Loren Rosson has a series of posts (Part I, Part II, Part III) on 'the Platinum Rule'.
The Golden Rule, you will recall, is:
Do unto others as you would want done unto you.
What is often called the Silver Rule is more common, however:
Do not do unto others as you would not want done unto you.
Despite apparent differences, I think it can be shown that the two are highly convertible -- that is, you can turn GR into SR and back again with just a few very plausible suppositions -- so I will for convenience simply heap them together. This shouldn't affect anything that follows, however.
The so-called 'Platinum Rule' is:
Do unto others as they would want done to them.
Rosson suggests that this is a better adage than GR. I have seen this claim elsewhere, but I am not at all convinced; in particular, I think it can be easily shown that it is simply inferior to GR/SR.
A bit of terminology before the argument. A 'maxim' is a subjective principle of volition. For instance, if I act in order to be honest, the maxim of my action is 'Be honest'. There are, however, different roles maxims can take. Some maxims, for instance, are themselves maxim-sorters -- dominant imperatives that are used deliberately in such a way that they act as sorting rules, giving us guidance as to what maxims our actions should exemplify. To be a successful sorting rule, a maxim must exemplify the following properties:
(1) It must admit of genuinely practical application (it must be flexible, relatively easy to apply, and relevant);
(2) It must be capable of being used in a stable way through a wide variety of circumstantial differences;
(3) It must be capable of a maximal application.
(1) is necessary if it is to sort anything at all; (2) is necessary for it to be useful as a general rule; and (3) is necessary for it to be applied systematically and thoroughly.
It is clear that GR/SR-type rules are put forward by people like Jesus and Confucius not as particular maxims but as sorting maxims. It is at once very easy to see why GR/SR would be good in this role. (1) They piggy-back on our actual mechanisms of moral cognition: sympathy, positing of impartial observers. This means that they are able to give more than the (2) They do this in an epistemically open way -- that is, they refer moral behavior to something (one's own total interests) that everyone is in a position to know, if they try. (3) They are self-consistent at maximal application. (4) They are capable of operating both at very concrete levels and at very abstract levels, so they are able to remain stable and self-consistent through a wide variety of different situations. Most of the arguments against GR/SR on close examination turn out to suppose that they are not maximally applied -- that is, the presupposition is that they are not systematically and thoroughly applied, so that it is possible to engage in reciprocity at one level of generality (e.g., exposing someone to the classical music you yourself like, because you would like to be so exposed) that violates reciprocity at a more general level (e.g., not exposing someone to music they find temperamentally unpleasant, because you would not like to be exposed to music you find temperamentally unpleasant). When we suppose maximal application, however, problems like these disappear.
Now, the first thing to note about PR is that, unlike GR/SR it is not epistemically open. While we do have some ability to discern the wants of others, we generally have only a limited and superficial access to their total interests. In restricted circumstances this would not be a problem at all. For instance, if we are offering a service, our superficial and limited acquaintance with our customers may well be all we need to know, because all we will need to know under the circumstances are those wants and interests that are relevant to the service we are offering. Even in such a case, of course, determining the relevant wants can be very difficult unless we already have in place reliable mechanisms to determine what other people want. If we do not, we have no way of putting PR into genuine practice at all -- we could easily think we are acting in accordance with PR when, in fact, we are merely making false suppositions about what people want, based on stereotype, confusion, misinformation, or faulty inference. In other words, we can only apply PR if we are in a position to know -- genuinely know -- all the relevant wants and interests of the people around us. It's noteworthy that GR/SR, in contrast, is not only epistemically open (it posits a reference-point for each of us that each of us is in a position to know), it allows us to use whatever limited information we have about other people's wants and interests in any case where we would regard such information about our own wants and interests as relevant to how we are treated. In so doing, it gives us at least a limited guidance as to what we should be doing to gain information about other people, and what level of information is sufficient for action. PR, despite depending crucially on these matters, does not.
The second thing to note is that PR is clearly not capable of maximal application. GR/SR, by positing one reference-point, make it relatively easy to sort out any conflicts simply through more careful and deliberate thought about one's total interests. PR, by positing an irreducibly plural reference-point, makes unresolvable conflict inevitable. It is one of the most salient and important facts about human life that people have very different wants and interests. This is one of the reasons why we need to have general rules and maxims in the first place, rather than naively following our own self-interest without consideration of other people. But if we act according to PR we will inevitably find ourselves forced to balance one group's wants (or one person's wants) against another group's wants (or another person's wants). PR, unlike GR/SR, gives us no way to do so.
