. This is also a matter that is not clear from the writings of Mulla Sadra. However, as a matter of methodology, I think it is better not to bring religious texts into philosophical discussions; but we should restrict ourselves to philosophical discussion. If we are able to reach a clear conclusion, then we may compare this with what is found in the religious texts. If we are not able to reach a clear conclusion, mixing the discussion with religious matters will only increase our difficulties and solve nothing.

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One of our guests has suggested that a way to understand the unity of body and soul is suggested by Christian theology, according to which Christ, peace be with him, is both human and divine. This is explained by analogy with an iron that is put into fire and becomes glowing hot. The redness of the iron and its heat are not separate, and they only have existence when they are together. Perhaps such an example also may help with understanding the reality of time and its relations to other things in a single existent. To this suggestion we should reply that the use of analogies can be useful to explain some religious topics; and the use of analogies can also be useful for pedagogical purposes, so that the minds of students may more closely approach the truth. However, in my own opinion, in discussions of philosophy in which depth and precision take priority, the use of analogies is not only ineffectual, but can also be misleading. In philosophy, we have to define our concepts with perfect precision, so that no confusion will occur with other concepts. If we do not take care in this regard, no problems of philosophy will ever be solved. It is possible that through the use of analogies the mind of the student may be brought out of the state of thinking that some matter is highly unlikely, and may be prepared for the acceptance of some belief. This, however, does not solve any philosophical problems. When we say, for example, that something has reality or does not have reality, if we want to use ordinary language in this regard, or make use of analogies, we can easily find an answer. However, when we seek to raise a precise question of philosophy, we have to pay attention to terms in which it is formulated, and ask what is meant by “reality”. Until we make this precise, the discussion will not be philosophical, and no philosophical answer to the problem will be given. Because of this, in philosophy we should avoid making use of literature, poetry, religious scriptures, analogies, and myths so that the philosophical discussion does not lose its own identity and become confused with these other areas. When we say that something has two dimensions, or that it has one divine aspect and one human aspect, we have to be precise, even about the word “one”. We should ask what it means to say that one thing possesses two elements. In philosophy, how many meanings

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does “One” have? By virtue of what is it one? Even if we say that the body and soul of a person are one existent in our existence, which has both a soul and a body, by virtue of what do we say one? Is this, in truth, one? Or are there really two? Do we only say “one” due to equivocation? In philosophy, we have to be exact even about these matters, and define every word we use, so that we can say what we mean.

6. The Reality of Time While we have explained that in the theory of Mulla Sadra, time is not a vessel in which objects are located, and while we have also rejected the view of Heraclitus as an interpretation of Mulla Sadra’s theory, the question remains as to whether we should take time to be a reality in itself, or merely an abstraction that the mind performs with regard to motion. Here we need to pay close attention to what is meant by the word “reality,” when we ask whether something “has reality” or “has its own reality” according to some versions of realism. What is meant by having reality? As was mentioned earlier, a single motion may be analyzed into two motions, one constant and one ascending. The question may be raised as to which of these has reality. In one sense we may say that both are real. In that case, however, the meaning of being real is not that there is any separation between them, so that each constitutes a distinct reality; rather there is a single existent that has various dimensions and aspects. From one aspect we abstract one concept, and from another aspect we abstract another. For example, when we touch a surface, in the reality of a surface there is no separation between length and breadth. However, we mentally distinguish the dimensions. Both the length and the breadth have reality, but this having reality does not mean that there are two realities, one of which is a and, on the other hand, there is another reality called b. There is only one reality, yet both length and breadth are real. If we take this into consideration, then when we confront volume, there will be three realities, length, breadth and depth. When we consider time, we arrive at four rea-

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lities. Time may be considered by way of comparison to be another dimension of the entity. Just as length is a dimension of an entity, breadth is another, and height is a third dimension of an entity, so, too, time is an extension that is also abstracted from the entity, but is not separate from it, just as length and breadth are not separate entities. In my comments above, I have stressed the word “reality” (wāqi‘iyah) because it may be interpreted in two ways. You have observed that in our own Islamic philosophy we sometimes say that something has reality or even that it has existence. We say that every true statement about the external world is such that the predication of something in the external world has true existence (wujūd-e ḥaqīqī) or reality. Therefore, we say that all the abstract concepts, which are secondary intelligibles, although they are abstract, they have reality. The other interpretation is that when we say that something has reality, we mean that it has independent reality, regardless of the abstraction of the intellect. When someone asks whether we hold, for example, that time is real, we should respond by asking with regard to which meaning of “reality” the question is posed. In accordance with the meaning by which every true predication of something in the external world has reality, time is real; but if the meaning is that something is predicated as a primary intelligible without any abstraction of the mind, in this sense we must say, “No,” that time is not real. An example is the dimensions. Do length, breadth and depth have reality or not? No one can say that length has no reality in the external world; however, there is no such thing as length separate from the corporeal objects in the external world.

7. Comparative Philosophy Precision is especially important when we want to do comparative philosophy, or explain the concepts of one tradition to those who have been trained in another. For example, the concept of substantial motion is not found in Aristotle’s philosophy or in the Western

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Aristotelian tradition. In Aristotle’s philosophy, motion in substance is meaningless, for when a substance undergoes change, it must be destroyed and another substance emerges. Because of this, Aristotelians have had some difficulties explaining the nature of gradual change in a substance, such as the change from an embryo to a human being. In order to understand how this sort of problem is addressed according to Mulla Sadra’s theory of substantial motion, we need to be especially careful of how we define the relevant terms. Whenever anyone is determined to stick with just one philosophical school of thought to the end, one will face difficulties. If we want to solve our problems in such a way that they are rationally justifiable for us and do not involve any contradiction, we cannot remain loyalists to any particular philosophical tradition. If there were this sort of mistaken loyalty, there would never have been any argument between Plato and Aristotle, and Aristotle would have remained true to the theory of his teacher. In philosophy, we have no choice but to select and evaluate all of the theories that are to be found in various schools of thought. Whichever of them has a sound proof should be accepted. Where no proof is found, we must remain silent, or reject it, if we find a proof against it. Mulla Sadra believes that what the previous philosophers said about motion in substance is not correct, even what the Islamic philosophers said, such as Ibn Sina, who did not accept substantial motion. Thus, we cannot remain loyal to our old traditions and by doing so solve these problems. If we wanted to remain loyal to Aristotelian philosophy, I must admit that many of our rational theories would not be justifiable, let alone our religious positions. Every philosophical school has its own roots or central principles that show themselves in every theory and problem treated by that school. In particular, in the philosophy of Mulla Sadra, the fundamentality of existence and the graduation of existence are principles that manifest themselves in almost all the problems of philosophy. When we want to understand Mulla Sadra, we must certainly pay attention to these two central principles. In addition to the fundamentality of existence and the graduation of existence, however, Mulla Sadra has two other principles, which should be considered

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even more important for his philosophy than the discovery of the atom was for physics: the doctrine of substantial motion and that of relational existence. With these principles many problems of philosophy and theology can be solved that are unsolvable in other schools of philosophy. For instance, with respect to the soul, we believe in perfecting substantial motion. It is the soul itself that becomes perfected in its existence. So, according to our own religious teachings we need to investigate until we find the factors that lead to this perfection. We all agree that the factor leading to the perfection of the soul is serving God. However, we need to pay attention to the fact that the substance of the soul is perfected by this factor, not merely that its accidents change. This is a very important topic. If there are some ambiguities about this in certain places, there is no doubt about the perfecting substantial motion of the soul, but only about whether the doctrine of substantial motion can be used to solve the problem of the relation between body and soul. There is no doubt that substantial motion is a key to the solution of many of the great problems of philosophy, and it should not be feared that this is opposed to the Aristotelian tradition, the Platonic tradition, or any of the other schools of philosophy. It is a truth, and we should be thankful to Him who makes the truth manifest to us.

Gnostic Elements in Mīr Findiriskī’s Theory of Knowledge and the Body-Soul Relation Mahmoud Namazi Esfahani, Qom 1. Introduction The existence and nature of man’s soul are matters of interest to most people, but especially to philosophers and mystics. Thinkers of all backgrounds have sought answers to such questions as: What is the reality and the origin of human life and thought? Has a human being only a body with a physical existence or does he have a soul or a spirit, too? What is the soul if man has one? Is it essential or accidental? Does the human soul have any relation to the body? Who are the creator and the cause of human soul? Is it the Active Intellect (as the Peripatetic philosophers, or Mashshā’īn believe) or is it the universal soul (as the Illuminationists, or Ishrāqīyūn would have it)? However, since knowledge of the soul is sometimes considered the basis for knowledge of the Creator and His creatures, and since scholars consider it a key to understanding the truth and perfection of life, it is a subject that has long exercised the greatest minds. Eastern scholars, including Islamic thinkers, believed in the immortality and incorporeality of the soul. They endlessly discussed the means toward its purification and perfection. Certain Greek philosophers also believed in the existence of the soul or spirit and discussed its essence, signs and effects, leading to the emergence of different opinions and schools. Socrates, for instance, believed in the existence of a soul and insisted that knowledge of others amounted to knowledge of their souls. Plato believed in the incorporeality and immortality of the soul and strongly believed in the substantive and perfect motion of the soul. Aristotle believed that the soul is originated and that it is the perfection or form of the natural

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substance. Plotinus, whose ideas had a tremendous influence on the Muslim world and Muslim philosophers, also considered the problem of the soul; in his Enneads, he expressed his belief in the descent of the soul from the incorporeal world and its desire to return to its home once again. In Islam the question of the human soul has been addressed in various philosophical, mystical, ethical and theological contexts. Other very basic and fundamental problems in Islam (God’s oneness and the doctrine of resurrection) also have a close relation to the problem of the soul. The soul is also a central concern in Islamic ethics and mysticism. The same may be said of the sources of man’s knowledge, which has been one of the most controversial problems in Islamic philosophy. This epistemological question seeks to discover the essential elements that constitute man’s knowledge, and tries to determine the nature of man’s intellectual life as well as how his thought is constructed. These issues, fundamental in themselves and yet linked on many levels, have preoccupied Muslim philosophers and mystics for centuries, and have been subjected to many attempts at resolving them—not the least important of which is the contribution of Mīr Findiriskī, a Safavid Muslim philosopher. Mīr Findiriskī dealt with the above questions (among others) using his ‘irfānī-philosophical methodology, in a very allegorical and highly encoded approach. Mulla Sadra’s focus, by contrast, is very different from that of Mīr Findiriskī. He deals with these issues from a completely different angle. He bases himself on the principality and gradation of existence (‘iṣālat wa tashkīk dar wujūd) and on substantial motion (ḥarakat al-jawharīyah). The present study will deal with these problems chiefly from the standpoint of Mīr Findiriskī, but often in reference to the thought of Mulla Sadra. In his “Philosophical Ode” (Qaṣīdah Ḥikmīyah) Mīr Findiriskī deals both directly and indirectly with different ideas and schools regarding the existence of the soul, the body-soul relation, the soulintellect relation, and the immortality and incorporeality of the soul. Moreover, the whole structure of the poem is built around the prob-

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lem of the soul and knowledge. He expresses all his concerns and ideas in the Qaṣīdah, where he views the soul as being at times the foundation of ethics, at other times the basis of mystical expression, and even sometimes the subject of philosophy. In his philosophical thought, he investigates the theory of knowledge and how human knowledge is formed.

2. Mīr Findiriskī Although the Ṣafavid dynasty (c. 1501-1736), which marks a turning point in the history of Shī’ī thought, has been studied extensively (see Roemer 1986, 189), less consideration has been given to the scientific and philosophical dynamism of this period, among which, the philosophical and mystical contributions of Mīr Findiriskī are significant. Mīr Abū al-Qāsim Ḥusaynī-i Findiriskī (b. 970/1563, d. 1050/1640-1) is regarded by many scholars as one of the greatest mystics and philosophers of his time (see Mudarris 1967, 357). Though he was well versed in a number of difficult languages such as Sanskrit and Pahlavi, nevertheless it must be accepted that he was considered somewhat weak in the divine sciences and even in Arabic (see Afandī Isfahānī 1401/1981, 499). One of the greatest works of Mīr Findiriskī is his commentary in Persian upon the Yoga Vasistha, it seems possible that Mīr Findiriskī discovered certain similarities between Islamic and Hindu mysticism. This also may explain his interest in traveling so often to India. Among Mīr Findiriskī’s works we may call his philosophical ode, Qaṣīdah Ḥikmīyah, essays on motion, Risāla-i Ḥarakat, on technique, Risālah-i Ṣinā’īyah, and on Hindu wisdom, Muntakhab-i Jug Basasht (see Mujtabā’ī 1976), to note only the more important ones (see Nasr 1986). Though Mīr Findiriskī wrote little, what he did write is considered significant. He frequently taught Peripatetic philosophy (concentrating on texts such as Ibn Sīnā’s al-Shifā’ and al-Najāt), mathematics and medicine. Corbin (1993, 340) has noted

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that he was “a powerful personality who remains shrouded in a certain mystery.” Though many important scholars such as S. J. Āshtiyānī (1971, 62) and H. Corbin consider him a Peripatetic (mashshā’ī) philosopher, yet, based on his philosophical ode and on those contemporary witnesses who believed that Mīr Findiriskī was possessed of supernatural powers (according to Nasr 2004, 308), we may consider him as a mystical philosopher who played an important role in the development of Shī’ī ‘irfān (mysticism). Mīr Findiriskī’s writings indicate that in philosophy he was a peripatetic philosopher and a faithful follower of Ibn Sīnā for all of his students except Mulla Sadra (if we accept that Mulla Sadra studied with Mīr Findiriskī) were Avicennan in orientation. Some of his distinguished students are Aqā Husayn-i Khānsārī (d. 1080/166970), Mullā Muḥammad Bāqir Sabzawārī (d. 1098 or 1099/ 1686-7), and Mullā Rafī’a Gīlānī (d. 1082/1671-2) (see Nasr 1986, 676 and Ashtīyānī 1971, 62). Though Mudarris (1967, 358-359) reports that he was respected by both Shāh ‘Abbās in Iran and the Mughal court in India, he remained nevertheless disconnected, even in his outward activities, from the material world and wore only plain and simple clothes. Mīr Findiriskī’s most famous work; Qaṣīdah Ḥikmīyah, which is very similar to the Qaṣīdah Yā’īyah of Nāṣir ibn Khusraw Dihlawī, and survived in three Iranian manuscripts, is very authentic for it has been commented on by three important scholars; Mullā Muhammad Ṣāliḥ Khalkhālī (1175-1095 solar), Muḥsin ibn Muḥammad Gīlānī (13th century solar) and ‘Abbās Sharīf Dārābī (ca. 1255-1300 solar), all whom attributed this work to Mīr Findiriskī. It continues to be highly admired by contemporary philosophers and mystics in Iran. Though Mīr Findiriskī was not a prolific writer, his Qaṣīdah essentially explains the principles of ḥikmat, or wisdom, in the sense of esoteric knowledge. Here, I wish to explain one of Mīr Findiriskī’s more significant philosophical ideas as set forth in the philosophical ode entitled “Qasīda Hikmīyah.” At the same time that Mīr Findiriskī was skilled

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in presenting the intellectual and traditional sciences of his time, he was also experienced in the versification of mystical and philosophical problems. At the very outset of this philosophical ode Mīr Findiriskī introduces the reader to the well-known theory of Platonic Ideas (al-muthul al-Aflātūnīya). In order to convey a sense of his style I would therefore like to quote the verses in a literal transliteration and translation and then explain the four theories concerning knowledge that Mīr Findiriskī may have intended to convey. Text (Lines 1-3) ‫ﺻﻮرﺗﻲ در زﻳﺮ دارد ﺁﻧﭽﻪ در ﺑﺎﻻﺳﺘﻲ‬ ‫ﺑﺮ رود ﺑﺎﻻ هﻤﺎن ﺑﺎ اﺻﻞ ﺧﻮد ﻳﻜﺘﺎﺳﺘﻲ‬ ‫ﮔﺮ اﺑﻮﻧﺼﺮﺳﺘﻲ ﮔﺮ ﺑﻮﻋﻠﻲ ﺳﻴﻨﺎﺳﺘﻲ‬

‫ ﭼﺮخ ﺑﺎ اﻳﻦ اﺧﺘﺮان ﻧﻐﺰ و ﺧﻮش و زﻳﺒﺎﺳﺘﻲ‬.1 ‫ ﺻﻮرت زﻳﺮﻳﻦ اﮔﺮ ﺑﺎ ﻧﺮدﺑﺎن ﻣﻌﺮﻓﺖ‬.2 ‫ اﻳﻦ ﺳﺨﻨﻬﺎ را در ﻧﻴﺎﺑﺪ هﻴﭻ ﻓﻬﻢ ﻇﺎهﺮي‬.3

1. Charkh bā īn akhtarān naghz wa khush wa zībāstī, Sūratī dar zīr dārad ānch-i dar bālāstī. 2. Sūrat-i zīrīn ‘agar bā nardibān-i ma’rifat, Bar ravad bālā hamān bā ‘aṣl-i khud yiktāstī. 3. Īn sukhan rā dar nayābad hich fahm-i ẓāhirī, Gar Abū Naṣr astī, gar Bū ‘Alī Sīnā astī. (See Dārābī Shīrāzī 1337/1958) 1. Heaven with these stars is excellent, happy and beautiful; Whatever there is above has a form below as well. 2. The lower form—if the ladder of inner knowledge, Be climbed—is one in origin with the higher. 3. No exterior understanding can discover this word, Whether it be that of an Abū Naṣr (al-Fārābī) or of an Abū ‘Alī (Ibn) Sīnā. (A partial translation may be found in Nasr 1983, 923.)

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3. The Theory of Knowledge The question of the sources of human knowledge has long been discussed both in the Islamic world and in the West. The epistemological question seeks the essential elements forming man’s knowledge while trying to determine the broader nature of human intellectual life and even how thought is itself constructed. Perception (idrāk) is of two types: first, representation (taṣawwur) which is a simple and single perception, like the perception of light or of sound; and second, assertion (taṣdīq), such as when we say “the sun is brighter than the moon.” Representation, in turn, is itself of two kinds: first, simple representation (al-taṣawwur al-basīṭ) as in the perception of existence, unity, etc., and second, compound representation (al-taṣawwur al-murakkab) which is made up of two or more single representations, like “golden mountain” or “orange juice.” However the essential question goes back to the origin and the sources of simple representation. 3.1. Simple Representation and its Origin There are four theories that attempt to explain the nature of simple representation as a mode of perception: rational theory, sensory theory, extraction theory and the Platonic theory of reminiscence. As it is beyond the limits of this introduction to cover all these theories in detail, I would like to deal only briefly with the rational, sensory and extraction theories and pay a little more attention to the Platonic theory, where Mīr Findiriskī’s ideas will be clarified. 1. Rational theory. Many European philosophers, such as Descartes and Kant, basically insist that there are two fundamental sources for man’s representations: feeling and nature. We represent in our mind heat, light, taste and sound because we feel them with our sensory organs. We also represent some other concepts such as God, soul, length, and motion, which clearly are not represented through our sensory organs; rather we represent them by our nature. Accordingly, the basic sources of man’s representations, Descartes and Kant say, are sensation and nature.

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2. Sensory Theory. In contrast to philosophers of the latter school, John Locke strongly believed that we should consider sensation as the only source of our representations. According to him all other representations are made of changes to the representations that come from our sensory organs. 3. Abstraction Theory. Muslim philosophers by contrast divide man’s representations into primary and secondary. Primary representations, they say, come directly from sensation. Man then uses his creativity and his innovative spirit to abstract secondary representations from the primary ones. 4. Reminiscence, Platonic Theory (Anamnesis). The theory of reminiscence is based on two essential principles: first, the existence of man’s eternal soul and the existence of Ideas or Forms. According to Plato, man’s soul can exist independently of his body (in fact, before the body even exists) in a higher world. Man’s soul, which is capable of dwelling freely in an eternal and higher world, is able to come into contact there with the incorporeal realities (Ideas) and understand them. Then, when man’s soul is compelled to descend from the incorporeal world and approach his body, he loses all his knowledge. However, when he forms a connection in his mind, through his feelings, to particular meanings, he remembers the higher ideas. In fact, worldly meanings are nothing except reflections and shadows of higher, eternal, Platonic ideas. When man perceives a meaning in this world, he immediately remembers higher, eternal, Platonic Ideas. Consequently man’s representations precede his feelings, which in turn, are nothing more than a memory of knowledge learned in a past existence. Mīr Findiriskī’s philosophical ode appears to reflect similar ideas. According to him, cognition is a result of the remembrance of previous ideas and representations. This idea is clearly expressed in Mīr Findiriskī’s philosophical ode. He declares at the beginning that the universe’s beauty, happiness, and excellence lie in the fact that its lower aspect (ṣūrat-i zīrīn) is exactly the same as its counterpart in the higher world. He clearly explains, in the second line, that the higher form is the origin of man’s representations. The word aṣl (in verse 2) means the base, the origin, the root, the source, while the

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word yiktāstī (in the same line) means “the same,” or “united.” In the third line, however, Mīr Findiriskī, goes further and declares that this theory is of such a nature that it had remained unknown even to such great philosophers as Fārābī and Ibn Sīnā. He states moreover that the latter two thinkers did not apprehend this theory because they lacked inner or esoteric understanding. In other words, if such brilliant thinkers were unable to understand the theory on the basis of outward knowledge, how could anyone else hope to? (see Dārābī Shīrāzī 1337/1958, 55) Yet if they had developed their inner sight, this understanding would have been granted to them, just as it would be to anyone else. Text (lines 4, 5) ‫اﻳﻦ ﺑﺪﻧﻬﺎ ﻧﻴﺰ داﻳﻢ زﻧﺪﻩ و ﺑﺮﺟﺎﺳﺘﻲ‬ ‫ﻋﻘﻞ ﺑﺮ اﻳﻦ دﻋﻮي ﻣﺎ ﺷﺎهﺪي ﮔﻮﻳﺎﺳﺘﻲ‬

‫ ﺟﺎن اﮔﺮ ﻧﻪ ﻋﺎرﺿﺴﺘﻲ زﻳﺮ اﻳﻦ ﭼﺮخ آﺒﻮد‬.4 ‫ هﺮﭼﻪ ﺑﺎﺷﺪ ﻋﺎرض اورا ﺟﻮهﺮي ﺑﺎﻳﺪ ﻧﺨﺴﺖ‬.5

4. Jān agar na ārizatī zīr-i īn charkh-i kabūd, Īn badanhā nīz dā’im zindah wa barpāstī. 5. Har chi bāshad āriz uū rā jowharī bāyad nakhust, ‘Aql bar īn da’vīy-i mā shāhidī gūyāstī. 4. If soul were not an accident under this azure heaven, These bodies would be forever alive and upright. 5. But whatever is an accident must first have a substance; The intellect is our express evidence for this claim.

In the above verses Mīr Findiriskī offers reasons in support of what he asserts in the first two lines of his ode. In verses one and two, he appears to maintain two philosophically important principles: that there exists a higher rational universe which contains both the souls of men and incorporeal realities, and that upper ideas and representations are the source of man’s representations (taṣawwurāt) in this world. In verses four and five Mīr Findiriskī substantiates this by declaring that if the souls were not accidents within bodies, then

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they would have to be essences and consequently bodies would also be everlasting; yet on the contrary, we see that men’s bodies perish, and so they are neither eternal nor essential. Inevitably, therefore, men’s souls are accidental and hence they attach to human bodies as accidents. The source of a man’s soul or its substance is incorporeal, universal intellect (‘aql-i kullī-i mujarrad). Mīr Findiriskī maintains that men’s souls are like forms (ṣuwar, pl. of ṣūrah) and that incurporeal, universal intellect is that substance. 3.2. Incorporeal, Universal, Rational Forms and the Incorporeal, Universal Intellect To convey more clearly the above process of reasoning, I shall explain his proof in another way. According to S. M. Ḥ. Ṭabāṭabā’ī, a twentieth century Muslim philosopher, incorporeal, universal, rational forms (ṣuwar-i, ‘aqlī-i, kullī-i mujarrad) are comprehended by the incorporeal, universal intellect (‘aql-i, kullī-i mujarrad). The incorporeal, universal intellect (‘aql-i, kullī-i mujarrad) overflows (supplies) incorporeal, universal, rational forms (ṣuwar-i, ‘aqlī-i, kullī-i mujarrad) to men’s souls. Since these forms are knowledge, they are incorporeal. And as they are universals, they are common to all people. Since we know that every material thing that permeates matter is entirely individual and cannot be shared, it must be true that rational forms are immaterial and their agents likewise incorporeal. For a weak material existent cannot create an existence stronger than itself (see Ṭabāṭabā’ī 1990, 257-258). One may say that the agent (fā‘il) of incorporeal, universal, rational forms is man’s own soul. This assertion however seems a false one, for the relation of man’s soul to incorporeal, universal, rational forms is in potency (bi al-quwwah) not in actuality (bi alfi‘l). And a thing in potency cannot of its own accord transform itself from a state of potency to one of actuality. Consequently the agent of incorporeal, universal, rational forms is an incorporeal substance, which contains all incorporeal, universal, rational forms.

