The synonymy principle emphasises the likeness between the form in the mind of the artisan and the form inherent in the object. By contrast, the present chapter examines the differences between them, and argues that the form inherent in the object fails to be a principle of unqualified and qualified coming-to-be. Two theses in particular will be challenged. The first is that the form is transmitted from the mind to the object and, as a result, the form of an artefact is potential, because this is the status of the form in the mind in the artisan. The second thesis is that artefacts are not substances because their forms are not principles of changes.
I shall begin by focusing on the form in the mind of the artisan and argue that the identification of it with art amounts to ascribing it the role of efficient cause. I shall then show that as the efficient cause the form in the mind of the artisan is responsible for both unqualified and qualified comings-to-be. This mental form is identified with art for two related reasons: first, because it is an efficient cause; second, because it is the only form that is an efficient cause, in contrast to the form inherent in the artefact. In the second half of the chapter, I shall turn to the form inherent in the object, arguing against the transmission theory according to which the form in the mind of the artisan is transmitted to the object. The form in the object, then, lacks the efficient causal role played by the form in the mind of the artisan. Since the form in the object is not an efficient cause, artefacts lack a principle comparable to the heart in animals with hearts. Forms of artefacts are therefore ‘inert’, and they are not principle of changes, but, as I shall show, this does not provide us with the most immediate reason why artefacts are not substances. Even considering that inert forms, by failing to be efficient causes of unqualified coming-to-be and thus disabling the object to reproduce, are also intermittent, I shall show that eternity in species does not contradict any stated criterion of substantiality.
5.1 Art as the Form in the Mind of the Artisan
In Phys. 2.1, Aristotle’s references to concepts such as motion, change and impulse strongly suggests that art and nature are conceived of as efficient causes. Throughout Met. Θ, art is constantly presented as a principle of change and/or motion. In Met. Λ 3, nature and art are specifically introduced as efficient causes, as opposed to other kinds of causes, and the difference between them is once again defined in terms of the internality and externality of the principle: ‘While art is a principle in something else, nature is a principle in the thing itself (for man begets man), and the other causes are privations of these’ (1070a7–8).
As we have seen, Met. Z 7–9 describe the relationship between the artisan and the object. The synonymy exists between the object (because of its form) and the artisan (because of the form in their mind (i.e. the art)). The end of Z 9 states that in all substantial cases – as opposed to the case of accidents – there must be a substance in actuality existing beforehand. If ousia refers to a composite, rather than a form, and the actual pre-existing thing is of the same kind as the object, the substance existing beforehand in actuality is rather the artisan. One might therefore object that the mover is not the art but the artisan, or, at the very least, wonder what role the artisan plays.Footnote 1 The artisan is an efficient cause only insofar as they possess the relevant art or form, which is an instance of the efficient causality of the soul: the primary one in the case of the soul of an artisan. Certainly, art must be possessed by a soul or an artisan, but it is still the primary efficient cause of artefacts. As I shall argue, there is a deeper sense in which art is the efficient cause. Art is not only the primary efficient cause when we compare the artisan and the art, but it becomes the only efficient cause when we compare form1 and form2.
5.1.1 Art as Efficient Cause of Qualified Coming-to-Be
The synonymy principle emphasises the likeness between the form in the mind of the artisan and the form inherent in the object. As we saw in Chapter 4.3, form1 in the mind of the artisan and form2 in the object are of the same species and amount to two modes of being of the same form. This form is ultimately form2, since form1 is merely form2 insofar as it is thought. Here, I want to emphasise the difference between the two forms in such a way as to highlight specific traits of the form inherent in artefacts. I shall first address form1, focusing in particular on Aristotle’s identification of form1 with art, and stress that, since art is presented as the efficient cause, form1 is thus attributed an efficient-causal role.
‘From art come-to-be the things whose form is in the soul’, states Aristotle in Met. Z 7, 1032a32–b1. The starting point of an instance of artisanal production is the form in the mind of the artisan. As we have seen (Chapter 4.1.1), Aristotle identifies this form not only with some notion or knowledge, but also with art. I would now like to stress that the identification of the form in the mind with art is due to the fact that the form in the mind plays the role more clearly attributed to art (i.e. the efficient causal role). For this reason, special attention must be paid to the first chapter of the second book of the Physics and to Met. Θ, where Aristotle contraposes art to nature, as principles of motion and rest.
Art is an external efficient cause of both unqualified and qualified comings-to-be. Although the artisan being external to the house is quite intuitive, Aristotle also proposes ways in which art is external as efficient cause of qualified comings-to-be. Not only does the first definition of nature in Phys. 2.1 mention changes such as locomotion and growth, but the chapter also presents the example of a couch made of stones that might in some sense undergo change. This example was, however, presented as being misleading. In order to clarify further what art does as an efficient cause of qualified comings-to-be, as well to illustrate the differences (and yet apparent similarities) with the case of natural substances, I shall employ the following artefacts: puppets, marionettes, mechanical puppets and mechanical automatons.Footnote 2 Puppets represent a case that is very similar to the aforementioned case of the doctor healing themselves. Puppets seem to possess an internal principle, since the principle of their movement is located spatially inside of them. However, puppets have an external source of movement that also dictates the range of motions they can perform. The mover (i.e. the hand of the operator) does not move the puppet qua puppet. Marionettes most obviously possess an external principle of motion whose range is entirely dependent on the operator. They do not present the same risk of misleading us as puppets do: the hand is not even spatially inside the object. In the case of mechanical puppets, by contrast, although the range of possible movements is determined internally by its material structure, the source of the motions is external. Someone on the outside needs to pull the string in order for the puppet to execute its movements. Mechanical automatons represent the case that is most similar to living beings. The range of movements is fixed internally, and the principle of their movements is internal as well. Aristotle does not seem to consider or to know about mechanical automatons: in fact, to explain that nature in the organism operates without being aware of the goals towards which it is advancing, he mentions a self-building ship (Phys. 2.8, 199b28–30).Footnote 3 Of course, examples such as marionettes and puppets concern only the kind of change that we would call locomotion, but they still give a rather good representation of what it means to have an external principle of qualified coming-to-be. One might imagine different kinds of changes, such as alteration, and the core idea would be the same: for the wall to turn red there needs to be an external agent, since the wall itself does not possess an inner principle through which it can change colour or grow in height, for instance.
Speaking of art as a principle that is in something else qua something else is equivalent to defining art as a dunamis, since, in Met. Θ, Aristotle presents the source of change in something else, or in itself qua something else, as the kuriôs sense of dunamis.Footnote 4 The focal analysis of dunamis in the kuriôs sense as the capacity for change introduces the distinction between rational and non-rational capacities. In the second chapter, arts are mentioned as rational capacities: ‘Therefore, all the arts or the productive branches of knowledge are potentialities, for they are principles able to produce change in another or qua another.’ Arts and productive branches of knowledgeFootnote 5 are rational capacities present in what has a soul, as well as in the soul (more specifically, in the rational part of the soul). Arts are dunameis insofar as they are principles found in another thing or in the thing itself qua other. The source of the change is still as much in the soul as it is in cases of a natural change involving a living being, but, in the case of arts, the soul operates as an external principle. Aristotle also presents arts as dunameis, and therefore as principles residing in something else, in the discussion of the ways in which dunamis is said, in Met. Δ 12. The first way in which dunamis is said coincides with the strictest sense of dunamis found in Met. Θ:
Dunamis is spoken of as a principle of movement or change, which is in another thing or in the same thing qua other, for instance, the housebuilding art is a dunamis which is not in the thing built, while the art of healing, which is a dunamis, might be in the man healed, but not in him qua healed. Dunamis then is the principle, in general, of change or movement in another thing or in the same thing qua other, and also the principle of a thing’s being moved by another thing or by itself qua other.