So, my conclusion is that PR is actually inferior to GR/SR, and by quite a bit. This does not, of course, forestall the possibility that some other sorting rule (e.g., Kant's categorical imperative) is superior to them all, nor does it mean that PR might not be exactly what one would need in certain circumstances. This argument also doesn't get into another important issue. GR/SR were not given in a void, nor were they given as fundamental principles of morality. Instead, they were given as ways to facilitate the following of a morality that was already known (the law and the prophets in the case of Jesus' recommendation of GR, the humane life of the noble in the case of Confucius' recommendation of SR, etc.). GR/SR is a summarizing principle, not a grounding one. How seriously should we take this presupposed context in considering the rule? On the one hand, GR/SR is put forward as a general principle. On the other, GR/SR is put forward to people who are already presumed to know, more or less, what they ought to do, and just need help seeing the primary point of it in order to keep track of it all. Can GR/SR be used in a contextual void as Kant (probably wrongly) thinks the categorical imperative can? I'm inclined to think not: GR/SR is only of use if you've already been brought up in a moral system. Moral systems can be very complex, and GR/SR can be useful in summarizing its primary point and preventing you from falling into rote legalism. But I think it really does presuppose that you already know, more or less, what to do. (Another possible question: Can someone get around some of the problems with PR by bringing a similar type of context into play?) This is a complicated issue, however, and I'll leave it out there as food for thought.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Hume and the Natural History of Religion
I haven't read Wieseltier's review of Dennett's Breaking the Spell, since I don't generally read New York Times book reviews, and don't have a subscription to get behind the subscription wall. I notice, however, from the extracts that are occasionally put forward in responses to it, that the review briefly discusses Hume's Natural History of Religion. NHR is a very tricky book, so I thought I would say a few things to aid people in evaluating that part of the review. I have previously summarized the argument; I recommend you read that first.
(1) Wieseltier is right that in NHR Hume explicitly insists that the design inference to God's existence is rational and obvious. There appear to be three options for interpretation:
(a) Hume is, for some reason or other, lying, or, as we usually say, 'being ironic';
(b) Since Hume is explicitly setting aside rational arguments for God's existence in order to look at the original history of theistic opinions, he is simply conceding as much to the rational side as he can, without committing himself to anything in particular;
(c) Hume does accept the design inference in some form, and is just not discussing here the sense in which he accepts it.
The position suggested by (a) is very implausible, since part of Hume's argument that the original religion was polytheistic won't work if it is not true that the conclusion to a designer from the frame of nature is rational and obvious. (b) has some difficulty with this as well, but can, I think, be formulated in a way that can handle the problem. So either (b) or (c) or some combination of the two seems the right way to interpret NHR's comments on the subject.
(2) The question of whether Hume was, strictly speaking, an atheist, is one of the bugbear problems of Hume scholarship; I have a whole box of issues of Hume Studies for the past twenty years that underline how complicated this controversy is. We can distinguish, as a number of people have, a spectrum of possible opinions:
(a) strong theism: The most notable examples of philosophical strong theists in the early modern period would have been the Cartesians. A strong theism not only involves belief that there is a God, but belief that this God has a robust set of properties (e.g., infinity, omniscience, omnipresence).
(b) weak theism: The weak theist believes in God in some sense, but very little commitment to further attributes.
(c) weak atheism: The weak atheist believes there is no God, but is willing to allow that the theist is probably on to something. From this atheistic perspective, the problem with theism is exaggeration -- to put it roughly, the theist recognizes some genuine facet of the universe, but makes too much of it.
(d) strong atheism: Strong atheists believe there is no God and are not willing to allow to the theist as much as the weak atheist is.