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Text (line 6) ‫ ﻣﻲ ﺗﻮاﻧﻲ ﮔﺮ ز ﺧﻮرﺷﻴﺪ اﻳﻦ ﺻﻔﺘﻬﺎ آﺴﺐ آﺮد روﺷﻦ اﺳﺖ و ﺑﺮ هﻤﻪ ﺗﺎﺑﺎن و ﺧﻮد ﻳﻜﺘﺎﺳﺘﻲ‬.6 6. Mītavānī gar zi khurshīd īn sifathā kasb kard, rowshan ast wa bar hamah tābān wa khud yiktāstī. If you can obtain these qualities from the sun, The sun is bright and shines upon all things while keeping its unity.

In this verse Mīr Findiriskī likens the relationship between incorporeal, universal, rational forms, and the incorporeal, universal intellect to the sun and its rays. As the sun is the agent and cause of its rays of light, the incorporeal, universal intellect is the agent and cause of the soul. Like the sun, which is the beginner and completer of the rays, the incorporeal, universal intellect is also the beginner and completer of the soul. And just as the rays are entirely related to the sun, and have no independent existence, man’s soul is similarly related to the incorporeal, universal intellect. Text (lines 7- 8) ‫ هﻢ ﺑﻲ هﻤﻪ ﻣﺠﻤﻮع و ﻳﻜﺘﺎﺳﺘﻲ‬،‫ﺑﺎ هﻤﻪ‬ ‫ هﻢ ﭘﻨﻬﺎن و هﻢ ﭘﻴﺪاﺳﺘﻲ‬،‫در دل هﺮ ذرﻩ‬

‫ ﺟﻮهﺮ ﻋﻘﻠﻲ آﻪ ﺑﻲ ﭘﺎﻳﺎن و ﺟﺎوﻳﺪان ﺑﻮد‬.7 ‫ ﺟﺎن ﻋﺎﻟﻢ ﮔﻮﻳﻤﺶ ﮔﺮ رﺑﻂ ﺟﺎن داﻧﻲ ﺑﻪ ﺗﻦ‬.8

7. Ṣūrat-i ‘aqlī ki bī pāyān wa jāwīdān buwad, Bā hamah wa bī hamah majmū’ wa yiktāstī. 8. Jān-i ‘ālam gūyamash gar rabt-i jān dānī bi tan, Dar dil-i har zarra ham pinhān wa ham paydāstī. 7. The rational form which is endless and eternal, With or without all things is a totality and unity. 8. I call it the soul of the universe, if you believe in the body-soul connection, In the heart of every atom it is both hidden and visible.

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One of the most fundamental philosophical problems is the relation of soul and body. Mīr Findiriskī shows in the above verses that he believes in the duality of soul and body, as did Plato. In his Gorgias and Phaedrus, Plato indicates that, in fact, the soul and body are two separate substances. Accordingly the soul-body relation is accidental. As M. Muṭahharī (1366/1987, 10) says, Plato likens this relation to that of a bird and its pigeonhole, or to that of a rider and his mount, though we clearly see no substantial connection between a bird and its pigeonhole or between a rider and his mount. However, this idea was rejected by Aristotle and later on by Ibn Sīnā. They considered the soul-body relation to be much stronger than Plato had envisaged it. They said that the soul-body relation is like the relation of form (ṣūrah) and matter (māddah). But in this case, soul is with body, not in body. Soul is not eternal and precedes no knowledge. Soul aquires all its knowledge in this world. However, this theory was only developed in the following centuries. Philosophers were later to attempt to establish a closer connection between soul and body. In contrast to Mīr Findiriskī, who paid close attention to the Platonic doctrine of Ideas, his supposed pupil and/or his contemporary, Mulla Sadra, said that both soul and body are the result of motion. In fact, Mulla Sadra said matter has the potentiality to develop in itself something immaterial. Mulla Sadra thus on the one hand disagreed with Plato, saying that the soul does not precede the body or its knowledge, while on the other hand he differed with Aristotle, Ibn Sīnā and Mīr Findiriskī over the claim that the relation of soul and body is not like that between form and matter, but is rather much stronger. Soul is a higher level of body. Soul is a perfect level of body. In other words body, with its four dimensions (length, width, depth and time) will grow a new and fifth dimension as well. They call the fifth dimension the spiritual dimension, one that exists and develops simultaneously with the body (see Muṭahharī 1366/1987, 14-17).

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4. The existence and the nature of the soul Verses 27-34 argue about soul and its scope. In these verses Mīr Findiriskī ennumerates different schools of thought on the problem of soul. To have a clear idea of what Mīr Findiriskī says let us look at this problem more closely and then interpret the relevant verses. It is hardly possible to give a complete picture of what was debated among Muslim philosophers and theologians concerning the origin and nature of the soul. Though it is not in keeping with the nature of the present paper to go through details of these schools and review them one by one, in the following verses, Mīr Findiriskī exclusively addresses different schools of thought in regard to the existence and the nature of the soul. It is worth mentioning at the outset that the word dānā in these verses means the knower, the most eminent scholar’s view in this regard. Text (line 27) ‫ ﻧﻔﺲ ﻣﺎ را ﺑﻌﺪ ﻣﺎ ﺣﺸﺮ اﺳﺖ و ﻧﺸﺮ هﺮ ﻋﻤﻞ آﻪ اﻣﺮوز آﺮد او را ﺟﺰا ﻓﺮداﺳﺘﻲ‬،‫ ﮔﻔﺖ داﻧﺎ‬.27 27. Guft dānā nafs mā rā ba’d-i mā ḥashr ast wa nashr, Har ‘amal kimrūz kard uū rā jazā fardāstī. 27. The sage (savant) has said our soul will have resurrection, For every action a human being does today; he’ll be recompensed (sanctioned) tomorrow.

Muslim jurists believe in both the physical as well as the spiritual resurrection of the soul. The verse declares the idea of the follower of the shari’ah who insists that when soul separates, the body will be resurrected again in the hereafter in the form of his worldly actions. If he did good actions in his present world, in the hereafter the soul will emerge and become manifest in a good form and if he did bad actions in this world it shall become manifest and emerge in a bad forming the next world. According to a prophetic tradition the

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present world is considered to be a farm for the hereafter (alddunīyā mazra’at al-ākhirah). It means whatever men do in the present world, whether good or bad, there shall be compensation in the hereafter, as it is the case with a farmer. A farmer can only harvest whatever he cultivates and plants, neither more nor less. Text (line 28) ‫ او ﻣﻮﻻﺳﺘﻲ‬،‫ ﻋﺎﺷﻖ و ﻣﻌﺸﻮق‬،‫ﻧﻔﺲ ﺑﻨﺪﻩ‬

‫ او را ﺳﺘﻮدن ﻣﺸﻜﻞ اﺳﺖ‬،‫ ﻧﻔﺲ را ﻧﺘﻮان ﺳﺘﻮد‬.28

28. Nafs rā natvān sutūd, uū rā sutūdan mushkil ast, Nafs-i bandih, ‘āshiq wa ma‘shūq, uū mawlāstī. Soul (self) should not be praised, (for) to commend the soul is problematic The lord and master of every slave, whether lover or beloved, is God.

Some ancient scholars believe that souls are essentially pre-eternal (qadīm-i bi-dhāt). Some of this group of philosophers were certain of only one pre-eternal, that is, the essentially necessary existence of the soul. The others of this group, who were called Ḥarrānīyūn, believed that there exist five pre-eternal things; soul (nafs), necessary existence (wājib al-wujūd), time (zamān), place (makān), and prime matter (hayūlā). Mīr Findiriskī address the Ḥarrānīyūn’s conception in his first hemistich of this verse and in the second hemistich of this verse he rejects this idea, stating that the soul should not be praised, for the soul in its first origination is imperfect, looking for and loving perfection. Eventually, the soul moves in the direction of anticipated perfection. Every moved article needs a mover. Every seeker of perfection needs a perfected agent to move him from potentiality to actuality and perfection. The creators of souls are the intellects and the originator of the intellects is necessary existence (see Dārābī Shīrāzī 1337/1958, 155). Thus, soul cannot be the originator and cannot be praised, for the main originator of the soul is intellect and the originator of the intellect is

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necessary existence. Accordingly, God is the lord and master of every lover or beloved who is praiseworthy. Text (line 29) ‫ ﺁزاد و ﺑﻴﻬﻤﺘﺎﺳﺘﻲ‬،‫در ﺟﺰا و در ﻋﻤﻞ‬

‫ ﻧﻔﺲ ﻣﺎ را ﺑﻌﺪ ﻣﺎ ﺑﺎﺷﺪ وﺟﻮد‬،‫ ﮔﻔﺖ داﻧﺎ‬.29

29. Guft dānā, nafs-i mā rā ba‘d-i mā bāshad vujūd, Dar jazā va dar ‘amal, āzād va bī hamtāstī. The sage has said that after us (i.e. after we died) we will still exist, (No matter) whether in compensation or action, we will be free (of any charge) and unique.

Some of the peripatetic philosophers believe in spiritual resurrection. Although they believe that when men die, their souls will survive, nevertheless they do not give credence to the revivification and resurrection of the bodies, as they do not accept compensation and retribution. However this idea is incompatible with divine law, and was strongly rejected by Muslim jurists, mystics, and by those of intelligence (see Dārābī Shīrāzī 1337/1958, 157). Text (line 30) ‫ ﻧﻔﺲ ﺑﻲ اﻧﺠﺎم و ﺑﻲ ﻣﺒﺪاﺳﺘﻲ‬،‫ﮔﻔﺖ داﻧﺎ‬

‫ ﻧﻔﺲ ﻣﺎ را ﺁﻏﺎز و اﻧﺠﺎﻣﻲ ﺑﻮد‬،‫ ﮔﻔﺖ داﻧﺎ‬.30

30. Guft dānā nafs rā āghāz va anjāmī buvad, guft dānā nafs bī anjām va bī mabdāstī. 30. The sage has said that soul has beginning and ending, The sage has said soul is beginningless and endless.

The first hemistich points to the idea of those who consider nafs as mizāj (a common quality which results in all physical elements performed by different parts of the body). In this case, nafs emerges

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with body and vanishes with body. The second hemistich indicates the conception of those who consider the soul to be essentially eternal, with neither beginning nor end. According to Dārābī Shīrāzī (1337/1958, 158) the first hemistich refers to Aristotle’s view of the simultaneous origination (ḥudūth) of the soul with body and the second hemistich indicates Plato’s view of the eternity of the soul. Dārābī Shīrāzī rejects Plato’s idea, and claims that the correct view is that the soul emerges with the body. According to him, Plato’s view concerning the eternity of soul leads back to an incisive point. Plato does not want to say the soul itself is eternal; rather Plato holds that the inner essence of the soul, which is the intellect, is eternal. Let us look at Plato’s idea more specifically. Concerning the proof of man’s soul Plato argues that men perform actions and show capacities, which are not bodily. Such actions and capacities should accordingly belong to the soul. Plato identifies the nature of the soul as, on one hand, something that infuses life in the body when occupying it, and, on the other hand, as something related to life itself, or something identical with life. Being self-moving also is an appearance or a sign of life. Since Plato sometimes defines the soul as “pure thought,” and sometimes considers it as the source of life and movement of the body, we may not arrive at the exact meaning and definition that Plato gives us (compare Fārābi 1985, 12). It is remarkable that Plato is probably the first philosopher to make a sharp distinction between the soul and the body, holding that the soul could exist both before and after its residence in the body and rule the body during that residence. Contrary to Plato, Aristotle holds that the soul relates to the body as form to matter. The body is the very instrument of the soul, for matter is merely potency and exists only in so far as it is necessary for the realization of a form, whereas, the soul is inevitably bound up with the body, and can have no life apart from it. In consideration of the Platonic and Aristotelian points of view, one may arrive at totally different views about man. Plato sees the soul absolutely separate from the body. He thought of soul as something that exists before joining the body. Aristotle rejected the idea of a duality

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between the soul and the body, and believes that these two things are two elements of a single substance. Text (line 31) ‫ﺁﺗﺶ و ﺁب و هﻮا و اﺳﻔﻞ و اﻋﻼﺳﺘﻲ‬

‫ ﻧﻔﺲ را ﻣﺎﺿﻲ و ﺣﺎﻟﺴﺖ و ﺳﭙﺲ‬،‫ ﮔﻔﺖ داﻧﺎ‬.31

31. Guft dānā, nafs rā māḍī va ḥālast va sipas, Ātash va āb va havā va asfal va a‘lāstī. 31. The sage said, soul has past and present, and after, It is fire and water and weather and lower and upper.

The first hemistich refers to some scholars who believe in the materiality (jismīyat) of the soul. According to Dārābī Shīrāzī (1337/1958, 160), some theologians believe that the soul is fine substance (jism-i laṭīf) flowing (running) in the body. The second hemistich indicates another ancient school of thought. Those who believe that the soul consists of four elements fire, water, earth and air. It is impossible to give a complete picture of what was argued among Muslim philosophers and theologians concerning the nature of the soul during the past centuries. However, Ḥasanzādeh Amulī (1982, 122-123) reports that Al-Abīwardī (d. 966 AD) in his Rawḍāt al-Jannāt declares that there are numerous and divers ways of understanding what is referred to by “ana” (I), namely nafs. Here are some of its meanings: 1. The majority of theologians believe that nafs (soul) is precisely the observable structure we referred to as badan (body). 2. Nafs is identical to the fleshy heart located inside our body. 3. Nafs is our brain. 4. Al-Naẓẓām believed that nafs is a collection of some indivisible elements located in the heart. 5. Nafs consists of the fundamental parts (al-aḍā’ al-’aṣlīyyah), which are produced from sperms.

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6. Nafs is mizāj (temperament, a common quality that comes out of the combination of all elements). 7. Nafs is fine body (jism-i laṭīf), which runs through the body like water through the rose. 8. Nafs is just the same as water. 9. Nafs is identical to fire or instinctive heat (al-ḥarārah algharīzīyyah). 10. Nafs is the breath (al-nafas). 11. Nafs is the Creator (bārī)—but He is exalted above what cruel people claim. 12. Nafs consists of four elements namely, water, earth, fire and air. 13. Nafs is the species kind that subsists in the body and is united with it. 14. Nafs is an incorporeal substance that cannot be equated with the body and does not have any corporeal characteristic (such as quantity, shape, direction, place, and position) but it is related to the coarse body (jism-i kathīf) in such a way as to allow it to govern that body and to utilize it much like the governor does a city or the one who loves the beloved. This is the idea of majority of Muslim philosophers, Illuminationists, mystics and theologians, particularly Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī, al-Rāzī and al-Ghazālī. Considering all these doctrines about the nature of the soul and soul-body relation, one can hardly find a commonly accepted doctrine among Muslim philosophers and theologians. It worth mentioning that in regard to the origination of the soul there might be assumed four classifications or four main theories and opinions (see Dārābī Shīrāzī 1337/1958, 161): 1. The majority of philosophers: soul is spiritual both in temporal origination and in survival (rawḥānīat al-ḥudūth wa al-baqā). 2. Galen: soul is material both in temporal origination and in its survival (jismānīat al-ḥudūth wa al-baqā). 3. A few believers in reincarnation: soul is spiritual in temporal origination and material in survival (rawḥānīat al-ḥudūth wa jismānīat al-baqā). 4. Mulla Sadra: soul is material in temporal origination and spiritual in survival (jismānīat al-ḥudūth wa rawḥānīat al-baqā).

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Text (line 32) ‫ ﻧﻔﺲ ﻣﺎ را ﺑﻌﺪ ﻣﺎ ﻧﺒﻮد وﺟﻮد‬،‫ ﮔﻔﺖ داﻧﺎ‬.32

‫ﻣﻲ ﻧﻤﺎﻧﺪ ﺑﻌﺪ ﻣﺎ ﻧﻔﺴﻲ آﻪ او ﻣﺎ راﺳﺘﻲ‬

32. Guft dānā, nafs-i mā rā ba’d-i mā nabwad wujūd, Miy namānad ba’d-i mā nafsī ki ‘ū mā rāstī. 32. The scholar said, there would be no life after the present, There will be no soul (self) that fit us.

Galen’s school believes that soul is the mizāj (an accident = ‘araḍ) (temperament, a common quality which outcome of all physical elements performed by different parts of the body) and therefore is material both in temporal origination and in survival (jismānīyat alḥudūth wa al-baqā). Accordingly, mizāj will not endure after the destruction of the body (see Dārābī Shīrāzī 1337/1958, 161). Text (line 33) ‫ ﻧﻘﺲ ﻧﻲ ﺑﻲ ﺟﺎ و ﻧﻲ ﺑﺎ ﺟﺎ ﺳﺘﻲ‬،‫ﮔﻘﺖ داﻧﺎ‬

‫ ﻧﻘﺲ هﻢ ﺑﺎ ﺟﺎ و هﻢ ﺑﻲ ﺟﺎ ﺑﻮد‬،‫ ﮔﻘﺖ داﻧﺎ‬.33

33. Guft dānā, nafs ham bā jā va ham bī jā buvad, Guft dānā, nafs niy bī jā va niy bā jāstī. 33. The knower said, soul is both with room (place) and without room, The knower said, soul neither is without room nor it is with room.

The first hemistich of this verse indicates the same meaning as the second hemistich. Mīr Findiriskī in this verse points to the idea of those philosophers (like Mullā Ṣadrā and Mullā Hādī Sabzawārī) who recognize soul to be a unique reality that subsists at different virtuous (mutafāḍil) levels (see Dārābī Shīrāzī 1337/1958, 163). Mulla Sadra’s doctrine of the physical origin of the soul would seem to be a more properly discussed in natural philosophy, but our philosopher believed that ‘ilm al-nafs is a preliminary step toward

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knowing God and being aware of what will happen in the other world as far as the gathering (ḥashr) of individual souls and bodies is concerned. These goals would be achievable if we considered the soul as a being that survives and leads us to God both in its generation (ḥudūth) and its survival (baqā’). Between its physical generation and its survival in the hereafter it might assume many virtuous levels for different people. Text (line 34) ‫ ﻧﻪ ﺑﻪ ﺷﺮط ﻻﺳﺘﻲ‬،‫ﻧﻪ ﺑﻪ ﺷﺮط ﺷﻴﻰ ﺑﺎﺷﺪ‬

‫ ﮔﻘﺖ‬،‫ ﻧﻘﺲ را وﺻﻘﻲ ﻧﻴﺎرم هﻴﭻ‬،‫ ﮔﻘﺖ داﻧﺎ‬.34

34. Guft dānā, nafs rā vaṣfī nayāram hīch guft, Na bi shart-i shay’ bāshad, na bi shart-i lāstī. 34. The knower said, I do not describe (qualify) the soul (self) with anything, (the knower) said, It is neither conditioned by something, nor negatively conditioned.

Description or qualification here, in the poet’s words, means definition. The poet intends to say that since nafs has no quiddity, it has no definition, for definition of quiddity is by quiddity. Whatever has no quiddity has no definition and therefore it is neither conditioned by something (bi sharṭ-i shay’), nor negatively conditioned (bi sharṭi lā). The majority of philosophers confirm only Necessary Existence (wajb al-wujūd) as to be pure reality without quiddity. They maintain everything to be a composition, a pair consisting of existence and quiddity. Contrary to the preponderance of philosophers Shihāb al-Dīn Sohravardī is of the opinion that not only the Necessary Existence, but, also the soul and the intellect are pure realities (wujūd-i ṣirf) having no quiddity and thus have no definition and therefore they are neither conditioned by something, nor negativelyconditioned (see Dārābī Shīrāzī 1337/1958, 164). According to Sohravardī, the pure reality of the existence of nafs is like God in that it is pure reality. He maintains that nafs neither has a genus nature (al-ṭabī’at al-jinsīyah) nor has specific nature (al-ṭabī’at al-

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naw’īyah). Nafs also has no individual nature (al-ṭabī’at alshshkhṣīyah). Nafs is a kind of existence. Its unity is also like the unity of Necessary Existence; without genus nature, specific nature or individual nature.

5. Conclusion In sum, as it is clear through the different definitions provided by Mīr Findiriskī in his philosophical ode, it is quite laborious to give a fair definition or a complete picture of what was debated among Muslim philosophers and theologians concerning the nature and the definition of the soul. Examining Mīr Findiriskī’s writing concerning the soul, it is only with difficulty that one may find his exact idea. However, his more Aristotelian approach might lead us to the idea that soul is a perfection of the body, which makes the body alive. Still we may see surely Platonic ideas as well in Mīr Findiriskī’s doctrine. I think regarding the soul-body relation problem, he believes that the soul needs the body as a tool. But being substantially apart from the body, the soul continues its life after the death. Preferring the idea of Plato because of its spirituality, which is nearer to the spirit of Islamic thought, Mīr Findiriskī tends to be more Platonic in his approach to the explanation of the soul. What we may also surely assign to Mīr Findiriskī concerning his idea on the nature of the soul is that he is neither of the opinion that the soul existed before its connection with the body—as Plato believed—nor does he hold the idea of transformation of the soul into another body—as the proponents of metempsychosis (aṣḥāb al-tanāsukh) believed. Trying to show the nature of the soul and its spiritual activities, Mīr Findiriskī comes to an esoteric conclusion. As he states in a verse, although many people may utter cryptic words, nevertheless the real meanings of these words are still mysterious. According to Mīr Findiriskī the only way to solve these problems and come to a fair understanding of the true nature of the soul is through spiritual purification under the teaching of the Innocent Imams.

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References Afandī Isfahānī, M. ‘A. (1401/1981) Rīyāḍ al-’Ulamā wa Hīyāḍ alFuḍalā, ed. Aḥmad Ḥusaynī, Qom: Maṭba’at Khayyām. Amulī, Ḥ. (1982) ‘Uyūnu Mas’il al-Nafs, Tehran: Mu’assassah Intishārāt-i Amīr Kabīr. Āshtīyānī, S. J. (1971) Anthologie des Philosophes Iraniens, pref. by Henry Corbin, Vol. 1, Tehran/Paris: Institut Franco-Iranien. Corbin, H. (1372/1993) Mulla Sadra, tr. Zabīhuallah Mansūrī, Tehran: Sāzmān-i Entishārāt-i Jāvīdān, 1372 H.S. Corbin, H. (1993) History of Islamic Philosophy, tr. Liadain Sherrard & Philip Sherrard, London & New York: Kegan Paul International. Dārābī Shīrāzī, A. Sh. (1337/1958) Tuhfat al-Murād: Sharh-i Qasīdih-i Ḥikmīya Abū al-Qāsim Mīr Findiriskī, Tehran: Shirkat-i Nisbī Hāj Muhammad Husain Iqbal wa Shurakā’. Fārābī, A. N. (1985) Kitāb al-Jam` Bayna Ra’yayn al-Ḥakīmayn, 4th ed., Beirut: Dār al-Mashriq. Mudarris, M. M. ‘A. (1967) Rayhānat al-Adab fī Tarājim-i al-Ma’rūfīn bi al-Kunya wa al-Laqab, Vol. 4, Tabrīz: Chapkhānah-i Shafaq. Mujtabā’ī, F. (1976) Muntakhab-i Jug-basasht or Selections from the Yoga-Vāsiṣṭha attributed to Mīr Abu al-Qāsim Findiriskī, Ph.D Dissertation, Harvard University. Mulla Sadra (1981) Al-Asfār, Vols. 6 and 8, Beirut: Dār al-Ihyā’ alTurāth al-’Arabī. Muṭahharī, M. (1366/1987) Maqālāt-i Falsafī, Vol. 1, Tehran: ‘Intishārāt-i Hikmat. Nasr, S. H. (2004) “Findiriskī,” Encyclopedia of Islam, New ed., Vol. XII, Supplement, Brill: Leiden, 308-309. Nasr, S. H. (1986) “Spiritual Movements, Philosophy and Theology in the Safavīd Period,” in The Cambridge History of Iran, Volume 6, The Timurid and Safavīd periods, ed. Peter Jackson & Laurence Lockhart, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 656697.

