Free Will and God's Foreknowledge

She ceased, and was about to pass on in her discourse to the exposition of other matters, when I break in and say: 'Excellent is thine exhortation, and such as well beseemeth thy high authority; but I am even now experiencing one of the many difficulties which, as thou saidst but now, beset the question of providence. I want to know whether thou deemest that there is any such thing as chance at all, and, if so, what it is.'

She stopped and was about to explain other matters when I interrupted her. 'Your advice is excellent and worthy of your high authority. But I am now facing one of the many difficulties you just said surround the question of providence. I want to know whether you think chance exists at all and, if so, what it is.'

Then she made answer: 'I am anxious to fulfil my promise completely, and open to thee a way of return to thy native land. As for these matters, though very useful to know, they are yet a little removed from the path of our design, and I fear lest digressions should fatigue thee, and thou shouldst find thyself unequal to completing the direct journey to our goal.'

Then she answered: 'I want to fulfill my promise completely and show you a way back to your homeland. These matters are very useful to know, but they take us a little away from our intended path. I fear these detours might tire you, leaving you unable to complete the direct journey to our goal.'

'Have no fear for that,' said I. 'It is rest to me to learn, where learning brings delight so exquisite, especially when thy argument has been built up on all sides with undoubted conviction, and no place is left for uncertainty in what follows.'

'Have no fear of that,' I said. 'Learning is restful to me when it brings such exquisite delight. This is especially true when your argument is thoroughly convincing, leaving no room for uncertainty about what follows.'

She made answer: 'I will accede to thy request;' and forthwith she thus began: 'If chance be defined as a result produced by random movement without any link of causal connection, I roundly affirm that there is no such thing as chance at all, and consider the word to be altogether without meaning, except as a symbol of the thing designated. What place can be left for random action, when God constraineth all things to order? For "ex nihilo nihil" is sound doctrine which none of the ancients gainsaid, although they used it of material substance, not of the efficient principle; this they laid down as a kind of basis for all their reasonings concerning nature. Now, if a thing arise without causes, it will appear to have arisen from nothing. But if this cannot be, neither is it possible for there to be chance in accordance with the definition just given.'

She replied: 'I will grant your request.' Then she began: 'Suppose chance is defined as an outcome produced by random movement, with no connection between cause and effect. I firmly maintain that there is no such thing as chance. I consider the word completely meaningless, except as a label for the thing it refers to. What room can there be for random action when God brings all things into order? For "ex nihilo nihil", or "nothing comes from nothing", is a sound principle that none of the ancients disputed. They applied it to material substance, not to the cause that brings things into being. They made this principle a kind of foundation for all their reasoning about nature. Now, if a thing comes into being without causes, it must seem to have come from nothing. But if that cannot happen, then chance, as just defined, cannot exist either.'

'Well,' said I, 'is there, then, nothing which can properly be called chance or accident, or is there something to which these names are appropriate, though its nature is dark to the vulgar?'

'Well,' I said, 'is there nothing we can properly call chance or accident? Or is there something these names apply to, though ordinary people do not understand its nature?'

'Our good Aristotle,' says she, 'has defined it concisely in his "Physics," and closely in accordance with the truth.'

'Our good Aristotle,' she says, 'defined it briefly in his "Physics," and his definition is very close to the truth.'

'How, pray?' said I.

'How?' I asked.

'Thus,' says she: 'Whenever something is done for the sake of a particular end, and for certain reasons some other result than that designed ensues, this is called chance; for instance, if a man is digging the earth for tillage, and finds a mass of buried gold. Now, such a find is regarded as accidental; yet it is not "ex nihilo," for it has its proper causes, the unforeseen and unexpected concurrence of which has brought the chance about. For had not the cultivator been digging, had not the man who hid the money buried it in that precise spot, the gold would not have been found. These, then, are the reasons why the find is a chance one, in that it results from causes which met together and concurred, not from any intention on the part of the discoverer. Since neither he who buried the gold nor he who worked in the field intended that the money should be found, but, as I said, it happened by coincidence that one dug where the other buried the treasure. We may, then, define chance as being an unexpected result flowing from a concurrence of causes where the several factors had some definite end. But the meeting and concurrence of these causes arises from that inevitable chain of order which, flowing from the fountain-head of Providence, disposes all things in their due time and place.'

'Here is how it happens,' she says. 'Sometimes an action is taken for a particular purpose, but for certain reasons it produces a different result. This is called chance. For example, a man might dig the earth to prepare it for planting and find a mass of buried gold. Such a discovery is considered accidental. Yet it does not come "ex nihilo," or out of nothing. It has its own causes, and their unforeseen and unexpected meeting brought about the chance discovery. If the farmer had not been digging, or if the man who hid the money had not buried it in that exact spot, the gold would not have been found. The discovery is a matter of chance because it resulted from causes that came together, not from the discoverer's intention. Neither the man who buried the gold nor the man who worked in the field intended the money to be found. Instead, as I said, it happened by coincidence that one dug where the other had buried the treasure. We may therefore define chance as an unexpected result arising when causes come together, each with a definite purpose. But these causes meet and come together through the inevitable chain of order that flows from the source of Providence. This order arranges all things in their proper time and place.'

'I am following needfully,' said I, 'and I agree that it is as thou sayest. But in this series of linked causes is there any freedom left to our will, or does the chain of fate bind also the very motions of our souls?'

'I must follow your reasoning,' I said, 'and I agree that what you say is true. But in this chain of causes, is our will still free? Or does the chain of fate bind even the movements of our souls?'