Dunamis is defined as a principle (in something else or in the thing itself qua other) of movement and change. The first line seems to refer to instances of qualified coming-to-be (metabolês ê kinêseôs), specifically to locomotion and other unspecified changes. However, the examples provided seem to include cases of both qualified and unqualified coming-to-be. Both of the examples involve artefacts, but they differ in that one might be considered a qualified coming-to-be (health), while the other one is an unqualified coming-to-be (house). The health that is restored in the patient is, after all, an attribute of the body,Footnote 6 while the construction of a house represents the genuine coming into existence of some new substance. The case of the health that is restored by a doctor is misleading precisely because it is a qualified coming-to-be: the fact that the product is only an affection of a certain substance allows for the possibility that the principle is indeed internal, but only in the thing qua something else. The case of the house is clearer: since the product is a different, self-contained item, it cannot be the case that the principle of the generation ‘looks’ internal to the object.Footnote 7
Physics 2.1 and the passages from Met. Θ lead to two conclusions. First, art is an efficient cause of both unqualified and qualified comings-to-be. Second, art, as opposed to nature, must involve otherness. Unlike art, nature is not a dunamis in the strictest sense, that is as an external principle.Footnote 8 When Aristotle defines nature in Δ 4, he does not mention dunamis. If nature is a dunamis at all, it must be a dunamis in the broader and more useful sense of the term.Footnote 9 At any rate, the discussion concerning dunamis has confirmed that the crucial difference between art and nature is the otherness implied in art. Art is an external principle precisely because it is in the mind of the artisan, just like the pre-existing form in Met. Z 7. However, it is also presented in terms that are similar to the terms in which nature is introduced in Phys. 2.1: such principles are indeed principles of motion and change. Expressions such as archai gar metablêtikai (1046b3–4), archê kinêseôs ê metabolês (1019a15) and archê metabolês ê kinêseôs (1019a19) strongly suggest that art and nature are presented primarily as efficient causes. Most recent approachesFootnote 10 identify nature qua principle with the efficient cause, because (i) nature is described as hormê (Phys. 2.1, 192b18–19); and (ii) nature is also described as archê kinêtikê. The question is that of the kind of change at issue. The definition provided at the beginning of Phys. 2.1 mentions qualified comings-to-be and is followed by the example of a couch undergoing qualified comings-to-be, but this does not rule out that nature might also be a principle of generation. Indeed, the closer focus on artefacts corresponds to the mention of unqualified coming-to-be. Moreover, in Met. Θ, Aristotle mentions changes and motions before bringing in the examples of housebuilding and healing. Aristotle shifts the focus from qualified coming-to-be to unqualified coming-to-be without any announcement or justification. There are, however, at least two reasons why unqualified coming-to-be is brought up along with the case of artefacts. First, artefacts raise the problem of why living beings possess an inner principle whereas artefacts do not. Phys. 2.1Footnote 11 seems to be dealing more with qualified comings-to-be, but in order to understand the way in which natural things come to possess such a principle, it is crucial to examine unqualified coming-to-be. The focus on unqualified coming-to-be also makes clearer why artefacts do not possess an inner principle for their qualified comings-to-be. Second, qualified comings-to-be better serve the purpose of arguing that nature is an inner principle. Unqualified coming-to-be is more complex and can be misleading to the point that someone could raise the objection that nature too is external. The father is external to the offspring to the same extent as the artisan is external to the house. This objection is valid, given that Aristotle himself at times describes nature as an external cause. For instance, throughout Book Λ, the efficient cause is opposed to matter, form and privation in that it is a pre-existing external cause (whereas matter, form and privation are simultaneously existing and inherent causes): both artificial and natural efficient causes are therefore external. In Met. Δ 1, 1013a7–10, the case that exemplifies the meaning of principle (archê) as a non-inherent cause is that of the father and mother with respect to the son: the paradigmatic case of natural substance is employed here to demonstrate the way in which a principle is non-inherent. In Met. Z 7, Aristotle identifies the moving cause of nature as en allôi (1032a25). How is the externality of the efficient cause supposed to mark the difference between natural and artificial beings if it is, by definition, an external cause? There are indeed two ways of answering this question: one considers the principle as cause of unqualified coming-to-be; the other considers the principle as cause of qualified comings-to-be. The first way is to understand nature as an efficient cause of unqualified coming-to-be as being internal to the species: the father, which is ‘the first which caused the motion from outside (to proton kinêsan exôzen), for of course nothing generates itself’ (GA 2.1, 735a12–14), is an efficient cause of unqualified coming-to-be, yet it is internal to the offspring by being of the same species. With regard to unqualified coming-to-be, in Phys. 2.6, 198a25, Aristotle states that form, end and mover often coincide: the form and the end are the same, while the mover is the same as the form and the end in species. Although such a reading of the internality of nature seems more fitting in light of the example of man begetting a man, it does not tell the other half of the story. The second way is to understand nature as an internal efficient cause of qualified comings-to-be; that is, the soul as an inner mover.Footnote 12 In the case of qualified coming-to-be, one and the same thing could play the role of formal, final and efficient cause, namely the soul. In PA 641a14–32, Aristotle states that the soul is the substantial form, goal and origin of motion; in DA 2.4, 415b8–27, he tells us that it is the soul that is the cause in these three senses. In other words, the reason why the formal and the final causes as well as the efficient cause coincide in living things is because the soul plays all three roles. Thus, a temporary solution concerning artefacts might be the following: with regard to unqualified coming-to-be, the mover is not the same as the form and the end in species; with regard to qualified coming-to-be, the three causal roles are not played by the same thing. The form in the mind of the artisan is the form only insofar as it is the form of the object being thought. The same solution applies to the final cause: the end in the mind of the artisan just is the purpose of the artefact being thought.Footnote 13
5.1.2 Art as Efficient Cause of Unqualified Coming-to-Be
The two perspectives of unqualified coming-to-be and qualified coming-to-be are interconnected. Looking at unqualified coming-to-be is a means of understanding the way in which natural things come to possess an inner principle and artefacts an external one. In other words, there is a relation between the two answers such that the presence or the absence of an inner principle is explicable in terms of how (and if) such a principle could be transmitted. Why do puppets and marionettes require an operator at all? How are we to understand the relationship between the need for an operator and the need for a creator? Does the efficient cause’s externality to the species have any impact on the principle’s externality to the individual outcome? A focus on unqualified coming-to-be alone is required, since it not only helps us to understand the reason why artefacts ultimately lack an internal principle, but it also confirms that art, as an external principle, is to be identified with the pre-existing form of Met. Z 7–8.