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Nasr, S. H. (1983) “The School of Isfahān,” in A History of Muslim Philosophy, ed. M. Sharif, Vol. 2, Karāchī: Royal Book Company, 922-926. Roemer, H. R. (1986) “The Safavīd Period,” In The Cambridge History of Iran, Volume 6, The Timurid and Safavīd periods, ed. Peter Jackson & Laurence Lockhart, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 189-350. Ṭabāṭabā’ī, S. M. H. (1990) Aghāz-i Falsafa, Qom: Intishārāt-i Ṭabāṭabā’ī.

How can I Survive? The Concept of the Soul and the Problem of Diachronic Personal Identity* Josef Quitterer, Innsbruck Christian philosophers in the analytic tradition are very sceptical concerning the old notion of the soul as a principle for the justification of the diachronic identity of human persons for the following reason: the Aristotelian notion of the soul cannot integrate the selfreferential activities—the first person perspective—which today are regarded as essential for human persons. Therefore they prefer Locke’s theory of personal identity even in the justification of postmortem survival. In my paper I first sketch the main difficulties Christian philosophers, like Richard Swinburne and Lynne Rudder Baker, meet when it comes to the question of (post-mortem) survival. In a second step I reintroduce the Aristotelian concept of the soul as a heuristic tool for the justification of personal survival. When the soul is understood as the essential form of an organism, we have as a consequence not only the compatibility of biological and cognitive aspects of our personal existence, but also a sound principle of diachronic identity which can be used in a philosophical justification of resurrection. Furthermore it can be shown that the concept of the soul is open for the integration of personal attributes like first-person perspective and self-consciousness.

1. Locke’s theory of diachronic personal identity and Christian philosophy Christian philosophers, like Richard Swinburne and Lynne Rudder Baker, base their theory of personal identity on Locke’s assumptions. According to John Locke we have to assume different condi-

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tions for the diachronic identity of simple substances (physical substances), living beings and persons. Simple substances remain the same as long as their physical structure is preserved: […] if two or more atoms be joined together into the same mass, every one of those atoms will be the same […]: and whilst they exist united together, the mass, consisting of the same atoms, must be the same mass […] (Locke Essay, Book 2, Ch. 27, § 3).

Living beings (animals, plants), in contrast, have the following conditions of diachronic identity: “In the state of living creatures, their identity depends not on a mass of the same particles but on something else. For in them the variation of great parcels of matter alters not the identity” (Locke Essay, Book 2, Ch. 27, § 3). The diachronic identity of living beings does not depend on the identity of the matter involved in their existence but it depends on the same organic life of that animal: An animal is a living organized body; and consequently the same animal […] is the same continued life communicated to different particles of matters, as they happen successively to be united to that organized living body (Locke Essay, Book 2, Ch. 27, § 8).

For persons, Locke establishes again different conditions of diachronic identity. Locke departs from the following definition of the concept Person: “[A person] is a thinking intelligent being, that has reason and reflection, and can consider itself as itself, the same thinking being in different times and places […]” (Locke Essay, Book 2, Ch. 27, § 9). Based upon this definition, the diachronic identity of persons is constituted by the cognitive capacity of self-reflection or self-consciousness: […] in this alone consists personal identity, i.e., the sameness of a rational being: and as far as this consciousness can be extended backwards to any past action or thought, so far reaches the identity of

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that person; it is the same self now it was then; […] (Locke Essay, Book 2, Ch. 27, § 9).

In this justification of the diachronic identity of human persons, the concept ‘self’ plays an essential role. John Locke made the notion of ‘self’ a prominent term in modern philosophy. The thing we call a self is based on consecutive acts of consciousness bound together because of our ability to remember: “Self is that conscious thinking thing […] which is sensible, or conscious of pleasure and pain, capable of happiness or misery, and so is concerned for itself, as far as that consciousness extends” (Locke Essay, Book 2, Ch. 27, § 17). Personal diachronic identity—in this view—is based upon relations between different mental states. As far as we can remember, as far relations between mental states can be established by the subject, so far the same self can be maintained. We can count to our self only these mental states which are connected to our consciousness. The human organism is of no further importance for Locke’s conditions of personal identity. Consciousness alone suffices. Rejecting the elder notion of ‘soul’ as unclear and inaccessible to human experience Locke deemed the concept of self to be sufficient for guaranteeing personal identity throughout time: […] it is plain, consciousness, as far as ever it can be extended, should it be to ages past, unites existences and actions, very remote in time, into the same person, as well as it does the existences and actions of the immediately preceding moment: so whatever has the consciousness of present and past actions, is the same person to whom I belong (Locke Essay, Book 2, Ch. 27, § 17).

Human persons, thus, are constituted solely due to their ability to recall into consciousness what they attribute to themselves because of having experienced it personally. Locke’s notion of the self is well received within contemporary philosophy of mind, cognitive science, and bioethics: it is presupposed in the bioethical arguments of Peter Singer and in Daniel Dennett’s naturalistic philosophy; but it is also presupposed in non-

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naturalistic approaches of Christian philosophers like Richard Swinburne and Lynne Rudder Baker. According to Swinburne, persons are mental substances. Persons have bodies but they do not need them in order to exist (Swinburne 2006, 45). This sounds like normal Cartesian substance-dualism. The Lockean character of the psycho-physical dualism of Swinburne becomes obvious if we have a closer look on his arguments for the diachronic identity of mental substances like persons. According to Swinburne, the diachronic identity of persons does not depend on their physical constitution. Personal diachronic identity depends exclusively on the assumption that persons are essentially mental substances. ‘Mental substance’ is defined by Swinburne as a “substance to whose existence that substance necessarily has privileged access” (Swinburne 2006, 44). As we have seen above, also Locke makes personal identity dependent on the subject’s ability to have conscious access to past experiences, actions etc. In a similar way as Locke, Swinburne distinguishes between the conditions for the identity of physical substances, of organisms and of persons. In contrast to physical things or organisms, the diachronic identity of persons does not depend on the assembly of physical parts or certain functional principles but exclusively on ‘facts’ which lie in the cognitive or mental realm: “[…] mere knowledge of what happens to bodies does not tell you what happens to persons” (Swinburne 1997, 10); “[…] that mental events are states of the same subject is something that knowledge of brains and their states and knowledge of which mental events were occurring would be insufficient to tell you” (Swinburne 1997, 158). Spatiotemporal continuity of brains and bodies is not sufficient for guaranteeing the identity of persons. According to Swinburne, we select brain continuity “as evidence of personal identity, because that is the part of the body which is correlated with continuity of apparent memory and character […]” (Swinburne 1997, 166). The identity of the body “is only used as evidence of personal identity, given that the body retains the same brain” and brain identity is so important because the brain is “the organ, the continuity of which normally guarantees continuity of apparent memory and character”

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(Swinburne 1997, 165). Normally brain continuity and apparent memory coincide as criteria of the diachronic identity of two persons x and y. What, though, should we do in cases where the two criteria are in conflict? The criterion of apparent memory could be fulfilled when there is no brain continuity—e.g. in the thought-experiment of brain splitting, and the criterion of brain continuity could be satisfied when there is no apparent memory—e.g. in cases of amnesia (Swinburne 1997, 162). In the case of conflicting criteria of diachronic identity the answer of Swinburne follows the logic of Locke’s theory of diachronic personal identity: […] in general apparent memory reveals that personal identity goes with brain continuity. […] brain continuity is in practice a necessary condition of personal identity […] That will not tell us what is the right answer when brains are split; nor does it cast any doubt on the fact that the ultimate foundation for the belief that personal identity is carried by brain continuity is apparent memory, and that any general failure of the correlation between continuity of apparent memory and continuity of brain must lead us to take brain continuity no longer as evidence of personal identity (Swinburne 1997, 170).

Apparent memory is the ultimate foundation of personal identity because it is based upon the privileged access (the first-person perspective) the subject has towards its own mental states. Swinburne uses the concept of the “informative designator”, ‘I’, to underline the epistemic quality of the infallible access we have to ourselves: Now what sort of designator is ‘I’ (or ‘Richard Swinburne’, as used by me)? These seem to be informative designators. If I know how to use these words, I can’t be mistaken about when to apply them […]; and when I am considering applying them to a person in virtue of his being a subject of experience, no mistake at all is possible. I am in Shoemaker’s phrase ‘immune to error though misidentification’. I cannot recognize that some experience (e.g. pain) is occurring and wonder whether it is mine or not, in the way that I can know how to use the word ‘Hesperus’, and yet wonder whether the planet at which I am looking is Hesperus (Swinburne 2006, 56f.).

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There might be cases where there is vagueness or uncertainty concerning the diachronic identity of a person x with a person y or another person z. Swinburne illustrates this possibility with the thought experiment of split brains: […] imagine my brain (hemispheres plus brain-stem) divided into two, and each half-brain taken out of my skull and transplanted into the empty skull of a body from which a brain has just been removed; and there to be added to each half-brain from some other brain […] if this operation were done and we then had two living persons, both with lives of conscious experiences, which would be me? (Swinburne 2006, 47)

It is further assumed that both persons “behave like me and claim to be me and to remember having done what I did”. In this case of brain splitting diachronic identity is neither guaranteed by physical nor by psychological continuity, because both successors of the original person fulfil in the same way these criteria of identity. According to Swinburne, it is the ‘extra truth’ of the privileged access we have towards ourselves, by which we can resolve such cases of vagueness or indeterminacy of diachronic personal identity: And note that the extra truth is not a truth about what kind of mental life is connected to each brain. It is not a truth about mental properties, about what thoughts and feelings and purposes the revived person has. Rather, the extra truth, the truth about whether I have survived, is a truth about WHO has those thoughts and feelings, that is in which substance those properties are instantiated (Swinburne 2006, 52).

This infallible truth which appears in self-attributions and self-references guarantees diachronic personal identity by avoiding the vagueness, arbitrariness or indeterminacy of identity statements. Another Christian philosopher who bases her arguments upon Locke’s theory of diachronic personal identity is Lynne Rudder Baker. According to Rudder Baker’s so called ‘constitution view’, human persons are constituted by human organisms. For Rudder Baker it is very important to distinguish between constitution and

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identity. Human persons are not identical with but constituted by human organisms. Human persons and human organisms have different essential properties and therefore different identity-conditions: The essential property of human organisms has to be located within the specific biological properties which are typical for human organisms, whereby the essential property of persons consists in the fact that they have a ‘first-person perspective’ towards their own mental states. ‘Having a first-person perspective’ is defined by Rudder Baker as having the “ability to conceive of oneself as oneself” (Rudder Baker 2000, 66) or as having “a perspective from which one thinks of oneself as an individual facing a world, as a subject distinct from everything else” (Rudder Baker 2000, 60). The different essential properties of human organisms and persons imply different conditions of diachronic identity: Human organisms begin to exist at conception; human persons begin to exist not before the human organism constitutes a subject which is able to develop a first-person perspective towards its own mental states. The diachronic identity of human persons is preserved through the same first-person perspective, while the diachronic identity of human organisms is guaranteed through the specific living processes of the organism: “In the first place, a person is defined in terms of a first-person perspective. So, person P1 at t1 is the same person as person P2 at t2 if and only if P1 and P2 have the same first-person perspective” (Rudder Baker 2000, 132). According to Rudder Baker, first-person access toward oneself is immune to referential errors: “[…] I am never mistaken about who is picked out by my competent uses of ‘I’” (Rudder Baker 2000, 65). For this reason, sameness of first-person perspective provides a solid justification of personal identity over time because it excludes indeterminacy in identitystatements. Departing from the same first-person perspective there is always a determinate answer to the question, with which ‘successor’ of mine I am identical. To sum up: Both Swinburne and Rudder Baker follow Locke in their theory of diachronic personal identity and they both rely upon the error-immunity of self-reference because it excludes the indeterminacy of identity in splitting or branching cases. In the following

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section I introduce a critical argument against Lockean theories of diachronic personal identity—the problem of interrupted personhood.

2. Interrupted personhood If to a person belong only these stages towards which she has conscious access, how could she integrate those live-stages into her personhood in which she is not conscious at all and has no form of firstperson access towards any mental or physical states? We can assume such non-conscious stages during anaesthesia, during sleepless dreaming and during coma. When we start from Locke’s concept of diachronic personal identity, such non-conscious stages cannot be integrated into the existence of human persons. During these stages of human existence there is no personal existence. This would have dramatic consequences for the existence of persons if persons belong to the ontological category of things or substances. If persons are substances, any interruption in the existence of a person would be equivalent to the end of her existence. As we have seen above, Locke denies that persons have the identity-conditions of substances. It seems that he was aware of the problem of interrupted personhood and that he accepted the counterintuitive consequences of his own position for diachronic personal identity: remote person-stages are bound together through memory. The same consciousness can unite very remote existences into the same person (Locke Essay, Book 2, Ch. 27, § 23). According to Locke, consciousness can bridge enormous temporal gaps: “[…] if Socrates and the present mayor of Queenborough agree, they are the same person” (Locke Essay, Book2, Ch. 27, § 19). Such quotations underline that for Locke continuous non-interrupted existence—which is necessary for substances to exist as the same—is not a necessary requirement for the diachronic existence of persons, because for him persons are not substances. Christian philosophers like Rudder Baker and Swinburne, though, cannot resolve the problem of interrupted personhood by

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assuming a scattered personal existence or a multitude of personal existences. For them, persons are substances: according to Swinburne, a person is a “mental substance” (Swinburne 2006); according to Rudder Baker, persons are “basic substances” (Rudder Baker 2000, 9). In this case, persons have to meet the identity conditions of substances. They must have a continuous, non-interrupted existence. If a person x is a substance S and ceases to exist, x cannot come into existence again as the same substance S. Moreover, if ‘having a first-person perspective’ (Rudder Baker) or ‘having privileged access to itself’ (Swinburne) is a necessary condition for a personal existence, then every moment of personal existence must be self-referential or self-conscious in some way. Every non-conscious period in a person’s life, in which that person is not engaged in any self-referential activities, would be equivalent to the end of her existence. After the period of unconsciousness, another person would come into existence. At first glance, Christian philosophers like Lynne Rudder Baker and Richard Swinburne are not affected by Locke’s problem because they do not limit personhood to self-referential activities which actually occur. According to Rudder Baker, “what makes a human person a person is the capacity to have a first-person-perspective” (Rudder Baker 2000, 91). Therefore, periods of non-consciousness do not affect the existence of a person x as long as x has the capacity to engage in the self-referential activities of the first-person perspective of x. The following quotation makes it clear that it is the capacity for a first-person perspective which guarantees the survival of persons in the non-conscious moments of their existence: An object x has the capacity for a first-person perspective at t if and only if x has all the structural properties at t required for a first-person perspective and either (i) x has manifested a first-person perspective at some time before t or (ii) x is in an environment at t conducive to the development and maintenance of a first-person perspective. Given this condition, a person can go into a coma without ceasing to exist, and a normal newborn human is (i.e. constitutes) a person (Rudder Baker 2000, 92).

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In a similar way as Rudder Baker, Swinburne seems to avoid the problem of interrupted personhood by assuming a “capacity for a mental life”. Since for Swinburne ‘having the capacity for a (personal) mental life’ is equivalent to ‘having a (personal) mental property’, personhood seems to be guaranteed even for these periods in which human beings are not conscious at all: A person would not exist unless he had a capacity for a mental life (a capacity to have sensations, thoughts etc.); and having such a capacity is itself a mental property (one to the instantiation of which in a subject he has privileged access). Hence persons are mental substances […] (Swinburne 2006, 45).

In these arguments, the extension of the concept ‘person’ is enlarged: Under the concept of ‘person’ can be subsumed not only entities which actually have a first-person perspective but also entities which have the capacity for a first-person perspective. In this case, the basic condition for diachronic personal identity is shifted from an episode which actually occurs—being actually involved in selfreferential activities—towards a disposition—having the capacity for self-referential activities. The capacity to have a first-person perspective guarantees personal identity over time in those periods of our existence in which there is no self-referential activity—in dreamless sleep, coma and other non-conscious periods. For this reason, the statement of Rudder Baker “personal identity over time is unanalyzable in any more basic terms than sameness of first-person perspective” (Baker 2000, 138) should to be reformulated in the following way: ‘personal identity over time is unanalyzable in any more basic terms than sameness of the capacity to have a first-person perspective.’ It is the capacity to have a first-person perspective which guarantees the diachronic identity of persons in these periods in which there is no manifestation of a self-referential activity. The capacity to have a first-person perspective is more basic than the (manifest) first-person perspective itself. From this it can be concluded that it is the self-referential capacity which guarantees diachronic personal identity also in that period of transition which is assumed by those who believe in immortality and resur-

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rection. Rudder Baker’s statement that “the Constitution View is compatible with the doctrine of resurrection only if it allows that x and y can have the same first-person perspective” (Rudder Baker 2001) has to be completed in the following way: ‘x and y can have the same first-person perspective before and after death, if and only if the same capacity for the first-person perspective remains intact during the process of post-mortem survival.’ We summarize that Locke’s theory of diachronic personal identity, which was originally designed to overcome to traditional concept of the soul, fails to reach its goal. A concept of personal identity that relies exclusively on self-referential activities cannot justify our basic assumption of diachronic identity. For an adequate philosophical foundation of diachronic personal identity, we need a capacity for a first-person perspective that enables us to assume personal existence even in stages of non-conscious existence. In the next section I argue that the classical Aristotelian concept of the soul could be regarded as such a capacity. For this reason I would like to conclude this paper by a short analysis of the explanatory advantages of the concept ‘soul’ for the diachronic identity of persons.

3. The Aristotelian (and Thomistic) notion of the soul Aristotle was facing a similar problem as it is posed to us by contemporary philosophy of mind. On the one hand he was acquainted with Platonic/dualistic conceptions of the soul; on the other hand prominent natural philosophers were arguing that a soul is a fiction—that all there is can be described in a physicalistic language with the basic principles of pushing and pulling. In his book on the soul, Aristotle invokes the least common denominator of different conceptions of the notion ‘soul’: ‘soul’ is the principle of living beings (Aristotle, 402a 6f.). If ‘soul’ refers to the essential constituent of a living being, the only possible category for it is the category of substances; that which is the essential principle of a living being cannot be accidental. ‘Soul’ refers to ‘substance’ in the sense of a formal principle. This means the soul is neither the

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living body as a whole nor the (material) body as such but it is the substantial principle in virtue of which a body is a living body. The soul is the form of the human organism as a whole, and, as such makes it to be the kind of living substance it is (Aristotle, 412a 7ff.). Aristotle argues against a strict separation of the mental from the biological. Aristotle’s tripartite distinction of the soul in vegetative, sensible and rational soul shows clearly that the basic capacities of nutrition, growth or sense-perception are necessary pre-requisites for the well-functioning of the rational part. For Aristotle there is just one subject—the animate organism—which in virtue of its nature is able to do all the things that a living being of a specific kind typically does. Frede stresses this point in regard to the human intellect: On Aristotle’s considered view human intellectual intuitions importantly differ from the other so-called affections of the soul, but they do not differ from them in such a way as to justify our postulation of an intellect or a soul as the proper subject of these intuitions or thoughts (Frede 1992, 106).

In the Aristotelian-Thomistic tradition the soul plays an essential role for the explanation of mental phenomena. But its explanatory scope does not end here. Biological phenomena belong to the explanandum of the soul as well. Hence, hylomorphistic accounts avoid problems coming along with dualism and physical reductionism: dualism tends to deny our embodiedness and animality, whereas physicalism can hardly account for the value of the self representing itself. The decisive point for our problem of interrupted personhood is that the reality of the soul is classified by Aristotle as a dispositional and not a categorical form of reality. In De Anima 412a 24f. Aristotle makes it clear that the soul is actuality “in the first sense, viz. that of knowledge as possessed […] but not employed […]”. If the soul is the principle of the identity of an organism, it guarantees identity as a dispositional and not as a manifest reality. When applied to our problem of personal identity, the concept of the soul is able to maintain a notion of personal identity, even if people’s mental ca-

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pacities are temporarily out of function. If the identity-conditions of human persons are not dependent exclusively on a person’s conscious life, mental diseases affecting the autobiographical self (like amnesia and schizophrenia), non-conscious states in coma and even intermediary states between death and resurrection cannot corrupt personal identity. We are able to maintain the identity of persons even throughout times in which their conscious life is interrupted. Since ‘soul’ aims at giving an account of the connection that exists between biological and cognitive functions and processes, mental capacities are to be understood only against the background of the entire organization underlying the organism. Now let us turn to one of the major problems which render the Aristotelian notion of the soul so inaccessible for contemporary accounts of personal identity: at first glance it seems to be impossible to locate the first-person perspective within the Aristotelian concept of the soul. One reason for the difficulty to integrate the first-person perspective or—as Constitutionalists put it—the “ability to conceive oneself as oneself” (Rudder Baker 2001) in the Aristotelian notion of the soul, lies in the historic fact that consciousness and self-consciousness are concepts which have been designed mainly in the philosophy after Descartes. According to Wilkes, the noun ‘consciousness’ does not appear in the English language until 1678, ‘selfconsciousness’ not until 1690 (Wilkes 1993, 171). But the non-existence of the term ‘self-consciousness’ or ‘selfawareness’ does not imply that the content of this concept is totally alien to the Aristotelian approach: whether the first-person perspective can be integrated in the Aristotelian concept of the soul depends also on the way ‘first-person perspective’ is defined. First, it has to be noted that all perceptual and cognitive activities which Aristotle mentions in De Anima are self-referential in themselves. In De Anima III, 2 Aristotle argues that it is one and the same perceptual act by which we see the object and perceive that we see the object. Otherwise we would fall in a regressus ad infinitum: “[…] it is through sense that we are aware that we are seeing or hearing it, […]” (Aristotle 425b 11). Caston describes this Aristotelian conception of consciousness in the following way: “Animate things are not

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only aware of objects in their environment through perception; they are also aware of undergoing this alteration itself” (Caston 2002, 757). Shivola is even more explicit concerning Aristotle’s theory of perceptual consciousness: … his [Aristotle's] main claim is that we see through the very same act of seeing through which we see ordinary visible objects, so that this act includes two aspects: (i) the seeing of a visible object, and (ii) the reflexive consciousness of the act itself. This consciousness is both intrinsic, i.e., included in the original perceptual act and higher-order, i.e., intentional and relational by being reflexively directed to the very same perceptual act itself (Shivola 2007, 56).

A similar point is made by Aristotle when it comes to the intellect (430a, 2f.). Here he states that the intellect recognizes itself when it recognizes an object. We can conclude that reflexive consciousness can be integrated into Aristotle’s concept of the soul even if the notion of ‘consciousness’ is not yet available. There is, though, a qualitative difference between Aristotle’s theory of self-awareness and modern conceptions of—for example— constitutionalists which are based on Descartes’ or Locke’s views of self-consciousness. In Aristotle, self-reference is primarily the relation a perception or cognition has towards itself. This does not imply some form of privileged access the mind has towards its own mental states. Introspective access would presuppose a second mental or perceptual act, which has the first one as an object of its own representation. This would be denied by Aristotle because it would fall under the regressus-argument (see Caston 2002). Therefore, self-referential activities cannot be used—as it is done in Locke’s theory— as a basis for personal identity. According to Simpson it is not even required that there is a unity or continuity between them: From all this it follows that the principle of personal identity is not identical with acts of self-consciousness, or even with what is immediately known in acts of self-consciousness. Acts of self-consciousness are intermittent, but the actuality of the soul is not. [… T]he acts need not have any further unity among themselves; they could be episodic, haphazard, or disorganized. Perhaps in extreme cases it might even be

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unclear, at least from inside consciousness, if the acts all belong to the same soul. Self-consciousness might, then, be Humean: a mere bundle of otherwise independent states. From outside a given individual’s consciousness, however, there will be no doubt that all the acts belong to one soul, […] (Simpson 2001, 315).

