Our
next point of interest is Aristotle’s dichotomy of matter and form, which is,
of course, different from the dichotomy of matter and mind. We can produce a
number of marvelous illustrations of this dichotomy, and, perhaps, Aristotle’s
own may not be the best, but he is surely entitled to be quoted on it, and so
here it is. If a man makes a bronze sphere, bronze is the matter and the
sphericity is the form. In other words, the shape, or the spatial boundary of
the object, is the factor which is superior to the object’s matter, and it constitutes
its special form.
And
right here a major difficulty arises, which immediately questions the
consistency and even validity of Aristotle’s theory of forms. There needs to be
no surprise about it, though, as any philosopher’s “positive” theory does not
hold water at close scrutiny, and Aristotle’s misfortune in this case is that
he tries to make his theory easily comprehensible to common sense, and thus
gets in trouble right away, whereas those who make their theories particularly
hard or even impossible to comprehend, can get away with their own fatal flaws
simply because the extreme difficulty of their comprehension slows down the
impending exposure.
So
here is the problem with Aristotle’s theory of forms. Let us continue with the
bronze sphere example. If only one such sphere has been made, or rationally
considered, the problem does not hurry to come to light. But everything changes
when a copy of the first sphere is made, or somebody else makes another
identical bronze sphere, that is, of the same material and of the same size, so
that the two of them become virtually indistinguishable. Here, although they
look exactly alike, these two are still ostensibly different things. No two
things, however, can possess the same form. Our two spheres, even though
partaking of the universal sphericity (as an abstract figure), are still non-identical
particulars, but the ambiguity of such a stretch is exposed already in this
example. Aristotle’s view that a form is identical with its essence does not
permit the solution of this conundrum by simply saying that a single form can
be embodied in several particulars. But as I said before this illegitimacy of
the theory of forms as a self-sustained definitive general theory has no
bearing on the inherent worth of Aristotle’s philosophical inquiry, and it is
here that Aristotle’s genius must receive its due.
Moreover,
despite several inconsistencies in Aristotle’s account of his theory, I see a
possibility of at least a partial reconciliation of it with common sense and
internal logic, and here is my take on it:
Aside
from some technical inconsistencies, the existence of a hundred cloned bronze
spheres can be easily justified and particularized, with regard to their
separateness of forms, by considering all things in space. It does not matter
so much to me what kind of matter they are filled with, as long as we
distinguish them by the particularity of the space they occupy. A thousand
spheres of the same size cannot abide in exactly the same space, and now this
part of the conundrum appears to have been solved.
Alas,
had it been so simple! From what has been said it should follow that the shape
of the human body is its form, but nothing of the sort. From the simple
proposition identifying form with shape, Aristotle takes the next step is to
identify the human soul as the form of the body. There can be no
talk of the boundary or shape here, but the relationship between the form and
the matter remains as before, but elevated to a much higher level: the soul,
and not the contour, makes the body one thing, so to speak.
Idealistically, we rejoice at such a pat definition of the soul, but
immediately our task to justify the consistency of Aristotle’s theory of forms
becomes immeasurably more difficult. We can of course argue that our previous
definitions apply to inanimate objects, whereas living matter is something else,
but this creates a highly suspicious duality of the sensible world…
To
conclude tomorrow…
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