Chapter 3 (Section 3.2) presented the salient difference between natural beings and artefacts. Phys. 2.1 establishes that artefacts lack an inner efficient principle of their behaviour. The cases mentioned there of the couch made of stones and the doctor healing themselves are examples of qualified comings-to-be, which are quite consistent with what Aristotle states in the opening lines, when distinguishing between phusei onta and things that are not phusei sunestôta. In fact, phusei onta were those having an internal principle of change and rest with respect to place, growth and decay, or alteration. But what about unqualified coming-to-be? Is generation an instance of internal change? Aristotle does not speak of the generation of a living being as a kind of internal change, but surely speaks of the production of an artefact as a kind of external change:
Similarly with other things which are made: for none of them has the principle of its making in itself, but in some cases, such as that of a house or anything else manufactured, the principle is in something else and external, whilst in others the principle is in the thing, but not in the thing of itself, i.e. when the thing comes-to-be a cause to itself by virtue of concurrence.
The principle in an instance of artificial production is in something other than the thing produced (en allois) and comes from outside of it (exôzen). Aristotle argues that in the case of a house or any other art-product, the principle of production is always in something else and comes from outside, but without telling us where the principle is located: if the form in the mind is art, and art comes from the outside, art is likely to be in the mind of the artisan. Furthermore, he adds that in some other cases of production, the principle is internal merely by virtue of concurrence. This presumably refers to the case of the doctor healing themselves: certainly, the doctor here is, in a sense, in the person who is healed, but merely to be spatially located in something is not to be a genuine inner principle. As already stated, the doctor restores the health of the person who is healed qua doctor, not qua person who is healed. To be a genuine inner principle is to be an internal principle in the thing itself qua what it is. By contrast, to be a principle in something else qua something else means to be a principle that is spatially external to the thing and hence belongs to another object; and if it is not external in a spatial sense, it is nonetheless internal only accidentally (i.e. there is no essential relation between the principle and the patient), since the principle does not pertain to the patient qua patient. The patient and the principle can easily exist in isolation from one another.
Unlike Z 7–9, in which the idea that art is the moving cause is only implied, in Λ, art is specifically introduced as one of the moving causes.Footnote 14 Throughout book Λ, the moving cause is opposed to matter, form and privation in that it is a pre-existing external cause (by contrast, matter, form and privation are simultaneously existing and inherent causes). In Λ 4, the distinction between inherent and external causes provides us with more detailed information:
Health, disease, body: the moving cause is the medical art. Form, disorder of a particular kind, bricks: the moving cause is the building art. Since the moving cause in the case of natural things [is] man from man and in the products of thought [is] the form or its contrary, there will be in a way three causes, in another there are four. For the medical art is in a sense health, and the building art is the form of the house, and man begets man; further, besides these, there is that which as first of all things moves all things.
Aristotle provides two examples of artificial production. The first is health. In this case, the elements or inherent causes are health (form), disease (privation) and body (matter). The external moving cause is medicine (to kinoun iatrikê). The second is a house. Its inherent causes are form, disorder of a particular kind (privation) and bricks (matter), whereas its external moving cause is the building art (to kinoun oikodomikê). At this point, Aristotle distinguishes between the natural and artificial moving causes. In the case of natural beings (en men tois phusikois), the moving cause is illustrated by the example of a man generating a man (anthrôpôi anthrôpos). That Aristotle is also referring here to the synonymy principle is obvious from the fact that, a few lines later, he mentions the formula as we more frequently find it (kai anthrôpos gar anthrôpon gennai). This case is contrasted with the case of things produced by an act of thinking (en de tois apo dianoias), by which artificial objects seem to be meant, since the examples are once again those of medicine and the building art.Footnote 15 To make the distinction between natural and artificial causality clearer, let us take up the mention of the four causes of man from the following chapter:
Just like the cause of man is the elements (fire and earth as matter, and the characteristic form), and further something else external, i.e. the father, and besides these the sun and its oblique course, which are neither matter nor form nor privation of man nor the same in kind [as him], but moving causes.
The formal cause of a man is his form, while his matter is fire and earth.Footnote 16 Consistently with what we have seen so far, the moving cause (the only type of external cause) is the father. Moreover, the father (moving cause) is also said to be of the same kind as the man who is generated (homoeides), in contrast with another moving cause (i.e. the sun), which is external but not synonymous. At this stage, there does not seem to be much of a difference between natural and artificial production. However, ‘in the products of thought’ the moving cause is identified with the form rather than with the artisan. Certainly, as we have already highlighted, the form is moving cause in that it must be possessed by an agent. Aristotle mentions the form as the moving cause instead of the artisan – which would have been more consistent with the first part of the passage, with the case of natural substances in general, with the end of Z 9, and which would better serve to make the point that the efficient cause is external – because the artisan is synonymous not as a whole, but only insofar as they possess the form in their mind (i.e. insofar as they possess the relevant art). Let us employ the distinction between form1 and form2 to better understand this point.Footnote 17 The form in the mind of the artisan (i.e. art) corresponds to form1, whereas the form of the house corresponds to form2. As previously noted, Aristotle conceives of these two forms as being of the same kind. Once again, we are told that health is the medical art and the form of the house is the housebuilding art. In Z 7, 1032b13–14, Aristotle identifies medicine with the form of health, and the art of housebuilding with the form of house; Z 9 states that art is the form; Λ 3, 1070a26–30 repeats that art is ho logos of health. In Λ 4, 1070b28–35, Aristotle still holds this idea. The form in the mind of the artisan is the form of the product insofar as the form of the product is thought. There are indeed two modes of being of the same kind of form: the one in actuality as an object of thought and the other in actuality when the object comes-to-be.Footnote 18 When Aristotle identifies the moving cause with the form, he is not considering form2. This form corresponds well to the Aristotelian account both of form and of the moving cause. Form1 is clearly a form, since it is a formal account that defines the object to be produced. At the same time, form1 is a moving cause as a result of its being possessed by the artisan and, in this sense, it is just as external as the father is to the offspring.
Those instances in which Aristotle identifies the moving cause with the art rather than the artisan are explicable not only by the fact that the artisan is such because of the form, but also by the fact that the form in the mind rather than the form in the object is, consequently, an efficient cause of qualified comings-to-be. This is indeed a deeper sense in which art is a moving cause, deeper, that is, than art’s simply being that in virtue of which the artisan is the moving cause.Footnote 19 Form1 is the only efficient cause in the relationship between the art and the form2, since the latter is not an efficient cause, of either unqualified or qualified comings-to-be. The form in the mind of the artisan is not only external in the same way as the father and his form are external to the offspring, but it is also the only form (or mode of the form) that has an efficient causal role. How does this also come to mean that form2 is a form deprived of efficient causal roles? In the next section, I shall explain how the form of the artificial object, as opposed to art, lacks an efficient causal role. What roles are left for this form is a question that I shall answer in Chapters 6 and 7.
5.2 Against Transmission Theory: How the Form in the Object Is Not an Efficient Cause Explained through Biology
5.2.1 On the Difference between the Semen and the Tools
According to transmission theory, the form in the mind of the artisan is transferred to the object.Footnote 20 If this were the case, there would be form1, but not form2, since form2 would be identical to form1. If the art really were transferred to the object, the form of the object would be an efficient cause too.Footnote 21 Some of the observations that have been made speak against this theory. The previous discussion of the synonymy principle already suggests that the ‘real’ form is the one in the object and that this form is not the same as art, except in account. Here the discussion takes us to Aristotle’s biological works. As we shall see, GA in particular explains that art and nature are similar in that they employ tools, but art differs from nature in that it is external not only to the product, but also to the tools it employs. GA also states that animals carved out of wood have no principle at all: living beings internally possess a principle, and this principle is identified with the pumping (moving) principle (i.e. the heart). Further evidence that art is not simply transferred to the object, and that the form in the object is therefore the same in account as art but does not possess the same ‘powers’ is provided by Aristotle’s clarification that art itself never comes to constitute the product. In GA 1.22, 730b9–15, Aristotle specifies:
For the male does not emit semen at all [in some animals], and in cases where he does this is no part of the resulting embryo; just so nothing departs from the carpenter to the matter of the timbers, nor does any part of the carpenter exist in what he makes, but the shape or the form is, by his agency, enabled in the matter through the motion he sets up.