Intellectual or perceptual activities hang together not due to the same first-person perspective, but because they derive from the same principle of all biological and cognitive activities—the soul. It is the unity of the soul which guarantees that specific perceptual and cognitive activities are the activities of one and the same subject, and not the other way round. At first glance this might appear to be an incompatibility between the Aristotelian understanding of personal identity and that of contemporary Christian philosophers like Swinburne and Rudder Baker. Our analysis given above shows, however, that in a coherent interpretation of Rudder Baker’s and Swinburne’s views it is not the manifestation of a self-referential activity which guarantees the diachronic identity of persons. It is rather the ‘capacity for a mental life’ (Swinburne) or the ‘capacity to have a first-person perspective’ (Rudder Baker) which guarantees the numerical identity of persons—especially in those periods of their existence in which they are not conscious at all. For this reason it is obviously the capacity to have a first-person perspective which also guarantees personal identity of our pre- and post-mortem existence. The Aristotelian notion of the soul can be used for a more comprehensive (non-dualistic) understanding of what it means to have a capacity of a mental life or a capacity for a first-person perspective: The fact that the rational activities of the soul make us what we most fundamentally are—persons or rational beings—does not imply that our identity over time is guaranteed exclusively by means of our intellectual or self-referential activities. Mental activities like reflection are a necessary precondition for referring to ourselves as entities enduring in time, but this does not mean that our endurance in time is constituted through that reflection. Being identical through time is prior to our reflection of this identity. It is not, as Locke would describe it, by referring to ourselves that we constitute our-

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selves as entities enduring identically in a diachronic sense. The fundament of consciousness and our identity through time is already established prior to our self-referential activities in the organizational structure of our organism. This organizational structure is stable through our entire life-span and thus, is the basis of an understanding of living beings as endurants. The soul as the basic capacity of all cognitive and non-cognitive activities guarantees personal identity even through the most dramatic changes of our life. For Thomas Aquinas this is a sufficient reason to attribute to the soul a key role in his philosophical justification of our personal endurance beyond biological death: [...] impedire non potest quin homo idem numero resurgere possit.

Nullum enim principiorum essentialium hominis per mortem omnino cedit in nihilum: nam anima rationalis, quae est hominis forma, manet post mortem [...] (Thomas Aquinas, Contra Gentiles, lib. 4 cap. 81). 1

According to Thomas Aquinas, the soul guarantees personal identity and continuity between this life and afterlife. The soul allows for the assumption of personal identity beyond death, but at the same time Thomas acknowledges a profound change to the detriment of personal integrity of the deceased person, as long as the soul has no associated body. Even if the human soul can endure when its associated body is destroyed (Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiae, Ia q. 75, a. 2 and a. 6), Thomas stresses that the soul is not the human person but only an incomplete remnant of her that lacks most of the capabilities human persons normally have. Therefore, the soul is not sufficient to speak of the existence of the whole person, because this requires a material body as well. Salvation and final joy in heaven requires the resurrection of the ‘flesh’, because only whole human beings, not separated souls, can enjoy eternal bliss. For Thomas

1

None of the essential elements in man is altogether annihilated in death. The rational soul, the 'form' of man, remains after death. [English translation of Thomas Aquinas by Joseph Rickaby, S.J., Jacques MaritainCenter]

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Aquinas, it is exactly at this point where the Christian belief in the ‘resurrection of the flesh’ gets its philosophical plausibility: Ad ostendendum etiam resurrectionem carnis futuram evidens ratio suffragatur, suppositis his quae in superioribus sunt ostensa. Ostensum est enim in secundo animas hominum immortales esse. Remanent igitur post corpora a corporibus absolutae. […] Est igitur contra naturam animae absque corpore esse. Nihil autem quod est contra naturam, potest esse perpetuum. Non igitur perpetuo erit anima absque corpore. Cum igitur perpetuo maneat, oportet eam corpori iterato coniungi: quod est resurgere. Immortalitas igitur animarum exigere videtur resurrectionem corporum futuram (Thomas Aquinas, Contra Gentiles, lib. 4 cap. 79 n. 10).2

Bodily resurrection is for Thomas Aquinas not only a matter of religious belief and a consequence of God’s intervention; it is also the only way personal existence beyond death can be brought into a philosophically coherent framework. What does it mean that our personal existence after death must be in some way a bodily existence? Rudder Baker rejects the idea that the resurrected body is numerically the same body as the pre-death body. In her arguments for the non-identity of the two bodies she refers to their essential properties: the pre-death body is corruptible, the post-death (resurrected) body is incorruptible, and therefore the two bodies cannot be numerically the same (Rudder Baker 2001). Rudder Baker’s view, though, is in direct contradiction to Thomas Aquinas’ doctrine. According to Thomas Aquinas, radical transformation of the earthly into a heavenly body does not exclude the numerical identity of the post-death with the pre-death body. In his argument, Aquinas refers to the common sense intuition that in everyday life we assume that

2

Reason too gives evident support to the resurrection of the flesh. -- 1. The souls of men are immortal (B. II, Chap. LXXIX). But the soul is naturally united with the body, being essentially the form of the body (B. II, Chap. LVII). Therefore it is against the nature of the soul to be without the body. But nothing that is against nature can be lasting. Therefore the soul will not be for ever without the body. Thus the immortality of the soul seems to require the resurrection of the body

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our body remains numerically the same body even if it undergoes dramatic changes: Quod enim non impedit unitatem secundum numerum in homine dum continue vivit, manifestum est quod non potest impedire unitatem resurgentis. In corpore autem hominis, quandiu vivit, non semper sunt eaedem partes secundum materiam, sed solum secundum speciem; secundum vero materiam partes fluunt et refluunt: nec propter hoc impeditur quin homo sit unus numero a principio vitae usque in finem. Cuius exemplum accipi potest ex igne, qui, dum continue ardet, unus numero dicitur, propter hoc quod species eius manet, licet ligna consumantur et de novo apponantur. Sic etiam est in humano corpore (Thomas Aquinas, Contra Gentiles, lib. 4 cap. 81).3

The human soul as the basic capacity of living activities guarantees the numerical identity of the resurrected body with the pre-death body. The soul as forma substantialis not only shapes the living organism; it is also the form of the resurrected body. The role of the soul is not only to be a ‘placeholder for the person’ (Rudder Baker 2001). The soul also sets constraints for the body that can be my transformed body. Not any body can be the body of the person I am. There is a minimal requirement that bodies (pre- and post-mortem) must meet in order to be my body - they must be informed by the same basic capacity, which is my soul.

4. Résumé Christian philosophers, like Swinburne and Rudder Baker, are skeptical concerning the Aristotelian notion of the soul as a principle for 3

What does not bar numerical unity in a man while he lives on uninterruptedly, clearly can be no bar to the identity of the risen man with the man that was. In a man's body while he lives, there are not always the same parts in respect of matter, but only in respect of species. In respect of matter there is a flux and reflux of parts: still that fact does not bar the man's numerical unity from the beginning to the end of his life. We have an example in a fire, which, while it goes on burning, is called numerically one, because its species remains, though the wood is burnt out and fresh wood supplied. So it is in the human body:

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the justification of the diachronic identity of human person; instead of this they prefer Locke’s theory of personal identity. Their preference is based upon a more general suspicion according to which the Aristotelian notion of the soul cannot take into account the importance of the first-person perspective for the question of survival and personal identity over time. Our analysis of Swinburne’s and Rudder Baker’s views shows that the first-person perspective alone cannot guarantee diachronic identity; especially in periods of loss of consciousness and dramatic personality changes; and in a comprehensive philosophical justification of post-mortem survival, the capacity to have a first-person perspective demonstrates itself to be more basic than self-referential activities. I concluded my paper with the proposal to interpret the ‘capacity to have a firstperson perspective’ or the ‘capacity for mental states’ in an Aristotelian way—as being part of a comprehensive dispositional principle which is called ‘soul’. The concept of the soul is the principle that guarantees diachronic personal identity in dramatic personality changes and it can be used successfully for a philosophical justification of post-mortem survival.

References Aristotle De Anima, in W.D. Ross (ed.) The Works of Aristotle— Volume III, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Caston, V. (2002) “Aristotle on Consciousness”, Mind 111, 751-815. Frede, M. (1994) “Aristotle’s Notion of Potentiality in Metaphysics Θ”, in T. Scaltas, D. Charles & M. Gill (eds.), Unity, Identity and Explanation in Aristotle’s Metaphysics, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 173-193. Locke, J., ‘Essay’: Essay Concerning Human Understanding, BookII. Rudder Baker, L. (2000) Persons and Bodies—A Constitution View, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rudder Baker, L. (2001) “Material Persons and the Doctrine of Resurrection”, Faith and Philosophy 18, 151-167.

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Shivola, J. (2007) “The Problem of Consciousness in Aristotle’s Philosophy”, in S. Heinämaa, V. Lähteenmäki & P. Remes (eds.),

Consciousness: From Perception to Reflection in the History of Philosophy, Dordrecht: Springer, 49-66. Simpson, P. (2001) “Aristotle’s Idea of the Self”, The Journal of Value Inquiry 35, 309-324. Swinburne, R. (1997) The Evolution of the Soul. Revised Edition, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Swinburne, R. (2006) “Wodurch ich ich bin—Eine Verteidigung des Substanzdualismus”, in B. Niederbacher & E. Runggaldier (eds.), Die menschliche Seele. Brauchen wir den Dualismus?, Frankfurt a. M.: Ontos, 41-49. Thomas Aquinas, Opera Omnia. Wilkes, K. V. (1993) Real People—Personal Identity without Thought Experiments, Oxford: Clarendon Press. This research-project was made possible by financial support from the Austrian Science Fund (FWF), grant P201860-G14.

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The Soul-Body Problem in Islamic Philosophical Psychology A. A. Shameli, Qom 1. Introduction In this paper, I will partly compare the approaches and ideas of two pioneers in Islamic philosophy to the soul-body problem: Ibn Sina (370-428/980-1037) and Mulla Sadra (975-1050/1571-1640). Investigating the issue of the soul-body problem in the works of these two philosophers, we need firstly to gain a general perspective of their respective approaches to psychology. Such a perspective should help us to arrive at a more precise understanding of what each has contributed in this area and their differences. Although psychology occupied a vital role in Ibn Sina’s school of philosophy and his theories in this regard were of great importance in the history of Islamic thought, some major differences nevertheless separate his psychological doctrines from those of Mulla Sadra. These differences are significant even if we admit that Ibn Sina’s writings were not merely an imitation of the Aristotelian tradition. His ideas, indeed, provided the ground for the later developments of the Iranian mystical philosophy or gnosis (‘irfān). This transformation of Islamic philosophy (falsafah) is rooted in the philosophical investigation of the soul, or perhaps in the implications that psychological doctrines have yielded for all areas of philosophical inquiry (see Hall 1979, 46-47).

2. The Psychologies of Ibn Sina and Mulla Sadra Ibn Sina and Mulla Sadra differ from one another in the way that each established his own type of school of philosophical psychology. While Ibn Sina, following Aristotle, considered the science of the soul (‘ilm al-nafs) as a part of natural philosophy, Mulla Sadra

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placed it under metaphysics, complementary to the science of the origins of the things. This specific metaphysical world-view led him to view the universe as an ordered whole. In this unified world-view, he considered everything in terms of its metaphysical origin. This might be also why he never reduced the human soul to a collection of mental states or mental processes, as some modern psychologists have done. Instead, he traces the metaphysical roots of everything, establishing a doctrine in terms of which he investigates metaphysical characteristics such as creation, immateriality and immortality. Although Mulla Sadra put forth this new formulation by emphasizing the physical origin of the soul, which would seem to be a topic more properly discussed in natural philosophy, this position was due to the fact that our philosopher believed that ‘ilm al-nafs is, in fact, a preliminary step toward knowing God and being aware of what will happen in the other world. These goals would be achievable if we considered the soul as a being that survives and leads us to God both in its origination (ḥudūth) and its survival (baqā’). In some of his writings, Ibn Sina uses the term “soul” (nafs) to refer not to the substance of the soul as such, but to the soul as it relates to the body and governs it. Considering it as something that bears a relationship to matter and, consequently, to movement, he takes the body to be an element in the soul’s definition and says, following Aristotle, that the soul is the form or the first perfection of the body. In this sense, therefore, the most appropriate place for discussing the soul is natural philosophy. Nevertheless, in another attempt he states that although the soul is the form or the first perfection of the natural body, it is an incorporeal substance that emanates from the world of intellects. Rejecting Ibn Sina’s apparent self-contradiction and modifying the Aristotelian definition of the soul as well, Mulla Sadra states that when the soul comes into existence, it is nothing other than something that relates to the body and will only change substantially through substantial motion. At the same time, Sadra also mentions that the soul’s related mode of existence at its early stage does not imply Ibn Sina’s idea that the soul is a rational concept and not a substantive one. So, there will not be any unknown substance for the

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soul separated from its relation to the body at its early existence. However, he insists that no one is able to discover the soul’s essence (dhāt); all we can describe, in fact, are various facts about its faculties and the lower mental and intellectual levels (quwā wa manāzilihā al-nafsiyyah wa al-‘aqliyyah). Mulla Sadra also departs from Ibn Sina on some other psychological points, such as the eternity and createdness of the soul, the immateriality (tajarrud) of the imaginative power, and the effective role of the soul in relation to its faculties, through which it exists in all its uniqueness (al-nafs fī waḥdatihā kull al-quwā). It is necessary to mention that even though Mulla Sadra’s psychology covers a vast terrain, including the vegetative and animal souls, we have limited ourselves in this study to the case of the human soul.

3. Terminological Differences Speaking of the soul and the mind, philosophers have traditionally proposed two basic orientations. Some believe that mind and soul are the same, others that mind is a part of the soul. A third group proposes that the mind and the soul are entirely different and what, in fact, exists is mind characterized by intellect and will. While philosophers have insisted on the existence of the soul as something that can survive independently after the death of the body or, better to say, can survive without a corporeal body, modern defenders of the notion of the mind maintain the existence of the mind as something that is not immortal, but characterized by intellect and will (see Teichman 1974, 1-2; Kenny 1989, 18). According to Anthony Kenny, the human mind is primarily the capacity to acquire intellectual abilities. Therefore, it is a capacity, not an activity. Such philosophers argue that babies have minds even though they have not yet exhibited intellectual activities, insofar as infants possess a basic ability to acquire new abilities (see Kenny 1989, 20). Beyond these views, some have gone further to state that no satisfactory account of our concept of the mind can be really offered. As

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Schaffer explains: The only thing that we know of each person is a series of mental changes, mental states, and mental processes. Because of the inability to say what a mind is, many philosophers prefer to speak not of minds as such, but simply of mental properties or mental events (Schaffer 1967, 338).

Many modern psychologists have taken this line of thinking as the very basis of their field. Muslim philosophers, on the other hand, have stated that no one can obtain or know the exact nature of rūḥ (spirit) even if one is sure that there is, indeed, such a thing as rūḥ (see Fārūqī al-Tihānawī 1966, Vol. 3-4, 18). According to D.B. Macdonald (1931, 307), rūḥ in Arabic is a primary noun that has become broadly equivalent in meaning to the Latin spiritus, or “breath”, “wind”, “spirit”. From one end, it may even be related back to the most primitive folklore and, from the other end, it is closely linked to the entire history of philosophy, as in the use of the word “spirit” in Islamic philosophy. In the course of its journey between these two extremes, the meaning of the term has been alternatively used throughout theology and philosophy, in uses that range from the metaphysical to the superstitious. In the purely philosophical tradition, soul or nafs is sometimes considered as a form (ṣūrah) or perfection (kamāl) or power (quwwah), implying the principle of affections and acts (mabda‘ alāthār wa al-af‘āl). All these terms depend on certain considerations. If we regard it as the source of actions and effects in relation to the body, the soul is called quwwa (faculty or power). It should be noticed that quwwah has different meanings in philosophical texts, but is used in the above-mentioned discussion referring to the soul as the source or basis of effects and the actions. However, it could be the form of matter that carries it or something which completes matter and causes it to be actualized (see Mulla Sadra, Asfār, Vol. 8, 7-9). Switching to the technical meaning of the soul according to Ibn Sina’s school of thought, let us first present his point of view on the soul’s definition. Sometimes (Ibn Sina, al-Najāt, Vol. 2, 196) it

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seems that Ibn Sina simply accepts the Aristotelian definition in De Anima (412a) of the soul as first entelechy, and insists on the intellectual aspects such as thinking, inference, and the perception of universals. He considers the soul as the first perfection (kamālun awwal) of the natural body. However, he departs from Aristotle when he emphasizes the difference between perfection and form. Perfection according to Aristotle is equal to form, which cannot stand by itself, while Ibn Sina believes that perfection and form are not interchangeable. Each form is equal to a perfection; but not every perfection is a form. Ibn Sina uses Aristotle’s metaphor of the ship’s captain (De Anima, 413a) to explain the difference, and agrees that the captain is a kind of perfection for the ship, but is not its form. In the case of the soul, too, Ibn Sina holds that a transcendent perfection (kamālun mufāriq) is neither the form of matter nor is it located in it (see Ibn Sina, Shifā, Vol. 2, 7). On closer examination, one may note a certain inconsistency in Ibn Sina words. On the one hand, he states that the soul is the first perfection of the body, which necessitates admitting the idea that it is a form. For, “first perfection” is something that causes matter to be actualized. Therefore, its relation to the body cannot resemble that of a captain to a ship, since the ship and its captain are two independent existents. No one considers the captain as the “first perfection” of the ship. On the other hand, he considers the soul as a transcendent perfection (kamālun mufāriq), which is in fact the final not the first perfection of the body. This excludes the proposed definition. Ibn Sina sometimes defines the soul by referring to its functions. In the Shifā’ (cited above), he introduces the human soul as the source of nutrition, growth, sensation, motion, and intellection (maṣdar al-ghadhā’, al-numuww, al-iḥsās, al-ḥarakah, wa alta‘aqqul). These two said definitions derive from Aristotle’s De Anima (412a). Elsewhere, however, Ibn Sina (Risālah fī al-Ḥudd, 69-70) tries to combine Aristotle’s position on one hand, and Plato’s on the other hand. He states accordingly that although the soul is the form or the first perfection of the natural body, it is an incorporeal substance that emanates from the world of intellects.

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Though Mulla Sadra quotes passages in his Asfār (Vol. 8, 9-10) indicating that according to the philosophers, the soul is nothing other than that which is related to the body and functions as a source of intellectual acts and universal perceptions, in his Mafātīḥ (514) he states that all definitions of the soul that are presented by the philosophers as being essential definitions are, in fact, nominal definitions (ḥadd bi ḥasab-i al-’ism) because the soul is in its reality one of God’s immaterial lights (nūrun min anwār al-Allāh alma‘nawiyyah). In order to remove this ambiguity, Mulla Sadra (Mafātīḥ, 310) declares that the human soul has a unique existence that is continuously in essential motion and does not have any static essence or particular stage of existence. Consequently, it would be very hard to perceive its essence as it is. What we say about the soul can only indicate the levels of its existence in relation to the body and refer to its accidents of perception and motion (‘awāriḍ alidrākiyyah wa al-taḥrkiyyah). Therefore, philosophers usually define the soul as the first perfection (kamālun awwal) of the body. This definition simply reflects a kind of relation (iḍāfah) existing between the soul and the body, whereas the soul is indeed a substance (jawhar). It is like when we define a builder (bannā’) as a person who constructs buildings, which defines him as a builder not qua human being (see Mulla Sadra, al-Mabda’ wa al-Ma‘ād, 232-233). One may note a kind of contradiction between this account and what he offers in his Asfār (Vol. 8, 11-12) that clearly shows that Mulla Sadra considers the soul at its very early existence as something relating to the body without having any other transcendent essence. In an attempt to define nafs (soul), Mulla Sadra asserts that each active power (quwwah fā‘iliyyah) capable of causing different effects is called nafs. This definition refers to the soul as an active power or powers. The soul’s simple essence (dhātihā al-basīţah), on the other hand, has another definition that, he admits, cannot be dealt with in natural science. In Mulla Sadra writings, it is difficult to discern any explicit distinction between nafs and rūḥ. Although he often uses the word nafs to refer to that which is related to the body, he also sometimes uses rūḥ as an alternative. In his ‘Arshiyyah (235), he uses rūḥ to refer to

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something he calls nafs in other works, yet in the very same passage, he also uses rūh for the highest stage of the soul’s development (while in Mulla Sadra, Tafsīr, Vol. 7, 58, he uses nafs and rūḥ interchangeably). The Distinction is perhaps clearer when Mulla Sadra adds modifiers to the term rūḥ. He distinguishes between vaporous spirit (al-rūḥ al-bukhāri) and immaterial spirit (al-rūḥ al-mujarrad) in his writings. The vaporous spirit, according to him, is a subtle, hot body (jism ḥārr laţīf) that is made up of four humors (akhlāṭ arba‘ah), carries perceptual powers, and circulates through the body. The immaterial spirit, on the other hand, has an incorporeal existence that can only be known by perfect men through the intuition (bi nūrin ashraf min al-‘aql). The vaporous spirit could be investigated in natural science through experiment and deduction with a view to maintaining the body’s health. The immaterial spirit must be known through intuition on the way to knowing God (see Mulla Sadra, al-Mabda’ wa al-Ma‘ād, 250-254). There is one case in which Mulla Sadra maintains that rūḥ and nafs are two levels of the soul. Comparing the soul’s levels to what is found in the Qur’ān, Mulla Sadra enumerates seven degrees of existence for the soul. These degrees are the following: nature (ţabī‘ah), soul (nafs), intellect (‘aql), spirit (rūḥ), secret (sirr), hidden secret (khafī), and the most hidden state (akhfā), which is that of perfect union with God (see Mulla Sadra, Tafsīr, Vol. 7, 23). In this regard it is interesting to note that Seyyed Hossein Nasr (1966, 955-956). has pointed out that according to a famous hadîth of the Prophet Muhammad, accepted by Shi‘ites and Sunnis alike, the Qur’ān has seven levels of meaning the last known only to God. According to this point of view, nafs and rūḥ are not two independent things, but rather two levels of one reality that unfolds through substantial motion. As we noticed one can hardly arrive at a clear understanding of the terms. The whole terminological ambiguity is, of course, related to the history of these terms. There are at least four different layers to be distinguished, and each has its own ambiguity: a) Qur’ānic application (nafs, rūḥ with very different meanings according to various contexts). b) Mystical usage (basically as in the Qur’ān).

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c) Medical meanings (rūḥ may be used as referring to blood, life, etc.). d) Philosophical notion (rūḥ means psyche, particularly rational soul (al-nafs al-nāţiqah).

4. Conclusion Mulla Sadra succeeded in satisfactorily resolving the age-old metaphysical dilemma concerning the connection of the immaterial with the material and by extension the relation of the immaterial soul to the material body. He achieved this by articulating a monistic description of reality that allowed for a hierarchical and continuous gradation, and by postulating a level of existence, known as the imaginal realm, which lay between the lowest level of detached immateriality and the level of materiality. In this way, he eliminated the dual-substance conception of reality altogether, while at the same time conceding that detached immateriality and materiality (or in the case of the human being, the intellect and the body) could not be directly in contact, for their existential ranks did not allow for this; rather, they needed an intermediate level of existence, weaker than the realm of detached immateriality and stronger than that of materiality, to connect the two.

References Aristotle (1955) De Anima, tr. J. A. Smith, ed. D. Ross, London: Oxford University Press. Bahmanyār, K. (1349/1970) Al-Taḥṣīl, ed. M. Muṭahharī, Tehran. Fārūqī al-Tihānawī, Muhammad A‘lā Ibn ‘Alī (1966) Iṣtilāḥāt al-Funn, Beirut: al-Maktabah al-Islamiyyah.

Hall, R. E. (1979) “Some Relationships between Ibn Sina’s Psychology, Other branches of His Thought, and Islamic teachings,” Journal for the History of Arabic Science, Aleppo: University of Aleppo, Vol. 3, 46-84.