'There is freedom,' said she; 'nor, indeed, can any creature be rational, unless he be endowed with free will. For that which hath the natural use of reason has the faculty of discriminative judgment, and of itself distinguishes what is to be shunned or desired. Now, everyone seeks what he judges desirable, and avoids what he thinks should be shunned. Wherefore, beings endowed with reason possess also the faculty of free choice and refusal. But I suppose this faculty not equal alike in all. The higher Divine essences possess a clear-sighted judgment, an uncorrupt will, and an effective power of accomplishing their wishes. Human souls must needs be comparatively free while they abide in the contemplation of the Divine mind, less free when they pass into bodily form, and still less, again, when they are enwrapped in earthly members. But when they are given over to vices, and fall from the possession of their proper reason, then indeed their condition is utter slavery. For when they let their gaze fall from the light of highest truth to the lower world where darkness reigns, soon ignorance blinds their vision; they are disturbed by baneful affections, by yielding and assenting to which they help to promote the slavery in which they are involved, and are in a manner led captive by reason of their very liberty. Yet He who seeth all things from eternity beholdeth these things with the eyes of His providence, and assigneth to each what is predestined for it by its merits:

‘There is freedom,’ she said. ‘Indeed, no creature can be rational unless it has free will. Anything that can naturally reason can make judgments. It can distinguish for itself what to avoid and what to desire. Everyone seeks what they judge desirable and avoids what they think should be avoided. Therefore, rational beings also have the power to choose or refuse. But I do not think this power is equal in all beings. The higher Divine beings possess clear judgment, an uncorrupted will, and the power to accomplish what they wish. Human souls must be comparatively free while they contemplate the Divine mind. They are less free when they take bodily form, and still less free when wrapped in earthly bodies. But when they give themselves over to vice and lose the use of their own reason, their condition is complete slavery. When souls turn their gaze from the light of the highest truth to the lower world, where darkness reigns, ignorance soon blinds them. They are troubled by harmful passions. By yielding and consenting to these passions, they help strengthen the slavery that holds them. In a way, their very freedom leads them into captivity. Yet he who sees all things from eternity sees them with the eyes of his providence. He assigns to each what its merits have destined for it:

Then said I: 'But now I am once more perplexed by a problem yet more difficult.'

Then I said: 'But now I am puzzled again by an even more difficult problem.'

'And what is that?' said she; 'yet, in truth, I can guess what it is that troubles you.'

'And what is that?' she said. 'But really, I can guess what's troubling you.'

'It seems,' said I, 'too much of a paradox and a contradiction that God should know all things, and yet there should be free will. For if God foresees everything, and can in no wise be deceived, that which providence foresees to be about to happen must necessarily come to pass. Wherefore, if from eternity He foreknows not only what men will do, but also their designs and purposes, there can be no freedom of the will, seeing that nothing can be done, nor can any sort of purpose be entertained, save such as a Divine providence, incapable of being deceived, has perceived beforehand. For if the issues can be turned aside to some other end than that foreseen by providence, there will not then be any sure foreknowledge of the future, but uncertain conjecture instead, and to think this of God I deem impiety.

'It seems to me,' I said, 'a paradox and a contradiction that God knows everything and yet free will exists. If God foresees everything and cannot be mistaken, then whatever providence foresees must happen. So if he has always known not only what people will do, but also their plans and purposes, there can be no free will. Nothing can be done, and no purpose can be entertained, unless divine providence, which cannot be mistaken, has foreseen it. If events can turn out differently from what providence foresaw, then there is no certain foreknowledge of the future. There is only uncertain guesswork instead. And I consider it impious to think this of God.

'Moreover, I do not approve the reasoning by which some think to solve this puzzle. For they say that it is not because God has foreseen the coming of an event that therefore it is sure to come to pass, but, conversely, because something is about to come to pass, it cannot be hidden from Divine providence; and accordingly the necessity passes to the opposite side, and it is not that what is foreseen must necessarily come to pass, but that what is about to come to pass must necessarily be foreseen. But this is just as if the matter in debate were, which is cause and which effect—whether foreknowledge of the future cause of the necessity, or the necessity of the future of the foreknowledge. But we need not be at the pains of demonstrating that, whatsoever be the order of the causal sequence, the occurrence of things foreseen is necessary, even though the foreknowledge of future events does not in itself impose upon them the necessity of their occurrence. For example, if a man be seated, the supposition of his being seated is necessarily true; and, conversely, if the supposition of his being seated is true, because he is really seated, he must necessarily be sitting. So, in either case, there is some necessity involved—in this latter case, the necessity of the fact; in the former, of the truth of the statement. But in both cases the sitter is not therefore seated because the opinion is true, but rather the opinion is true because antecedently he was sitting as a matter of fact. Thus, though the cause of the truth of the opinion comes from the other side,^P yet there is a necessity on both sides alike. We can obviously reason similarly in the case of providence and the future. Even if future events are foreseen because they are about to happen, and do not come to pass because they are foreseen, still, all the same, there is a necessity, both that they should be foreseen by God as about to come to pass, and that when they are foreseen they should happen, and this is sufficient for the destruction of free will. However, it is preposterous to speak of the occurrence of events in time as the cause of eternal foreknowledge. And yet if we believe that God foresees future events because they are about to come to pass, what is it but to think that the occurrence of events is the cause of His supreme providence? Further, just as when I know that anything is, that thing necessarily is, so when I know that anything will be, it will necessarily be. It follows, then, that things foreknown come to pass inevitably.

'Moreover, I do not accept the reasoning some people use to solve this puzzle. They say that an event is not sure to happen because God has foreseen it. Instead, they say that because an event is going to happen, it cannot be hidden from divine providence. So the necessity lies on the other side. What is foreseen does not necessarily have to happen. Rather, what is going to happen must necessarily be foreseen. But this treats the question as if it were about cause and effect. Does foreknowledge of the future cause future events to happen necessarily? Or does the necessity of future events cause foreknowledge? We need not take pains to prove that, whatever the order of cause and effect, foreseen events must necessarily happen. This is true even if foreknowledge of future events does not itself make their occurrence necessary. For example, if a man is sitting, the belief that he is sitting is necessarily true. Conversely, if the belief that he is sitting is true because he really is sitting, then he must necessarily be sitting. So there is necessity in either case. In the second case, the fact is necessary. In the first, the truth of the statement is necessary. But in both cases, the man is not sitting because the belief is true. Rather, the belief is true because he was already sitting. Thus, although the cause of the belief's truth lies on the other side,^P there is necessity on both sides alike. Clearly, we can reason in the same way about providence and the future. Suppose future events are foreseen because they are going to happen, and do not happen because they are foreseen. Even so, God must necessarily foresee them as events that will happen. And once they are foreseen, they must necessarily happen. That is enough to destroy free will. Yet it is absurd to speak of events occurring in time as the cause of eternal foreknowledge. But suppose we believe that God foresees future events because they are going to happen. Are we not then saying that the occurrence of events causes his supreme providence? Further, when I know that something exists, it necessarily exists. In the same way, when I know that something will exist, it will necessarily exist. It follows, then, that things known in advance happen inevitably.

