Scholastics

Franciscan Scholastics

The Franciscans, as a whole, could not boast the same impeccable orthodoxy as the Dominicans. A sharp rivalry divided the two orders, and the Franciscans were disinclined to acknowledge the authority of St. Thomas. The three most significant Franciscan philosophers were Roger Bacon, Duns Scotus, and William of Ockham. Also worthy of mention are St. Bonaventure and Matthew of Aquasparta.

Roger Bacon (circa 1214 — circa 1294) did not enjoy a particularly favorable reputation among his contemporaries, yet in the modern era, he received much more praise than he truly deserved. Bacon was not so much a philosopher in the narrow sense but a universally educated individual with a special passion for mathematics and science. In Bacon's time, science was intertwined with alchemy, and it was also thought to be associated with black magic; Bacon frequently found himself in trouble due to suspicions of heresy and sorcery. In 1257, St. Bonaventure, the general of the Franciscan order, placed him under supervision in Paris and forbade him from publishing his works. Nevertheless, while this ban was still in effect, the papal legate in England, Guy de Foulques, commanded Bacon to present his philosophical system for the benefit of the Pope, contrary to the existing orders. In compliance with this directive, Bacon wrote three books in a remarkably short time: "Opus Majus," "Opus Minus," and "Opus Tertium." These works apparently made a good impression, and in 1268, Bacon was permitted to return to Oxford, from which he had been exiled to a sort of imprisonment in Paris. However, nothing could teach Bacon to behave quietly. He scornfully ridiculed all contemporary pillars of learning, particularly attacking translators from Greek and Arabic, asserting that they were utterly ignorant individuals. In 1271, Bacon wrote "Compendium Studii Philosophiae," targeting the ignorance of the clergy. This did not enhance his popularity among his peers, and in 1278, the general of the order condemned his writings, leading to Bacon's imprisonment, in which he spent fourteen years. He was released in 1292, but soon thereafter, he passed away.

Bacon possessed encyclopedic knowledge, but it was not systematized. Unlike most philosophers of his time, he held experience in high regard and illustrated its significance with the example of the theory of rainbows. His writings contain much useful material on geography. Columbus read this portion of his work, which undoubtedly influenced him. Bacon was an excellent mathematician; he cited the sixth and ninth books of Euclid. He explored the problem of perspective, following Arabic sources. He considered logic a futile pursuit; conversely, he valued alchemy enough to write about it.

To provide insight into the breadth of Bacon's views and his method, I will summarize individual sections of his "Opus Majus." Bacon asserts that there are four causes of ignorance. First, the reverence for unfounded and unworthy authority. (Since this work was written for the Pope, Bacon cautiously states that this does not refer to the Church.) Second, the influence of habit. Third, the judgments of the ignorant crowd. (By the ignorant crowd, Bacon likely meant all his contemporaries except himself.) Fourth, the concealment of one's ignorance behind the mask of undeniable wisdom. From these four maladies, of which the fourth is the worst, all human miseries arise.

In supporting any assertion, it is erroneous to argue based on the wisdom of our ancestors, habit, or popular consensus. To bolster his perspective, Bacon cites Seneca, Cicero, Avicenna, Averroes, Adelard of Bath, St. Jerome, and St. John Chrysostom. Clearly, Bacon believed that referencing these authorities sufficed as proof that we should not venerate authority.

Bacon harbored great but not unbounded respect for Aristotle. "Only Aristotle and his followers have earned the title of philosopher in the judgment of all wise men." Like almost all his contemporaries, Bacon employs the designation "the Philosopher" when referring to Aristotle; yet even the Stagirite, he asserts, did not reach the limits of human wisdom. After him, "the king and leader of philosophy" was Avicenna, although he too failed to fully grasp the theory of rainbows, as he did not understand its ultimate cause, which, according to the Book of Genesis, lies in the dispersion of water vapors. (Nonetheless, this does not prevent Bacon from enthusiastically citing Avicenna when he himself approaches the discussion of the rainbow.) Throughout Bacon's works, there are statements that lean towards orthodoxy, such as the assertion that true wisdom is found solely in Scripture as interpreted by canon law and philosophy. However, Bacon's voice sounds more sincere when he claims that there is nothing reprehensible in seeking knowledge from pagans; besides Avicenna and Averroes, he frequently cites Al-Farabi and occasionally Al-Bumuzar and other authors. Al-Bumuzar is referenced to demonstrate that mathematics was known before the Flood to Noah and his sons; it seems that this serves in Bacon's view as an example of what we can learn from the infidels. Bacon lavishes praise on mathematics as the only reliable (aside from revelation) source of knowledge and a necessary tool for astronomy and astrology.