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Ibn Sina (1375/1996) Al-Shifā’, Kitāb al-Nafs (Book of the Soul) Qom: Marakaz al-I‘lām al-Islāmī. Ibn Sina (1992) Al-Ishārāt wa al-Tanbīhāt, 4 Vols., Beirut: Mu’assassah al-Nu‘mān. Ibn Sina (1992) Al-Najāt, ed. Abd al-Raḥmān Umayarah, Beirut: Dār al-Jayl. Ibn Sina, (1986) “Risālah fī al-Ḥudd,” in Tis‘ Rasā’il fī al-Ḥikmat wa al-Ţabī‘iyyāt, ed. Ḥasan ‘Āsī, Beirut: Dār Qābis. Ibn Sina (1984) Al-Mabda’ wa al-ma‘ād, ed. A. Nurani, Tehran: McGill Institute of Islamic Studies and Tehran University. Kenny, A. (1989) The Metaphysics of Mind, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Macdonald, D. B. (1931) “The Development of the Idea of Spirit in Islam,” Acta Orientalia, Vol. 9, No. 4, 307-351. Mulla Sadra (1984) Mafātīḥ al-Ghayb, with commentary by Mullā Ali Nūrī, ed. M. Khāwjawī, Tehran: Mawlā. Mulla Sadra (1982) Tafsīr al-Qur’ān al-Karīm, ed. M. Khwājavī, Qom: Intishārāt-e Bīdār. Mulla Sadra (1981) Al-Asfār, Vols. 6, 7, 8 & 9, Beirut: Dār al-Ihyā’ alTurāth al-‘Arabī. Mulla Sadra (1976) al-Mabda’ wa al-Ma‘ād, ed. Sayyid Jalāl al-Dīn Āshtīyānī, Tehran: Anjuman-e Ḥikmat va Falsafeh. Mulla Sadra (1341/1962) ‘Arshiyyah, ed. Ghulām Ḥusayn Āhanī, Isfahan: Shahriyār. Nasr, Seyyed Hossein (1966) “Sadr a-Din Shirazi (Mulla Sadra),” A History of Muslim Philosophy, ed. M. M. Sharif, Karachi, Vol. 2, 932-960. Schaffer, J. (1967) “Mind-Body Problem,” Encyclopedia of Philosophy, ed. Paul Edwards, New York: Macmillan, Vol. 5, 338-339. Teichman, J. (1974) The Mind and the Soul, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

The Creation of the Human Soul: An Islamic Perspective Mohammad Ali Shomali, Qom

1. Introduction One of the issues that have been extensively discussed among those philosophers who have accepted the existence of human soul as a substance, independent from human body in its essence, is the issue of the beginning of human soul. This by itself can be divided into two subsequent questions: whether the soul is created or not and, if we accept that it is created, whether the soul is created in eternity or it has some beginning. This paper studies briefly major viewpoints among Muslim philosophers and theologians with respect to the latter. (On different types of substance, definition of psychic substance or soul, its types, immateriality, faculties and happiness, see Shomali 2007.)

2. Major views about the beginning of the soul There are three major views about the beginning of the soul among those philosophers who have accepted the existence of the soul as an immaterial being that is essentially different from and indeed independent of the body (see Sabzavari’s enumeration of views on the soul’s being eternal (qidam) or originated (ḥudūth) in Mulla Sadra 1981b, ishrāq vi, shādid ii, mashhad iii). To believe that soul is not created and, therefore, to accord some type of divinity or necessity of existence to it is not normally taken seriously by Muslim philosophers or the classical Greek philosophers, though they sometimes make note of it (for example, Ibn Sina mentions an extreme view

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according to which the soul is equal to God). Thus, the major views are as follows: a. the soul is created in pre-eternity; b. the soul is created at a certain time prior to the creation of body; c. the soul is created at the same time as the creation of the body or, more precisely, at a certain stage in the development of the human embryo. As an example for those who hold the first view, one may refer to Plato. Plato was of the opinion that the human soul is eternal in the sense that it has no beginning. According to Plato, the human soul has always been (in a higher universe; the universe of the imamterial forms or ideas), but after the creation of the human body, the soul is individuated and each soul belongs to its corresponding body. There seems to be some sympathy with Plato from some Muslim scholars of ḥadīth and kalām who believe that human souls or spirits are created by God before the creation of the material world, and therefore, that they are beyond time or timeless. Of course, they do not agree with Plato, as normally understood, in his belief that the eternal soul is universal. With respect to Muslim philosophers, it seems clear that they reject the Platonic idea of the eternity of soul. It has to be noted that Mulla Sadra tries to defend Plato by interpreting his idea in a different way. Mulla Sadra writes: The attribution to that great person [Plato] and his likes from the early great people of the view that the souls, in so far as they are souls, are eternal is a fabricated lie. How [is this possible] when they have believed in the the universe was originated (ḥudūth) and in the renewal and change of the nature and destruction of all bodies? […] If he means that the souls have an intellectual configuration prior to the configuration of their association [with the body] (al-nash’at alta‘alluqiyyah), this does not imply the eternity of the souls in so far they are souls (Mulla Sadra 1981, Vol. 8, 374).

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Mulla Sadra maintains that Plato did not mean that souls as such or independently existed in eternity; rather Plato must have meant that the intellectual image of the souls existed in eternity or that they existed in eternity by the existence of their eternal originator. Whether Plato would have agreed to what Sadra suggests requires investigation; however, the idea, regardless of its attribution to Plato, seems to be quite plausible and in addition to philosophical arguments, can be supported by reference to the Qur’ān. The Qur’ān says: There is not a thing but that its sources are with Us, and We do not send it down except in a known measure. (15:21) Therefore, everything in this material world exists somehow in the Kingdom of God. This idea is also well echoed in the mystical literature. For example, Rumi says: We were simple and one substance, all; We had no sides on the other side, all. We were one substance, just like the sun that glows; We had no knots and were clear, just like water that flows. When it took on form, that pure light of all, It became many, like shadows from a battlement fall. Destroy the battlement! Let loose the catapult! Until the differences are culled from all of our cult (Mathnavi, Bk. I, 686-689).

Muslim philosophers prior to Mulla Sadra believed, like Aristotle, that the human soul is immaterial at its beginning (ḥudūth), just as it is immaterial in its survival (baqā’), because there can be no change in the essence of the soul. This is unlike the soul’s actions, which depend in the beginning on the body and later become independent from the body. This idea, that the soul is immaterial in its origin and in its survival is formulated in the Arabic phrase: rūḥāniyyah alḥudūth wa rūḥāniyyah al-baqā’ (spiritual in origin and spiritual in survival). (For the Muslim Peripatetic school, see e.g. Ibn Sina, AlShifā’, Section VI: Al-Nafs (the Soul). For the Illuminationist school, see e.g. Sohravardi, Ḥikmat al-Ishrāq, Vol. 2, 202 and 203.) Mulla Sadra believes that the classic view cannot properly explain the essential connection between the soul and body, since they come into existence independently. Mulla Sadra is the first on

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record to suggest that the person is material at the beginning and then becomes immaterial. Sadra’s idea can be formulated as: jismāniyyah al-ḥudūth wa rūḥāniyyah al-baqā’ (corporeal in origin and spiritual in survival), (see Mulla Sadra, Al-Asfār, Vol. 6, 109 and Vol. 8, 333 and 334). The key point for understanding Mulla Sadra’s argument for this new standpoint is his other innovative idea, i.e. the idea of substantial motion. Mulla Sadra argues that through substantial motion (alḥarakat al-jawhariyyah), the human body undergoes evolutionary change in its essence which results in the production of soul. In other words, the soul is nothing other than a fruit of the development of the body. The clearest explanation of Mulla Sadra’s view about this point, I think, can be found in the following passage: According to Sadra, this reality, which is today a spirit, a thought, an idea, an intellect, and an intelligible, was another day some bread, later some blood, then clot, then a lump of flesh […] (Mutahhari 1366/1987, 170).

Elsewhere, with less clarity but with further details, Ayatullah Mutahhari says: Initially, for example, the human embryo is purely physical in its nature. It is 100% a physical compound like any ordinary nature in this world, but gradually the form and substantial matter of that nature develops and, thus, the soul gradually comes about out of this bodily nature which serves as a matter for soul and evolves. This means that the soul at this level, which is its first level, is the form for the physical body, but then it becomes a matter for higher levels of the soul. When body becomes soul […] it is not the case that there are two distinct things: one merely material being and another immaterial being; rather there is only one connected reality and, in a sense, the material and the immaterial are mixed with each other. This means that different levels (marātib) of the same thing gradually turn from being material into being immaterial. This is like a green object that gradually becomes yellow; no border lines can be drawn between its yellowness and greenness. […] The nature that initially serves as matter for the soul finally becomes like an accident for the soul, like skin cells, which are part of the body, but when they die, they become like dirt, additional to body (Mutahhari 1369/1990, 66-67).

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Mulla Sadra believes that his philosophical arguments are supported by the verses of the Qur’ān and mystical findings. For example, the Qur’ān says: And certainly We created man of an extract of clay.

Then We made him a drop of [seminal] fluid [lodged] in a secure abode. Then We created the drop of fluid as a clinging mass. Then We created the clinging mass as a fleshy tissue. Then We created the fleshy tissue as bones. Then We clothed the bones with flesh. Then We caused it to grow into another creation. So blessed be God, the best of creators. (23:12-14) Mulla Sadra is well aware of the objections that can be made against him, based on some religious texts (mainly hadiths) which imply or indicate apparently the creation of the soul in eternity or at least long time before the creation of body. For example, Mulla Sadra refers to a hadith from the Prophet Muḥammad: “I was a prophet when Adam was between water and clay” (Majlisī, Biḥār, Vol. 65, 27 and Vol. 101, 155). He also refers to the following hadith from the Prophet Muḥammad: “The spirits are [like] armies that have lined up. Those who are familiar with each other come together and those who are not separate [disagree with] from one another” (Majlisī, Biḥār, Vol. 58, 63). There is also another version of this hadith preceded by the following phrase: “Verily God the Almighty created the spirits two thousand years before the bodies” (Majlisī, Biḥār, Vol. 58, 138). Mulla Sadra answers objections based on such religious texts, partly, by interpreting these texts in a way similar to the way he interprets the Platonic ideas, that is, he holds that reference here is to the intellectual image of the souls that has existed since eternity, or that they may be said to have existed in eternity by virtue of the existence of their eternal originator (see Mulla Sadra, Al-Asfār, Vol. 8, Section 7, Chapter 2). In his commentary (Miṣbāḥ Yazdī 1380/2001) on the relevant parts of the Asfār, Ayatullah Miṣbāḥ expresses dissatisfaction with Sadra’s interpretation of some hadiths and suggests another solution based on the following points: • the soul from the beginning is immaterial;

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• the immaterial is beyond time and admits no time; • the soul has transtemporal priority (al-sabq bi al-dahr) over body, which is the priority of a necessitating cause over its effect and the priority of the non-material intellectual world over the world of matter; • after the fulfillment of some required conditions by the body, at a certain time the body comes to belong to the soul. Ayatullah Miṣbāḥ concludes that the hadiths that indicate creation of the soul before the body mean precedence in rank and not in time. Even with respect to the hadith which mentions that spirits are created 2000 years before bodies, he maintains that year cannot mean time in the normal sense that we understand. 2000 years may refer to two levels of precedence: the precedence of the intellectual universe over the imaginal (mithāalī) universe, and the precedence of the imaginal universe over the physical universe, since there are cases in the Qur’ān where day is used in the sense of stage, like the creation of heavens and the earth in six days (10:3; 11:7; 25:59; etc.). On the other hand, the Qur’ān says: […]Indeed a day with your Lord is like a thousand years of your reckoning. (22:47) Admitting the fact that there are some hadiths and even verses of the Qur’ān that may apparently imply the creation of the soul before body, I personally believe that there are many more verses of the Qur’ān and hdiths that in a much stronger way suggest the creation of the soul at a certain stage of the development of embryo. Indeed, these verses and hadiths (with or without philosophical arguments) enable us to understand what is really meant by the other set. Let us start with the Qur’ān. There are many verses of the Qur’ān about the creation of man. In my view these verses clearly suggest that the creation of the soul cannot be before the creation of the body. In addition to the verse (23:12-14) above, one may refer e.g. to the following: O mankind! if you are in doubt concerning the

Resurrection, then surely We have created you from dust, then from a drop of [seminal] fluid […]. (22:5); Among His signs in this, that He created you from dust; and then—behold, ye are men scattered (far and wide)! (30:20). Perhaps some of the most clear and

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striking verses are the following: […] commenced man’s creation

from clay. Then He made his progeny from an extract of a base fluid. Then He proportioned him and breathed into him of His Spirit, and made for you the hearing, the sight, and the hearts. Little do you thank. (32:7-9). This verse expressly signifies that the creation of Adam started from clay, so Adam was not a product of an evolutionary process and had no parents. This is exactly what we find in the following verse: Indeed the case of Jesus with God is like the case

of Adam: He created him from dust, then said to him, ‘Be,’ and he was. (3:59). This is followed by a description of the progeny of Adam (and Eve) and says that they were created from an extract of a base fluid. The breathing of His Spirit into Adam and his progeny comes second. There are also many hadiths about the creation of man confirming the same idea. Indeed, based on the hadiths, the Shi‘ite jurists normally have the idea that the spirit-breathing stage is about one hundred twenty days after conception starts. One verse that is often taken by those who insist on the creation of the soul before body is the following: When your Lord took from

the Children of Adam, from their loins, their descendants and made them bear witness over themselves, [He said to them,] ‘Am I not your Lord?’ They said, ‘Yes indeed! We bear witness.’ [This,] lest you should say on the Day of Resurrection, ‘Indeed we were unaware of this,’ (7:172). This verse is taken to refer to a kind of individual existence prior to this world. There are also some hadiths whose apparent meanings endorse such an understanding. However, I think expressions like “the Children of Adam”, “from their loins” and “their descendents” are not in conformity with this kind of interpretation according to which the souls precede their bodies in time. Of course, this problem, along with the idea of the Universe of the Particles (‘ālam-e dharr) needs to be discussed separately. With respect to the above Prophetic hadith: “I was a prophet when Adam was between water and clay,” I think by now it must have become clear that this does not mean that the souls of Adam and the Prophet Muḥammad were created and then the Prophet Muḥammad was appointed as a prophet by God while the body of Adam had not been created, let alone the body of the Prophet Mu-

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ḥammad. As we saw above, the creation of Adam’s soul or any other person’s soul comes only after the creation of body. In addition to the above verse, one may refer to this verse as well, in which God commands the angels to bow before Adam: So when I have pro-

portioned him and breathed into him of My spirit, then fall down in prostration before him (15:29). I think verses like this clearly suggest that the creation of Adam was completed (that is, his soul was created) only after his body was proportioned. If Adam’s soul was created before his body, the angels should have been asked to prostrate before Adam before the body was created, for the reality and value of every person depends on his soul [spirit] and not on body. In my view, the expression “between water and clay” clearly suggests that this hadith refers to this world; otherwise there would be no point in comparing the appointment of the Prophet as a spirit in eternity and the creation of the body of Adam in this world. What this hadith may mean is that when Adam’s creation was not yet completed (that is, at the dawn of the creation of mankind) it was already decided by God that the Prophet Muhammad would become a prophet. With respect to the other prophetic hadith: “The spirits are [like] armies that have lined up. Those who are familiar with each other come together and those who are not separate [disagree with] from one another”, I think this hadith suggests that what is more important than the physical union of two people is the harmony between their spirits. When people meet those whose spirits match each other, they feel very close to each other and united. With respect to the phrase: “Verily God the Almighty created the spirits two thousand years before the bodies”, which can be found in some versions of the same hadith, it is true that it literally suggests that the spirits were created before bodies. However, four points must be made. First, this hadith, even in its literal sense, does not suggest that the spirits were eternal (qadīm). Second, those who take such hadiths literally must note that this hadith conflicts with their literal understanding of the previous hadith about Adam and the Prophet Muḥammad, because certainly Adam’s body was created several thousand years before the body of the Prophet Muḥam-

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mad. This would imply that the soul of the Prophet Muḥammad too must have been created several thousand years (and not just 2000 years) before his body. Third, since the souls or spirits are imamterial in essence there is no sense in which their creation apart from body can be fixed to a certain time. Fourth, according to a wellknown rule in Arabic grammar (included in the study of the Principles of Jurisprudence, as well), if this really meant that every human spirit is created literally 2000 years before the corresponding human body is created, it would be wrong to use the plural forms of rūḥ (soul; spirit) and jasad (body) with the definite article (in Arabic, alif and lām), which indicates universality. Certainly it cannot be said that the bodies are created altogether at the same time and that all the souls are created altogether 2000 years in advance. We know that the bodies are created at different times and the same is true about the souls. Thus, it seems clear that there is no conflict between the verses of the Qur’ān and hadiths on the one side and the position of the Muslim philosophers on the other side. Indeed, there are many more verses of the Qur’ān and hadiths that in a much stronger way suggest the creation of the soul at a certain stage of the development of the embryo and, therefore, confirm the philosophical arguments. Among different philosophical positions, to choose between Mulla Sadra’s idea of corporeal hudūth or the Peripatetic and Illuminationist view of spiritual hudūth needs further studies, though Mulla Sadra’s explanation of the passage: “Then We caused it to grow into another creation. So blessed be God, the best of creators” (23:4) seems more plausible.

References Ibn Sina (1375/1996) Al-Shifā’, Kitāb al-Nafs (Book of the Soul), Qom: Marakaz al-I‘lām al-Islāmī. Majlisī, Muḥamamd Bāqir (1362/1983), Biḥār al-Anwār, Vols. 58, 65 and 101, Tehran: Dār al-Kutūb.

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Miṣbāḥ Yazdi, Mohamamd Taqi (1380/2001) Sharh-e Jeld-e Hashtom-e Al-Asfār al-‘Arba’ah, Vol. 2, Qom: The Imam Khomeini Education and Research Institute Press. Mulla Sadra (1981) Al-Asfār, Vols. 6 and 8, Beirut: Dār al-Ihyā’ alTurāth al-‘Arabī. Mulla Sadra (1981) Muqaddimāt al-Shawāhid al-Rubūbiyyah, fī alManāhij al-Sulūlkiyyah, with the comments of Sabzavari, Mashhad: Markaz al-Nashr al-Jāmi‘ī. Mutahhari, M. (1369/1990) Ḥarakat wa Zamān, Vol. 2, Tehran: Hikmat. Mutahhari, M. (1366/1987), Maqālāt-e Falsafī, Vol. 1, Tehran: Hikmat. Shomali, M. A. (2007), “Psychic Substance: A Meeting Point between Metaphysics & Spirituality,” in C. Kanzian & M. Legenhausen (eds.), Substance and Attribute: Western and Islamic Traditions in Dialogue, Frankfurt: Ontos. Sohravardi, Shihāb al-Dīn (1977) Hikmat al-Ishraq in Majmū‘ah Muṣannafāt Shaykh Ishraq, Vol. 2, ed. H. Corbin, Tehran: Anjuman-e Falsafeh.

The Simple View of Personal Identity and its Implications for Substance Dualism* Matthias Stefan, Innsbruck 1. The discussion of personal identity In analytic metaphysics issues of personal identity have been discussed for several years now. To clarify the ontological question in focus, it needs to be demarcated from the psychological question. The ontological question is whether a person at one time is numerically identical to a person at another time. This must be distinguished from the question whether a person has the same character or the same self-image over time. Two examples might help to elucidate the distinction: The philosophical question could be whether the woman I met yesterday is the same person as the girl I have known in kindergarten. The psychological question, in contrast, could be whether a serious disease changed the character of my uncle in such a way that we cannot talk of the same person, i.e. in this context, the same character anymore. In what fallows, we are concerned with the ontological question of personal identity over time.

2. The simple view This question of personal identity can be answered in two ways (for an excellent overview see Noonan 1989, 1-23 and 116-118): (i) One way is by giving necessary and sufficient conditions of personal identity. According to this position, which is called the complex view, personal identity just consists in some simpler facts. If these facts obtain, there is also personal identity. Normally, these facts are taken to be psychological or bodily continuity or some combination thereof. That means that p1 at t1 is identical with p2 at t2 if and only if p1 has the same brain or the same body as p2 or stands in

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continuity of consciousness with p2. These conditions need to be further specified, of course. Be that as it may, I won’t discuss the complex view any further. (ii) I am rather concerned with the so called simple view. It is the denial of the complex view, and hence rejects the analysability of personal identity in more basic relations. Accordingly, personal identity cannot be analysed in terms of more basic relations, but rather is a brute further fact—unanalysable and simple. Basically, the simple view rests on two assumptions: First, there are no more basic identity conditions for persons. Bodily and psychological relations are epistemic criteria for assuming personal identity, but they are no truth conditions for personal identity.1 If they are given, we are justified in our assumption of personal identity. According to the simple view, however, this does not mean that they are more basic identity conditions. In other words, they are evidence for identity, but personal identity does not consist in these facts. Questions of what personal identity consists in are not answerable informatively. Personal identity rather is a simple further fact over and above bodily or psychological connectedness and because of that it is not analysable. Even if we knew all about the psychological relations between p1 at t1 and p2 at t2 we would still have left unanswered the question of personal identity between p1 and p2. For some advocates, this means that psychological and bodily criteria can “break down”: They could be misleading or even not available at all (see e.g. Chisholm 1976, 112), as can be conceived in thought experiments we will consider below. Second, personal identity, because it is an unanalysable further fact, either obtains or not. There is no graduality in personal identity. Loosely speaking, I cannot be a bit identical with myself next year and a bit less identical with myself in ten years. Because of its simplicity, it cannot obtain only to a certain degree. If it consisted in identity conditions, they could be realised or fulfilled only to some 1

I am concerned only with the thesis that personal identity is a simple and unanalysable fact in contrast to identity of objects like tables, stones or cars. I am not concerned with the thesis that there are no identity conditions of any entity whatsoever. See e.g. Merricks 1998.

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degree: A person p2, for instance, could have 30, 60 or 90 percent of p1’s brain or could stand only to some degree in continuity of consciousness to p1. But since there are no identity conditions according to the simple view, there is no graduality. So both assumptions, simplicity and non-graduality, are deeply intertwined.

3. Richard Swinburne’s position These brief remarks should suffice for the moment. In what fallows I sketch Richard Swinburne’s argumentation in favour of the simple view (most fully elaborated in Swinburne 1984 and 1986), which is representative of the views held by many advocates of the simple view. Swinburne starts with a negative argument that should show the deficiency of the complex view. He first refers to a thought experiment of psychological division by Thomas Reid: It is conceivable that two persons, p2 and p3, have by all standards the same memories of the same quality as an earlier person p1 (Swinburne 1984, 13-14). Swinburne’s argument is restricted to the memory criterion, but it can be easily expanded to all kinds of psychological criteria2. Furthermore, the same is conceivable concerning the bodily criterion in thought experiments of division (Swinburne 1984, 1415). We can think of cases where p1’s brain is split and implanted into two different bodies, so that there are two successors—let’s call them p2 and p3. According to the bodily criterion, they must be identical. But how could that be, given that they have different brains and different properties? There is a major problem concerning both bodily and psychological division: There are two persons, p2 and p3, with different properties. Because of this, we cannot assume them to be identical. However, if they are not assumed identical, then the transitivity of identity is violated: The complex view in its different versions is forced to say that p1 is identical to p2 and p3. However, p2

2

See e.g. Shoemaker’s example of the brain-state-transfer device (Shoemaker 1984, 108-111).

