Monday, May 9, 2011

The Physics of Local Motion by Gavin Ardley



I
 
THE science of local motion is fundamental in natural philosophy. Locomotion is the primary kind of motion; it is generated last of the three kinds of motion so that in order of being it is first, as the Philosopher has observed. Thus, owing to its primacy, a proper knowledge of the nature of local motion is necessary for a full understanding of the first of the five ways by which St. Thomas establishes by reasoning the existence of God as the Author of Nature, namely, the argument from motion in the world. In the philosophia perennis, unfolded by Plato, Aristotle, the later Greek and Roman philosophers, and the Jewish, Arab, and Christian doctors of succeeding ages, motion is recognized as a transition from a state of potentiality to a state of actuality; further, such a transition to actuality can only come about by the influence of something already in a state of actuality; hence we have the principle that whatever is in motion must be moved by another. This principle illuminated the sciences of Nature and guided philosophers along sure paths during those ages in which the philosophia perennis was the inspiration of all but a few eccentric and misguided individuals. However, since the revolution in physical science in the seven¬teenth century and the appearance of sciences of Nature alien to the philosophia perennis, an entirely different doctrine con¬cerning local motion has generally prevailed. Newton's first law of motion lays down that every body in the universe continues in its state of rest or of uniform motion in a straight line unless compelled by external force to change that state. On Newtonian dynamics a freely moving body does not require an external mover; a mover is required only to change the motion of the body, i.e. to cause acceleration, not to continue its steady state of motion; the Newtonian theory of locomotion thus evokes the principle of the inertia or impetus or momentum possessed by bodies. Newton's doctrine is thus quite at variance with the doctrine of Aristotle and St. Thomas according to which a moving body must be moved continuously by another agent if its movement is not to cease. The Newtonian system was not wholly new; it was rather the definitive form of doctrines of motion which were pro¬pounded in the fourteenth century by Jean Buridan, Nicolas Oresme, and others of the University of Paris; doctrines which became ever more widely disseminated until their final triumph in the seventeenth century with Galileo, Descartes, Newton and hosts of others who participated in the élan of the times. These doctrines of motion are quite foreign to the philosophia perennis; with the triumph of the impetus doctrine in the seven¬teenth century came the general abandonment of the traditional doctrine of motion; the ancient science of nature with its rich patrimony of so many centuries henceforth found no hearing in the universities of Europe; the ancient learning was preserved in obscurity by a discriminating few, for the most part in the seclusion of the cloister, while the learned world followed new and seductive paths. Further, not only were the Aristotelian doctrines of motion abandoned in the seventeenth century, but the whole frame¬work of the philosophia perennis was given up at the same time by the generality of philosophers, and indeed has remained in general oblivion to this day. There are no doubt many reasons for this great seventeenth century tidal movement in philosophical opinion, but prominent among them is this: it was believed very widely that the experimental physics of Galileo and Newton had overthrown the Aristotelian physics, and it was further generally believed that this defeat in the field of physical science was of such a fundamental character that the whole Aristotelian system was thereby rendered untenable, and that other philosophies of the world must be sought. The science of motion was certainly not the prime mover in the philosophical revolution; for that we must look deeper; but the doctrines of motion precipitated this revolution and confirmed it in popular estimation even to our own day. The science of local motion is thus of the greatest import, not only intrinsically but also historically in understanding the sway which these philosophical vagaries have exercised during the last three centuries. We shall now examine the doctrines of local motion, and in particular the general principle that what¬ever is moved must be moved by another. The Two Doctrines of Local Motion. Our first general inquiry will be directed to this question: does the physics of Galileo and Newton truly render the Aristo¬telian physics of locomotion untenable, or does the common belief that this is the case rest on a misconception of the respec¬tive natures of these doctrines? There are several matters which must be considered: (1) The principle that motion requires a constant mover is of such a general character that it does not depend on any particu¬lar theory of locomotion. Motion means the transition from potency to actuality, and this can only be brought about by something already in a state of actuality. Thus, for instance, we heat a pot of water by placing it on the fire; again, a man cannot teach arithmetic to another unless he already knows arithmetic himself. This contention is so fundamental to the world that it may justly be termed metaphysical rather than merely physical. It belongs to a higher and more general order than the particular processes