'Lastly, to think of a thing as being in any way other than what it is, is not only not knowledge, but it is false opinion widely different from the truth of knowledge. Consequently, if anything is about to be, and yet its occurrence is not certain and necessary, how can anyone foreknow that it will occur? For just as knowledge itself is free from all admixture of falsity, so any conception drawn from knowledge cannot be other than as it is conceived. For this, indeed, is the cause why knowledge is free from falsehood, because of necessity each thing must correspond exactly with the knowledge which grasps its nature. In what way, then, are we to suppose that God foreknows these uncertainties as about to come to pass? For if He thinks of events which possibly may not happen at all as inevitably destined to come to pass, He is deceived; and this it is not only impious to believe, but even so much as to express in words. If, on the other hand, He sees them in the future as they are in such a sense as to know that they may equally come to pass or not, what sort of foreknowledge is this which comprehends nothing certain nor fixed? What better is this than the absurd vaticination of Teiresias?

'Finally, to think of something as different from what it is is not knowledge. It is a false opinion, far removed from the truth of knowledge. So, if something is going to happen, but its occurrence is not certain and necessary, how can anyone know beforehand that it will happen? Knowledge contains no trace of falsehood. Likewise, anything understood through knowledge must be exactly as it is understood. Indeed, knowledge is free from falsehood precisely because each thing must correspond exactly to the knowledge that grasps its nature. How, then, are we to suppose that God knows beforehand that these uncertain events will happen? If he thinks that events which might not happen at all are bound to happen, he is deceived. And it is not only impious to believe that God is deceived, but even to say it. On the other hand, suppose he sees future events as they are. In that case, he knows that they may just as well happen as not. But what kind of foreknowledge is that, if it grasps nothing certain or fixed? How is it any better than the absurd prophecy of Teiresias?

In that case, too, in what would Divine providence surpass human opinion if it holds for uncertain things the occurrence of which is uncertain, even as men do? But if at that perfectly sure Fountain-head of all things no shadow of uncertainty can possibly be found, then the occurrence of those things which He has surely foreknown as coming is certain. Wherefore there can be no freedom in human actions and designs; but the Divine mind, which foresees all things without possibility of mistake, ties and binds them down to one only issue. But this admission once made, what an upset of human affairs manifestly ensues! Vainly are rewards and punishments proposed for the good and bad, since no free and voluntary motion of the will has deserved either one or the other; nay, the punishment of the wicked and the reward of the righteous, which is now esteemed the perfection of justice, will seem the most flagrant injustice, since men are determined either way not by their own proper volition, but by the necessity of what must surely be. And therefore neither virtue nor vice is anything, but rather good and ill desert are confounded together without distinction. Moreover, seeing that the whole course of events is deduced from providence, and nothing is left free to human design, it comes to pass that our vices also are referred to the Author of all good—a thought than which none more abominable can possibly be conceived. Again, no ground is left for hope or prayer, since how can we hope for blessings, or pray for mercy, when every object of desire depends upon the links of an unalterable chain of causation? Gone, then, is the one means of intercourse between God and man—the communion of hope and prayer—if it be true that we ever earn the inestimable recompense of the Divine favour at the price of a due humility; for this is the one way whereby men seem able to hold communion with God, and are joined to that unapproachable light by the very act of supplication, even before they obtain their petitions. Then, since these things can scarcely be believed to have any efficacy, if the necessity of future events be admitted, what means will there be whereby we may be brought near and cleave to Him who is the supreme Head of all? Wherefore it needs must be that the human race, even as thou didst erstwhile declare in song, parted and dissevered from its Source, should fall to ruin.'

In that case, how would divine providence be any better than human judgment? Like humans, it would treat uncertain events as uncertain. But no trace of uncertainty can exist in God, the perfectly certain source of all things. So whatever he has certainly foreknown will happen must happen. Human actions and plans, then, cannot be free. The divine mind foresees all things without any possibility of error. It therefore binds every action and plan to a single outcome. But once we admit this, human affairs are plainly thrown into confusion. There is no point in offering rewards to the good and punishments to the bad. No free and voluntary choice of the will has deserved either. Indeed, we now regard the punishment of the wicked and the reward of the righteous as perfect justice. Yet they would seem the most blatant injustice. People are led one way or the other, not by their own will, but by the necessity of what must happen. So virtue and vice would be nothing, and good and bad would be confused, with no distinction between them. Moreover, the whole course of events follows from providence, and nothing is left to human choice. So our vices, too, would be traced back to the Author of all good. No thought could be more abhorrent. Again, there would be no reason for hope or prayer. How can we hope for blessings or pray for mercy when everything we desire depends on an unalterable chain of causes? Hope and prayer would be lost as the one means of communication between God and humanity. Yet through proper humility we earn the priceless reward of divine favor. If that is true, then hope and prayer are the one way people seem able to communicate with God. By asking, they are joined to that unapproachable light, even before they receive what they ask for. But if future events must happen as foreseen, hope and prayer can hardly be believed to have any power. What way, then, could bring us near to him who is the supreme Head of all and keep us close to him? As you once declared in song, the human race must then fall to ruin, separated and cut off from its Source.

Then said she: 'This debate about providence is an old one, and is vigorously discussed by Cicero in his "Divination"; thou also hast long and earnestly pondered the problem, yet no one has had diligence and perseverance enough to find a solution. And the reason of this obscurity is that the movement of human reasoning cannot cope with the simplicity of the Divine foreknowledge; for if a conception of its nature could in any wise be framed, no shadow of uncertainty would remain. With a view of making this at last clear and plain, I will begin by considering the arguments by which thou art swayed. First, I inquire into the reasons why thou art dissatisfied with the solution proposed, which is to the effect that, seeing the fact of foreknowledge is not thought the cause of the necessity of future events, foreknowledge is not to be deemed any hindrance to the freedom of the will. Now, surely the sole ground on which thou arguest the necessity of the future is that things which are foreknown cannot fail to come to pass. But if, as thou wert ready to acknowledge just now, the fact of foreknowledge imposes no necessity on things future, what reason is there for supposing the results of voluntary action constrained to a fixed issue? Suppose, for the sake of argument, and to see what follows, we assume that there is no foreknowledge. Are willed actions, then, tied down to any necessity in this case?'