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and p3 are not identical. This obviously contradicts the transitivity of identity. Swinburne rejects the so called ad hoc solution to the problem at hand. According to the ad hoc solution, personal identity is only given in case there is one single person successor, i.e. if only p2 or p3 exist. If both, p2 and p3, exist, neither of them is identical to the original person p1. This argument, though, has the absurd consequence that the identity of a person depends on what happens to another person that has no intrinsic relation to her. That is, whether p1 is identical with p2 depends on what happens to p2, even though p2 is independent of p3. This consequence is absurd according to Swinburne: “[H]ow can who I am depend on what happens to you?” (Swinburne 1984, 16) Swinburne also raises the problem of gradual identity as argument against the complex view, according to which identity consists in certain bodily or psychological relations. If this is true, these identity conditions can be implemented more or less and thus come in degrees: P2 can have 90 percent, or 80 percent, or less than 50 per cent of the brain of P1; and likewise the similarity of apparent memory and character may vary along a spectrum. Just how well do criteria have to be satisfied for the later person to be the same person as the earlier one? (Swinburne 1984, 17)

This question poses a problem for the complex view in its bodily and psychological versions, as every answer seems to be arbitrary. Where should we draw the line, even if we know all about the bodily and psychological relations? Suppose, for instance, that everyone agrees that 50 percent of the brain suffices for personal identity. Suppose further that there is a succession of persons that get 60 percent of the brain of the predecessor implanted. Then, according to the definition of identity, p2 would be identical to p1, because she got 60 percent of p1’s brain. p3 is identical to p1, because she got 60 percent of p2’s brain and p2 is identical to p1—and so on until pn (Swinburne 1984, 16). This simple thought experiment shows that any solution to the problem of

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gradual personal identity available to the complex view has to be very arbitrary or even contradict the transitivity of identity (as pn cannot be identical to p1, but there is a succession of identity in between). In this argument, Swinburne supposes that personal identity cannot be gradual. That means questions about personal identity do not allow for open answers. This assumption is in accordance with our own conception of ourselves. Nevertheless, it has been challenged by Derek Parfit (e.g. Parfit 1971 and 1984, 231-243). He claims that personal identity is not a strict fact and could in odd circumstances become gradual. Swinburne rejects Parfit’s criticism on the basis of two counter arguments: First, consider the following thought experiment by Bernard Williams that was already mentioned before: A mad surgeon divides the brain of p1 into two halves and implants each half into two other bodies (destroying the original one). So, after the operation there exist two persons, p2 and p3, each having half of the original brain of p1. Both stand in the same relation to p1 that we would under normal circumstances consider as (indicator for) identity. The mad surgeon tells p1 that he will torture one person and release and reward the other one subsequently to the operation. However, the mad surgeon leaves the decision to p1 what should happen with which person (Swinburne 1984, 18). Of course, p1 wants to be released and rewarded, but how should she decide? Swinburne remarks that according to Parfit, p1’s decision doesn’t matter, because he would survive in both persons. Because they are in the same relation to p1, p1 should partly be happy to get rewarded and partly be afraid to be punished. There is, according to Parfit, no definite answer to the question whether p1 will be the person punished or the person rewarded. But that is absurd according to Swinburne. How could p1 have reason to be happy and afraid at the same time, if none of the successors, p2 and p3, will experience a mixed fate? [O]ne problem is this: how could you have reason for part joyous expectation and part terrified anticipation, when no one future person is going to suffer a mixed fate? (Swinburne 1984, 18)

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But even if we could make sense of these assumptions (as Parfit claims), there is a second, maybe even more pressing problem (not only for Parfit, but for the complex view in general): We can make sense of the supposition that the victim makes the wrong choice, and has the experience of being tortured and not the experience of being rewarded; or the right choice, and has the experience of being rewarded and not the experience of being tortured (Swinburne 1984, 18).

According to Swinburne the basic assumption that p1 could have made the wrong decision makes perfect sense for us. And that is a fact that strongly supports the simple view. According to Parfit there must not be such an epistemic risk of wrongly assuming personal identity: If we know all bodily or psychological facts, we know all about personal identity there is to know. We should know “how much” p2 and p3 are identical with p1. Swinburne, however, shows that we can perfectly make sense of making a mistake in our assumption of personal identity. There is a risk even in case we know all about the psychological or bodily relations (Swinburne 1984, 19). We still know what it means for p1 to be p2 and not p3, for instance. This is best explained by assuming personal identity as a basic fact additional to bodily or psychological relations. We might not know what happens in case of brain division, but the fact itself of making sense of the assumption that one of the successors, p2 or p3, is identical with p1 shows that the assumption that p1’s decision is irrelevant can be rejected. It is relevant because it could be that p1 is identical with either p2 or p3 even though they both stand in the same bodily and also psychological relation to p1. Thus, Swinburne rejects Parfit’s conclusion: The alternative way [Swinburne’s simple view, M.S.] out of the duplication problem is to say that although apparent memory and brain continuity are, as they obviously are, evidence of personal identity, they are fallible evidence and personal identity is something distinct from them (Swinburne 1984, 19).

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Because of these arguments against Parfit and the arguments that have been described above, Swinburne concludes that the simple view is the most plausible position concerning personal identity. Personal Identity cannot be analysed in terms of bodily or psychological relations, which provide only fallible evidence (Swinburne 1984, 20-21). Rather, it is a simple and additional fact. Swinburne has argued that it is conceivable that there are bodily or psychological relations without personal identity. He even claims that it is coherently conceivable that there is no need for psychological or bodily relations at all for personal identity (Swinburne 1984, 22-25). We can well conceive having a different body and different mental states. From these arguments, substance dualism in philosophy of mind follows naturally, as they seem to imply that the person must be distinct from its body and psychological constitution. Thus, according to Swinburne, a person has a soul in addition to her body (Swinburne 1984, 29-30). There is a close connection between Swinburne’s arguments for dualism and the simple view (see Swinburne 1986, 145-160): This is in essence the way of expressing the simple theory which is adopted by those who say that a person living on Earth consists of two parts—a material part, the body; and an immaterial part, the soul (Swinburne 1984, 27).

4. The simple view and substance dualism Swinburne’s argumentation is representative of that of many advocates of the simple view. Thus, it should have become clear that the simple view basically argues from the rejection of the complex view and from how we conceive of ourselves.3 It should also have become clear why the simple view has traditionally been associated with substance dualism in the philosophy of mind. This apparent connection between the simple view and 3

Note, however, that there are important exceptions to this kind of argumentation, particularly Jonathan Lowe (1988 and 1994).

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substance dualism also has been a major argument against the simple view (see e.g. Parfit 1984, 210-228). Indeed, I am convinced that theories of personal identity can only be adequately evaluated by taking their anthropological implications into consideration. Thus, for an evaluation of the simple view it is of vital importance to consider its implications for anthropology. Before considering the connection between the simple view and substance dualism, we should with all necessary brevity ask what substance dualism as classically conceived says (see e.g. Zimmerman 2007). It basically assumes that persons are either an additional substance to their body or consist of the compound of two substances. For the sake of simplicity I will consider the first case in what follows, even though everything I will say can be applied to both cases. The additional part that is identified with the person does not just consist in non-material properties, but rather in a distinct substance. So, persons are identical to non-material, i.e. mental, substances that are distinct from their bodies. It is quite difficult, however, to precisely state what a mental substance is. Mostly it is defined in dissociation of material substances: A mental substance, thus, is non-material, i.e. not objectively observable, having privileged access to itself, or the like. I suspect that this notion is nothing less mysterious than the initial one. It might well be that the concepts of materiality and non-materiality are so basic that it is impossible to define them non-circularly. Be that as it may, I think that our intuitive grasp of the notion is sufficient for the moment being. In a nutshell, classically, substance dualism has been considered as the claim that persons are simple, non-material or mental substances distinct from their bodies. At least two of these three features of substance dualism seem to be implied by the simple view: (i) The simple view denies the graduality of identity and assumes that personal identity is a further simple fact above psychological and bodily connectedness. Thus, it seems natural to suppose that these assumptions imply that a person is a substance additional to and distinct from its body. If a person is identical with its brain, for instance, she cannot exist through time without brain continuity. Of course, brain matter can

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change, but it has to do so gradually while still providing the same functional assembly. (ii) Furthermore, persons must be simple. If a person consists in certain parts, be they bodily or psychological, its identity has to consist in some relation between these parts. One could argue that the relation holding between temporal or bodily parts and constituting personal identity is still simple. But that is not what I am concerned with here: If that is true, personal identity still would consist in a certain relation holding between its parts and thus would be reduced. But that exactly is what the simple view, as understood here, denies. Of course, the relation holding between the parts could be a simple one. But that is of no interest, as in that case the fact of personal identity would still be analysed in terms of more basic relations between its parts (e.g. a unity relation holding between its parts; see Perry 2002). How could an entity consist in parts, but at the same time not have its identity conditions grounded in certain relations holding between its parts? Even if the entity composed of parts is more than just the sum of them (e.g. their functional assembly), the argument holds, because the entity still needs to consist in its parts and exist through time on the basis of some kind of relation between these parts.4 We will shortly consider a more elaborate argument by Jonathan Lowe for this assumption. If the assumed connection between substance dualism and the simple view is correct, rejecting substance dualism on other grounds also means that the complex view must be correct.

4

This does not mean that an entity cannot be simple and still have parts nonessentially or derivatively. In this sense I would not consider Lynne RudderBaker’s position as materialistic (even though she herself uses that term and even though in other respects that might be true), but I cannot go into detail about that here: See Baker 2000, chap. 4 and 5. So my assumption does not imply that persons cannot have bodily parts derivatively and still have a simple identity condition. See Lowe 1996, 32-38. It does however deny that persons can have parts essentially, i.e. consist in them, and still have simple identity conditions apart from relations between their parts. Note also that a simple substance is a substance that has no proper parts. It could, nevertheless, have improper parts like the northern part or its upper half.

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5. What kind of dualism is implied by the simple view? As we have seen, it is plausible to assume that the simple view implies some kind of substance dualism. Accordingly, a person is identical to a simple substance that is distinct from its body and can logically exist independently from it. So far, however, the simple view is silent on the question whether the person is a mental or material substance. In what follows I want to argue that the assumption that persons are mental substances—as classic dualism assumes—is not supported by the simple view. Roderick Chisholm (1978/1998) once considered the question whether persons could be simple material entities. Chisholm is an advocate of the simple view (see Chisholm 1976, 89-113) and thus rejects the thesis that persons could be macroscopic bodies on the basis of his considerations on personal identity (Chisholm 1978/1998, 291-292). He argues that a person can have no parts. As we have seen, the simple view implies that persons are simple, because they have no more basic identity conditions. According to Chisholm it is possible, however, that persons are material entities without parts (Chisholm 1978/1998, 292). Such an entity would be material but simple and thus also not reducible to its brain, even if it would be located in the brain (Chisholm 1978/1998, 293). The brain is the organ of thought, but not the subject. Chisholm thus argues that it is possible for persons to be simple material substances and that this thesis is compatible with the simple view. But if persons are material substances, a possible counterargument would go, that would contradict the simple view as even simple material substances must be empirically observable. And if this is true, then there must be identity conditions for material substances. Jonathan Lowe, however, has argued convincingly against such a reply. According to Lowe the identity of complex substances, i.e. substances having proper parts, consists in their parts: In the case of composite substances, their identity over time (their diachronic identity) is always grounded in some equivalence relation defined over their actual or possible components (Lowe 1994, 545).

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Identity over time of complex substances does not simply consist in the identity of their parts, as their change does not necessarily mean that the substance ceased to exist. Rather diachronic identity consists in the individual and functional composition of the parts, which Lowe calls the form of the substance (Lowe 1988, 71-74): “It is the form of a substance, rather than its matter that must be preserved through qualitative and relational changes in that substance” (Lowe 1994, 545). Once this account of providing identity conditions is accepted, it follows that simple substances cannot have any more basic identity conditions. Lowe achieves this result by rejecting each possible way of providing more basic identity conditions for simple substances: First, entities that depend ontologically in their existence on the substance at hand (for instance temporal or spatial parts, events happening at the substance, etc.) cannot account for its identity conditions. Obviously, every provision of such identity conditions would be bluntly circular (Lowe 1994, 546). Second, identity conditions that are defined over other entities that do not depend on the simple substance at hand can be excluded as well. No such identity condition is compatible with the substance status of the entity at hand (Lowe 1994, 547). A substance is defined as an entity that does not depend for its existence on any other entity apart from itself and its proper parts (see Lowe 1994, chap. 2). In other words, it is ontologically independent of other entities. Thus, its identity over time cannot depend on any other entity apart from itself, which would be trivial, or its proper parts. Finally, a simple substance per definition has no proper parts, which means that its identity also cannot consist in their continuity. We have seen that this way of providing identity conditions is the basic one according to Lowe. However, as simple substances have no parts, such an account fails for them. These considerations lead Lowe to the conclusion that simple substances cannot have any more basic identity conditions apart from their simple persistence: [W]e may conclude [...] that the diachronic identity of a simple substance cannot be grounded in any equivalence relation defined over

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objects distinct from itself—which is as much as to say that it can have no criteria [i.e. identity conditions in my terminology, M.S.] of diachronic identity (Lowe 1994, 548).

This argument gives further support for my thesis that the simple view implies that persons are simple substances (and thus distinct from their bodies).

6. Simplicity and mentality We have seen that the simple view implies some kind of substance dualism, in the sense that persons are simple and distinct from their bodies. It does not, however, support the classic assumption that these substances are mental in nature. The simple view is perfectly compatible with persons being simple material substances. As Lowe’s argument has shown, it is conceivable that every simple substance, apart from its mental or material nature, is void of more basic identity conditions. So, even if persons are material but simple, their identity condition is simply their identity over time and nothing else. Furthermore, assuming that persons are simple material substances is also compatible with the rejection of gradual personal identity and thus with the second basic assumption of the simple view. Even if persons are material entities, the rejection of more basic identity conditions for persons implies that personal identity cannot come in degrees. I thus conclude that the question whether persons are simple is essential for the concept of personal identity. So far it seems that this is not true for the question of mentality. Thus, it seems that the mentality of persons is not necessary for their simple identity. Nevertheless, there are still some doubts concerning this thesis I have not addressed yet. The simple view claims to be in accordance with our common sense self-understanding. We have reasons, however, to say that we as persons understand our own identity over time as fundamentally different from the identity over time of simple material atoms. That is because our everyday concept of personal identity, our own identity included, is based upon our first person

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perspective. We can take up the perspective of other persons and thereby know what it means for them as well to be the same person over time. We simply know what it means that a person is identical without knowledge of her psychological or bodily relations, because we can take up her perspective knowing what must be the case for that perspective to be the same. The first-person perspective seems to be essential for our understanding of personal identity. This might not be assumable concerning simple material atoms which still lack more basic identity conditions according to Lowe’s argument. If it is true that our concept of personal identity is based upon the ability to take up another person’s perspectives, then there seem to be arguments that the mental nature of persons plays some vital role for the simple view. One has to consider, however, whether this concerns the nature of the substances identifiable with persons or only some properties of them: In other words, are these considerations compatible with persons being simple material atoms having the property of a first person perspective? Let me conclude this paper with the reminder that questions about personal identity should not be detached from questions about what persons are: The assumption of simplicity, advocates of the simple view claim, not only circumvents the problems of the complex view but also explains our basic conception of ourselves. Whether the simple view has less pressing problems and whether its arguments are more convincing than those of the complex view, I leave to the reader to decide.

References Rudder-Baker, L. (2000) Persons and Bodies, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Chisholm, R. (1976) Person and Object, London: George Allan & Unwin. Chisholm, R. (1978/1998) “Is There a Mind-Body-Problem”, The Philosophical Exchange 2, 25-34; reprinted as: Chisholm, R.

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“Which Physical Thing Am I?”, in P. van Inwagen & D. Zimmerman (eds.) (1998) Metaphysics: The Big Questions, Oxford: Blackwell, 291-296. Lowe, E. J. (1988) “Substance, Identity and Time”, in E. J. Lowe & H. Noonan Substance, Identity and Time. Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 62, 61-100. Lowe, E. J. (1994) “Primitive Substances”, Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 54 (3), 531-552. Lowe, E. J. (1996) Subjects of Experience, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Merricks, T. (1998) “There Are No Criteria of Identity Over Time”, Nous 32 (1), 106-124. Noonan, H. (1989) Personal Identity, London/New York: Routledge. Parfit, D. (1971) “Personal Identity”, The Philosophical Review 80 (1), 3-27. Parfit, D. (1984) Reasons and Persons, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Perry, J. (2002) “Can the Self Divide?”, in J. Perry Identity, Personal Identity and the Self, Indianapolis/Cambridge: Hackett Publishing, 34-63. Shoemaker, S. (1984) “Personal Identity: a Materialist’s Account”, in R. Swinburne & S. Shoemaker Personal Identity, Oxford: Blackwell, 69-132. Swinburne, R. (1984) “Personal Identity: The Dualist Theory”, in R. Swinburne & S. Shoemaker Personal Identity, Oxford: Blackwell, 3-66. Swinburne, R. (1986) The Evolution of the Soul, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Zimmerman, D. (2007) “Dualism in the Philosophy of Mind”, Encyclopaedia of Philosophy, New York: Macmillan, 113-122. This research-project was made possible by financial support from the Austria Science Fund (FWF), grant P201860-G14 *

Two Kinds of Ontological Dualism Erwin Tegtmeier, Mannheim 1. The Dualism of the Mental and the Physical British Empiricism and German Idealism have blurred the distinction between the mental and the physical. Physical objects such as a chair or a tree have been construed as complexes of sense data and thus as complexes of mental contents. Kant has built his epistemology on this fundamental confusion. Kant holds mind to be much more active than Locke and Hume had assumed and to be the producer of the objects of knowledge, which starts with unstructured material caused by something outside the mind. Brentano tried to overcome idealism by first clearing the confusion between the mental and the physical and by fixing the distinction (Brentano 1874, 2. Buch, 1. Kap). He first held on to intentionality as the hallmark of the mental. His methodological maxim was to start from the phenomenological data and he counted the distinction between the mental and the physical as such a datum. Before he could note the hallmark common to everything mental, Brentano had to get hold of the class of all mental phenomena and contrast it with the class of all physical phenomena. The idealists attempt to show that these are not two different classes, and so do the materialists. Today, idealists are rare. Materialists, according to whom everything is physical, dominate; and dualism in the tradition of Descartes or Brentano has a hard time. Materialists have to reduce the mental to the physical. The possibility of such a reduction is suggested by the thesis of psycho-physiological parallelism, although this thesis implies a dualism and no reduction. It is accepted by most psychologists and says that each mental state is correlated with a physiological state in the brain such that the accompanying brain states are different when the mental states are different. Obviously, the brain states are physical. Symbolise by MS a mental state and by PH the accompanying brain

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state. A reduction of the mental to the physical along the lines of psycho-physiological parallelism would amount, with respect to our case, to a claim of identity between MS and PH, or rather to the claim that MS is nothing but PH. Let MS stand for a mental state of hearing and PH for the parallel state of the brain (the electrical and chemical activity of a certain area of the brain). It is easy to see that the identity claim is false. What presents itself to us when we are aware of hearing something, for example1, is very different from an electro-chemical brain state. To see this, it is not necessary to take into account that the first is mental and the second physical. It is enough to compare how the hearing and how the brain state is. I want to elucidate my argument of the obvious difference by another proposed reduction, the reduction of colours to the wavelengths of light rays. Colours are obviously different from lengths or rather from distances between amplitudes. The colour lime green, for example, is obviously different from the correlated wavelength. To be sure, lime green light actually has that wavelength. Nevertheless, the two are different. That two properties occur at one and the same thing does not make them one and the same property. I called differences between mental and accompanying brain states “obvious”. Hence, I presupposed that we know the two kinds of states and that we are acquainted with how they are. That seems to go without saying and should be taken for granted. When we perceive a lime green object we are presented with the colour lime green and we are also presented in perception by lengths and have only to transfer it to light waves in order to get a clear idea of the structure of light waves. The difference is so great that it stands out and is obvious. No theoretical presuppositions seem necessary to recognize the difference. The readout on a spectrometer is also obviously different from seeing the respective colour.

1

I deliberately choose a property of mental states as an example although I know that the analytical philosophy of mind is still on the Humean position of recognising only sense data, now called more nobly and to suggest novelty “qualia” (see Gadenne 2004, Kap. 5). I maintain that without mental states there can be no intentionality.

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However, today the more implicit than explicit view endemic in analytic philosophy is rather that the objects of mental states are not given to us. Instead, according to this view, we have only a description of the object, also called a representational content which the object is supposed to fulfil. Materialists deny that there are mental acts intentionally related to objects, of course. They have to rely on linguistic representation and the causal relations of the brain state to other brain states and to the environment. This view does not allow to speak of the presenting itself of the object and it makes the epistemologically realist claim that we know the world as it is in itself very doubtful if not impossible. At any rate, it implies that we know the objects, including their properties and natures (such as lime green or being long) only indistinctly and that they could be very different from how they appear to be. Hence, according to this epistemology and semantics without an intentional relation to the object the mental properties could be in reality brain properties though the correlated properties are given to us as very different. In so far as this epistemology stems from materialism it reinforces itself by its epistemological and semantic implications. But it also undermines itself because those implications are strongly sceptical and thus makes all claims of knowledge fundamentally specious. Isn’t that the salient characteristic of contemporary analytical philosophy: deep scepticism (at most a jump into or a bullying of the astute mind into a philosophically unjustified realism)?

2. Is the Distinction between the Mental and Physical Categorial? At first, the division into mental and physical was a division of properties or natures. To characterise a mental state as a perception is to indicate one of its properties, one of its natures. Likewise, it is a property of an individual brain that a certain area of it is activated. Now, to say of the perception that it is mental and of the activation of the brain area that it is physical amounts to a characterisation of a characterisation and could be understood as the ascription of properties of the second order to properties of the first order. We know

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those properties of the second order, and we take them to be incompatible. Therefore, we could use them to decide whether the properties correlated in accordance with the thesis of psycho-physiological parallelism could be reduced to each other in one of the two directions. The outcome would be negative. Since on the one side of the parallelism there are the mental and on the other side the physical properties. However, we saw that we need not draw on the second order properties of mental and physical, because the first order properties compared were obviously different. The two properties of the second order are not only useful to block reduction of the mental to the physical or the other way round but they are also important for their own sake. As was mentioned already, the properties of the second order exclude each other, i.e., a property of the first order is either mental or physical. They seem also jointly exhaustive in their domain of properties of the first order, i.e., each property has one of the two properties either that of being mental or that of being physical. Hence the two properties of the second order determine a classification. Moreover, the classification is rather comprehensive since it covers the domain of all properties of the first order. Possibly it covers more kinds of entities and even all entities, i.e., existents. Therefore, one could take the dichotomy to be categorial, and the mental and the physical to be ontological categories. In order to decide whether the mental and the physical are ontological categories one has to start from a system of categories, from a hierarchy of categories that belongs to an ontological theory. I will ask the question whether the mental and the physical are categories with respect to the ontology I advocate (Tegtmeier 1993). The question is then whether the category candidates can be fitted into the category hierarchy. Until now, I talked about properties. Ontologically, this is not precise enough. Properties can be categorised either as universals (i.e. it is assumed that more then one thing can have the same property) or as particular (which implies that they can be properties of one thing only). Particular properties are today mostly called “tropes”. In my ontology properties are universals and not tropes. But the category of universals is not one of the highest

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categories of its category hierarchy. There are three highest categories: things, facts, and forms. Facts consist of things and forms give things and facts their category membership. The category of things has the two subcategories of individuals and universals. Universals come in several subcategories divided according to the number of things to which they are connected in facts. There are universals that are connected to only one other thing. They are called “non-relational universals”. There are relational universals that are connected to two, to three and to four other things. They are called “two-term universals”, “three-term universals” and “four-term universals”. In addition, universals are divided into universals of the first and universals of the second order. The mental and physical properties we first examined would be categorised as non-relational universals of the first order. Hence, if the mental and the physical were categories at all in my ontology, they would be subcategories of the category of non-relational universals of the first order. However, the properties of higher order of being mental and of being physical could not be categorised as universals since they would determine categories. As was mentioned already, the bases of category membership are forms. Forms are connected to what they form more closely than things (individuals and universals) are connected to each other by facts. Thus, although mental and physical can be characterised as properties they cannot be put in the category of universals in my ontology like the members of the classes of the mental and the physical we examined until now. The category of universals is co-ordinated and opposed to the category of individuals. It follows from the laws for classificatory hierarchies that if the mental and the physical are subcategories of the category of non-relational universals of the first order, they cannot be also subcategories of the category of individuals. A class must not occur twice in the hierarchy. It has to have exactly one place in the hierarchy. Consequently, if non-relational universals of the first order are divided into mental and physical ones, individuals cannot also be equally divided. But then, relational universals of the first order also cannot be divided into mental and physical ones. That would be questionable since there are clearly physical and

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mental relations. Thus, the categories of the mental and the physical would occur twice as subcategories of the categories of the nonrelational universals of the first order and as subcategories of the category of relational universals of the first order. It would be no solution to place the dichotomy between mental and physical above the division between individuals and universals, either. Then the mental and the physical would be subcategories of the category of things. But the same difficulty arises. Since, as we already noted, there are mental relations as well as mental properties, and physical relations as well as physical properties, the categories of relational and non-relational universals would have to appear several times in the hierarchy of categories of my ontology. As the classification into the mental and the physical has a very large domain and might be thought to classify all existents, the proposal suggests itself of establishing the classification as the highest categorial division. That seems to be the only way to avoid the difficulties discussed and to have a category system where all categories occur only once. However, this demands a comprehensive adaptation of all the subcategories to the two highest categories of the mental and the physical. In my ontology with its categories as a given the difficulty would still arise. Hence, the conclusion has to be that the mental and the physical cannot enter as categories in the category hierarchy of my ontology. It seems that that the mental and the physical can be categories only if all the other categories are separated accordingly, i.e. only if no category comprises mental as well as physical members. Now, traditionally in ontology the same system of categories is applied to the mental as well as to the physical. In Aristotle, for example, the category of substance is applied to the mental as well as to the physical. Descartes’ (1644, part I) ontology stands out as one that accommodates the division between the mental and the physical as a division between two categories, which emphasises the disparity (radical difference) between the mental and the physical and which excludes any categorial overlap between the two realms. Bergmann showed in his book Realism how Descartes’ ontology contains the seed of a development to idealism (Bergmann 1967,

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part II) and he introduces a test for an ontology without tendency toward idealism. The test is just whether the same categories apply to the mental and to the physical. My own ontology passes that test and as a consequence the classes of the mental and the physical are not admitted as categories. If Bergmann is right in his diagnosis that Descartes’ ontology creates a trend towards idealism it is, in a way, self-defeating, as idealism eliminates again the dualism of the mental and the physical which Descartes established with great effort in favour of mental monism.