Both (a) and (d) are very improbable interpretations of Hume. For one thing, in his public writings Hume always positions himself as a theist; but he argues at great length against strong theism. Russell's article at SEP on Hume's religion has a good discussion of exactly where Hume falls. My own sense is that Hume wavers between (b) and (c) (in the Dialogues he argues that their only difference is one of emphasis); but any position here is underdetermined by the evidence. One of the reasons Russell is one of the top scholars doing philosophy of religion is that he has managed to come up with some rather ingenious arguments that expand the field of evidence; but he takes a stronger position on Hume's leanings toward atheism than seems to be generally accepted. For instance, the point he makes in the article about the alternative analogies in the Dialogues is only telling if we assume a certain approach to analogical inferences. If Hume still has in mind an account of such inferences like the one he gave in the Treatise, however, the alternative analogies don't eliminate the design inference. Indeed, if Hume still accepts such an account of analogy, he is committed to the analogy he gives in the Dialogues, and the only question is how much can actually be concluded on the basis of it (this is, in fact, exactly the way he sets up the discussion). Likewise, Russell's mention of the end of NHR (the "riddle, enigma, inexplicable mystery" passage) isn't really relevant, because it is clear in context that Hume is referring to the conclusion he has just finished coming to: that both monotheism and polytheism are bad for morals, but that the more rational view (monotheism) is worse for morals than the less rational view (polytheism), and that none of these would be expected just from surveying the doctrines in question. Russell is right, though, that 'irreligion' is a better label for Hume's position than 'atheism' (it is also closer to what Hume's contemporaries meant when they called him an atheist than our own term 'atheist' is).
(1) Wieseltier is right that in NHR Hume explicitly insists that the design inference to God's existence is rational and obvious. There appear to be three options for interpretation:
(a) Hume is, for some reason or other, lying, or, as we usually say, 'being ironic';
(b) Since Hume is explicitly setting aside rational arguments for God's existence in order to look at the original history of theistic opinions, he is simply conceding as much to the rational side as he can, without committing himself to anything in particular;
(c) Hume does accept the design inference in some form, and is just not discussing here the sense in which he accepts it.
The position suggested by (a) is very implausible, since part of Hume's argument that the original religion was polytheistic won't work if it is not true that the conclusion to a designer from the frame of nature is rational and obvious. (b) has some difficulty with this as well, but can, I think, be formulated in a way that can handle the problem. So either (b) or (c) or some combination of the two seems the right way to interpret NHR's comments on the subject.
(2) The question of whether Hume was, strictly speaking, an atheist, is one of the bugbear problems of Hume scholarship; I have a whole box of issues of Hume Studies for the past twenty years that underline how complicated this controversy is. We can distinguish, as a number of people have, a spectrum of possible opinions:
(a) strong theism: The most notable examples of philosophical strong theists in the early modern period would have been the Cartesians. A strong theism not only involves belief that there is a God, but belief that this God has a robust set of properties (e.g., infinity, omniscience, omnipresence).
(b) weak theism: The weak theist believes in God in some sense, but very little commitment to further attributes.
(c) weak atheism: The weak atheist believes there is no God, but is willing to allow that the theist is probably on to something. From this atheistic perspective, the problem with theism is exaggeration -- to put it roughly, the theist recognizes some genuine facet of the universe, but makes too much of it.
(d) strong atheism: Strong atheists believe there is no God and are not willing to allow to the theist as much as the weak atheist is.
Both (a) and (d) are very improbable interpretations of Hume. For one thing, in his public writings Hume always positions himself as a theist; but he argues at great length against strong theism. Russell's article at SEP on Hume's religion has a good discussion of exactly where Hume falls. My own sense is that Hume wavers between (b) and (c) (in the Dialogues he argues that their only difference is one of emphasis); but any position here is underdetermined by the evidence. One of the reasons Russell is one of the top scholars doing philosophy of religion is that he has managed to come up with some rather ingenious arguments that expand the field of evidence; but he takes a stronger position on Hume's leanings toward atheism than seems to be generally accepted. For instance, the point he makes in the article about the alternative analogies in the Dialogues is only telling if we assume a certain approach to analogical inferences. If Hume still has in mind an account of such inferences like the one he gave in the Treatise, however, the alternative analogies don't eliminate the design inference. Indeed, if Hume still accepts such an account of analogy, he is committed to the analogy he gives in the Dialogues, and the only question is how much can actually be concluded on the basis of it (this is, in fact, exactly the way he sets up the discussion). Likewise, Russell's mention of the end of NHR (the "riddle, enigma, inexplicable mystery" passage) isn't really relevant, because it is clear in context that Hume is referring to the conclusion he has just finished coming to: that both monotheism and polytheism are bad for morals, but that the more rational view (monotheism) is worse for morals than the less rational view (polytheism), and that none of these would be expected just from surveying the doctrines in question. Russell is right, though, that 'irreligion' is a better label for Hume's position than 'atheism' (it is also closer to what Hume's contemporaries meant when they called him an atheist than our own term 'atheist' is).