Following Averroes, Bacon asserts that the active intellect is a substance essentially separate from the soul. To support this view, which contradicts St. Thomas’s perspective, Bacon also cites various eminent theologians, including Grosseteste, the Bishop of Lincoln. The passages in Aristotle that seemingly contradict this view, Bacon states, result from erroneous translation. He cites Plato not from the original text but from second-hand sources—either Cicero or even from third-hand sources, such as the Arabic commentaries of Porphyry. This does not imply that Bacon holds a high regard for Porphyry, whose doctrine of universals he describes as "childish."

In modern times, Bacon has been praised for asserting that experience, as a source of knowledge, surpasses argument. Undoubtedly, Bacon's interests and scientific method greatly distinguish him from typical scholastics. His inclination towards encyclopedism aligns him with Arab thinkers, who undoubtedly influenced him more deeply than most other Christian philosophers. Arab thinkers, like Bacon, were interested in science and believed in magic and astrology, whereas Christians regarded magic as a sinful pursuit and astrology as deception. Bacon is indeed striking in his stark contrast to other Christian philosophers of the Middle Ages, but he exerted weak influence on his contemporaries, and in my view, his philosophy was not as scientific as it is sometimes claimed. English authors assert that Bacon invented gunpowder, but this claim is undoubtedly baseless.

St. Bonaventure (1221—1274), the very individual who, as general of the Franciscan order, prohibited Bacon from publishing his works, was a man of an entirely different character. Bonaventure adhered to the tradition of St. Anselm, whose ontological proof he supported. He viewed the new Aristotelianism as a current fundamentally hostile to Christianity. He believed in the existence of Platonic ideas, the complete knowledge of which, however, is granted only to God. In Bonaventure's writings, Augustine is constantly cited, while references to Arab thinkers and the philosophers of pagan antiquity are very rare.

Matthew of Aquasparta (circa 1235—1302) was a follower of Bonaventure but less untouched by the influence of new philosophy. Matthew of Aquasparta was a Franciscan and became a cardinal; he opposed St. Thomas from Augustinian positions. However, Aristotle had already become "the Philosopher" for him; he constantly cites him. In the writings of Matthew of Aquasparta, Avicenna is frequently mentioned; St. Anselm and Pseudo-Dionysius are respectfully cited; yet the highest authority in his eyes is St. Augustine. We must, he asserts, find a middle path between Plato and Aristotle. The ideas of Plato represent "the grossest error": they claim wisdom but lack knowledge. On the other hand, Aristotle is also mistaken: he asserts knowledge but lacks wisdom. Our knowledge, concludes Matthew of Aquasparta, is provoked by both lower and higher factors—external objects and the ideal intellect.

The polemic of the Franciscans against Aquinas continued with Duns Scotus (circa 1270—1308). He was born either in Scotland or in Ulster, joined the Franciscan order in Oxford, and spent his final years in Paris. In opposition to St. Thomas, Duns Scotus defended the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, and in this matter, he garnered support from the University of Paris and eventually the entire Catholic Church. Duns Scotus is an Augustinian, but in a less extreme form than Bonaventure or even Matthew of Aquasparta; the disagreements of Duns Scotus, like those of these two philosophers, with St. Thomas result from a greater infusion of Platonism (permeating through Augustine) in his philosophy.

Duns Scotus discusses, for example, the question: "Can a traveler arrive at exact and pure truth through natural means with the aid of his reason, if he does not receive special illumination from the uncreated light?" He answers this question negatively. He supports his view in his introductory argument solely with quotations from St. Augustine; the only difficulty he finds in the text (Romans 1:20) states: "For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse."

Duns Scotus was a moderate realist. He believed in free will and exhibited a tendency toward Pelagianism. Scotus asserted that being coincides with essence. His primary interest lay in the evident, specifically those kinds of things that can be known without proof. There are three such kinds: 1) principles known by themselves; 2) things known through experience; 3) our own actions. However, without divine light, we cannot know anything.