3. Are there Mental Individuals? I said that my ontology is designed to apply the same categories to the mental and the physical. That does not mean that all categories are applicable to the mental and to the physical. Clearly, forms such as conjunction and negation are neither mental nor physical. Presumably, facts also are neither mental, nor physical although they have constituents that are mental or physical. The cases by which we introduced the distinction between mental and physical were qualities or natures. Such entities are categorised in my ontology, as was mentioned already, as universals. Thus the distinction between mental and physical is primarily a distinction between universals. The question which poses itself is whether individuals can also be divided into mental and physical individuals, whether individuals can be characterised as mental or as physical. The question poses itself because in my ontology a mental individual would be what one usually calls a soul (or a mind). Individuals are connected with universals in facts. Such facts explain the possession of properties ontologically. An individual is what has the properties. Consider the individuals that have the mental properties or are in a mental state. Do they also have physical properties? Or, do they have only mental properties (universals)? If there were individuals that had only mental and no physical properties, then one could say that there are souls. If mental properties in all cases belonged to individuals that also had physical properties, then one could say that there are no

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souls, but that bodies have mental properties, too. It turns out that the souls envisaged here are Cartesian, not Aristotelian, souls. Aristotelian souls are the movers of bodies and also the essences of bodies (Aristotle De Anima II). The individuals of my ontology are as such not active. Only if they are also organisms are they active. Being an organism is based on certain facts. The term “individuals” is used here not in the customary sense as synonym of “persons” but in a technical ontological sense, of course, as the name of a category. The members of the category of individuals have a certain categorial form (which is called “individuality” in a special technical sense) of themselves (without any facts connecting individuals and individuality). That is what makes them individuals. But apart from their categorial forms, they get their natures by facts that connect them to universals of the first order. It the properties of being mental and being physical are categorised in my ontology as non-relational universals of the second order, they cannot be connected with individuals. Individuals can be connected only with universals of the first order. It follows that as long as being mental is categorised as a second order universal, my ontology does not admit mental individuals in the sense of individuals connected by facts with the universal of being mental. However, it does not exclude that some individuals are connected by facts only to mental universals and that all individuals connected with mental universals are connected with mental universals only and not with physical universals. The individuals connected with mental and not with physical universals could also be characterised in a wider sense as mental individuals.

4. The Argument from Introspection What is needed now is an argument for or against individuals with mental but without physical properties. I think an argument can be advanced for such individuals. It draws on introspection. When we introspect our perceiving or remembering, when we become aware of our perceiving or remembering something, as one commonly says, we are presented with a fact which connects an individual and a universal. The universal is in any such case a mental one. We do

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not introspect the corresponding physiological universal. We do not introspect any physical universal. We do not introspect an individual with a physical universal. Clearly and surely, we do not introspect an individual which is connected with both mental and physical universals. Do we perceive such individuals? Obviously, we perceive individuals with physical properties. The question is whether we ever perceive an individual which also has mental properties. The claim that we never perceive mental properties and states may seem doubtful because we frequently use talk which suggests that we perceive the mental states other people. One says, for example, “I saw that you observed him” or “I heard in his voice that he was angry with me”. Such phrases are misleading, I think. What one sees or hears in these cases are just indications or indicators of mental states. Influenced by Wittgenstein's argument against private languages, many philosophers argue that introspection must be irrelevant even to the meaning of mental terms, because language learning always happens in public (between people), while introspection is conceived to be private, i.e. restricted to one’s own mental states. These philosophers even doubt that there is such a thing as introspection. The notion of being public involved is deceptive because it makes us forget that the public objects have to be perceived. Several persons share, so to speak, the public object only insofar they all perceive them. It is highly implausible that only perception plays a role in the language learning of a child and introspection does not, all the more since the learning child is rather active. Thus, I would deny that mental words have to refer to something we perceive and I would maintain that we do not perceive mental properties and states. I conclude that we never introspect, nor perceive an individual which is connected with both mental and physical properties. This cannot be my final step of the argument, though. Rather, the final conclusion has to be that there are no individuals that are both mental and physical and that the class of individuals with mental univer-

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sals is thus separate from the class of individuals with physical properties. One would not want to infer in general from not being perceived and introspected to not being existent. We know in everyday life and in science about many things we do not perceive, about individual things and about kinds of things. However, our case is special. Physical and mental universals are given but they are not given together at the same individual. If an object is too small or too large or too fast or too slow, it may be impossible to perceive it but the togetherness of two properties should not be an impediment to perception or introspection, provided the object exists. Since it was noted that by introspection we know only mental properties and by perception only physical properties, one may suspect that it is only due to the restrictions of our mental capacities that we do not introspect or perceive individuals with mental as well as physical universals. However, suppose that there exist individuals with both mental and physical universals, the mental universals of which are introspected. Why should we be unable to introspect its physical universals? Or suppose that we perceive all its physical universals. Why should we be unable to perceive all its mental universals? If we perceive its physical universals it is in reach and there seems to be no impediment to perceive the mental universals, provided only that they are present at the individual. I admit these are not cogent but merely plausibility arguments for the view that individuals with physical universals are not introspected because the individuals introspected don't have physical properties and that individuals with mental universals are not perceived because the individuals perceived lack mental properties. It is basically the view that individuals divide into two classes, the class of those with mental and the class of those with physical universals. The members of the former would be the souls. I talked of “individuals with mental universals” instead of talking of “mental individuals”, being mental, as was mentioned already, is a non-relational universal of the second order, i. e., a property of properties, not a property of individuals. Therefore, individuals can-

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not be mental in the sense of being connected with the universal of being mental. To have individuals which are mental in the strict sense one has to drop categorising being mental as a second order universal. But if it were categorised as a non-relational universal of the first order it could not be connected with universals and the advantage of that move would be only to open the ontological possibility of individuals connected with the universal of being mental. It would not be an argument for the existence of such individuals. And I would not want to argue that we introspect that the individuals we introspect are mental.

5. The Argument from Essences To make my task of arguing for souls easier, I could have taken the individual to have an essence. To assume essences (ti en einai) is Aristotelian (Aristotle Metaphysica Z). But to assume a mental and a physical essence is not. It is rather Cartesian. A Cartesian substance with a mental essence has only mental properties. Starting from the distinction between mental and physical properties and noting that introspection presents us only with substances which have mental properties would lead in a Cartesian ontology to the conclusion that the substances known by introspection all have a mental essence. Thus, the circumstance that introspection shows us only mental properties would support the assumption of substances with mental essences. Now, the individuals of my ontology do have essences, but that is based on facts which connect them with their essences, and essences are normal non-relational universals of the first order. The important point is that essences are not categories. It is for other sciences to determine the essences, not for ontology. While I would claim that the distinction between mental and physical properties is a phenomenological datum I would readily admit that the assumption of a mental essence is highly theoretical. I advocate such an essence as part of my ontology and in application of my ontology which

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involves the claim that there are essences of individuals in the first place. I said that the essences are non-relational universals of the first order, which entails that they can be connected only to individuals. Hence in my ontology only individuals have essences. Universals and facts do not. They do have categorial forms, though. Categorial forms are, in my ontology, different from the essences of individuals. Thus individuals have categorial forms as well as essences. Categorial forms are more closely connected than essences. This could be expressed by saying that individuals have their categorial forms necessarily while individuals have their essences only factually, i.e., because the fact connecting the individual and the essence universal obtains. What distinguishes essences from other non-relational universals of the first order, i.e., from other properties of individuals? The individuals do not change with respect to them. They do not lose essential properties. An ontologically more precise characterisation of essences can be given if the analysis of change is taken into account. Consider a mental example: First, someone s sees a person. Then he remembers having seen that person earlier. Let us symbolise seeing by P and remembering by R. The soul s changes from P to R. P and R are incompatible, i.e., for all x, if Px then not Rx. Hence, to analyse the change, as suggests itself, namely by “Ps and Rs” leads to a contradiction. The customary way to avoid the contradiction is to relate the connection between thing and property to time points. However, that presupposes time points which I reject. Moreover, it turns properties implausibly into relations. I would argue that properties show themselves to be properties. The way of avoiding the contradiction I advocate is to acknowledge inherents of changing individuals (Tegtmeier 2007). They are inherents by standing in the relation of inherence to the changing individual. The relation of inherence is a two-place universal of the first order. Such universals hold only between individuals. The relation of inherence has, in my ontology, nothing to do with the possession of properties. Nevertheless, I borrow the term from the Aristotelian tradition where it

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was used to explain the possession of accidental properties. I draw on Aristotle’s analysis of the possession of properties as a kind of identity relation. He takes the sentence “the apple is green” to mean “the apple is (identical with) the green object”. The inherence relation in my ontology is also a kind of identity relation. In our example the seeing s’ inheres in s and the remembering s’’ also inheres in s. The change of s from seeing to remembering is assayed ontologically thus: Ps’ & Rs’’ & IN (s’,s) & IN (s’’,s), where “IN” symbolises the inherence relation and s the continuing soul. Since P and R are not connected to the same individuals no contradiction can be derived from the theorem of incompatibility between P and R. Inherents resemble temporal parts and originally I also used the term “temporal part”. That led to misunderstandings though because the socalled perdurantists take it for granted that what has temporal parts is complex and is composed of them. Now, it is an important point which solves many problems that the individuals of my ontology are all simple, including those with inherents (and also those with spatial parts). If the individuals with inherents and with spatial parts were not simple with temporal and spatial parts, they would have to be point-like. Otherwise, one could not do justice to the interdependence between space and time, in particular to the law that spatial part and spatial whole must be simultaneous. I do not countenance point-like entities because such entities are not presented to us. Points seem to be mathematical fictions. Return to our question about the universals which are essences: the ontological analysis of change sketched implied that the inherents (which are like phases of a changing thing) have the changing properties but the changing thing does not have them. It can have only those properties which do not change. Otherwise, a contradiction would still arise. Now, the essences are those universals which the changing things have. The inherents have them also. Assume that ‘being a cognitive subject’ is an essence. Then the s of our example has this essence but so do s’ and s’’. The inherents, s’and s’’, and the individual in which they inhere, are of themselves (without facts) individuals. That they are cognitive subjects is based on the

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facts C(s), C(s’) and C(s’’) where “C” stands for the essence of being a cognitive subject. Clearly, it does not make individuals mental in the sense that they are connected only with mental universals that they are connected with the essence C. One can assume that C has the universal of being mental. That leaves open that all the other universals an individual has apart from C are also mental. To make sure that the individuals which have C have only mental universals it needs a law. In my ontology laws are general facts. The law necessarily would be the fact that for all individuals x and for all universals of the first order U: if C(x) and U(x) then M(U), where “M” stands for the second order non-relational universal of being mental. Laws of this kind are central to Aristotle’s concept of essence. He thinks that the essence of an object generates its development. I adopt that idea and assume the law sketched above. Then it follows that there are souls in the sense of individuals which have only mental universals and which never change to non-mental universals. Thus the essences in my ontology do not generate but they control change.In an analogous way one arrives at a class of individuals with physical universals only by assuming a physical essence. Combining the two classes of individuals a second kind of mental-physical dualism results besides the dualism of mental and physical universals.

References Aristotle De Anima. Aristotle Metaphysica. Bergmann, G. (1968) Realism, Madison: Univ. of Wisconsin Press. Brentano, F. (1874) Psychologie vom empirischen Standpunkt, Leipzig: Duncker und Humblot. Descartes, R. (1644) Principia philosophiae. Gadenne, V. (2004) Philosophie d. Psychologie, Bern: Huber 2004. Tegtmeier, E. (1992) Grundzüge einer kategorialen Ontologie. Freiburg: Alber. Tegtmeier, E. (2007) “Persistence”, in C. Kanzian (ed.), Persistence, Heusenstamm: Ontos.

On Subjects* Daniel Wehinger, Innsbruck 1. Exposition We are, each and every one of us, subjects of experience: We see colours, hear sounds and feel pain. This provides us with a peculiar status among the things there are. The following is an attempt to account for this peculiarity. My starting point is the subjectivity of experiences. This feature renders the relation between subjects and their experiences unique. It creates the intuition that a complete description of the world in physical terms doesn’t capture me, since I am the subject of my experiences in a way apparently quite different from that in which physical objects are the bearers of their properties (Nagel 1965, 353). The treatment of Boër and Lycan’s attempt to defuse this intuition guides me to a discussion of the peculiarity of self-reference, i.e. the immunity of I to misidentification, which I find inexplicable apart from self-consciousness. I argue that, again due to the subjectivity of experience, every consciousness involves pre-reflective selfconsciousness. This claim leads me to a critique of higher-order theories of consciousness. I then shift my focus from physicalistic attempts to account for subjectivity to substance dualism and ask whether this theory is more appropriate to integrate subjects. In view of Nagel’s critique of substance dualism, I concede that mental substances, as construed by Nagel, are indeed of no help. I take the problem of souls on Nagel’s account to be the objectification of the subject inherent in their conception. Finally, I address the question of what subjects essentially are. Drawing on the work of Foster, I reject the claim that the essence of subjects, not being objects, is inscrutable and hold that we know what it is to be a subject.

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2. The Existence of Subjects There are, indubitably, innumerable experiences: experiences of pain, of pleasure, of colours and the like. These experiences can be categorized as events, with the differentia specifica of being conscious. But what is it for an event, or, more generally, a state,1 to be conscious? In his influential paper “What Is It Like to Be a Bat?”, Nagel answered this question by arguing that an event is conscious if there is “something it is like” to undergo it. He calls this the “subjective character of experience”, meaning that experiences are “essentially connected to a single point of view” (Nagel 1974, 437). That is to say, conscious phenomena are not “simply there” (Nagel 1979, 201), but rather are there for someone, for the subject experiencing them (cf. Nagel 1979, 207, 209; Lund 2005, 50). Meixner, who takes what he calls their “forness”2 to be an essential feature of conscious events (cf. Meixner 2004, 317), puts it this way: “An instance of pain […] is intrinsically and essentially a pain for someone, it is intrinsically addressed to someone” (Meixner 2004, 342). In other words: A pain’s being had by someone consists in its being for that someone. Its possessor is its addressee. Hence, it is argued that if experiences are such that there is something it is like to have them, then there must be someone for whom they are like something. Therefore, the existence of experiences, as characterized by Nagel, apparently brings with it a commitment to the existence of subjects of experience. They seem to be needed as the source and centre of the subjectivity of experience, whatever else may be said about their nature, ontologically speaking. The commitment to subjects can, of course, be evaded if the subjectivity or forness of experience is denied. Such a move, however, appears to be highly implausible, to say the least. For it renders worlds possible that at any rate appear to be unintelligible, worlds in which there is, e.g., an instance of pain without anything else, i.e. in 1 2

The categorical differences between states and events are not of decisive importance here. For present purposes I use the terms “subjectivity” and “forness” interchangeably.

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particular without anyone experiencing it. This pain “is not a painful experience for some being. […] There is nothing it is like to have it, for, again, the having of it is ruled out” (Lund 2005, 51). What it is for such an experience without an experiencer to exist seems dubious. If we continue thinking through the consequences of denying the subjectivity of experience, the implausibility of this move becomes even more evident. For this denial ultimately deprives us of our capacity to distinguish between conscious and nonconscious events. We lose our grasp on what a conscious event is if we reject that there is something it is like, and therefore someone for whom it is like something, to undergo it (Lund 2005, 51). And this seems too high a price to pay. For a theory of consciousness that is unable to differentiate between being conscious and being nonconscious divests itself of its topic. Thus, every such theory must seek to account for the subjective character of experience.

3. Subjects and Physicalism I have claimed that the subjectivity or forness of experience must be acknowledged: My experiences are for me, they are essentially connected to my subjective point of view. This provides the relation between subjects and their experiences with a unique status. For while it is arguably true that every property is had by someone, is the property of someone, it seems to be true of conscious phenomena only that they are addressed to someone. The peculiarity of the way in which subjects possess their experiences, resulting from the subjective character of conscious phenomena, creates what Nagel, in his paper “Physicalism”, takes to be strongest intuition against physicalism. It is the feeling that, in Nagel’s words, I (and hence any “I”) cannot be a mere physical object, because I possess my mental states: I am their subject, in a way in which no physical object can possibly be the bearer of its attributes (Nagel 1965, 353).

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And he goes on: The feeling that physicalism leaves out of account the essential subjectivity of psychological states is the feeling that nowhere in the description of the state of a human body could there be room for a physical equivalent of the fact that I (or any self), and not just that body, am the subject of those states (Nagel 1965, 354).

This intuition can be put into an argument in the following way: Consider the most complete description of the world and every person in it from the third-person perspective. No matter how complete this description may be, “there seems to remain one thing which I cannot say in this fashion—namely, which of the various persons in the world I am” (Nagel 1965, 355). There is a gap between the statement that there exists a person of such and such description and the statement that that person is me. The two do not seem to be equivalent in content, i.e. they appear to express different facts. What it is to be me seemingly eludes description. The same point can be made by considering the mirror image scenarios that are often cited in this context. Ernst Mach, for one, recounts that he one day entered the streetcar and saw a man getting in on the other side. ‘What a sleazy schoolmaster!’, he thought to himself, not realising that the man he saw was in fact an image of himself in the rear-view mirror (Mach 1886, 34). Such scenarios, again, seem to suggest that being me is not equivalent to being a person of such and such description, that different properties are expressed. Mirror images provide us with third-person information about ourselves, i.e. they show us what we look like to others. But, once more, no amount of third-person information appears sufficient to establish that its object is me. The subjective character of experience leads to a peculiar situation. On the one hand, it reveals the existence of subjects, experiencers, for whom experiences are. Since my experiences have forness, their occurrence involves my existence. But on the other hand, this forness seems to concurrently exclude my self from the objective realm, i.e. the world seen from a third-person point of view, since there appears to be no equivalent to being me in a description of

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this world. Hence, the fact that I exist seems to be a further fact, over and above the third-person facts making up the objective realm. This obviously threatens physicalism, as Nagel claims, since the physical “is a domain of objective facts par excellence” (Nagel 1974, 442). As Lycan neatly puts it: If materialism is true, then human beings are large collections of small physical objects, and ontologically nothing more than that. It follows that any human being could be described, and described completely, in purely scientific terms. Such a description could in principle be written out by another, second human being, in the third person, and could be understood and verified by yet a third human being, ditto (Lycan 1990, 109).

In view of this commitment, there have been various attempts to interpret the cited scenarios in a way that renders them compatible with physicalism. One of the most elaborated of these attempts has been put forward by Boër and Lycan (1980). 3.1 Attitudes De Se and De Re Boër and Lycan create a mirror image scenario similar to that recounted by Mach: Suppose John is looking at what he thinks is a window but what is in fact a large wall mirror. He is watching a man in it; unbeknownst to him, the man is himself. He sees a drooling homicidal maniac with a hatchet creeping up behind the man “outside.” Naturally he believes that man to be in danger and cries, ‘Look out behind you!’, but John takes no steps to defend himself, for he does not believe himself to be in danger (Boër and Lycan 1980, 428).

This scenario, again, seems to suggest that A man satisfying a certain description is in danger is not equivalent in content to I am in danger, or, generally speaking, that what it is to be me eludes description. Boër and Lycan, however, deny this conclusion. They claim that “attitudes de se are simply attitudes de their owners” (Boër and Lycan 1980, 432), i.e. attitudes towards oneself are just attitudes towards some particular, third-personally specifiable, person. It follows that the sentences John believes that he himself is in

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danger and John believes of that very person we call John that he is in danger are equivalent in content. As it is put by Boër and Lycan: Attitudes de se are “special” in that they contain pronouns whose denotata are computed via a highly distinctive valuation function [i.e. the rule that reflexive pronouns refer back to the subjects of the dicta in which they occur, D.W.]; it does not follow that there is anything the least bit odd about them semantically. In particular, […] we need not admit that the content of an attitude de se is inexpressible by any nonperspectival, third-person sentence (Boër and Lycan 1980, 433).

The standard objection against this account of attitudes de se is that, in the example used by Boër and Lycan, John fails to realize that he himself is in danger, in spite of his knowledge that some third-personally specifiable person we call John is in danger. This seems to be incompatible with Boër and Lycan’s equivalence-claim. Therefore, Boër and Lycan attempt to defuse this objection by construing another scenario they take to be “exactly parallel” (Boër and Lycan 1980, 449) to the one described above, but that does not have the same anti-physicalistic implications. In this scenario John sees a man, Wilfred, and then catches sight of what he takes to be a second man, Van, who is about to be attacked by predator. In this way, John forms the belief that Van is in danger. What John doesn’t realize is that the man he calls Van is just a reflection of Wilfred in a distant mirror. Boër and Lycan argue that this scenario does not justify the conclusion that Van is in danger and Wilfred is in danger express different facts. As a result, because of the alleged parallel between the two scenarios, they claim that the former scenario involving John and his mirror image does not justify the conclusion that Some specific person we call John is in danger and I am in danger express different facts either. Boër and Lycan claim that, since mirror image scenarios pose a problem for both attitudes de se and attitudes de re, they do not count against a reduction of the de se to the de re. 3.2 The Immunity of I to Misidentification In order to evaluate Boër and Lycan’s argument we need to ask whether the two scenarios described really are “exactly parallel”,

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whether the problems really are the same. What happens in the Wilfred/Van case is that John fails to realize that a pair of descriptions in fact applies to the same person: Both the person who appears to be sitting in the woods in safety as well as the person who is about to be attacked by a predator is Wilfred. So, John’s knowledge that there exists a person who is about to be attacked is fully compatible with his ignorance that this person is Wilfred. In this respect, there is a similarity between the two cases. But there is also a fundamental difference between them, namely that when we refer to ourselves as the subjects of our experiences we are safe from reference failure resulting from picking out the wrong referent. I in its subject-use is immune to error through misidentification (Shoemaker 1968). We can identify ourselves without knowing what observable properties we have. By contrast, we cannot identify others independently of their observable properties. In view of this peculiarity of first-person reference the alleged parallel between the two scenarios breaks down. As Madell puts it: […] in wondering whether I am the person of such-and-such a description, whether, perhaps, I could be looking at my reflection, I am not wondering whether a set of properties I now pick out is the same as a set I have previously picked out, as I am in the Wilfred/Van case. I am wondering whether I, that is, that entity which I identify infallibly and independently of any properties, possess the properties which I appear to see before me (Madell 1981, 43-44).

This asymmetry between first- and third-person reference poses a cardinal obstacle to the assimilation of the de se to the de re. For if attitudes de se were attitudes towards some specific res, some inhabitant of the realm of third-person facts, it seems as though our reference to ourselves could fail. We would have to identify ourselves by way of our observable properties, and could therefore no longer be immune to error through misidentification. 3.3 The Conventionalistic Approach This objection has, of course, been addressed, mostly by turning the immunity of I to misidentification into a purely conventional matter

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carrying no ontological commitments whatsoever. According to this line of argument, I in its referential use is tied to the speaker who uses it by a linguistic rule, namely the rule that it refers to the being who utters it. This approach is endorsed, e.g., by Barwise and Perry, who say: Let us begin with the word ‘I’. A reasonable thing to say about this expression is that, whenever it is used by a speaker of English, it stands for, or designates that person. We think that this is all there is to know about the meaning of ‘I’ in English and that it serves as a paradigm rule for meaning (Barwise and Perry 1981, 670).

