Journal of the History of Philosophy

This volume is the second in a series aiming to produce monographs that "are historically reliable as well as congenial to the contemporary reader" by providing "original insights into central contemporary problems" (front cover).

The aim of this series is ambitious, yet sorely needed in scholarship today. As modern technology catapults our understanding of ourselves and the world into the future, history [End Page 330] seems increasingly irrelevant. How can it possibly matter what medieval philosophers thought of the human mind, when they did not even know that the pineal gland exists, much less what it is for? Scholars have an obligation to construct a bridge from the past to the present.

Hirvonen delivers on the historical side of this charge by carefully filling a hole in the existing literature. He does not, however, deliver on the contemporary side.

Ockham's key point, according to Hirvonen, is that there are passions in the will. This is a departure from the standard scholastic view and is paradoxical, given that we think of the will as essentially active and the passions as essentially passive. For medieval philosophers, however, mental furniture does not have physical location per se. Saying that there are passions in the will is not like saying there are glands in the brain. So what difference does it make "where" they are?

It turns out that this key point is the result of Ockham's metaphysical libertarianism. In his view, most passions are simply "appetitive acts," that is, naturally necessary responses to the environment. For example, suppose Jerry beans Netta with a snowball and Netta become angry. Anger is a passion. Netta is not personally responsible for her anger, because it was deterministically caused in her by the circumstances. She is, however, responsible for what she decides to do about her anger. This is where the free choice of the will comes in. Netta considers: she could simply turn the other cheek, or she could hunt Jerry down and shovel snow down his pants. Suppose she chooses to turn the other cheek and takes great pleasure in doing so, because she genuinely wants to obey God's will and knows this is the way to do it. Then her pleasure is another passion, but it is not deterministically caused because it is the direct result of her free choice. Therefore, Ockham asserts, this passion is "in the will."

Only two passions are indeterministic in this way, according to Ockham, namely, pleasure (delectatio) and its opposite, displeasure (tristitia). Ockham places these two passions "in the will" because they cannot naturally exist without free choice. Suppose, instead, that when Netta chooses to turn the other cheek, she becomes displeased. Then we can infer that what she really wanted to do (her first-order will) was to give Jerry a taste of his own frosty medicine. Pleasure is a function of the satisfied will; displeasure of the frustrated will. Although pleasure and displeasure are passive in this way, they must be distinguished from the other passions because, according to libertarians like Ockham, you are responsible for what follows from your will, and you are not responsible for the naturally necessary effects the environment has upon you.

It should be noted that Hirvonen translates 'tristitia' as 'distress' instead of 'displeasure'. This is misleading, because 'distress' indicates a natural response (Netta is distressed when hit by the snowball) while 'displeasure' suggests a free response (Netta is displeased with her decision to turn the other cheek).

Ockham's disagreement with scholastic tradition hinges on his unmitigated commitment to metaphysical libertarianism—the thesis that the will is an uncaused cause. And this disagreement is interesting because it makes us think about pleasure in a new way. The next time you find yourself blaming your displeasure on someone else, ask yourself how you might be responsible.

Unfortunately, I had to rely on my own knowledge of Ockham to figure most of this out. Hirvonen supplies no illustrations beyond repeating Ockham...