Then she said: 'This debate about providence is an old one, and Cicero discusses it vigorously in his "Divination". You too have thought long and hard about the problem. Yet no one has had enough diligence and perseverance to solve it. The reason it is so difficult is that human reasoning cannot grasp the simplicity of divine foreknowledge. If we could somehow understand its nature, no shadow of uncertainty would remain. To make this clear at last, I will begin by considering the arguments that persuade you. 'First, I ask why you are dissatisfied with the proposed solution. It says that foreknowledge is not thought to cause future events to happen of necessity. Therefore, foreknowledge should not be considered an obstacle to free will. Surely your only reason for arguing that future events must happen is that foreknown events cannot fail to happen. But you were ready to acknowledge just now that foreknowledge does not make future events necessary. If that is so, why suppose that voluntary actions must have a fixed outcome? For the sake of argument, let us assume there is no foreknowledge and see what follows. In this case, are voluntary actions bound by any necessity?'

'Certainly not.'

'Certainly not.'

'Let us assume foreknowledge again, but without its involving any actual necessity; the freedom of the will, I imagine, will remain in complete integrity. But thou wilt say that, even although the foreknowledge is not the necessity of the future event's occurrence, yet it is a sign that it will necessarily happen. Granted; but in this case it is plain that, even if there had been no foreknowledge, the issues would have been inevitably certain. For a sign only indicates something which is, does not bring to pass that of which it is the sign. We require to show beforehand that all things, without exception, happen of necessity in order that a preconception may be a sign of this necessity. Otherwise, if there is no such universal necessity, neither can any preconception be a sign of a necessity which exists not. Manifestly, too, a proof established on firm grounds of reason must be drawn not from signs and loose general arguments, but from suitable and necessary causes. But how can it be that things foreseen should ever fail to come to pass? Why, this is to suppose us to believe that the events which providence foresees to be coming were not about to happen, instead of our supposing that, although they should come to pass, yet there was no necessity involved in their own nature compelling their occurrence. Take an illustration that will help to convey my meaning. There are many things which we see taking place before our eyes—the movements of charioteers, for instance, in guiding and turning their cars, and so on. Now, is any one of these movements compelled by any necessity?'

'Let us again assume that foreknowledge exists, but that it does not involve any actual necessity. I think free will would remain completely intact. But you will say that foreknowledge is a sign that a future event must happen, even if foreknowledge does not make it necessary. Granted. But in that case, the outcomes would clearly have been inevitable even without foreknowledge. For a sign only indicates something that exists. It does not bring about what it indicates. We must first show that all things, without exception, happen of necessity. Only then can foreknowledge be a sign of this necessity. Otherwise, if there is no such universal necessity, foreknowledge cannot be a sign of a necessity that does not exist. Clearly, too, a proof based on firm reasoning must come from fitting and necessary causes, not from signs and loose general arguments. But how can things that are foreseen ever fail to happen? This question assumes that we believe events foreseen by providence were not going to happen. Our view, instead, is that although these events would happen, nothing in their nature made them happen of necessity. An example will help explain what I mean. We see many things happening before our eyes. For instance, we see charioteers moving as they guide and turn their chariots. Now, is any one of these movements compelled by necessity?'

'No; certainly not. There would be no efficacy in skill if all motions took place perforce.'

'No, certainly not. Skill would have no effect if all movements happened by necessity.'

'Then, things which in taking place are free from any necessity as to their being in the present must also, before they take place, be about to happen without necessity. Wherefore there are things which will come to pass, the occurrence of which is perfectly free from necessity. At all events, I imagine that no one will deny that things now taking place were about to come to pass before they were actually happening. Such things, however much foreknown, are in their occurrence free. For even as knowledge of things present imports no necessity into things that are taking place, so foreknowledge of the future imports none into things that are about to come. But this, thou wilt say, is the very point in dispute—whether any foreknowing is possible of things whose occurrence is not necessary. For here there seems to thee a contradiction, and, if they are foreseen, their necessity follows; whereas if there is no necessity, they can by no means be foreknown; and thou thinkest that nothing can be grasped as known unless it is certain, but if things whose occurrence is uncertain are foreknown as certain, this is the very mist of opinion, not the truth of knowledge. For to think of things otherwise than as they are, thou believest to be incompatible with the soundness of knowledge.

‘Then, events that happen now without necessity must also have been going to happen without necessity before they occurred. Therefore, some future events will happen without any necessity. In any case, I suppose no one would deny that events happening now were going to happen before they actually occurred. However fully such events were foreknown, they happen freely. Just as knowledge of present events imposes no necessity on them, foreknowledge of future events imposes none on them. But you will say that this is the very point in dispute. Can events that do not happen necessarily be foreknown at all? For you see a contradiction here. If events are foreseen, you think they must happen necessarily. But if they do not happen necessarily, you think they cannot possibly be foreknown. You think nothing can be known unless it is certain. But if events whose occurrence is uncertain are foreknown as certain, you think this is the very mist of opinion, not the truth of knowledge. For you believe that thinking of things as other than they are is incompatible with sound knowledge.