Hume at a Dinner Party
The first time that M. Hume found himself at the table of the Baron, he was seated beside him. I don't know for what purpose the English philosopher took it into his head to remark to the Baron that he did not believe in atheists, that he had never seen any. The Baron said to him: "Count how many we are here." We are eighteen. The Baron added: "It isn't too bad a showing to be able to point out to you fifteen at once: the three others haven't made up their minds."
[Diderot, quoted in Mossner, Life of David Hume, p. 483]
The Baron in question was Baron d'Holbach, the well-known French atheist.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Links for Noting
* A fascinating discussion of the history of the principle of double effect: Reevaluating the Historical Evolution of Double Effect by Eric Rovie
* Macht discusses a misinterpretation of Aquinas on faith. The background question to the discussion is: Does Aquinas, in his discussion on the faith of demons, commit himself to saying that believing without any good evidence is more to be praised than believing on evidence?
* The SEP has an article on African Sage Philosophy (HT: prosthesis). I have previously argued that worked done in this area should be of particular interest to Christians in philosophy.
* Simplicity links: Robert Skipper has an interesting post on parsimony in science; which should be read with the recent discussion of simplicity at Certain Doubts; and with Michael Huemer's discussion of appeals to parsimony in philosophy (PDF; there is a discussion of it here) and Kevin Kelly's discussions of appeals to it in science (PDF) and of Ockham's Razor (PDF).
* The Philosophy Carnival is up at Hesperus/Phosphorus.
* At Thirdspace there's a very cool article on academic research and blogging by blogger Natalie Bennett: Resurrecting our Foremothers: My Hopes as a Biographer, Journalist, and Blogger.
* The ninth Poetry Carnival will be at "Philosophical Poetry"; the theme is Dissent. Entries are due Feb. 26.
* UPDATE: At "Sexless in the City" Anna Broadway has two lovely posts on world-renouncing vs. world-embracing: Sex and death, part I; Sex and death, part II. See also her recent Godspy essay.
* Macht discusses a misinterpretation of Aquinas on faith. The background question to the discussion is: Does Aquinas, in his discussion on the faith of demons, commit himself to saying that believing without any good evidence is more to be praised than believing on evidence?
* The SEP has an article on African Sage Philosophy (HT: prosthesis). I have previously argued that worked done in this area should be of particular interest to Christians in philosophy.
* Simplicity links: Robert Skipper has an interesting post on parsimony in science; which should be read with the recent discussion of simplicity at Certain Doubts; and with Michael Huemer's discussion of appeals to parsimony in philosophy (PDF; there is a discussion of it here) and Kevin Kelly's discussions of appeals to it in science (PDF) and of Ockham's Razor (PDF).
* The Philosophy Carnival is up at Hesperus/Phosphorus.
* At Thirdspace there's a very cool article on academic research and blogging by blogger Natalie Bennett: Resurrecting our Foremothers: My Hopes as a Biographer, Journalist, and Blogger.
* The ninth Poetry Carnival will be at "Philosophical Poetry"; the theme is Dissent. Entries are due Feb. 26.
* UPDATE: At "Sexless in the City" Anna Broadway has two lovely posts on world-renouncing vs. world-embracing: Sex and death, part I; Sex and death, part II. See also her recent Godspy essay.
Butler on Personal Substance and Identity
Every person is conscious, that he is now the same person or self he was, as far back as his remembrance reaches; since, when any one reflects upon a past action of his own he is just as certain of the person who did that action, namely himself, the person who now reflects upon it, as he is certain that the action was at all done. Nay, very often a person's assurance of an action having been done, of which he is absolutely assured, arises wholly from the consciousness that he himself did it. And this he, person, or self, must either be a substance, or the property of some substance. If he, if person, to be a substance; then consciousness that he is the same person, is consciousness that he is the same substance. If the person, or he, be the property of a substance; still consciousness that he is the same property, is as certain a proof that his substance remains the same, as consciousness that he remains the same substance would be; since the same property cannot be transferred from one substance to another.
Joseph Butler, The Analogy of Religion, Dissertation I: Of Personal Identity.
Joseph Butler, The Analogy of Religion, Dissertation I: Of Personal Identity.
