Catholic Philosophy

Introduction

Catholic philosophy (in the sense in which I will employ this term) refers to the philosophical tradition that predominated in European thought from the time of Augustine to the Renaissance. Naturally, there were philosophers both before and after this period, spanning ten centuries, who belonged to this overarching direction. Preceding Augustine were the early Church Fathers, among whom Origen stands out; following the Renaissance, many thinkers can be identified (including all contemporary orthodox Catholic educators of philosophy) who adhere to some medieval system, particularly the system of Thomas Aquinas. However, it is only during the period from Augustine to the Renaissance that the greatest philosophers of this era viewed their task as the creation or enhancement of the Catholic synthesis. In the Christian centuries prior to Augustine, the philosophical talents of the Stoics and Neoplatonists overshadowed those of the Church Fathers; after the Renaissance, there was no outstanding philosopher—even among those who were orthodox Catholics—who saw their task as a continuation of the scholastic or Augustinian tradition.

The period, the history of which constitutes the subject of this book, is distinguished from both preceding and succeeding eras not only in the realm of philosophy but in many other respects. The most notable feature that characterizes this period is the power of the Church. The Church forged a closer connection between philosophical views and social and political conditions than had ever existed before or since the Middle Ages, which we can chronologically define as the time frame approximately from 400 to 1400 CE. The Church serves as a social institution grounded in doctrine, partly philosophical and partly pertaining to Sacred History. Through its teachings, the Church acquired power and wealth. Secular rulers, often at odds with the Church, were defeated because a vast majority of the population, including a significant portion of the secular rulers themselves, was deeply convinced of the truth of the Catholic faith. The Church was compelled to contend with two traditions—the Roman and the Germanic. The Roman tradition was strongest in Italy, particularly among jurists; the Germanic tradition was most prevalent among the feudal aristocracy that emerged as a result of barbarian conquests. Yet, for many centuries, both of these traditions proved insufficiently robust to constitute a successful opposition to the Church; this was largely due to their lack of embodiment in any suitably developed philosophical systems.

The history of thought (of the type we are presently engaged with) inevitably becomes one-sided when discussing the Middle Ages. With very few exceptions, all the figures of this period who contributed in some way to the intellectual life of their time belonged to the clergy. The laity in the Middle Ages gradually built a powerful political and economic system, but their activities were, in a certain sense, inconspicuous. By the late Middle Ages, a significant secular literature had developed, quite distinct from ecclesiastical literature; in the broader history, this literature would require more attention than that which is necessary in the history of philosophical thought. Only as we approach Dante do we encounter a lay author who writes with a full understanding of the ecclesiastical philosophy of his time. Until the fourteenth century, the clergy held a genuine monopoly in the realm of philosophy, and philosophy was accordingly articulated from the perspective of the Church. This is why the characterization of medieval thought remains incomprehensible if one does not provide a sufficiently comprehensive account of the development of ecclesiastical institutions, particularly the papacy.

The medieval world, when compared to the world of antiquity, is characterized by various forms of dualism. There was a dualism between clergy and laity, a dualism of Latin and Teutonic elements, a dualism of the kingdom of God and the kingdom of this world, and a dualism of spirit and flesh. Each of these was mirrored in the dualism of popes and emperors. The dualism of Latin and Teutonic elements is a result of barbarian invasions, while other forms of dualism have more ancient roots. The relationship between clergy and laity in the Middle Ages was envisioned in the likeness of the relationship between Samuel and Saul; the demand for political supremacy from the clergy arose during the era of Arian or semi-Arian emperors and kings. The dualism of the kingdom of God and the kingdom of this world is already found in the New Testament but was systematically articulated only in Augustine's work The City of God. The dualism of spirit and flesh can be traced back to Plato; Neoplatonists attributed even greater significance to it; it played a vital role in the teachings of Saint Paul; and in the Christian asceticism of the fourth and fifth centuries, it held a dominant position.