Now, it is certainly true that I refers to the being who utters it. But we need to ask whether this is all there is to the meaning of I. Can the self-reference rule explain the peculiarity of first-person reference? On a closer look, the answer seems to be no. For, as Lund says, on this approach “the crucially important distinction between self-conscious self-reference and mere de facto self-reference is lost” (Lund 2006, 105-106). This can be brought out by considering Lewis’ two-gods example (Lewis 1979, 520-521). This example features two gods, one living on the tallest mountain and throwing down manna and the other living on the coldest mountain and throwing down thunderbolts. Both gods are omniscient with regard to propositional knowledge, but neither god knows which god he is. For the sake of argument, let us assume that both gods know that I refers to the being who utters it and that for every utterance of I they know who made it. Thus, if the god on the coldest mountain says I am throwing down thunderbolts both gods know that I refers to the god on the coldest mountain; and equally with the god on the tallest mountain. Therefore, both gods are guaranteed to refer to themselves when uttering I. However, neither god is guaranteed to refer to himself, knowing that it is himself he refers to. For while both gods know for every utterance of I whether the god on the tallest mountain or the god on the coldest mountain made it, neither god knows whether he himself made it. This example makes obvious that the linguistic convention governing the use of I, while sufficient for de facto self-reference, is

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not sufficient for self-conscious self-reference. Thus, it does not capture the meaning of I. Only if a being is conscious of herself uttering I, she knows that she herself, and not just some person, has self-referred by uttering I. The immunity of I to misidentification must ultimately be explained in terms of self-consciousness. 3.4 Self-Consciousness Just like the existence of subjects, the existence of self-consciousness can be seen as following from the peculiarity of experiences, i.e. their subjectivity or forness. Our experiences are such that there is something it is like to undergo them. But they cannot, to repeat, have this feature without there being someone for whom they are like something. The consciousness we have of our experiences is in fact a consciousness of them being like something for us. In other words, it is a consciousness of ourselves-undergoing-these-experiences (cf. Lund 2005, 280; Zahavi 2005, 15-16; Foster 1991, 215). Every act of consciousness involves self-consciousness, since we cannot undergo an experience without being conscious of who undergoes it. Given this, the immunity of I to misidentification is easily explained: If my consciousness of, say, pain is a consciousness of myself-being-in-pain, I cannot identify the pain in question without identifying it as my own. I cannot misidentify its subject and mistakenly attribute it to someone else. The self-consciousness in question is not of a reflective kind. It is not tied to the ability to reflect, to make oneself the object of one’s attention. Instead, it is the precondition for any such reflection. It is only because we are pre-reflectively self-conscious that we can become reflectively conscious of ourselves, as is argued extensively in the work of Sartre, who for one says: […] reflection has no kind of primacy over the consciousness reflected on. It is not reflection which reveals the consciousness reflected on. Quite the contrary, it is the non-reflective consciousness which renders the reflection possible; there is a pre-reflective cogito which is the condition of the Cartesian ego (Sartre 1956, liii).

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This claim is supported by a consideration of the consequences its denial has. For it seems as though we couldn’t be self-conscious at all if consciousness didn’t have pre-reflective self-consciousness built into it. In other words, if self-consciousness were the product of reflectively turning our gaze on ourselves, instead of its precondition, self-consciousness would be impossible. This has been shown by way of an argument put forward by McTaggart (1927, 63). His argument is similar in structure to the one presented by Nagel, with the difference of focusing explicitly on self-consciousness. McTaggart takes up Russell’s distinction between “knowledge by description” and “knowledge by acquaintance”, according to which “we have acquaintance with anything of which we are directly aware, without the intermediary of any process of inference or any knowledge of truth” (Russell 1912, 46), such as the sense-data making up the appearance of a table. The table itself, by contrast, is a paradigm case of something we know “by description”, as “‘the physical object which causes such and such sense-data’.” (Russell 1912, 51) This being said, McTaggart unfolds the following example: Suppose that I am thinking of the relation of equality and that I reflect on this fact. I thereby form the judgement ‘I am aware of this awareness of equality’. This judgement is true exclusively of me, since no one else can be aware of this awareness. But could I form this judgement if I didn’t know myself independently of any descriptive knowledge gained from reflection? It doesn’t seem so. For without a description-independent knowledge of myself, all I could know is that someone is aware of this awareness of equality and that someone is forming a corresponding judgement. But I would be unable to see that both descriptions apply to the same subject. And even if I were to find out, I could still not know that this subject is me. Hence, I must be directly aware of myself, independently of any reflection or description, in order to know that I am the one reflected on or described. That is to say, I must know myself “by acquaintance”. McTaggart’s argument, if successful, shows that the reflectionmodel of self-consciousness is flawed. It involves a subject-object split, a division between that which is reflecting and that which is

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reflected on. But every object of my consciousness is identified by reference to its subject, me. Therefore, the consciousness I have of myself cannot itself be an object-consciousness. I must know myself as a subject, independently of reflection, if I am to know myself at all. Without a non-objectifying knowledge of myself, I would be unable to recognize any object of my reflection as an object I reflect on. 3.5 Higher-Order Theories of Consciousness The same line of reasoning can be applied to physicalistic higherorder theories of consciousness. According to these theories, being conscious is a nonintrinsic, relational property that a mental state has in virtue of being taken as an object by another, nonconscious, mental state. Thus, on the relational view, no mental state is conscious intrinsically. Instead, consciousness is to be explained in nonconscious terms. It is not a basic, and therefore inexplicable, feature of the world, since this would render it incompatible with physicalism. Higher-order theories come in two versions: a mental state is taken to become conscious either by means of a perception-like higher-order state, as proposed by Armstrong (1968) and Lycan (1997), or by means of a thought-like higher-order state, as proposed by Rosenthal (1991, 1997) and Carruthers (1996, 2000). In what follows I will focus on Rosenthal’s higher-order thought variant of the relational view. He puts the main point of his theory this way: […] in general, our being conscious of something is just a matter of our having a thought of some sort about it. Accordingly, it is natural to identify a mental state’s being conscious with one’s having a roughly contemporaneous thought that one is in that mental state (Rosenthal 2005, 26).

It is the thought that one is, oneself, in a particular mental state that makes that state conscious. A thought to the effect that there is such and such a mental state is not enough, as is emphasized by Rosenthal (1997, 741, 750). Hence, the second-order state must recognize the first-order state as belonging to the same subject as itself. But in order to do so, the second-order state must apparently alrea-

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dy be conscious of itself, for it cannot recognize something as sharing a feature with itself without self-consciousness. Furthermore, the self-consciousness in question must be of a pre-reflective kind, that is, it must be independent of what the second-order state might come to know by making the first-order state its object, for if it weren’t, the second-order state would be unable to see that something true of the first-order state is also true of itself. Ascribing prereflective self-consciousness to the second-order state, however, is incompatible with the relational view, according to which higher-order mental states are per definitionem nonconscious. Assuming a nonconscious third-order state that recognizes the first-order state as belonging to the same subject as the second-order state is of no help either, for it does not amount to the realization that the firstand second-order state belong to the same subject as itself. This the third-order state is unable to recognize itself if it is not pre-reflectively conscious of itself. Thus, this line of reasoning leads to an infinite regress (Zahavi 2005, 28-29). Since there is no other option available, the relational view seems to hit the wall. Metaphorically speaking, one could say it is the attempt to construe light without admitting a source of light. The failure of this attempt suggests that consciousness is in need of a pre-reflectively self-conscious subject that serves as its source and centre, and which physicalism is unable to provide.

4. Subjects and Substance Dualism So far I have focused on physicalistic attempts to account for the peculiarity of subjects. I have argued that the subjectivity of experience demands the existence of subjects who are pre-reflectively selfconscious, and whose existence is incompatible with physicalism. But if physicalism is false, then, apparently, some version or other of dualism must be true, for given the failure of physicalism, the physical realm is not all there is to the world we live in. It features not only physical but also nonphysical entities, and thus has two sides to it (cf. Meixner 2005, 11-16). However, it is often argued that when it

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comes to accounting for subjectivity substance dualism is equally inappropriate as physicalism. In this respect Nagel’s “Physicalism” is revealing again. He argues that his insight, namely that no description of the world, however complete, can tell which of the persons described I am, not only challenges physicalism. It also challenges substance dualism, i.e., according to Nagel, the claim that I am or have a nonphysical soul, for, as he says, “nothing in the specification of that soul will determine that it is mine, that I am that person” (Nagel 1965, 355). And he continues: So long as we construe psychological states as attributes of a substance, no matter what substance we pick, it can be thrown, along with the body, into the “objective” world; its states and its relation to a particular body can be described completely without touching upon the fact that I am that person (Nagel 1965, 355).

What is to be said about this statement? The first thing to note is that Nagel construes substances in general, irrespectively of whether they are physical or nonphysical, as third-personally specifiable individuals. The paradigm cases for such individuals are, obviously, physical objects. Since Nagel thinks of mental substances or souls in the same terms as of physical objects, he takes them to be fully describable from the third-person perspective, too. However, mental substances, construed on the analogy of physical objects, are indeed of no help with regard to the accommodation of subjects. They provoke the same question that has proven so difficult for physicalism to answer in the first place, namely what it is that makes some inhabitant of the world of third-person facts me or mine. Souls, as construed by Nagel, appear to be an objectification of the subject of experience. As such, however, they seem ill-suited to perform the task of the self-acquainted subject that is needed for pre-reflective self-consciousness. For even if there were souls in Nagel’s sense, and even if we could observe them, as against Hume, the consciousness we have ourselves cannot ultimately be grounded on such observation, since without an observation-independent self-consciousness, all we could know is that some soul is observed. And even if we knew furthermore that any soul so observed is observed by itself, or be-

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longs to its observer, we would still be unable to know that the soul observed is me or mine. Summing up, the consciousness we have of ourselves cannot be construed as consciousness of some particular soul, as criticised by Nagel, since souls are objects of consciousness, and self-consciousness is not object-consciousness, as I have argued above. Hence, substance dualism, as construed by Nagel, fails to account for subjectivity. However, the futility of souls, construed analogous to physical objects, should not be taken to constitute a reason for retreating to physicalism, due to an alleged lack of viable alternatives. The problem with souls, on Nagel’s account, is the objectification of the subject of experience inherent in their conception. We are led to this conception, according to Foster, because, even when we feel that we cannot be mere physical objects, we still tend to approach the issue of what we are “in the shadow of the physical paradigm” (Foster 1991, 235). Hence, we have a disposition to think of subjects as nonphysical objects, on a par with the class of physical objects. As Foster puts it: We can only investigate physical objects as external observers […], and insofar as it is framed in physical terms, any conception we can form of their natures is tied to this externalist perspective. Because the physical realm has such a dominant role in our conceptual scheme […], we come to suppose that an objective conception of the nature of a basic subject must have a similarly externalist form. Thus we come to suppose that, to characterize such subjects as they are in themselves, we have to be able to stand back from them and specify how they would appear to an ideal observer who could veridically perceive their spiritual substance, or how they would be characterized by some fully developed spiritual science. It is this, indeed, which, taken to its extreme, sometimes seduces us into picturing the Cartesian soul as a parcel of ghostly, but spatially voluminous, stuff—a fuzzy-edged portion of some form of ethereal protoplasm, which is lodged within the person’s body (Foster 1991, 235).

Thus, the construal of souls as nonphysical objects results from our being occupied by the parameters of the physical realm when investigating ourselves. Therefore, the right reaction to the felt absurdity of souls, construed on the analogy of physical objects, cannot consist

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in retreating to physicalism. It rather has to be to let go of these parameters when focusing on ourselves. Speaking with Foster (1991, 235), it is the very quest for a characterisation of the subject from an external viewpoint that is misconceived. It is the demand to know by description what can be known by acquaintance only.

5. The Essence of Subjects I have argued that subjects of experience must not be construed on the analogy of physical objects. Indeed, they must not be construed as objects of consciousness at all. But if subjects are not objects of consciousness, what, then, are they? What is the essence of subjects? I will deal with this question in what follows. The claim that subjects must not be objectified might make it seem as though what they are is inscrutable. One may feel reminded of Wittgenstein’s remarks on the “metaphysical subject” in the Tractatus, according to which it is not a part of the world, but its boundary, in analogy to the eye that sees everything but itself. According to this approach, the subject trying to grasp its essence resembles a hand trying to grasp itself. Failure appears inevitable, since the objectified subject is not what is doing the grasping (cf. Lund 2005, 35). Thus, though illuminating everything else, the subject seems condemned to remain in the dark. Although such a view is tempting once it is acknowledged that subjects of experience are not third-personally specifiable items of the objective order, it is incompatible with the foregoing considerations. Again it is the subjectivity of conscious phenomena that prevents this conclusion. For, as I have emphasized repeatedly, the consciousness we have of our experiences is in fact a consciousness of ourselves-undergoing-these-experiences. Hence, we are conscious of ourselves whenever conscious of something else. As Lund says: “My introspective access to my own conscious states, […] to the fact that they are something for their possessor, and to the fact that I am their possessor is an access to myself as subject of them” (Lund 2005, 348). Even if Hume is right in contending that we can never

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catch ourselves without a “perception”, used in the fairly broad sense of “experience” (Hume 1888, 252), the reverse is equally true: we can never catch an experience without catching ourselves. We cannot be in a conscious state and ask whose it is. Hence, subjects and their experiences are accessed in the same way. Yet what this access seems to reveal is not just that we undergo various experiences but also what we are independently of our experiences. With regard to this difficult point I again refer to the work of Foster. He says: […] it seems to me that when I focus on myself introspectively, I am not only aware of being in a certain mental condition; I am also aware, with the same kind of immediacy, of being a certain sort of thing—a sort which characterizes me independently of my mental condition. […] It will now be asked: ‘Well, what is this nature, this sortal attribute? Let’s have it specified!’ But such a demand is misconceived. Of course, I can give it a verbal label: for instance, I could call it ‘subjectness’ or ‘selfhood’. But unless they are interpreted ‘ostensively’, by reference to what is revealed by introspective awareness, such labels will not convey anything over and above the nominal essence of the term ‘basic subject’ (Foster 1991, 234).

Thus, I do not only know what it is like to see, to hear or to be in pain. I also know what it is like to be me, to be a subject of experience. The fact that this knowledge can be gained by being a subject only should not be taken to call it into question. For the same holds true of the knowledge we have of our experiences: What it is like to see or hear cannot be conveyed to a person who is congenitally blind or deaf. We need to undergo the respective experiences to gain the corresponding knowledge. Nevertheless, we appear fully justified in claiming that we know what it is like to see and hear. Accordingly Foster says: Both the essential nature of the subject and the character of his conscious states can only be grasped introspectively—by, in the one case, knowing from the inside what it is like to be a subject, and, in the other case, knowing from the inside what it is like to be in a certain mental condition (Foster 1991, 235).

We know what it is like to be a subject, since we are subjects. Our reluctance to accept this claim, again, seems to stem from our ten-

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dency to objectify subjects, to think of them by means of parameters borrowed from the physical realm. Because of this tendency we are inclined to believe that if what subjects are can be known at all it must be known by description. But, as McTaggart’s argument has shown, if the knowledge we have of ourselves were knowledge by description, we couldn’t know ourselves at all. Hence, we must know ourselves by acquaintance. Indeed, we couldn’t form any externalist account at all if we weren’t acquainted with ourselves. For we would then be unable to recognize any object as external to us. It turns out that, in seeking to know ourselves, we were seeking for something that we had already had prior to any reflection, by being ourselves.

6. Concluding Remarks The present treatment, as I have said, serves the purpose of exposing the peculiarity of subjects. I have begun with the claim that experiences are essentially subjective, that they are like something for someone, and then drawn out its consequences. Since experiences are like something for someone they demand for subjects undergoing them. These subjects consequently appear to be excluded from the realm of third-person facts, since no description of this realm seems to capture the fact that I am the subject of my experiences. Thus, I, just like every other subject, am apparently not a third-personally describable entity. Furthermore, subjects are pre-reflectively self-conscious, since every consciousness we have of our experiences involves self-consciousness. That is to say, subjects know themselves by acquaintance. Starting out with the subjectivity or forness of experience, we have come to the conclusion that there are pre-reflectively self-conscious, or self-acquainted, subjects. They serve as the source and centre of subjectivity. What can we make of these considerations, ontologically speaking? Physicalism seems, after all, unable to account for subjects. It is committed to the third-person perspective, and hence cannot allow for entities that elude description. Therefore, some version of dualism must be true. But substance dualism, as it is prominently por-

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trayed by Nagel, seems equally inadequate to account for subjects of experience. It construes subjects not physicalistically, but on the paradigm of the physical realm. Though unconvinced by physicalistic claims concerning our nature, it still seeks to picture ourselves from the outside, from the point of view of an ideal observer, and therefore fails to account for directly self-aware subjects. What is needed is something different: a theory of consciousness that emphasizes the subjectivity of subjects, that acknowledges their internality and refrains from externalising them. This emphasis, however, is not tantamount to rendering subjects inscrutable. For in fact, the opposite is true: we know what it is like to be a subject, just as we know what it is like to see, hear or be in pain. The subject of experience is not hidden in the dark; instead, it is the luminous spot from which light proceeds, revealing to us the world.

References Armstrong, D.M. (1968) A Materialist Theory of the Mind, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Barwise, J. & Perry, J. (1981) “Situations and Attitudes”, Journal of Philosophy 78, 669-691. Boër, S.E. & Lycan, W.G. (1980) “Who, Me?”, The Philosophical Review 89, 427-466. Carruthers, P. (1996) Language, Thoughts, and Consciousness, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Carruthers, P. (2000) Phenomenal Consciousness, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Foster, J. (1991) The Immaterial Self, London: Routledge. Hume, D. (1988) A Treatise of Human Nature, ed. L.A. Selby-Bigge. Reprinted, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1968. Lewis, D.K. (1979) “Attitudes De Dicto and De Se”, The Philosophical Review 88, 513-543. Lund, D.H. (2005) The Conscious Self, Amherst/NY: Humanity Bks. Lycan, W.G. (1990) “What is the “Subjectivity” of the Mental”, Philosophical Perspectives 4, 109-130.

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Lycan, W.G. (1997) “Consciousness as Internal Monitoring”, in N. Block, O. Flanagan & G. Güzeldere (eds.), The Nature of Consciousness, Cambridge: Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 754-771. Mach, E. (1886) Beiträge zur Analyse der Empfindungen, Jena: Fischer. Madell, G. (1981) The Identity of the Self, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. McTaggart, J. (1927) The Nature of Existence, Vol. 2, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Reprinted, Grosse Pointe, MI: Scholarly Press, 1968. Meixner, U. (2004) The Two Sides of Being, Paderborn: Mentis. Nagel, T. (1965) “Physicalism”, The Philosophical Review 74, 339356. Nagel, T. (1974) “What Is It Like to Be a Bat?”, The Philosophical Review 83, 435-450. Nagel, T. (1979) “Subjective and Objective” in his Mortal Questions, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 196-213. Rosenthal, D.M. (1997) “A Theory of Consciousness”, in N. Block, O. Flanagan & G. Güzeldere (eds.), The Nature of Consciousness, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 729-753. Rosenthal, D.M. (2005) “Two Concepts of Consciousness”, in his Consciousness and Mind, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 21-45. Reprinted from Philosophical Studies 94 (1986), 329-359. Russell, B. (1912) The Problems of Philosophy, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Reprinted, 1968. Sartre, J.-P. (1956) Being and Nothingness, tr. H.E. Barnes, New York: Philosophical Library. Shoemaker, S. (1968) “Self-Reference and Self-Awareness”, The Journal of Philosophy 65, 555-567. Zahavi, D. (2005) Subjectivity and Selfhood, Cambridge, MA: MITPress. This research-project was made possible by financial support from the Austrian Science Fund (FWF), grant P201860-G14.

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The Editors Christian Kanzian Professor at the Institute of Philosophy, Theological Faculty, University of Innsbruck, Austria (Phil.-Theol. LFU) Muhammad Legenhausen Professor of Philosophy at the Imam Khomeini Education and Research Institute, Qom, Iran (IKERI) The editors are also authors of articles in this volume.

List of Authors Ayatullah ‘Abdullah Javadi Amuli Director of the Isrā’ Institute, Qom Mohammad Fanaei Eshkevari Associate Professor of Philosophy at IKERI, Qom Ḥujjat al-Islam wa al-Muslimīn Ghulām Riḍā Fayāḍī Professor of Philosophy at IKERI, Qom Georg Gasser Assistant at Phil.-Theol. LFU, Innsbruck Hans Goller Professor Emeritus at Phil.-Theol. LFU, Innsbruck Mahmoud Khatami Associate Professor of Philosophy, University of Tehran Hans Kraml Professor at Phil.-Theol. LFU, Innsbruck

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Peter Marinkovic Theologian and University Chaplain at the University of Munich Ayatullah Muhammad Taqi Miṣbāḥ Yazdī Director of IKERI, Qom Ḥujjat al-Islam Mahmoud Namazi Esfahani Assistant Prof. of Philosophy, IKERI, Qom Josef Quitterer Professor at Phil.-Theol. LFU, Innsbruck Ḥujjat al-Islām wa al-Muslimīn Maḥmūd Rajabī Prof. of Qur’anic Studies, IKERI, Qom Ḥujjat al-Islām Abbas A. Shameli Assistant Professor of Education, IKERI, Qom Ḥujjat al-Islām Muhammad Ali Shomali Associate Professor of Philsoosphy of Religion, IKERI, Qom Matthias Stefan Assistant at Phil.-Theol. LFU Erwin Tegtmeier Department of Philosophy, University of Mannheim, Germany Daniel Wehinger Assistant at Phil.-Theol. LFU

Wittgenstein

Christian Kanzian, Muhammad Legenhausen (Eds.)

Substance and Attribute Western and Islamic Traditions in Dialogue

The aim of this volume is to investigate the topic of Substance and Attribute. The way leading to this aim is a dialogue between Islamic and Western Philosophy. Our project is motivated by the observation that the historical roots of Islamic and of Western Philosophy are very similar. Thus some of the articles in this volume are dedicated to the history of philosophy, in Islamic thinking as well as in Western traditions. But the dialogue between Islamic and Western Philosophy is not only an historical issue, it also has systematic relevance for actual philosophical questions. The topic Substance and Attribute particularly has an important history in both traditions; and it has systematic relevance for the actual ontological debate. The volume includes contributions (among others) by Hans Burkhardt, Hans Kraml, Muhammad Legenhausen, Michal Loux, Pedro Schmechtig, Muhammad Shomali, Erwin Tegtmeier, and Daniel von Wachter.

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Philosophical Analysis 33

Christian Kanzian

Ding – Substanz – Person Eine Alltagsontologie Fester Bestandteil unserer Alltagswelt sind Dinge. Was aber sind, genau genommen, Dinge? Wie heben sich Dinge ab von anderen konkreten Individuen? Sind Dinge eine ontologische Kategorie? Welche Unterscheidungen können wir innerhalb der Dinge anstellen und begründen?, etwa: Worin unterscheiden sich künstlich hergestellte Dinge (Artefakte) von Lebewesen? Kann man unter den Lebewesen nochmals eine besondere Gruppe festmachen, die traditionell Personen genannt werden? Was sind Personen? Derartigen Fragen geht diese Monographienach und versucht einen ontologischen Rahmen zu entwickeln, vor dessen Hintergrund die damit verbundenen Probleme einer Lösung zugeführt werden können. Der hier verfolgte Ansatz ist systematisch und problemorientiert, nicht exegetisch-historisch und nicht gegen andere ontologische Zugangsweisen gerichtet. Er bekennt sich zu methodischen Vorgaben einer „deskriptiven-“ oder Alltagsontologie. Über den Autor Christian Kanzian ist a.o. Univ.-Prof. für Philosophie an der Universität Innsbruck. Arbeitsschwerpunkte: Ontologie und Metaphysik, Philosophiegeschichte, Analytische Philosophie. Veröffentlichungen (u.a.): Grundprobleme der Analytischen Ontologie (mit Runggaldier), 1998; Ereignisse und andere Partikularien, 2001; Persistence (Hrsg.), 2008; mehr als 50 Artikel zu Einzelfragen von Ontologie und Metaphysik.

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