'Now, the cause of the mistake is this—that men think that all knowledge is cognized purely by the nature and efficacy of the thing known. Whereas the case is the very reverse: all that is known is grasped not conformably to its own efficacy, but rather conformably to the faculty of the knower. An example will make this clear: the roundness of a body is recognised in one way by sight, in another by touch. Sight looks upon it from a distance as a whole by a simultaneous reflection of rays; touch grasps the roundness piecemeal, by contact and attachment to the surface, and by actual movement round the periphery itself. Man himself, likewise, is viewed in one way by Sense, in another by Imagination, in another way, again, by Thought, in another by pure Intelligence. Sense judges figure clothed in material substance, Imagination figure alone without matter. Thought transcends this again, and by its contemplation of universals considers the type itself which is contained in the individual. The eye of Intelligence is yet more exalted; for overpassing the sphere of the universal, it will behold absolute form itself by the pure force of the mind's vision. Wherein the main point to be considered is this: the higher faculty of comprehension embraces the lower, while the lower cannot rise to the higher. For Sense has no efficacy beyond matter, nor can Imagination behold universal ideas, nor Thought embrace pure form; but Intelligence, looking down, as it were, from its higher standpoint in its intuition of form, discriminates also the several elements which underlie it; but it comprehends them in the same way as it comprehends that form itself, which could be cognized by no other than itself. For it cognizes the universal of Thought, the figure of Imagination, and the matter of Sense, without employing Thought, Imagination, or Sense, but surveying all things, so to speak, under the aspect of pure form by a single flash of intuition. Thought also, in considering the universal, embraces images and sense-impressions without resorting to Imagination or Sense. For it is Thought which has thus defined the universal from its conceptual point of view: "Man is a two-legged animal endowed with reason." This is indeed a universal notion, yet no one is ignorant that the thing is imaginable and presentable to Sense, because Thought considers it not by Imagination or Sense, but by means of rational conception. Imagination, too, though its faculty of viewing and forming representations is founded upon the senses, nevertheless surveys sense-impressions without calling in Sense, not in the way of Sense-perception, but of Imagination. See'st thou, then, how all things in cognizing use rather their own faculty than the faculty of the things which they cognize? Nor is this strange; for since every judgment is the act of the judge, it is necessary that each should accomplish its task by its own, not by another's power.'

'The cause of the mistake is this: people think that all knowledge depends entirely on the nature and power of the thing known. But the reverse is true. Everything known is understood not according to its own power, but according to the knower’s capacity. An example will make this clear. Sight recognizes a body’s roundness in one way, and touch in another. Sight sees the whole body at a distance, as rays are reflected at once. Touch grasps its roundness piece by piece, through contact with the surface and movement around its edge. A human being, likewise, is viewed in one way by Sense, in another by Imagination, in another by Thought, and in another by pure Intelligence. Sense judges a shape embodied in matter. Imagination judges shape alone, without matter. Thought goes beyond both. By contemplating universals, it considers the type itself that is contained in the individual. The eye of Intelligence is higher still. It goes beyond the realm of the universal and sees absolute form itself through the pure power of the mind’s vision. The main point to consider is this: the higher capacity for understanding includes the lower, but the lower cannot rise to the higher. Sense has no power beyond matter. Imagination cannot see universal ideas, and Thought cannot grasp pure form. But Intelligence, looking down, as it were, from its higher standpoint, sees form directly and also distinguishes the various elements beneath it. It understands those elements in the same way it understands form itself. And form can be known by Intelligence alone. Intelligence knows the universal of Thought, the shape of Imagination, and the matter of Sense without using Thought, Imagination, or Sense. Instead, it sees all things, so to speak, as pure form in a single flash of insight. Thought, too, includes images and sense impressions when it considers the universal, without using Imagination or Sense. For Thought has defined the universal from its own conceptual standpoint: "Man is a two-legged animal endowed with reason." This is indeed a universal idea. Yet everyone knows that the thing can be imagined and presented to Sense. Thought considers it not through Imagination or Sense, but through rational conception. Imagination, too, depends on the senses for its power to see and form images. Nevertheless, it examines sense impressions without using Sense. It does so not through sense perception, but through Imagination. Do you see, then, how all things use their own capacity to know, rather than the power of the things they know? Nor is this strange. Every judgment is the act of the one who judges. So each must perform its task by its own power, not by another’s.'

'Now, although in the case of bodies endowed with sentiency the qualities of external objects affect the sense-organs, and the activity of mind is preceded by a bodily affection which calls forth the mind's action upon itself, and stimulates the forms till that moment lying inactive within, yet, I say, if in these bodies endowed with sentiency the mind is not inscribed by mere passive affection, but of its own efficacy discriminates the impressions furnished to the body, how much more do intelligences free from all bodily affections employ in their discrimination their own mental activities instead of conforming to external objects? So on these principles various modes of cognition belong to distinct and different substances. For to creatures void of motive power—shell-fish and other such creatures which cling to rocks and grow there—belongs Sense alone, void of all other modes of gaining knowledge; to beasts endowed with movement, in whom some capacity of seeking and shunning seems to have arisen, Imagination also. Thought pertains only to the human race, as Intelligence to Divinity alone; hence it follows that that form of knowledge exceeds the rest which of its own nature cognizes not only its proper object, but the objects of the other forms of knowledge also. But what if Sense and Imagination were to gainsay Thought, and declare that universal which Thought deems itself to behold to be nothing? For the object of Sense and Imagination cannot be universal; so that either the judgment of Reason is true and there is no sense-object, or, since they know full well that many objects are presented to Sense and Imagination, the conception of Reason, which looks on that which is perceived by Sense and particular as if it were a something "universal," is empty of content. Suppose, further, that Reason maintains in reply that it does indeed contemplate the object of both Sense and Imagination under the form of universality, while Sense and Imagination cannot aspire to the knowledge of the universal, since their cognizance cannot go beyond bodily figures, and that in the cognition of reality we ought rather to trust the stronger and more perfect faculty of judgment. In a dispute of this sort, should not we, in whom is planted the faculty of reasoning as well as of imagining and perceiving, espouse the cause of Reason?