Most Franciscans preferred to follow Duns Scotus rather than Thomas Aquinas. Scotus argued that since there is no distinction between existence and essence, the "principle of individuation"—that which makes one thing distinct from another—must reside in form rather than matter. The "principle of individuation" was one of the significant issues in scholastic philosophy. This question, in various forms, has remained problematic up to the present day. Setting aside the specific formulations of individual authors, we might be able to express it as follows.

Among the properties of an individual thing, some are essential, while others are secondary; secondary properties are those that a thing can lose without losing its identity, such as a person wearing a hat. The question then arises: if individual things belong to the same kind, do they always differ in essence, or can the essence in both things be entirely the same? St. Thomas held the latter view regarding material substances and the former regarding immaterial substances. Duns Scotus, however, maintained that two distinct individual things always differ in essence. St. Thomas's view was based on a theory positing that pure matter consists of indistinguishable particles that differ only in their spatial arrangement. Thus, a human, consisting of mind and body, can only differ physically from another human by the spatial position of his body. (Theoretically, this is possible with twins who look alike as two drops of water.) In contrast, Duns Scotus contends that if things are distinct from one another, they must differ in some qualitative characteristics. Clearly, this perspective is closer to Platonism than to that of St. Thomas.

This problem must undergo various stages of development before we can articulate it in the terms of modern philosophy. The first step, undertaken by Leibniz, involved discarding the distinction between essential and secondary properties, which, like much of what the scholastics borrowed from Aristotle, proves unrealistic upon any attempt at precise formulation. Thus, instead of "essence," we arrive at "all propositions that will be true regarding a given thing." (In general, however, the thing's position in space and time remains excluded.) Leibniz insists that in this sense, two things cannot be entirely identical; this is his principle of the "identity of indiscernibles." This principle has faced criticism from physicists who argue that two particles of matter can differ only by their position in space and time—a view complicated by the theory of relativity, which reduces space and time to relations.

The modernization of the problem requires yet another step, namely, the need to also depart from the concept of "substance." When this is done, the "thing" must transform into a collection of qualities, for any core of pure "thingness" will have vanished. From this, it seemingly follows that if we reject "substance," we are compelled to adopt a view more akin to that of Scotus than to Aquinas. However, this leads to significant difficulties concerning space and time. I touched upon this issue, as I understand it, in the chapter "Proper Names" of my book "Inquiry into Meaning and Truth."

William of Ockham is the most significant scholastic after St. Thomas. The circumstances of his life are poorly known. He was born, it seems, between 1290 and 1300, and died on April 10, though the year—whether 1349 or 1350—remains uncertain. (The "Black Death" ravaged Europe in 1349, making this date more plausible.) Most authors assert that he was born in Ockham, located in Surrey, but Delisle Berne prefers Ockham in Yorkshire. William of Ockham studied at Oxford and later in Paris, where he was initially a student and later a rival of Duns Scotus. Ockham became embroiled in the conflict between the Franciscan order and Pope John XXII, which arose over the issue of the ideal of poverty. The Pope persecuted the Spirituals, supported by Michael of Cesena, the order's general. However, there was a system whereby property bestowed upon the brotherhood of the order was transferred to the Pope, who allowed them to use it without falling into the sin of ownership. John XXII ended this arrangement by demanding that Franciscans accept the principle of open ownership. This sparked a rebellion among the majority of the order, led by Michael of Cesena. Ockham, summoned by the Pope to Avignon to respond to accusations of heretical interpretations of the dogma of transubstantiation, sided with Michael of Cesena, as did another prominent figure, Marsilius of Padua. All three were excommunicated in 1328, but they managed to escape from Avignon and seek refuge with Emperor Louis. Louis was one of two claimants to the imperial title; he was the one supported by Germany, while the other was backed by the Pope. The Pope excommunicated Louis, but he appealed to a General Council. The Pope himself was accused of heresy.

It is said that when meeting the Emperor, Ockham remarked, "Defend me with the sword, and I will defend you with the pen." In any case, Ockham and Marsilius of Padua settled in Munich under the Emperor's protection, where they penned their politically significant treatises. What became of Ockham after the Emperor's death in 1338 is uncertain. Some say he reconciled with the Church, but this assertion seems unlikely.