Nothing departs (aperchetai) from the artisan either to the matter, when he works the material, or to the product, when the object is completed. No part of the artisan’s art is thus present in the object; the form in the object does not come from art, rather it is simply enabled, or springs up (egginetai) from the artisan’s work.Footnote 22 The result is that being by phusis means having a physis, whereas being by technê does not entail having a technê (Phys. 2.1) since technê (i.e. the form in the mind of the artisan) is not transmitted to the product. After all, if the form were transmitted, the housebuilder would not be able to build several houses, but after the first house they would need to regain their knowledge of the form of house. Clearly, this is a significant difference between the form in the mind and certain materials: ‘for they make many things out of the matter, and the form generates only once, but what we observe is that one table is made from one matter, while the man who applies the form, though he is one, makes many tables’ (Met. A 6, 988a2–4). If the form in the mind is transferred from the artisan to the object, the artisan would not be able to make many tables, but just one. Rejecting transmission theory is essential to understanding the similarity in kind between the form of the artefact and the art, as well as the differences in what they can and cannot do.
In first chapter of the second book of GA, Aristotle draws a distinction between art and nature in the context of the coming-to-be of a living being:
for the art is principle and form of the product, but in something else; whereas the movement of nature is in the thing itself, being derived from another possessing the form in actuality.
This passage raises several interesting points. The main one is the comparison between art and nature as principles. On the one hand, art is the principle as efficient cause and the form of the product in thought, and, as such, it is indeed in something other than the object that is produced. On the other, nature is an efficient principle present in the product as well. Aristotle does not simply repeat what he claimed in Λ 3 and in Phys. 2.1 but adds an explanatory detail about natural beings. These beings do, in fact, have a nature2 that is acquired from a numerically distinct being that, in turn, has the same nature1 in actuality. The reason why the semen already has the motion of nature internally (F2 in potentiality) is that it comes from a being of the same kind. As I argued in Section 4.3.3 of Chapter 4, the semen can also be compared with the tools in artistic production in that it allows for form2 to be potentially. The important difference is that the artisan (or the art) confers a motion that the tools do not already possess internally, but that belongs to art. The motion of the tools comes from the artisan and their art – that is, from something of a different species – such that the tools do not internally have the motion possessed by the semen. The same point is made in GA 2.4:
The female thus provides the matter, whereas the male the principle of movement. Just like the things that come-to-be by the agency of art are formed by means of tools, or rather it would be truer to say they are formed by means of the movements of the tools, and this movement is the activity of the art; for art is the shape of the things produced but [it lies] in something else.
Both passages identify art as an external principle with the form in the artisan’s mind. Both passages refer to motion, showing that art and nature are presented as efficient causes. However, the second passage makes a positive step towards clarifying why the product ultimately lacks an inner principle. Aristotle states that the actualisation carried out through the tools does not belong to the tools themselves, but rather to art. By contrast, the actualisation carried out through the semen does belong to the semen itself. The principle through which the semen produces the offspring is in the semen itself, whereas the principle through which the tools produce the artefact is not in the tools themselves. From the standpoint of art, our task is to explain the relationship between the externality of the artisan with respect to the house (i.e. externality in species) and the externality of the principle of the house’s qualified comings-to-be; from the standpoint of nature, our task is to explain the relationship between the internality of the father to the son (i.e. internality in species) and the internality of the principle of the son’s qualified comings-to-be. How does the offspring acquire an inner principle from the father, given that they are of the same kind? In order to answer this question, we must first look more closely at the stage of the tools – a stage that, in the case of the natural generation, corresponds to the semen.Footnote 23 The two passages we have presented seem to suggest two major points: (i) the male parent has the same form (i.e. sameness in kind, not numerical identity) as the offspring in actuality; (ii) the male parent as such triggers a motion that the semen itself already has. The idea seems to be that the semen is already equipped with a nature, with a sort of inner principle (oriented towards the full-fledged form of the offspring) that merely needs to be triggered (by the moving cause having the same form). The same principle does not apply to tools, whose motion ultimately belongs to art (i.e. a form in the mind) and not to themselves. The means by which the form is transmitted in natural and artificial coming-to-be exhibit a crucial difference: the form in the semen is already the form of the product, whereas the form in the tools is still the form in the mind of the artisan. At this stage, one might suspect that the question is merely pushed back: indeed, one might wonder how the semen acquires an inner principle in the first place (whereas, for instance, the saw does not). The answer can be found in Aristotle’s account of semen, which I cannot present and develop in full, but which I shall at least briefly sketch.Footnote 24 In general, semen is defined as the most useful residue of nourishment (basically, highly concocted blood) and is said to possess nature as a power. In GA 1.18, 724a31, the semen is external (exô) in the same way as art is, in that it does not become a material part of the completed whole. However, unlike arts, semen ‘possesses in itself (en heautôi) a principle of such a kind as to set up movement’ (GA 4.1, 766b12–13). The semen is equipped with a motion that the saw does not possess. In answer to the question of why the semen is already equipped with natural motions, we can refer to Reference CodeCode’s (1987) account of the soul in Aristotle’s embryology. His view is that the soul, or nature, as efficient cause is present throughout the process of generation in various degrees of realisation. In the semen, it is present as an active dunamis identified with the vital heat. The vital heat is an efficient cause present in the semen, which is then transferred to the menstrual fluid and therefore becomes both moved and mover. The semen acquires the ability to confer the form2 by containing vital heat. Being the most useful residue of nourishment means to be equipped with a capacity to confer the same form that the father has. By contrast, not only does the saw possess the power to confer the form only if the creator intervenes, but the form at issue would still be the form in the mind of the artisan and not the form of the product. Thus, the saw and semen differ insofar as the former does not possess the art in itself, whereas the latter is equipped with a natural motion towards the form of the offspring. The saw is not interchangeable with the artisan in the way that one could speak of either the father or the semen as the cause of generation.Footnote 25 The difference between the saw and the semen is potentially reflected in the fact that the saw is, in principle, open with respect to the actions that it can perform, whereas the semen only aims at one single activity.Footnote 26
5.2.2 Heartless Artefacts
The form in the mind of the artisan (i.e. art) does not reach beyond the artisan. The process of production is, of course, driven by this form, but it is external to the product, in the first instance by being external to the tools and their movements. The housebuilding process is a production that begins with the presence of both a form and a matter that has been made ready.Footnote 27 In the case of natural generation, the corresponding process is the formation of the embryo, which comprises both the initial conferral of the form on the matter by the father’s semen and the subsequent, autonomous development of the embryo towards the realisation of this form – we consider both the formation and the development of the organism to be generation. Upon closer examination, between stage1 in which the matter (katamênia) is acted upon, namely the process of formation in which the menstrual fluid is already both moved and mover, and stage2, in which the embryo begins developing on its own, there is a stage in which a principle is formed inside the offspring itself: the heart. As Aristotle puts it in GA 2.4, 738b17: ‘The principle of any natural creature is the heart or its counterpart.’ The heart is presented as a sort of material part, which functions as a principle in a strong sense. Since the heart is formed when the efficient cause has already acted upon the matter, the matter is already in-formed, at least to a certain degree, since it already contains the principle of motion.Footnote 28 After all, the process begins at the moment when the form intervenes.Footnote 29
For once what has been formed becomes distinct from both the parents, it must manage for itself, just like a son who has set up a house of his own independently of the father. For this reason, it is necessary that it has a principle, from which also the subsequent ordering of the animal’s body is derived.