'In creatures with senses, the qualities of external objects affect the sense organs. A bodily sensation comes before the mind acts. This sensation prompts the mind to act within itself and stirs the forms that had been inactive until then. Yet even in these creatures, the mind is not merely imprinted by sensations it passively receives. It uses its own power to distinguish the impressions made on the body. How much more, then, must intelligences free from all bodily sensations use their own mental activity to distinguish things, rather than conforming to external objects? On these principles, different kinds of beings have different ways of knowing. Some creatures lack the power to move, such as shellfish and other creatures that cling to rocks and grow there. These creatures have Sense alone, with no other way of gaining knowledge. Animals that can move also have Imagination. In them, some ability to seek and avoid things seems to have arisen. Thought belongs only to the human race, just as Intelligence belongs only to Divinity. It follows that the highest form of knowledge is the one that naturally knows not only its own object, but also the objects of the other forms of knowledge. But what if Sense and Imagination were to challenge Thought? They might declare that the universal which Thought believes it sees is nothing at all. For what Sense and Imagination perceive cannot be universal. So either Reason's judgment is true and nothing is perceived by the senses, or Reason's conception is empty. Sense and Imagination know full well that many objects are presented to them. Yet Reason regards what is perceived by the senses and is particular as if it were something "universal." Suppose, further, that Reason replies that it does contemplate the objects of both Sense and Imagination as universal. Sense and Imagination, however, cannot hope to know the universal. Their knowledge cannot go beyond bodily forms. Reason might also say that, in knowing reality, we should trust the stronger and more complete power of judgment. In such a dispute, should we not side with Reason? After all, we have the power to reason as well as to imagine and perceive.

'In like manner is it that human reason thinks that Divine Intelligence cannot see the future except after the fashion in which its own knowledge is obtained. For thy contention is, if events do not appear to involve certain and necessary issues, they cannot be foreseen as certainly about to come to pass. There is, then, no foreknowledge of such events; or, if we can ever bring ourselves to believe that there is, there can be nothing which does not happen of necessity. If, however, we could have some part in the judgment of the Divine mind, even as we participate in Reason, we should think it perfectly just that human Reason should submit itself to the Divine mind, no less than we judged that Imagination and Sense ought to yield to Reason. Wherefore let us soar, if we can, to the heights of that Supreme Intelligence; for there Reason will see what in itself it cannot look upon; and that is in what way things whose occurrence is not certain may yet be seen in a sure and definite foreknowledge; and that this foreknowledge is not conjecture, but rather knowledge in its supreme simplicity, free of all limits and restrictions.'

'In the same way, human reason thinks that Divine Intelligence can see the future only as human reason itself gains knowledge. You argue that events cannot be foreseen with certainty unless they appear to have certain and necessary outcomes. If so, there can be no foreknowledge of such events. Or, if we can ever bring ourselves to believe there is foreknowledge of them, then everything must happen by necessity. But suppose we could share in the judgment of the Divine mind, just as we share in Reason. Then we would think it perfectly right for human Reason to submit to the Divine mind. We would think it just as right as we judged it for Imagination and Sense to yield to Reason. So let us rise, if we can, to the heights of that Supreme Intelligence. There Reason will see what it cannot see on its own. It will see how events whose occurrence is not certain can still be known in a sure and definite foreknowledge. It will also see that this foreknowledge is not guesswork. Rather, it is knowledge in its highest simplicity, free from all limits and restrictions.'

'Since, then, as we lately proved, everything that is known is cognized not in accordance with its own nature, but in accordance with the nature of the faculty that comprehends it, let us now contemplate, as far as lawful, the character of the Divine essence, that we may be able to understand also the nature of its knowledge.

'As we recently proved, everything is known according to the nature of the faculty that understands it, not its own nature. So let us now consider the nature of the divine essence, as far as we are permitted. This will help us understand the nature of divine knowledge as well.

'God is eternal; in this judgment all rational beings agree. Let us, then, consider what eternity is. For this word carries with it a revelation alike of the Divine nature and of the Divine knowledge. Now, eternity is the possession of endless life whole and perfect at a single moment. What this is becomes more clear and manifest from a comparison with things temporal. For whatever lives in time is a present proceeding from the past to the future, and there is nothing set in time which can embrace the whole space of its life together. To-morrow's state it grasps not yet, while it has already lost yesterday's; nay, even in the life of to-day ye live no longer than one brief transitory moment. Whatever, therefore, is subject to the condition of time, although, as Aristotle deemed of the world, it never have either beginning or end, and its life be stretched to the whole extent of time's infinity, it yet is not such as rightly to be thought eternal. For it does not include and embrace the whole space of infinite life at once, but has no present hold on things to come, not yet accomplished. Accordingly, that which includes and possesses the whole fulness of unending life at once, from which nothing future is absent, from which nothing past has escaped, this is rightly called eternal; this must of necessity be ever present to itself in full self-possession, and hold the infinity of movable time in an abiding present. Wherefore they deem not rightly who imagine that on Plato's principles the created world is made co-eternal with the Creator, because they are told that he believed the world to have had no beginning in time,^S and to be destined never to come to an end. For it is one thing for existence to be endlessly prolonged, which was what Plato ascribed to the world, another for the whole of an endless life to be embraced in the present, which is manifestly a property peculiar to the Divine mind. Nor need God appear earlier in mere duration of time to created things, but only prior in the unique simplicity of His nature. For the infinite progression of things in time copies this immediate existence in the present of the changeless life, and when it cannot succeed in equalling it, declines from movelessness into motion, and falls away from the simplicity of a perpetual present to the infinite duration of the future and the past; and since it cannot possess the whole fulness of its life together, for the very reason that in a manner it never ceases to be, it seems, up to a certain point, to rival that which it cannot complete and express by attaching itself indifferently to any present moment of time, however swift and brief; and since this bears some resemblance to that ever-abiding present, it bestows on everything to which it is assigned the semblance of existence. But since it cannot abide, it hurries along the infinite path of time, and the result has been that it continues by ceaseless movement the life the completeness of which it could not embrace while it stood still. So, if we are minded to give things their right names, we shall follow Plato in saying that God indeed is eternal, but the world everlasting.