The history of Catholic philosophy is divided into two periods, with the dividing line being the Dark Ages, during which intellectual activity in Western Europe was almost nonexistent. From the time of Constantine's conversion until the death of Boethius, the concept of the Roman Empire—either as a reality or as a memory—still predominated in the thoughts of Christian philosophers. During this period, the barbarians were seen merely as a source of troubles, not as an independent part of the Christian world. A still civilized community existed, with all its affluent members able to read and write, and philosophy was required to address both the laity and the clergy equally. Between this period and the Dark Ages, at the end of the sixth century, stands the figure of Gregory the Great, who considered himself a subject of the Byzantine emperor but behaved with arrogance and authority towards the barbarian kings. Subsequently, the separation of clergy from laity became increasingly evident throughout the Western Christian world. The secular aristocracy established a feudal system, which somewhat tempered the prevailing chaos; the clergy preached Christian humility, followed, however, only by the lower classes; pagan pride was embodied in duels, judicial combats, tournaments, and personal vendettas, which the Church disliked but could not prevent. Beginning with the eleventh century, the Church struggled to free itself from the control of the feudal aristocracy, and this liberation was one of the reasons for Europe emerging from the Dark Ages.

The first major period in the history of Catholic philosophy is marked by the dominance of Saint Augustine, while among the pagans, Plato reigns supreme. The apex of development in the second period is represented by the philosophy of Saint Thomas Aquinas, for whom (as well as for his successors) Aristotle far surpasses Plato. However, the dualism found in Augustine's The City of God remains in full force. The Church represents the City of God, and politically, philosophers defend the interests of the Church. The task of philosophy was to defend faith, appealing to reason in order to uphold its viewpoint against those who, like the Muslims, rejected the reality of Christian revelation. Through this appeal to reason, philosophers challenged criticism—not only as theologians but also as creators of systems aimed at appealing to all people regardless of their faith. Ultimately, this appeal to reason proved perhaps erroneous, but in the thirteenth century, it appeared highly successful.

The synthesis of the thirteenth century, which gave an impression of completeness and coherence, was shattered for many reasons. Perhaps the most significant of these was the rise of a wealthy merchant class, first in Italy and then in other countries. The feudal aristocracy was largely characterized by ignorance, dullness, and barbarism; the common people sided with the Church, which stood above the nobility in intellectual and moral terms and in its capacity to curb anarchy. Yet, the new merchant class, rivaling the clergy in intellectual pursuits, possessed no less knowledge of secular affairs and excelled the clergy in its ability to manage relations with the nobility; it was closer to the urban lower classes as a champion of civil liberty. Democratic tendencies emerged prominently, and after the popes, with their assistance, defeated the emperors, these tendencies began to act towards liberating economic life from ecclesiastical control.

Another reason for the end of the Middle Ages was the emergence of strong national monarchies in France, England, and Spain. By suppressing internal anarchy and forming alliances with wealthy merchants against the aristocracy, kings, beginning in the latter half of the fifteenth century, felt sufficiently strong to engage in a struggle with the pope in the name of national interests.

By this time, the papacy had lost the moral prestige it had enjoyed (and largely deserved) in the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries. The first factor in this loss of prestige was the subservience shown to France during the period when the popes resided in Avignon; the second was the Great Schism, which, against their will, convinced the Western world that unchecked papal power was both impossible and undesirable. By the fifteenth century, the role of the popes as rulers of the Christian world had effectively been subordinated to another role—their identity as Italian princes entangled in the complex and unscrupulous game of Italian state politics.

Ultimately, the Renaissance and the Reformation dismantled the medieval synthesis, which, however, was not replaced by anything as coherent or as full in its implications. The development and decline of this synthesis form the substance of the second book.