Once the heart has been formed, the embryo is said to be an autonomous entity.Footnote 30 The heart is then presented as the internal principle of subsequent processes of formation. Aristotle briefly speaks about the heart as an internal principle for living beings as opposed to artefacts, which are said not even to possess a principle at all:
This is why those people who, like Democritus, say that the external parts of animals become distinct first, and then the internal ones, do not speak correctly – as if we speak of animals carved out of wood or stone. But this sort of things possess no principle at all, whereas living animals all possess such a principle, and it is inside them. On this account in all blooded animals it is the heart which appears first as something distinct, for this is the principle both of the homoiomerous and of the anhomoiomerous parts.
The inner principle of living beings is said to be the heart or whatever is analogous to it. Artefacts, by contrast, do not possess any principle at all. We can plausibly take Aristotle to be saying that artefacts do not possess a principle because they lack an inner principle of motion or something heart-like. Hence, their inherent form is not a principle of motion. A further confirmation that artefacts do not possess anything similar to the heart of a living being comes from examining what is most comparable with the heart in them.Footnote 31 One of meanings of ‘principle’ presented in Met. Δ 1 suggests what such a thing might be:
[‘Principle’ means] that from which as a constitutive part a thing first arises, e.g. as the keel of a ship and the foundation of a house, and in animals some suppose the heart, others the brain, others some other part, to be of this nature.
The keel of a ship is similar to the heart in that it is both a principle inherent in the object and a part of it. Moreover, in the process of generation, nothing can be produced if the keel is not already present (or, at least, this is the sequence of production). However, clearly, the keel is not fully comparable to the heart since the keel cannot guarantee and produce the subsequent parts of the ship.Footnote 32 Why not? Presumably because art, qua efficient cause, does not make its way into the product, but remains in the mind of the artisan. Without the efficient cause, the subsequent parts cannot be formed. By contrast, nature is internal to the heart in such a way that the heart alone is the principle of the formation of all the subsequent parts of a living being. Let us be clear: it is not the case that the form of the father has been transferred to the embryo, but rather that the semen, the expression of the father’s nature, contains in itself the motion oriented towards the form of the product. The semen only needs to act upon the matter, which, in turn, has the potentiality to be the embryo. In the case of artefacts, neither has the form in the artisan’s mind been transferred to the keel, nor do the tools possess in themselves a motion oriented towards the form of the product. Furthermore, the semen acts in such a way as to instil a natural principle in the matter, while the tools work the matter in such a way as to give it a particular form, while the form itself lacks an efficient causal role. ‘Matter’, as a crucial stage in generation, will be addressed in Chapter 6, but, for now, we can briefly state that the semen, or the father, acts upon the matter and this very action creates a principle in the matter. As we shall see, the form of man essentially belongs to the menstrual fluid precisely because this form is internal to the matter. By contrast, the matterFootnote 33 of an artefact does not have a necessary relation to the form. The form of the house does not essentially belong to the wood. This is the case because the actions of the artisan (or the tools) do not bring about a principle of motion (efficient cause) in the matter, but rather the matter is worked so as to give it a form that itself lacks efficient powers.
In conclusion, forms of artefacts are inert in the sense that they are not principles. Art is the efficient cause of both unqualified and qualified comings-to-be. Because the form of an artefact is not itself art, forms of artefacts are inert with regard to both unqualified and qualified comings-to-be. Forms of artefacts cannot be principles of generation or change; only art can. The question of whether this state of affairs has any consequences for the ontological status of artefacts will be the focus of the next sections.
5.3 Autonomy, Life and Substantiality
The definition of nature as an inner principle of motion and rest draws a sharp line between artefacts and natural beings that Aristotle never reconsiders. While natural forms such as the soul are final, formal and efficient causes, the forms of artefacts are not efficient causes. This line is drawn within the framework of natural philosophy and, while certainly still operative within metaphysics, does not need to be identified with an ontological difference. For instance, Reference GillGill (1989) and Reference IrwinIrwin (1988) defend a binary view of substantiality, according to which artefacts are not substances at all because of their lack of an inner principle of motion and rest. If artefacts do not possess an inner principle governing their behaviour, they lack autonomy. However, the possession or lack of an inner efficient cause appears to be the foundation for the distinction between natural and artificial beings, but not for the distinction between substances and non-substances. Substantiality is certainly not an issue in Aristotle’s Physics, the rest of which treats humans and houses on an equal footing. Rather, it is within a more metaphysical framework that Aristotle includes or excludes certain beings from the realm of substances. Although natural beings always figure in his catalogues of recognised substances, the class of natural beings is not identical with the class of substances. In Δ 8, substances include elements, simple bodies, animals, divine beings and parts of these things. In Z 2, recognised substances include bodies, animals and plants, their parts, elements and the things composed of them, parts of the heavens, the stars, the moon and the sun. In H 1, substances that everyone is ready to acknowledge as such include elements, simple bodies, plants, animals, the parts of plants and animals, as well as the heavenly bodies and their parts. In Z 16, Aristotle explicitly denies the status of substances to the elements and parts of natural beings. The status of substance, hence, does not cover the full range of natural beings – since elements and parts of natural beings are surely natural (as we learn from Phys. 2.1). The parts of animals, for instance, are natural in that they do, in fact, possess an inner principle governing their behaviour, while nonetheless failing to be substances. Even if one points to the fact that artefacts are not autonomous because they are dependent for their existence on the artisan, this still fails to explain why they are not substances.Footnote 34
One might identify substantiality with life and claim that something is a substance if it possesses an inner principle of motion and change that is a soul. For instance, Reference Lewis, Scaltsas, Charles and GillLewis (1994) refers to lack of soul in order to defend a scalar view of substantiality that allows for the substantiality of artefacts, at least to some extent. However, not only is there the problem with accommodating the unconformable case of the mule and other animals that have a soul but are described as being against nature – but there is also the issue of finding textual evidence in support of the claim that only living beings are substances. While the first problem can be solved by ascribing some degree of substantiality to mules, despite the inability of their souls to perform what Aristotle considers the ‘most natural’ faculty (i.e. reproduction), the second problem is more serious. The passages to which scholars appeal to deny the substantiality of artefacts ascribe substantiality not only to living beings, but also to things that are constituted in accordance with and by nature (Z 17, 1041b29–30) as well as to things that are naturally composed (H 3, 1043b22–3). Again, one might embrace a scalar view of substantiality instead, and appeal to those passages where Aristotle says that what are substances ‘most of all’ (malista) are beings such as plants and animals.Footnote 35 While it is certainly true that the examples offered by Aristotle in these passages are exclusively of living beings, the interpretation of malista as meaning ‘substances most of all’ is not the only possible one. Indeed, this interpretation of malista does not necessarily do full justice to the texts. In particular, in Z 7, malista could be just as well taken to refer to ‘we call’, giving the meaning ‘what we most of all call substances’.