By this time, the Empire had already lost the stature it held during the Hohenstaufen era; the Papacy, despite its continuous growth in claims, no longer commanded the same respect. Boniface VIII relocated the papal residence to Avignon at the beginning of the fourteenth century, placing the Pope in political dependence on the French king. The Empire fell even lower; it could no longer claim even a semblance of universal dominion due to the rising power of France and England; on the other hand, the Pope's sycophancy toward the French king also undermined the basis for his claims to universal supremacy in secular matters. Thus, the conflict between the Pope and the Emperor effectively became a conflict between France and Germany. During the reign of Edward III, England waged war with France and was therefore allied with Germany, which caused England to adopt an anti-papal stance. The Pope's enemies demanded the convening of a General Council—the only ecclesiastical body whose authority could be considered above that of the Pope.

The nature of the opposition to the Pope at this time changed. Rather than merely supporting the Emperor, as had been the case previously, it now acquired a democratic resonance, especially regarding issues of ecclesiastical governance. This lent the opposition new strength, which ultimately led to the Reformation.

Despite the fact that Dante (1265—1321) was a great innovator as a poet, as a thinker he lagged somewhat behind his time. His book "On Monarchy" is written from a Ghibelline perspective and would have been more timely about a hundred years earlier. Dante considers the Emperor and the Pope to be independent rulers; both, in his view, are established by divine providence. Satan, depicted by Dante in the "Divine Comedy," has three mouths, eternally gnawing on Judas Iscariot, Brutus, and Cassius; all three are equally guilty of betrayal—the first against Christ, Brutus and Cassius against Caesar. Dante's views hold undeniable interest, not only in themselves but also as an expression of the layman's perspective; yet they exerted no influence on his contemporaries and were hopelessly outdated.

Conversely, Marsilius of Padua (1270—1342) initiated a new form of opposition to the papacy, wherein the emperor was primarily assigned a role of ceremonial honor. Marsilius was a close friend of William of Ockham, whom he influenced in the development of political thought. As a political thinker, Marsilius holds greater significance than Ockham. He asserts that legislative power belongs to the majority of the people, and that the majority has the right to punish rulers. Marsilius extends the principle of popular sovereignty to the Church, incorporating laypersons into its governance. The system proposed by Marsilius involves convening local assemblies of the populace, including lay members, who must elect representatives to ecumenical councils. The right to excommunicate and to provide authoritative interpretations of Scripture should belong solely to the ecumenical council, thus allowing all believers a voice in doctrinal matters. The Church must hold no secular power; excommunication cannot occur without the consent of civil authorities; the pope cannot possess any special authority.

Ockham did not venture as far as Marsilius but developed a thoroughly democratic system for electing the ecumenical council. The conciliar movement reached the peak of its development in the early fifteenth century, when it was necessary to resolve the Great Schism. However, upon accomplishing this task, the conciliar movement began to decline. Its original perspective, as evidenced by Marsilius, differed from the one later adopted by the Protestants in theory. The Protestants called for the recognition of the right to personal judgment and were unwilling to submit to the ecumenical council. They insisted that religious belief was not a matter to be decided by an authority-laden governing apparatus. Marsilius, on the other hand, consistently sought to safeguard the unity of Catholic doctrine, desiring that this aim be achieved through democratic means rather than papal absolutism. In practice, most Protestants, when they came to power, simply replaced the pope with a king, rendering themselves powerless to secure both personal freedom of judgment and a democratic system for resolving doctrinal questions. Yet, in their opposition to the pope, they managed to draw upon the doctrines of the conciliar movement. The only scholastic preferred by Luther was Ockham. It is noteworthy that a significant portion of the Protestants continued to adhere to the doctrine of personal judgment even where Protestantism became the state religion. This constituted the main point of contention between the Independents and Presbyterians during the English Civil War.

Ockham's political writings are presented in the style of philosophical debate; he advances arguments "for" and "against" various theses, sometimes reaching no definitive conclusion. We are accustomed to a more direct type of political propaganda, but in Ockham's time, the form he chose was likely quite effective.

A few examples will serve to illustrate Ockham’s method and perspective. He authored an extensive treatise titled "Eight Questions Concerning the Authority of the Pope." The first question addresses whether one individual may possess supreme authority in both the Church and the state. The second question asks whether secular authority derives directly from God or not. The third question inquires whether the pope has the right to grant secular jurisdiction to the emperor and other rulers. The fourth question considers whether the election of the German king by electors grants him full power. The fifth and sixth questions explore what rights the Church acquires through the bishops’ authority to anoint kings. The seventh question examines whether an act of coronation is valid if performed by an unworthy archbishop. The eighth question asks whether the election of the German king by electors confers upon him the title of emperor. All of these were burning questions of practical politics in Ockham's time.