of physical science; it does not rest upon the latter, but rather the particular doctrines of the special sciences flow from the general principle. To trace the operation of our general principle in its rami¬fications in local motion will lead to a deeper understanding of local motion, since the inner springs of that motion will thereby be made manifest. (2) We have discussed elsewhere the doctrine that the system of physics inaugurated by Galileo and Newton is only prima facie physics in the proper sense of that science, namely, an inquiry into the physics or nature of things. According to this contention (which will be one of the bases of the present inquiry into motion), physics since Galileo has been progressively detached from the family of the real sciences and no longer has any community with the head of the family, namely, metaphysics. A science so detached we shall henceforth designate as Kantian. The structure of modern Kantian physics has been built up as an elaborate tour de force with its own autonomous domestic economy, and with a goal which is ultimately pragmatic. The laws and principles of Kantian physics are imposed on Nature by the physicists, and are not found in Nature; they are not the real principles of Nature any more than the patterns of the formal gardens of Versailles or the conventional lines of latitude and longitude on a map represent Nature. Consequently, the fact that Newton's laws of motion are fundamental to modern physics does not establish these laws as the laws of Nature. Hence the general principle that motion in the world requires a constant mover is in no way invalidated by the existence of a prima facie conflict between this principle and Newton's laws of motion. The conflict is only apparent, not real: the metaphysical principle pertains to the real world, the Newtonian principle to an artificial world. (3) In investigating the nature of local motion we shall not be able to derive immediate assistance from the physical theo¬ries which have been entertained since the days of Galileo, for the reasons mentioned in (2). However, these systems are not wholly fruitless for our purpose. The systems of modern or Kantian physics being mosaics drawn from a variety of sources, they frequently contain disjointed fragments and echoes of metaphysical doctrines. Moreover, if we inquire closely we can often find devious connections of an indirect kind between the modern systems and the nature of the world. Consequently, although we cannot directly draw upon the theories of Kantian physics to formulate the science of loco¬motion, yet we may draw instructive comparisons and illustrations from these various theories. (4) It might be thought that the highly mathematical char¬acter of so many of the laws and theories of modern physics would preclude any significant comparison with the non-mathematical peripatetic physics. Further reflection, however, sug¬gests that this is not really so, since the mathematical character of the modern laws would appear to be not so fundamental and distinctive as it seems at first sight. Thus, the essentially quali¬tative and non-mathematical field theories of Faraday are exactly equivalent to, and may be completely transformed into the mathematical system based on the inverse square law of force. The mathematical theory, in spite of its semblance of a different nature and greater precision, is rather only a different language, and in truth has no more content that the non¬mathematical theory. It seems likely that a similar equivalence between qualitative and quantitative theories extends to all branches of modern physics, although it has not everywhere been yet unfolded. Hence we need not be deterred from a tentative juxtaposition of mathematical and non-mathematical principles. (5) The primary laws of a Kantian physics, such as Newton's laws of motion, rarely or never fit into Nature as they stand. Consequently, along with the primary laws we almost invariably find an array of secondary modifying rules which are designed to bridge the gulf between the laws of physics and accepted phenomena. The bridging of the gulf in modern physical science is somewhat analogous to equity in law: that which bridges the gulf between the law of the State and the norms of natural Justice. Thus Newton's laws in their simple form are immediately modified for terrestrial motions by such secondary rules as Stokes’ law for the movement of an object through a viscous fluid. Without these appropriate adjustments the primary laws could not seriously be entertained. In comparing our physical doctrine of locomotion with Newtonian theories, these modifications of the latter by secondary principles will assume considerable significance. (6) The physics of locomotion in the proper sense will be a fundamentally more coherent and ordered system than the Newtonian theory of matter and motion. The real physics is grounded on reality and illumined by universal principles; the Kantian artifact physics lacks a nature proper to itself and is an inherently mutable and contingent structure enjoying a human rather than a natural authority. It is not to be supposed, however, that the separated physical system is wholly errant like the Prodigal Son; it has a charter, that of pragmatic success, and its separation for this purpose is quite legitimate. Even with this charter, however, modern physics, cut adrift from the steadying hand of a paternal meta¬physics, is ordained to pursue mutable and airy paths to its limited goal, in contrast to