Skip to main content

What is a substance?






I'm offering a free history-of-philosophy lesson today.


One of the key questions of the early modern era in the western metaphysical tradition was: what is substance?


The word "substance" literally means "standing under." Think of it, in the simplest sense, as a thing about which other things are said, the subject of a sentence rather than the predicate or object. Thus, we say "the ball is red." We don't typically say, "redness includes the surface of this ball." The ball is the subject of the sentence because we think of IT as the substance, and various properties or relations attach to it.

But early modern philosophy involved a search for what is a true substance, the suspicion that the ordinary language idea of a subject (I just evoked) is not enough.

In Descartes' view, there are only three real substances in the world. There is God, there is matter, and there is mind. Each of these is defined by one attribute. God is defined by perfection, matter by extension, and mind by thought.

You might contrast this view with that of George Berkeley, who narrowed the list of substances down to two: God and mind. Or to Spinoza, who narrowed it down to only one -- matter and mind become attributes of Nature, otherwise known as God.

This gets us to the answer to our question in the headline.


Descartes saw himself as a thinking thing, that is, he saw himself as a manifestation of the substance Mind. He eventually decides (after his exercise in methodical doubt is done) that he can believe his body also exists, because God would not trick him about something like that. And God must exist because nonexistence would be an imperfection, and the essence, the defining attribute, of God is perfection.


But the question of how Descartes' mind interacts with his body becomes a great mystery. And that will do it for today.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Story About Coleridge

This is a quote from a memoir by Dorothy Wordsworth, reflecting on a trip she took with two famous poets, her brother, William Wordsworth, and their similarly gifted companion, Samuel Taylor Coleridge.   We sat upon a bench, placed for the sake of one of these views, whence we looked down upon the waterfall, and over the open country ... A lady and gentleman, more expeditious tourists than ourselves, came to the spot; they left us at the seat, and we found them again at another station above the Falls. Coleridge, who is always good-natured enough to enter into conversation with anybody whom he meets in his way, began to talk with the gentleman, who observed that it was a majestic waterfall. Coleridge was delighted with the accuracy of the epithet, particularly as he had been settling in his own mind the precise meaning of the words grand, majestic, sublime, etc., and had discussed the subject with William at some length the day before. “Yes, sir,” says Coleridge, “it is a majesti

Searle: The Chinese Room

John Searle has become the object of accusations of improper conduct. These accusations even have some people in the world of academic philosophy saying that instructors in that world should try to avoid teaching Searle's views. That is an odd contention, and has given rise to heated exchanges in certain corners of the blogosphere.  At Leiter Reports, I encountered a comment from someone describing himself as "grad student drop out." GSDO said: " This is a side question (and not at all an attempt to answer the question BL posed): How important is John Searle's work? Are people still working on speech act theory or is that just another dead end in the history of 20th century philosophy? My impression is that his reputation is somewhat inflated from all of his speaking engagements and NYRoB reviews. The Chinese room argument is a classic, but is there much more to his work than that?" I took it upon myself to answer that on LR. But here I'll tak

Five Lessons from the Allegory of the Cave

  Please correct me if there are others. But it seems to be there are five lessons the reader is meant to draw from the story about the cave.   First, Plato  is working to devalue what we would call empiricism. He is saying that keeping track of the shadows on the cave wall, trying to make sense of what you see there, will NOT get you to wisdom. Second, Plato is contending that reality comes in levels. The shadows on the wall are illusions. The solid objects being passed around behind my back are more real than their shadows are. BUT … the world outside the the cave is more real than that — and the sun by which that world is illuminated is the top of the hierarchy. So there isn’t a binary choice of real/unreal. There are levels. Third, he equates realness with knowability.  I  only have opinions about the shadows. Could I turn around, I could have at least the glimmerings of knowledge. Could I get outside the cave, I would really Know. Fourth, the parable assigns a task to philosophers