Another treatise addresses the issue of whether a ruler can seize church property without the pope’s permission. The raising of this question aimed to justify the actions of Edward III, who taxed the clergy to cover the expenses of his war with France. Let us not forget that Edward was an ally of the emperor.

The next treatise, "Discussion on the Marriage Case," concerns whether the emperor was entitled to marry his cousin. We see that Ockham made every effort to merit the protection of the imperial sword.

Now it is time to turn to Ockham’s purely philosophical views. This topic is dedicated to the splendid study by Ernest E. Moody, "The Logic of William of Ockham." My subsequent characterization is largely based on this research, which presents a somewhat unusual yet, in my opinion, entirely accurate perspective. Authors of works on the history of philosophy tend to interpret the thinkers they study in light of the subsequent development of philosophical thought, but this method is generally erroneous. Ockham has been viewed as a philosopher marking the collapse of scholasticism, a precursor to Descartes, Kant, or any other philosopher particularly favored among representatives of modern philosophy by various historians. According to Moody, a viewpoint I wholeheartedly share, all of this is fundamentally mistaken. Ockham, asserts Moody, saw his primary task as restoring pure Aristotle, liberated from both Augustinian and Arab influences. This same goal was largely pursued by St. Thomas, the difference being that the Franciscans, as we have seen, adhered much more closely to St. Augustine than St. Thomas did. Moody argues that Ockham's evaluation by new historians has been distorted by a desire to discover a gradual transition from scholastic philosophy to modern philosophy; this has compelled historians to attribute doctrines of modernity to Ockham, when in fact he was merely an interpreter of Aristotle.

Ockham is most famously known for an aphorism that is absent from his works but nonetheless has come to be called "Ockham's Razor." This aphorism states: "Entities should not be multiplied without necessity." Although Ockham did not utter this exact phrase, he expressed a thought leaning toward the same sentiment: "It is futile to do with more that which can be done with less." In other words, if in a particular science everything can be explained without positing some hypothetical entity, then there is no need to posit it. I have personally witnessed the remarkable fruitfulness of this principle in logical analysis.

In logic (but seemingly not in metaphysics), Ockham was a nominalist; the nominalists of the fifteenth century regarded him as the founder of their school. Ockham believed that the supporters of Scotus misinterpreted Aristotle, and that this misinterpretation was due partly to the influence of Augustine, partly to Avicenna, and partly to a more ancient source—the treatise by Porphyry on Aristotle's "Categories." In this treatise, Porphyry raised three questions: 1) Are genera and species substances? 2) Are they material or immaterial? 3) If material, do they coincide with sensory objects themselves, or do they exist apart from them? In posing these questions, Porphyry inextricably linked them with Aristotle's "Categories," which led to a metaphysical interpretation of the "Organon" in the Middle Ages. Aquinas attempted to free minds from this misconception, but Duns Scotus reinstated it. Consequently, logic and theory of knowledge became dependent on metaphysics and theology. Ockham set about the task of separating them once again.

For Ockham, logic serves as a tool of natural philosophy, which can exist independently of metaphysics. Logic is the analysis of discursive science; science deals with things, whereas logic does not concern itself with things as such. Things are individual, while universals reside among terms; logic studies universals, while science employs them without discussion. Logic is occupied with terms or concepts, examining them not as physical states but as meanings. The statement "Man is a species" is not a logical proposition, for it necessitates the knowledge of man. Logic deals with things created by the mind within the mind itself, which cannot exist except through the existence of reason. A concept is a natural sign; a word is a conventional sign. It is essential to distinguish when we speak of a word as a thing and when we use it as a meaning; otherwise, we may fall into sophisms such as: "Man is a species; Socrates is a man; therefore, Socrates is a species."

Terms that refer to the things themselves are termed "terms of the first intention"; terms that refer to those terms are called "terms of the second intention." Science employs terms of the first intention, while logic utilizes those of the second. The peculiarity of metaphysical terms lies in their ability to denote both the things signified by words of the first intention and those represented by words of the second intention. There are six metaphysical terms: being, thing, something, one, true, and good. The uniqueness of these terms is that they may be predicated of one another. However, in logic, one can manage without them.