Material Constitution and the Trinity
At The Prosblogion, Matthew Mullins recently had a few posts on the material constitution approach to the problem of the Trinity, discussing the following papers:
Brower and Rea, Understanding the Trinity (PDF)
Rea and Brower, Material Constitution and the Trinity (PDF)
Craig, Does the Problem of Material Constitution Illuminate the Trinity?
I've already pointed out that my view of the problem of the Trinity is that the rumors of it are greatly exaggerated; but it's still worthwhile to consider what this approach might yield. I don't have a full-blown position on this, but here are some preliminary thoughts.
Suppose we have a lump of clay that is formed into a statue. What is the relation between the lump of clay and the statue it makes up? As Baker notes in her article, Unity Without Identity: A New Look at Material Constitution (PDF) it's fairly common to assume the following dichotomy:
To say that x and y are related by a constitution-relation is to say that this dichotomy should be rejected: we are not forced to choose between identity and separate entity, because it is possible for things to be non-identical but non-separate. In other words, if x constitutes y, x is not identical to y, but y 'borrows' something of its nature from x, so they are not separate. As Baker puts the point:
So we have constitution as identity-like, but not a form of identity.
When people appeal to this in Trinitarian discussions as an analogy, they can be doing several things. Their primary concern, for instance, could be to reject some equivalent of the dichotomy above, namely,
Either the Father and the Son are both identical to God, or at least one of the two (Father and Son) is a separate entity from God.
or:
Either the Father and the Son are simply identical to each other, or they are separate entities.
This use of the material constitution analogy points out that things are not so simple: there is at least one other sort of relation (constitution) which requires neither identity nor separation, so it could well be that the relation between the Father and God (for instance) is analogous to this. It is this that Rea and Brower are talking about when they are talking about numerical sameness without identity. In essence, this use of the analogy just means: we should not be too quick to rule out the Trinity on considerations of identity, because we need to consider complications like those we find in material constitution problems.
Well and good. But one could go further, as Rea and Brower do, and hold that the Trinity is not merely analogous to material constitution in the rejection of the identity/separation dichotomy, but that the Trinity is itself analogous to an actual case of material constitution. As they say in "Material Constitution and the Trinity":
This is a much stronger use of the analogy; while Rea and Brower note that there are disanalogies, this involves thinking of the Trinity on the model of a particular case of material constitution. It is also, I think, a much more dubious, or at least more problematic, use of the analogy, as Craig points out in his response. (I am less convinced by Craig's wholesale rejection of numerical sameness without identity, since his objection about diachronic identity can fairly easily be handled by material constitution views, like Baker's, for instance. But it's possible -- I'd need to look more closely -- that the problem here is not Craig but the particular version of material constitution formulated by Brower and Rea.)
Incidentally, Craig and Moreland have proposed a different approach that, perhaps equally odd, should at least be better known than it is (I think it is untenable, but it's worthy of mention), namely, that the analogy should be to one soul with three sets of rational faculties. I think something similar may be said about it: the analogy might just be used in such a way that it points out a complication that should induce us to be wary about jumping to the conclusion that the doctrine of the Trinity is inconsistent. Or we could use it in a stronger way as a (perhaps fuzzy) parallel; in which case it is quite as dubious as, and perhaps even more problematic than, the stronger use of the material constitution analogy, since it appears to cut directly against the tendency of all the ecumenical councils from at least Ephesus on (in particular, I think it ends up wreaking havoc with consubstantiality and the unity of the Trinity as traditionally understood). In other words, the strong Craig-Moreland analogy does no more to illuminate the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity than the strong Brower-Rea analogy, although it perhaps shows how one might formulate a doctrine of the Trinity.
Brower and Rea, Understanding the Trinity (PDF)
Rea and Brower, Material Constitution and the Trinity (PDF)
Craig, Does the Problem of Material Constitution Illuminate the Trinity?
I've already pointed out that my view of the problem of the Trinity is that the rumors of it are greatly exaggerated; but it's still worthwhile to consider what this approach might yield. I don't have a full-blown position on this, but here are some preliminary thoughts.
Suppose we have a lump of clay that is formed into a statue. What is the relation between the lump of clay and the statue it makes up? As Baker notes in her article, Unity Without Identity: A New Look at Material Constitution (PDF) it's fairly common to assume the following dichotomy:
For any x and y that are related as the lump of clay is to the statue that it makes up, either x is identical to y, or x and y are separate entities, independent of each other.