Throughout this entire period, a mood of profound despair regarding worldly affairs prevailed among thoughtful individuals, and the only solace was the hope for a better world in the future. This sense of despair reflected what was occurring across Western Europe. The third century was marked by calamities that drastically lowered the overall standard of living. After a temporary lull, characterized by the fourth century, the fifth century witnessed the collapse of the Western Empire and the establishment of barbarian rule over its former territories. The wealthy and cultured urban classes upon which the civilization of the late Roman Empire rested were largely reduced to the status of impoverished refugees, while the few remaining barely scraped by in their rural estates. Until around the year 1000, new blows came one after another, allowing little respite for recovery. Wars between the Byzantines and Lombards obliterated much of what had survived of Italian civilization. The Arabs conquered a large portion of the Eastern Empire, established themselves in Africa and Spain, threatened France, and even once plundered Rome. The Danes and Normans wreaked havoc in France and England, Sicily, and Southern Italy. Throughout these centuries, life was fraught with dangers and deprivation. Already sorrowful in itself, life grew even more bitter under the dominion of savage superstitions. It was widely believed that even among Christians, the vast majority were destined for hell. People felt perpetually surrounded by evil spirits and vulnerable to the machinations of wizards and witches. Life had lost all joy for everyone, except for those who managed to retain, albeit in fleeting moments, a childlike carefree spirit. The collective suffering heightened the intensity of religious sentiment. Life here on earth held meaning only as a pilgrimage to the celestial city; in this sublunary world, nothing could possess value except unwavering virtue, which ultimately leads a person to eternal bliss. In their great days, the Greeks found joy and beauty in the everyday world. Empedocles, addressing his fellow citizens, proclaimed: "Friends, you who dwell on the acropolis of the great golden city of Akragas, you who are concerned with noble deeds, you who provide shelter for honorable strangers, you who know not vice—greetings to you!" In later times, up until the Renaissance, people lost this simple happiness in the visible world and turned their hopes to the invisible. The place of Akragas in their affections was taken by the Golden Jerusalem. When earthly happiness finally returned, the sharpness of longing for another world gradually diminished. The words on people's lips remained the same, but they were no longer spoken with the same profound sincerity.

In setting out to elucidate the origins and significance of Catholic philosophy, I found myself compelled to devote much more space to general history than had been necessary in discussions of ancient or modern philosophy. Catholic philosophy, by its nature, is a philosophy of the institution of the Catholic Church; whereas modern philosophy, even in its branches far removed from orthodoxy, primarily engages with issues rooted in Christian perspectives on moral laws and Catholic doctrines concerning the relationship between church and state. Greco-Roman paganism knew nothing of that dual obligation to which Christians have been bound from the very beginning—to God and to Caesar, or, to express the same thought in political terms, to church and state.

The issues arising from this dual obligation were largely resolved in practice before philosophers formulated the necessary theories. This process unfolded in two distinctly different phases: the first before the fall of the Western Empire, and the second afterward. The efforts of many generations of bishops, reaching a pinnacle in the work of St. Ambrose, laid the foundation for St. Augustine's political philosophy. This was followed by barbarian invasions, which opened a prolonged period of chaos and increasing ignorance. The era from Boethius to St. Anselm, spanning over five centuries, yielded only one outstanding philosopher—John Scotus; as an Irishman, he largely managed to evade the influences shaping the rest of the Western world. Yet, despite the lack of philosophers, this period was by no means one in which intellectual development ceased entirely. The chaos presented urgent practical problems that were resolved through the institutions and methods of thought predominant in scholastic philosophy, which retain considerable relevance even in our time. These institutions and methods were not introduced into the world by theorists, but rather created by practitioners amid the tumult of conflict. The moral reform of the church, realized in the eleventh century as a direct prologue to scholastic philosophy, was a reaction against the growing entanglement of the church in the feudal system. To understand the scholastics, we must understand Hildebrand, and to comprehend Hildebrand, we need some grasp of the misfortunes against which he fought. We cannot overlook the significance of the foundation of the Holy Roman Empire and its influence on European thought.

Thus, in the following pages, the reader will encounter many facts of church and political history, the significance of which for the development of philosophical thought may not be immediately apparent. Providing some context for this history is all the more necessary because it pertains to a dark period that remains unfamiliar even to many who are well-versed in both ancient and modern history. Few philosophers (in the specialized sense of the word) have had as profound an impact on the development of philosophical thought as St. Ambrose, Charlemagne, and Hildebrand. Therefore, characterizing what is essential to these individuals and their time is an integral part of any competent work dedicated to our theme.