One could defend this interpretation by referring to considerations found in the Metaphysics, in particular by appealing to Aristotle’s definition of soul as prôtê ousia. Aristotle no doubt defines the soul as a primary substance, as for instance in Z 11, 1037a5 (dêlon de kai hoti hê men psuchê ousia hê prôtê). The soul is the primary substance, while the body is the matter and the man (or animal) is what is composed of both, taken universally. However, this passage cannot be used as evidence for the claim that possessing a soul is a criterion of substantiality – not even if all ensouled beings are substances. In fact, in the Metaphysics, prôtê ousia is used to refer to various different cases. First, in Z 11 (1037a28–9), the second occurrence of primary substance is also connected with the soul, but here it is merely presented as an example.Footnote 36 Second, it is applied to such cases as equal straight lines (I 3, 1054b1). Third, it is often said of the heavens qua movers (Λ 8, 1073a30, 1073b2) and in relation to the idea that what is prior to a substance is a substance as well. Most important, Aristotle refers prôtê ousia also to the form in the mind of the artisan (Z 7, 1032b1–2). There thus seems to be no grounds for taking the presence of an inner principle of motion and rest – even if it is life – as the criterion for substantiality or its absence as a criterion for non-substantiality.
There is, however, a passage in which Aristotle hints at the existence of a metaphysical difference between artefacts and living beings (and not merely natural beings) that has been taken as an argument against the substantiality of artefacts. The passage might seem to suggest that possessing an inner principle of unqualified coming-to-be amounts to being a substance.Footnote 37
Now in some cases the ‘this’ does not exist apart from the composite substance; for instance, the form of house [does not so exist], unless the art [exists apart] (nor is there generation and destruction of these, but it is in another way that the house without matter, and health, and all things according to art, exist and do not exist); but if it does it is only in the case of things by nature: and so, Plato was not wrong when he said that there are as many Forms as there are kinds of things by nature (if there are Forms at all) – though not of such things as fire, flesh, head; for all these are matter, and the last matter is the matter of that which is substance most of all.
If there are Ideas, Plato is right to posit Ideas for as many kinds of natural things as there are. Plato is also right to deny the existence of Ideas for things that, in Aristotelian philosophy, are not substances, but rather just matter, such as the elements and parts. Because the elements and the parts of animals are among the ‘kinds of things by nature’ and yet are denied corresponding Ideas, Aristotle appears to elevate the narrower class of living beings above them. But is there an argument here against the substantiality of artefacts and in support of the substantiality of living beings? Artefacts are not, in fact, mentioned together with elements and parts, suggesting once again that they do not fall into the same group as those things that are just matter (see Chapter 4). Aristotle specifically addresses artefacts, claiming that, in this special case, the substance (tode ti), meaning the form,Footnote 38 does not exist apart from (para) the substantial compound (tên sunthetên ousian): the form of the house does not exist apart from the house as a compound. Thus, Aristotle is sincerely applauding Plato for denying the existence of separate forms of artefacts and for proposing natural things to have a better claim. However, he is not endorsing Plato’s view. It is noteworthy that the separation of (natural) forms is proposed twice in a merely hypothetical way: ‘if it does’ (all’eiper) and ‘if there are forms at all’ (eiper estin eidê). The mention of Plato leaves few doubts about the fact that he is speaking about the Platonic separation of forms.Footnote 39 If this is correct, Aristotle is repeating a familiar point: if there are Ideas that exist apart from particulars, surely this is not the case for artefacts. To formulate this claim more positively, if there are Ideas existing apart from the corresponding particulars, these are the Ideas of natural things. If we consider the passage in this positive way, we find something relatively new compared with other similar passages encountered in Chapter 2, in which Aristotle does not propose any better candidate, but merely denies the existence of separate forms of artefacts. In Λ 3, there are better and worse candidates: If there are forms that exist separately: (i) the natural forms would have a better claim to be separate; (ii) the things that are just matter would have no claim whatsoever to have a separate form; and (iii) artefacts would have a claim to have a separate form only in a certain sense. These three points must now be explained in more detail, bearing in mind that they are hypothetical, in the sense that if x is the case, then these three points follow. However, nothing is firmly established.
Let us briefly discuss the first point (i): why would natural forms have a better claim to exist apart from natural compounds? Aristotle does not provide an explanation for this assertion, but he seems to be referring to natural living wholes, such as man and animals, given the exclusion of parts (head), matter (flesh) and elements (fire) in the following lines. Λ 3 proposes the rather narrow class of living beings. Given the lack of explanation, only a suggestion can be made. Λ 3 begins with a reference to the synonymy principle and the distinctions between form, matter and efficient cause. At this stage, Aristotle reminds us that the form does not exist separately. However, if it were to, the reason for this might be related to the just-mentioned synonymy principle: if it were to, this would be due to the synonymy principle and therefore would be the case only with respect to natural beings. If the form were to exist apart, this would be the case only for those things in which the synonymy principle applies in the same way as it applies to natural living beings, meaning to the whole of both the generator and the generated. The synonymy principle applies to the whole generator only when the generator is able to reproduce, hence when the generator partakes of eternity.
The second point (ii), that things that are matter have no claim whatsoever to possess a form existing apart, is not explained either, perhaps because it is obvious. The fact that fire, flesh and head are always matter of something else, and thus always dependent on something else, means that there is no reason to posit a separate form in these cases.Footnote 40 The denial of a separate form for things that are matter, as a class of beings distinct from both natural beings and artefacts, goes against the view that artefacts are reducible to their matter.
The third point (iii) is the most interesting for the present discussion. Aristotle seems to regard artefacts as an intermediate case. He says that artefacts as such have no claim to have a separate form, but that they do have one in some sense. In this third case, Aristotle gives us more information:
(a) First, he specifies that the way in which artefacts can be said to have separate forms is in relation to the corresponding art.
(b) Second, he suggests that there is no generation and corruption of these things (i.e. artefacts or forms).
(c) Third, he says that the forms of artificial beings exist and do not exist in different ways.
In relation to (a), there are no separate forms of artefacts, but it seems legitimate to affirm that the art exists apart from the compounds. When Aristotle specifies that the form of a house does not exist separately, unless the art of housebuilding does, he intends to shift our attention from the form that is already en-mattered once the house has been produced to the form in the mind of the artisan (i.e. art). In principle, the housebuilding art can exist without a house existing. The artisan might have in mind the form of the artefact without already having produced it. From this perspective, the art can exist apart from the actually existing houses and this is perhaps what Aristotle means in this passage.
In relation to (b), the denial of the generation and corruption of ‘these [things]’ could be taken to refer to artefacts or to forms. The denial of unqualified coming-to-be in the case of artefacts would, however, be unexpected and quite strange: Z 7, above all, shows that artefacts are, in fact, rather good examples for illustrating the generation of compounds and the ungenerability of form. As I have argued in Chapter 4, artefacts do undergo unqualified coming-to-be. ‘These [things]’ thus seems rather to refer forward to the ‘house without matter’ and hence to the form, rather than to the compound. Certainly, one could respond that there is no generation or corruption of any forms, whether natural or artificial. However, it is important to maintain the distinction between inherent forms and forms as objects of thought.Footnote 41 The passage would then be referring to the latter: there is no generation and corruption of the form in the mind of the artisan, which is the only form that is an efficient cause.