Things are known, not the forms generated by the mind; these forms are not what is known but rather what facilitates the knowledge of things. Universals (in logic) are merely terms or concepts that affirm something about many other terms or concepts. Universal, genus, species—these are all terms of the second intention and, therefore, cannot denote things. However, since 'one' and 'being' are reversible terms, if a universal were to exist in reality, it would be a term referring to a specific individual thing. A universal is simply a sign for many things. In this regard, Ockham agrees with Aquinas and differs from Averroes, Avicenna, and the Augustinians. Both Ockham and Aquinas assert that only individual things, individual minds, and acts of knowledge exist in reality. It is true that both Aquinas and Ockham allow for universale ante rem, but solely to explain the creation of the world; the idea of creation must have been in the mind of God before He could bring it into existence. Yet, this allowance pertains to theology rather than the explanation of human knowledge, which deals only with universale post rem. In explaining human knowledge, Ockham never concedes that universals are things. He claims that Socrates’ views align with those of Plato, but not because there exists a third thing called resemblance. Resemblance represents a term of the second intention and is a product of our reason. (All these thoughts are magnificent.)

Propositions regarding events possible in the future cannot, according to Ockham, be deemed either true or false. He makes no attempts to reconcile this view with divine omnipotence. In this matter, as in all others, Ockham completely separates logic from metaphysics and theology.

A few examples of Ockham’s reasoning may be useful for understanding his views. He poses the question: “Is that which is known through understanding first, in terms of priority of emergence, the sole thing?”
Argument against: The first and proper object of knowledge is the universal.
Argument for: The object of sense and the object of knowledge coincide; thus, the first object of sense is a singular one.
Thus, the initial formulation of the question remains valid. (Evidently because both arguments appear compelling.)

Ockham continues: “The thing existing outside the soul and not being a sign is understood first through such knowledge (that is, knowledge of the singular); therefore, the singular thing is known first, for all that exists outside the soul is singular.”
Furthermore, Ockham asserts that abstract knowledge always presupposes “intuitive” knowledge (that is, knowledge based on sensory perception), which is evoked by singular things.
Then Ockham enumerates four doubts that may arise in connection with the matter at hand and resolves each of them.
In conclusion, Ockham gives an affirmative answer to his first question, adding that “if one considers not by priority of emergence but by priority of correspondence, the first object will be the universal.”
The question underlying all this reasoning is as follows: Is (or to what extent is) perception the source of our knowledge? Let us not forget that Plato, in the dialogue Theaetetus, rejects the definition of knowledge as perception. It is quite clear that Ockham had no notion of Theaetetus, but had this dialogue been known to him, he would not have agreed with Plato.

To the question: “Do the sensitive soul and the rational soul truly differ in man?” Ockham responds that they do indeed differ in reality, although proving this is not easy. One of his proofs is that we can desire in accordance with our appetite what we reject with our reason; thus, appetite and reason belong to different subjects. Another proof is that the senses are subjective in the sensitive soul but not in the rational soul. Furthermore, the sensitive soul is extended and material, while the rational soul is non-extended and immaterial. Ockham considers four objections against this view—all of a theological nature—and dispels them. Regarding this matter, Ockham adopts a stance perhaps not entirely expected. However, he concurs with St. Thomas and diverges from Averroes in asserting that the reason of all men is individual rather than being something impersonal.

By emphasizing the possibility of studying logic and human knowledge independently of metaphysics and theology, Ockham's work catalyzed scientific inquiry. The Augustinians, he claimed, initially declared things to be unknowable and people incapable of rational thought, and then added light from infinity through which knowledge became possible; in this, they erred. In this regard, Ockham agreed with Aquinas, but the difference between them lay solely in their emphasis: Aquinas was primarily a theologian, while Ockham, as far as it concerned logic, was primarily a secular philosopher.

The position occupied by Ockham instilled a sense of confidence in researchers tackling specific problems, such as his immediate successor Nicholas of Oresme (who died in 1382), who studied planetary theory. Nicholas of Oresme was in many ways a precursor to Copernicus; he presented both the geocentric and heliocentric theories and asserted that each could explain all the factual data known at the time, making it impossible to determine which was true.

After William Ockham, no great scholastic emerged. The next period for great philosophers commenced in the age of the late Renaissance.