To say that x and y are related by a constitution-relation is to say that this dichotomy should be rejected: we are not forced to choose between identity and separate entity, because it is possible for things to be non-identical but non-separate. In other words, if x constitutes y, x is not identical to y, but y 'borrows' something of its nature from x, so they are not separate. As Baker puts the point:
We need constitution to be similar to identity in order to account for the fact that if x constitutes y, then x and y are spatially coincident and share many properties; but we also need constitution to differ from identity in order to account for the fact that if x constitutes y, then x and y are of different kinds and can survive different sorts of changes.
So we have constitution as identity-like, but not a form of identity.
When people appeal to this in Trinitarian discussions as an analogy, they can be doing several things. Their primary concern, for instance, could be to reject some equivalent of the dichotomy above, namely,
Either the Father and the Son are both identical to God, or at least one of the two (Father and Son) is a separate entity from God.
or:
Either the Father and the Son are simply identical to each other, or they are separate entities.
This use of the material constitution analogy points out that things are not so simple: there is at least one other sort of relation (constitution) which requires neither identity nor separation, so it could well be that the relation between the Father and God (for instance) is analogous to this. It is this that Rea and Brower are talking about when they are talking about numerical sameness without identity. In essence, this use of the analogy just means: we should not be too quick to rule out the Trinity on considerations of identity, because we need to consider complications like those we find in material constitution problems.
Well and good. But one could go further, as Rea and Brower do, and hold that the Trinity is not merely analogous to material constitution in the rejection of the identity/separation dichotomy, but that the Trinity is itself analogous to an actual case of material constitution. As they say in "Material Constitution and the Trinity":
For like the familiar particulars of experience, the Persons of the Trinity can also be conceived of in terms of hylomorphic compounds. Thus, we can think of the divine essence as playing the role of matter; and we can regard the properties being a Father, being a Son, and being a Spirit as distinct forms instantiated by the divine essence, each giving rise to a distinct Person. As in the case of matter, moreover, we can regard the divine essence not as an individual thing in its own right but rather as that which, together with the requisite "form", constitutes a Person. Each Person will then be a compound structure whose matter is the divine essence and whose form is one of the three distinctive Trinitarian properties. On this way of thinking, the Persons of the Trinity are directly analogous to particulars that stand in the familiar relation of material constitution.
This is a much stronger use of the analogy; while Rea and Brower note that there are disanalogies, this involves thinking of the Trinity on the model of a particular case of material constitution. It is also, I think, a much more dubious, or at least more problematic, use of the analogy, as Craig points out in his response. (I am less convinced by Craig's wholesale rejection of numerical sameness without identity, since his objection about diachronic identity can fairly easily be handled by material constitution views, like Baker's, for instance. But it's possible -- I'd need to look more closely -- that the problem here is not Craig but the particular version of material constitution formulated by Brower and Rea.)
Incidentally, Craig and Moreland have proposed a different approach that, perhaps equally odd, should at least be better known than it is (I think it is untenable, but it's worthy of mention), namely, that the analogy should be to one soul with three sets of rational faculties. I think something similar may be said about it: the analogy might just be used in such a way that it points out a complication that should induce us to be wary about jumping to the conclusion that the doctrine of the Trinity is inconsistent. Or we could use it in a stronger way as a (perhaps fuzzy) parallel; in which case it is quite as dubious as, and perhaps even more problematic than, the stronger use of the material constitution analogy, since it appears to cut directly against the tendency of all the ecumenical councils from at least Ephesus on (in particular, I think it ends up wreaking havoc with consubstantiality and the unity of the Trinity as traditionally understood). In other words, the strong Craig-Moreland analogy does no more to illuminate the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity than the strong Brower-Rea analogy, although it perhaps shows how one might formulate a doctrine of the Trinity.
Pure Act
Alan Rhoda has an interesting discussion of 'pure act' in Thomas Aquinas (HT: FQI). The issue is complicated by the fact that Aquinas recognizes a category called 'active potency', which is often what is really at stake when we talk about 'potentiality'. It contrasts, however, with 'passive potency', which is potentiality in the proper sense. Thus we cannot assume that merely because we characterize something as a 'reception' or 'undergoing' or even 'potentiality' that it would contradict the pure act thesis. This, in fact, becomes especially clear with personal activities: welcoming involves reception, but it is an active reception: in other words, it is a type of actuality. Its actuality is properly and directly signified by saying that it is, or it exists, or it has being, rather than by saying that it (merely) could be, or is (merely) able to be, or (only) can exist.