'God is eternal. All rational beings agree on this. Let us consider, then, what eternity is. The word reveals something about both God’s nature and his knowledge. Eternity is the complete and perfect possession of endless life, all at once. A comparison with things that exist in time makes this clearer. Whatever lives in time moves through the present from the past into the future. Nothing in time can embrace its entire life at once. It has not yet reached tomorrow, and it has already lost yesterday. Even today, you live only for one brief, passing moment at a time. Aristotle thought that the world had neither beginning nor end. Yet anything subject to time cannot rightly be considered eternal, even if its life extends through all of infinite time. It does not contain and embrace its whole infinite life at once. It has no present hold on future events that have not yet happened. So only something that contains and possesses all of its endless life at once is rightly called eternal. Nothing future is absent from it, and nothing past has escaped it. Such a being must always be fully present to itself and possess itself completely. It must hold the infinity of passing time in an enduring present. Some people think that, according to Plato, the created world is as eternal as its Creator. They think this because Plato believed that the world had no beginning in time^S and would never end. But they are wrong. It is one thing for existence to continue endlessly, as Plato said the world’s existence does. It is another for an entire endless life to be embraced in the present. That is clearly a property of the divine mind alone. Nor does God need to be earlier than created things in time. He is prior to them only because of the unique simplicity of his nature. The infinite progress of things through time imitates the immediate existence of his unchanging life in the present. But it cannot equal that life. So it passes from stillness into motion, and from the simplicity of an everlasting present into the infinite duration of future and past. The life of things in time cannot possess its whole fullness at once. Yet, because in a sense it never ceases, it seems to rival eternal life up to a point. It can never fully express or achieve what eternal life is. But it can attach itself equally to any present moment, however swift and brief. Because that moment resembles the enduring present, it gives everything in it the appearance of existence. Yet the moment cannot last. It hurries along the infinite path of time. As a result, life continues through ceaseless motion, since it could not embrace its own completeness while standing still. So, if we want to name things correctly, we should follow Plato. God is eternal, but the world is everlasting.

'Since, then, every mode of judgment comprehends its objects conformably to its own nature, and since God abides for ever in an eternal present, His knowledge, also transcending all movement of time, dwells in the simplicity of its own changeless present, and, embracing the whole infinite sweep of the past and of the future, contemplates all that falls within its simple cognition as if it were now taking place. And therefore, if thou wilt carefully consider that immediate presentment whereby it discriminates all things, thou wilt more rightly deem it not foreknowledge as of something future, but knowledge of a moment that never passes. For this cause the name chosen to describe it is not prevision, but providence, because, since utterly removed in nature from things mean and trivial, its outlook embraces all things as from some lofty height. Why, then, dost thou insist that the things which are surveyed by the Divine eye are involved in necessity, whereas clearly men impose no necessity on things which they see? Does the act of vision add any necessity to the things which thou seest before thy eyes?'

'Every kind of judgment understands its objects according to its own nature. God lives forever in an eternal present. His knowledge, too, is beyond the movement of time and remains in its own simple, unchanging present. It embraces the whole infinite sweep of past and future. It sees everything within its simple grasp as if it were happening now. So, if you consider carefully how God's knowledge sees all things directly, you will understand it more accurately. It is not foreknowledge of something future, but knowledge of a moment that never passes. For this reason, it is called not prevision but providence. Its nature is utterly removed from low and trivial things, so it sees all things as if from a great height. Why, then, do you insist that things seen by the divine eye must happen of necessity? Clearly, people do not impose necessity on the things they see. Does seeing the things before your eyes make them happen of necessity?'

'Assuredly not.'

'Certainly not.'

'And yet, if we may without unfitness compare God's present and man's, just as ye see certain things in this your temporary present, so does He see all things in His eternal present. Wherefore this Divine anticipation changes not the natures and properties of things, and it beholds things present before it, just as they will hereafter come to pass in time. Nor does it confound things in its judgment, but in the one mental view distinguishes alike what will come necessarily and what without necessity. For even as ye, when at one and the same time ye see a man walking on the earth and the sun rising in the sky, distinguish between the two, though one glance embraces both, and judge the former voluntary, the latter necessary action: so also the Divine vision in its universal range of view does in no wise confuse the characters of the things which are present to its regard, though future in respect of time. Whence it follows that when it perceives that something will come into existence, and yet is perfectly aware that this is unbound by any necessity, its apprehension is not opinion, but rather knowledge based on truth. And if to this thou sayest that what God sees to be about to come to pass cannot fail to come to pass, and that what cannot fail to come to pass happens of necessity, and wilt tie me down to this word necessity, I will acknowledge that thou affirmest a most solid truth, but one which scarcely anyone can approach to who has not made the Divine his special study. For my answer would be that the same future event is necessary from the standpoint of Divine knowledge, but when considered in its own nature it seems absolutely free and unfettered. So, then, there are two necessities—one simple, as that men are necessarily mortal; the other conditioned, as that, if you know that someone is walking, he must necessarily be walking. For that which is known cannot indeed be otherwise than as it is known to be, and yet this fact by no means carries with it that other simple necessity. For the former necessity is not imposed by the thing's own proper nature, but by the addition of a condition. No necessity compels one who is voluntarily walking to go forward, although it is necessary for him to go forward at the moment of walking. In the same way, then, if Providence sees anything as present, that must necessarily be, though it is bound by no necessity of nature. Now, God views as present those coming events which happen of free will. These, accordingly, from the standpoint of the Divine vision are made necessary conditionally on the Divine cognizance; viewed, however, in themselves, they desist not from the absolute freedom naturally theirs. Accordingly, without doubt, all things will come to pass which God foreknows as about to happen, but of these certain proceed of free will; and though these happen, yet by the fact of their existence they do not lose their proper nature, in virtue of which before they happened it was really possible that they might not have come to pass.