As for (c), why are we then told that the forms of artefacts exist and do not exist in different ways? This statement refers to the form in the mind of the artisan. Of course, both natural and artificial forms can be the object of thought, but only the artificial form (i.e. the form in the mind of the artisan) can exist in such a way as to be causally prior to the compound. The form in the mind of the artisan is causally prior to the artefacts produced and sufficiently explains the coming-to-be of the object. Plato was right in denying the existence of Ideas of artefacts, because artisanal production can be explained without any reference to Platonic Ideas (as we have seen regarding natural production). However, denying the existence of Ideas of artefacts does not amount to denying the existence of separate forms of artefacts: Ideas of artefacts are rejected precisely because there are separate forms of artefacts.
Here there is no argument against the substantiality of artefacts. Aristotle seems not to approve of the Platonic separation of forms from compounds, but he suggests instead that the form can be said to be separate only insofar as it is in the mind of the artisan (before production begins). If the form is considered from this perspective, there is separation, but the separation at issue is rather an argument against Platonic separation. Since there is a form in the mind of the artisan that is causally prior to the artefact, the Platonic separation of the form from the compound is wholly unnecessary. The form of the artefact is in the mind of the artisan, in separation from the compound, not merely as an object of thought resulting from a process of abstraction, but in the stronger sense of being causally prior to the product. The case of artefacts is one instance in which the Platonists would concede Aristotle’s point that there are no forms that are separate (in the Platonic sense) from the compounds. At the same time, Aristotle understands the Platonic need to posit Ideas of natural beings, because there is no comparable form that is causally prior to the compounds in this case. In the natural realm, the form is always enmattered and the continuous propagation of a given enmattered form needs to be explained. In conclusion, the passage from Met. Λ 3 does not set the possession of an inner principle of generation as criterion of substantiality and thus does not provide an argument against the substantiality of artefacts based on their lack of such a principle.
5.4 Eternity and Substantiality
Another controversial passage seems to deny that artefacts are substances by ascribing substantiality to natural beings more broadly, rather than merely living beings. At the same time, however, it seems to link substantiality to eternity. This state of affairs raises two problems: one concerns the kind of eternity involved in natural beings (that are not necessarily living beings); the second regards the kind of link established between eternity and substantiality. Focusing on H 3, I will argue not only that this passage does not make eternity a criterion of substantiality, but that the eternity in question is not the kind of eternity that is connected to life, i.e. eternity in species. This claim challenges the interpretation of this passage proposed by Reference KatayamaKatayama (1999), as offering an argument against the substantiality of artefacts. According to Katayama, H 3 does, in fact, infer that artefacts are not substances from the perishability of their forms. This view implies not only that eternity is a criterion of substantiality, but also that the eternity that artefacts lack is the eternity of artefact-kinds. I shall challenge both of these claims.
Book H deals with perceptible substances and the notion of ousia as cause. Specifically, H 3 clarifies the relation between matter and form, and rejects a conjunction model according to which the form would be a further element added to material elements. Aristotle claims that the form is the arrangement of the matter and not something additional to it. Thus, the form is not generated. If the form, unlike the compound, does not come into existence, is it ungenerable because it is eternal or is it ungenerable in another sense? Aristotle mentions both options, declaring that, while the latter option has already been discussed, the former is not yet clear:
It is necessary that this, then, is either eternal, or is perishable without being ever in the process of perishing and comes-to-be without ever being in the process of coming-to-be. However, it has been shown and explained elsewhere that no one makes or generates the form, but it is a ‘this’ that is made, and what comes-to-be is the composite. But whether the substances of perishable things are separable, is not yet at all clear; except that it is clear that this is impossible in some cases – those things which cannot exist apart from the individual things, e.g. a house or a utensil. Perhaps neither these things themselves, nor any of the other things which are not constituted by nature, are substances at all; for one might say that nature alone is the substance in perishable things.
Aristotle claims that the form could be considered ungenerable in two different ways: (i) by being eternal; and (ii) by being destructible without being destroyed and by having come-to-be without coming-to-be. The second way of being ungenerable has already been presented and explained: forms are and are not without undergoing a process of coming-to-be. This is valid for all kinds of forms, natural as well as artificial. The reference to Z 8, 1033b5–10 (en allois) confirms that Aristotle thinks that this way of escaping the process of coming-to-be (i.e. by being ungenerable, in a non-eternal sense) applies to the forms of both artefacts and natural beings. The first way of being ungenerable has not yet been presented or explained. Thus Aristotle states that ‘it is not yet at all clear’ how a form can be separable in that way (i.e. by being eternal). The question is whether the forms are chôristai and whether they exist para ta tina. Aristotle is still referring to the Platonic separation of the form from the compound, as para ta tina signifies, but with a different focus than the passages analysed in Chapter 2. Aristotle first speaks about forms that are chôristai and only afterwards does he specify this further with para ta tina. In effect, chôristos has many possible meanings, such that it is in need of further specification. Furthermore, already in Z 3 Aristotle introduces separation as a criterion of substantiality, but clearly with a different meaning than the Platonic one. This is enough reason, I believe, to speak about separation and to feel the need to make clear what separation he is talking about: at issue is once again the Platonic separation of forms from compounds. The general focus on ahidion emphasises that chôristos here means ‘separate therefore eternal’.Footnote 42
Now, one way of understanding the passage is to take the question to refer to whether there are forms that are separate and therefore eternal. Aristotle would thus be stating that it is not yet clear whether the forms of destructible substances can be separate in the sense of being eternal, but that forms of artefacts certainly cannot exist apart from concrete artefacts. Some forms are ungenerable in the eternal sense, such that they can escape the process of coming-to-be simply by being everlasting: if this is possible, however, this is certainly not the case of artefacts. Forms of artefacts are, at least, inseparable from their concrete instantiations. This amounts to saying that forms of artefacts are not eternal and that artefact-kinds are not eternal. Therefore, our doubts concerning the substantiality of artefacts would result from the non-eternity of their forms. Certainly, there is a way in which artefacts can be said not to be eternal, unlike living beings. First, there was a time in which some arts were not yet present and in which some artefacts had not yet been invented. A certain art might have come into existence at a certain time t. Second, it is not difficult to imagine that at a certain time t, some artefacts will cease to be produced. Hence unlike forms of living beings, forms of artefacts are not eternal, since they depend upon a primus inventor and they might also, at some point, cease to be instantiated.Footnote 43 Their reproduction naturally depends upon human agency.
Most of this story is true. In De Anima, Aristotle presents the reproduction of animals and plants as a way of their joining eternity:
for the most natural of the functions of living things that are complete, not mutilated nor spontaneously generated, is to produce another like oneself, an animal an animal, a plant a plant, and so partake in the eternal and the divine.
Things that are generated are also perishable, such that they cannot be eternal in the same way as incorruptible beings. However, one way of partaking in eternity is to reproduce something of the same kind as the maker:
Since they cannot partake in the eternal and the divine by continuity [of life] because none of the perishable things can remain one and the same numerically, they partake in it as they can, some more some less; and what remains is not the same [being], but a being like it, different in number but the same in kind.