The relation between the term 'perfection' and the term 'actuality' is easier, because they turn out to be the same thing given the Aristotelian account of motion. 'Motion' in the Aristotelian sense involves a point from which the change begins and a point at which it is completed; this completion is just called perfection, which is why (in certain contexts) 'perfectio' can often be translated as 'completion'. If something is perfected, it has become actually X (or X 'in act' as it's often translated), where X is the end of some some change from potentially being X. In the case of God, the term 'perfection' can't have precisely this meaning; this is, in a sense, the whole point of saying that God is 'pure act': God can't be perfected by anything. This is why Aquinas has to take the trouble to consider whether God can legitimately be called perfect.
On the issue of determinism, Aquinas too holds that we are self-moved movers; he simply denies that we are first movers. In other words, our self-motion is not a violation of the principle that everything moved must be moved by another; it is simply an instance in which the thing being moved actively contributes (insofar as it is already actual) to the particular form its being moved takes. So I don't think there are any deterministic implications lurking here. But this is a complicated issue that was hotly debated in the scholastic era; Scotus, for example, insists that self-motion does violate the principle that everything moved must be moved by another, and so proves it to be false. In either case, however, God is not considered to be self-moved; he is first mover. When he creates or acts in relation to creation he doesn't need to actualize anything in Himself (there is nothing actually in Him to which we can refer and say "Now He merely can be this, now He actually is this"); He actualizes the potential of other things. So (to put it roughly) when God creates, He doesn't (properly speaking) actualize his potential to be Creator; He actualizes the potential of other things to be created. In other words, we can't assume that such a change involves a change in divine states rather than a change in states of non-divine things. There are a lot of complications that would have to be taken into account here. But I think that the pure act doctrines -- simplicity, infinity, immutability, impassibility, eternity, omnipresence -- are all easy enough to defend; the difficulty lies not in defending them, since there's lots to be said for each when they are properly understood, but in avoiding slips into equivocation (because, if they are true, God is very different from most things we experience, and so we must proceed very carefully in talking about Him).
There are lots of complicated issues and puzzles in the pure act thesis, both those above and many others; I'm glad people are discussing them.
The relation between the term 'perfection' and the term 'actuality' is easier, because they turn out to be the same thing given the Aristotelian account of motion. 'Motion' in the Aristotelian sense involves a point from which the change begins and a point at which it is completed; this completion is just called perfection, which is why (in certain contexts) 'perfectio' can often be translated as 'completion'. If something is perfected, it has become actually X (or X 'in act' as it's often translated), where X is the end of some some change from potentially being X. In the case of God, the term 'perfection' can't have precisely this meaning; this is, in a sense, the whole point of saying that God is 'pure act': God can't be perfected by anything. This is why Aquinas has to take the trouble to consider whether God can legitimately be called perfect.
On the issue of determinism, Aquinas too holds that we are self-moved movers; he simply denies that we are first movers. In other words, our self-motion is not a violation of the principle that everything moved must be moved by another; it is simply an instance in which the thing being moved actively contributes (insofar as it is already actual) to the particular form its being moved takes. So I don't think there are any deterministic implications lurking here. But this is a complicated issue that was hotly debated in the scholastic era; Scotus, for example, insists that self-motion does violate the principle that everything moved must be moved by another, and so proves it to be false. In either case, however, God is not considered to be self-moved; he is first mover. When he creates or acts in relation to creation he doesn't need to actualize anything in Himself (there is nothing actually in Him to which we can refer and say "Now He merely can be this, now He actually is this"); He actualizes the potential of other things. So (to put it roughly) when God creates, He doesn't (properly speaking) actualize his potential to be Creator; He actualizes the potential of other things to be created. In other words, we can't assume that such a change involves a change in divine states rather than a change in states of non-divine things. There are a lot of complications that would have to be taken into account here. But I think that the pure act doctrines -- simplicity, infinity, immutability, impassibility, eternity, omnipresence -- are all easy enough to defend; the difficulty lies not in defending them, since there's lots to be said for each when they are properly understood, but in avoiding slips into equivocation (because, if they are true, God is very different from most things we experience, and so we must proceed very carefully in talking about Him).
There are lots of complicated issues and puzzles in the pure act thesis, both those above and many others; I'm glad people are discussing them.
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