'And yet, if we may properly compare God's present with ours, the comparison is this: just as you see certain things in your temporary present, he sees all things in his eternal present. God's foreknowledge therefore does not change the nature or properties of things. He sees things as present before him, just as they will later happen in time. Nor does he confuse them in his judgment. In a single view, he distinguishes what will happen necessarily from what will happen without necessity. For example, suppose you see a man walking on earth and the sun rising in the sky at the same time. Though you see both in one glance, you distinguish between them. You judge the man's action voluntary and the sun's rising necessary. In the same way, God's all-encompassing vision does not confuse the nature of the things he sees as present, though they are future in time. So, when he sees that something will happen, he may also know perfectly well that no necessity binds it to happen. His understanding is not opinion, but knowledge based on truth. You may reply that what God sees will happen cannot fail to happen. You may say that whatever cannot fail to happen happens necessarily. If you insist on this word, necessity, I will acknowledge that you are stating a very solid truth. But hardly anyone can grasp it without making a special study of the Divine. My answer would be that the same future event is necessary from the standpoint of God's knowledge. But considered in its own nature, it seems entirely free and unconstrained. There are, then, two kinds of necessity. One is simple, as when we say that people are necessarily mortal. The other is conditional, as when we say that if you know someone is walking, that person must necessarily be walking. What is known cannot be other than it is known to be. Yet this fact does not mean that it is necessary in the simple sense. The first kind of necessity does not arise from the thing's own nature, but from an added condition. Nothing compels a person who walks voluntarily to move forward. Even so, that person must move forward at the moment of walking. In the same way, if Providence sees anything as present, it must necessarily be, though no necessity of nature binds it. Now, God sees as present those future events that happen through free will. From the standpoint of God's vision, these events are necessary, on the condition that God knows them. But considered in themselves, they retain the absolute freedom that belongs to them by nature. So, without doubt, everything God foreknows will happen. But some of these things arise from free will. Though they happen, the fact that they happen does not deprive them of their nature. Because of that nature, it was truly possible, before they happened, that they might not happen.'

'What difference, then, does the denial of necessity make, since, through their being conditioned by Divine knowledge, they come to pass as if they were in all respects under the compulsion of necessity? This difference, surely, which we saw in the case of the instances I formerly took, the sun's rising and the man's walking; which at the moment of their occurrence could not but be taking place, and yet one of them before it took place was necessarily obliged to be, while the other was not so at all. So likewise the things which to God are present without doubt exist, but some of them come from the necessity of things, others from the power of the agent. Quite rightly, then, have we said that these things are necessary if viewed from the standpoint of the Divine knowledge; but if they are considered in themselves, they are free from the bonds of necessity, even as everything which is accessible to sense, regarded from the standpoint of Thought, is universal, but viewed in its own nature particular. "But," thou wilt say, "if it is in my power to change my purpose, I shall make void providence, since I shall perchance change something which comes within its foreknowledge." My answer is: Thou canst indeed turn aside thy purpose; but since the truth of providence is ever at hand to see that thou canst, and whether thou dost, and whither thou turnest thyself, thou canst not avoid the Divine foreknowledge, even as thou canst not escape the sight of a present spectator, although of thy free will thou turn thyself to various actions. Wilt thou, then, say: "Shall the Divine knowledge be changed at my discretion, so that, when I will this or that, providence changes its knowledge correspondingly?"

‘What difference does it make, then, to deny that these events are necessary? Because they are conditioned by Divine knowledge, they happen as if they were entirely compelled by necessity. Surely the difference is the one we saw in my earlier examples, the rising sun and the walking man. At the moment they occurred, neither event could fail to be happening. Yet before they occurred, the sun was necessarily bound to rise, while the man was not bound to walk at all. Likewise, things that are present to God undoubtedly exist. But some arise from the necessity of things, while others arise from an agent’s power to act. We were therefore right to say that these things are necessary when viewed from the standpoint of Divine knowledge. But considered in themselves, they are free from the bonds of necessity. In the same way, everything we can perceive through the senses is universal when viewed from the standpoint of Thought. Yet viewed in its own nature, each thing is particular. “But,” you will say, “if I have the power to change my purpose, I shall make providence invalid. For perhaps I shall change something that providence foreknows.” My answer is this: you can indeed change your purpose. But the truth of providence is always present to see that you can change it, whether you do, and what you turn to instead. So you cannot escape Divine foreknowledge. In the same way, you cannot escape the sight of someone watching you, though you freely choose different actions. Will you then say: “Will Divine knowledge change at my discretion, so that providence changes its knowledge accordingly whenever I choose this or that?”

'Surely not.'

'Of course not.'

'True, for the Divine vision anticipates all that is coming, and transforms and reduces it to the form of its own present knowledge, and varies not, as thou deemest, in its foreknowledge, alternating to this or that, but in a single flash it forestalls and includes thy mutations without altering. And this ever-present comprehension and survey of all things God has received, not from the issue of future events, but from the simplicity of His own nature. Hereby also is resolved the objection which a little while ago gave thee offence—that our doings in the future were spoken of as if supplying the cause of God's knowledge. For this faculty of knowledge, embracing all things in its immediate cognizance, has itself fixed the bounds of all things, yet itself owes nothing to what comes after.

'True, divine vision sees everything that is coming before it happens. It transforms and reduces everything to a form suited to its own present knowledge. God’s foreknowledge does not change, as you suppose, shifting from one thing to another. In a single flash, it sees all your changes before they happen and takes them all in, without changing itself. God has this ever-present understanding and view of all things not from the outcome of future events, but from the simplicity of his own nature. This also resolves the objection that troubled you a little while ago. Our future actions were spoken of as if they caused God’s knowledge. But God’s power of knowledge takes in all things immediately. It has itself set the limits of all things, yet it owes nothing to what happens afterward.'

'And all this being so, the freedom of man's will stands unshaken, and laws are not unrighteous, since their rewards and punishments are held forth to wills unbound by any necessity. God, who foreknoweth all things, still looks down from above, and the ever-present eternity of His vision concurs with the future character of all our acts, and dispenseth to the good rewards, to the bad punishments. Our hopes and prayers also are not fixed on God in vain, and when they are rightly directed cannot fail of effect. Therefore, withstand vice, practise virtue, lift up your souls to right hopes, offer humble prayers to Heaven. Great is the necessity of righteousness laid upon you if ye will not hide it from yourselves, seeing that all your actions are done before the eyes of a Judge who seeth all things.'

'All this being so, human free will remains secure. Laws are not unjust, since they offer rewards and punishments to people whose wills are free from necessity. God, who knows all things in advance, still looks down from above. His eternal vision is always present, even as it sees all our acts as future events. He gives rewards to the good and punishments to the bad. Our hopes and prayers are not directed toward God in vain. When rightly directed, they cannot fail to have an effect. Therefore, resist vice and practice virtue. Lift your souls to rightful hopes and offer humble prayers to Heaven. You are under a great obligation to be righteous, if you will not hide this from yourselves. For all your actions take place before the eyes of a Judge who sees all things.'