The same remark is made in GA 2.1, where Aristotle establishes a hierarchy of nobility, according to which the soul is better than the body, and what is ensouled is better than what is soulless, or what is living is better than what is not living (GA 2.1, 731b28–30). Focusing on what is living, Aristotle states:
Now since it is impossible that the nature of such a kind is eternal, what comes-to-be is eternal in the only way possible for it. Now since it is impossible [for it to be eternal] in number (for the substance of things is in the particular but if it were such, it would be eternal), it is possible for it to be eternal in kind. This is the reason why there exists eternally the class of human beings, animals and plants.
Reproduction, meaning the production of something of the same kind as the generator, is the only way in which a perishable thing can become eternal and divine. A perishable being cannot be eternal as an individual, but only insofar as it belongs to a species. Socrates as an individual is not eternal, but by reproducing he can partake in eternity because his substance somehow survives in another being of the same kind. This sort of eternity is clearly not applicable to artefacts: artefacts are perishable and generated, but they do not reproduce. By not reproducing, artefacts are not eternal in two senses (e.g. a house is eternal neither as an individual nor in species). A house is perishable as an individual thing as well as in species, because the form of the house can in no way survive its own corruption.Footnote 44 In our passage from H 3, Aristotle has just said that it is impossible for the form to be separate and therefore eternal in the case of forms that cannot exist apart from individuals, such as forms of artefacts. At the end of the passage, Aristotle raises the doubt that things not constituted by nature are substances. The doubt is not satisfactorily explained, but at least we are told that ‘one might say that nature is the only substance in destructible things’. The jump to the point that only nature is substance in perishable things stands in need of clarification. Why would this jump make sense at all? Aristotle might be mentioning nature as substance in destructible things, because nature makes living beings able to reproduce themselves, so as to assure some sort of eternity. The key to drawing a distinction between artefacts and living beings in terms of substantiality would once again be the presence of an inner principle as such. The absence of an inner principle means the absence of reproduction, which, in turn, sufficiently proves that the forms involved are not eternal. At the same time, the presence of an inner principle means the presence of reproduction, which, in turn, does not sufficiently prove that the forms involved are eternal in the full sense. In fact, it is not yet clear whether the forms of other destructible beings are eternal.
Although this story is broadly correct, it does not quite work in the context of H 3. First, the emphasis on reproduction as a way of enjoying eternity does not explain why the passage ends up suggesting that substantiality is a trait of naturally constituted beings, and not only of living beings. Moreover, why is it not clear whether the forms of destructible things can exist apart, in the sense of being eternal? As we have seen, Aristotle has already refuted Ideas in Z 8. A good story about H 3 should also explain why this is still a problem. Another issue is that, in H 3, the eternity of forms, as opposed to the non-eternal sense of ungenerability of forms, seems to constitute a sense of eternity considerably stronger than the eternity assured by reproduction. The distinction between an eternal form and a form that is destructible without ever being in the process of being destroyed and generated without ever being in the process of coming-to-be seems to concern a single form, so to speak, rather than the species. If this is the case, the still-unsolved problem, I contend, would be that of whether there is an ontologically eternal form to which natural beings must be referred. Therefore, the question of whether forms are separate, and therefore eternal, is ultimately tackled in the form of the question of whether there are forms that are separate and therefore eternal. The topic is introduced in H 1, 1042a24–32, where Aristotle resumes his discussion of the generally recognised substances. These recognised substances are sensible substances that have matter. In the beginning of the chapter, however, certain substances that have no matter are also recognised as substances by all thinkers (i.e. the heavens and the parts of the heavens). Therefore, it is plausible that, in H 3, Aristotle is referring to the heavens: it is not yet at all clear that there is some ontologically eternal form such as the unmoved mover or the heavenly bodies, but artefacts certainly do not require such an eternal substance. To account for the coming-to-be of artefacts, the mention of the form in the mind of the artisan is sufficient and there is no reason to posit something eternal, such as the heavens. Artefacts come-to-be intermittently. By contrast, continuous generation is a good reason for positing something eternal that can assure continuous existence of this sort. The continuous generation of natural beings must be assured by the existence of something eternal (i.e. the sun and the heavenly bodies). The fact that artefacts do not come-to-be continuously is a sufficient reason not to posit anything eternal lying behind their existence. This reading does better justice to Aristotle’s statement that perhaps only things constituted by nature (rather than living beings alone) are substances: all things constituted by nature do, indeed, continuously exist, thanks to the sun and the heavenly bodies. This is not, however, an argument against the substantiality of artefacts.
Although it is true that, in this passage, Aristotle is also doubtful about the substantiality of artefacts, their non-substantiality does not result from the fact that they do not require separate forms. H 3 refers to Z 7–9, but states that those chapters left unclear whether there is a separate form in the sense of an eternal form. There is no need to posit an eternal form, since artefacts come-to-be intermittently due to their dependency upon human agency. By contrast, the continuous generation and existence of natural beings, even of those that are not living, suggests the presence of something eternal assuring this continuity.
Thus, I have argued that in H 3 the eternity at issue concerns the existence of eternal beings, rather than the non-eternity of forms of artefacts. Even if forms of artefacts are not eternal, this does not have any impact on their non-substantiality.Footnote 45 The question is therefore whether the eternity of the form is a criterion of substantiality. Certainly, substances in the true sense partake of eternity. Moreover, there is no doubt that beings without matter whose form is eternal (i.e. heavenly bodies) are indeed substances. It appears that a sufficient condition for something to be a substance is for it to be an eternal formal being. In cases where matter is involved, the eternity is only in species: does this make stones and dogs substances? The eternity of the form seems to be a sufficient condition for something to be a substance, but not a necessary condition. Spontaneously generated creatures illustrate this point: they need not always be around but display certain constant species characteristics. I shall address the topic of substantiality at a later stage. For now, I shall limit myself to mentioning that the reason why artefacts are not substances is not because their forms are not eternal, or because artefacts exist intermittently. Nowhere does Aristotle mention eternity as a criterion for substantiality and nowhere does Aristotle exclude particular beings from the realm of substances on the grounds that they are not eternal or do not possess an eternal form. At the end of Book Z, Aristotle is able to exclude from the realm of substances certain beings that, at the beginning of the same book, are presented as recognised substances. The reason why parts of natural beings and elements are not substances is that they qualify as matter and potentiality, and not as unified wholes (i.e. not as unities). The reason why heaps, such as the things that are only matter, are not substances, only has to do indirectly with considerations about persistence over time or eternity. If a being is eternal, this means that it is not constituted of matter, but only of form, while if a being is only form, it is a unity to the highest degree. At the same time, if eternity seems to be enough to confer substantiality, it also appears that eternity is not necessary for substantiality. Eternity as such belongs, in the first instance, to an axiological framework. The degree of eternity dictates the degree of value and Aristotle ascribes the highest worth to eternal beings. However, even if eternal beings turn out to be substances and, hence, ontologically superior, the question of whether artefacts are substances and whether they are substances to the same degree as living or natural beings is kept separate from the question of their eternity and worth. In this regard, Aristotle builds on Plato’s separation between axiology and metaphysics. Notwithstanding the adherence to an axiological structure according to which the living is better than the non-living, and eternal beings are better than beings that merely partake of eternity, Aristotle follows Plato’s lesson: this value-structure does not resolve our metaphysical concerns.
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