the permanent and substantial paths of real physics. The pragmatic goal of the modern systems is less exacting than the ontological goal of real physics. In the real physics a dazzling excess of light from nobler natures or a lack of power in the human intellect to penetrate earthly obduracy may render progress difficult. Hence the spectacular but shallower successes of the modern systems while the real physics has con¬tinued its sober disciplined inquiries in cloistered seclusion. We distinguish in order to unite and thus we bring the separated sciences back into their proper places in the family of the sciences. The State of the Question. Since the seventeenth century the science of Nature has been obscured and discussions of the subject vitiated by the promiscuous mixture of theories and doctrines belonging to different orders, so that today this science is in a more confused condition than it was when left by St. Thomas. By distinguishing the different orders we remove this confusion and restore the true doctrines of Nature to their proper authority. The wealth of observation of Nature which has accumulated in recent centu¬ries has not yet been properly made use of to enrich the real science of Nature. Our inquiries into locomotion will be a first step in this direction. The course we shall follow is historical. In general we may regard the history of physics in one of two ways: We may re¬gard past physical doctrines as merely the debris in the evolutionary march of physical science towards greater conquests of Nature; or we may survey the whole field in such a way that the history of physics becomes comparative physics: this is a science like comparative anatomy or comparative law. We invoke the comparative science here in order to reach a deeper understanding of the physics of locomotion. The Impression of the Agent on the Subject. When we throw a stone it continues to move after it has left the hand; this suggests the necessity for a general inquiry into the persistence of impressions made on a subject by an agent. St. Thomas discusses this matter in various places. Thus, he points out, there are several cases: (1) The impression of the agent remains permanently in the effect after the agent has ceased to act, if the impression be¬comes part of the nature of the effect. For instance, if a stone is generated in Nature, it persists with its properties, as its hard¬ness and its heaviness. (2) Some things become partially attached to the nature of the subject and may persist for a long time; so habits, disposi¬tions, etc., in man. (3) Things of a more noble nature do not remain for an instant after the action of the agent has ceased; so light does not remain in a body when the source of the light is removed. To these cases we might add a fourth, allied to (2): (4) Impressions such as the violent motion given to a stone by the thrower, the heat induced in a body by being in the neighborhood of a fire, and the potency of the semen; these impressions persist for some time after the action of the original agent has ceased; the duration of their persistence depends upon the surrounding medium and its ability to conserve the original action; the subject itself has no firm grip on such impressions. Transient impressions which come under case (4) must not be confused with permanent impressions belonging to case (1). Thus, in (1), if a heavy body is generated, the body retains its heaviness indefinitely after the generator has ceased its opera¬tion, because the form of heaviness has been imprinted on the body and has entered into its nature. Accordingly, if at any subsequent time an obstacle is removed, the body will move spontaneously downwards towards its natural place. Similarly for light bodies which move upwards. On the other hand, in (4), if a body is moved violently, the violent motion is not given to the body as its form or nature, and consequently the body does not of itself retain the violent motion; the motion which the archer imparts to the arrow persists for a certain time and then fails. The violence received from man never becomes part of the nature of the arrow as does an impression received by the creative operation of God; the violence is a transient thing given to the body in addition to its nature. Thus, St. Thomas, in his Commentary on the DE CAELO of Aristotle, discusses the question of natural and violent motion and is at pains to make this distinction between them. It must not be thought, he remarks, that the mover producing the violent motion of the stone impresses on the stone motive virtue by which it is moved, in the way in which the virtue of the generator impresses on the thing generated a form from which the natural movement of the latter results. If this were so, continues St. Thomas, the violent motion of the stone would be an intrinsic principle in the stone, which is contrary to the notion of violent motion. Further, it would follow that the stone, from this very fact that it is moved locally by violence, is altered, which is against common sense. In general, writes St. Thomas in another place, “that which creatures receive from God is their nature, while that which natural things receive from man in addition to their nature is somewhat violent.” And again: “Art takes its matter from nature, and nature receives its matter from God through crea¬tion. Now the products of art are preserved in being by virtue of the products of nature; for instance a house by the solidity of the stones. . . .” In figurative terms we may say that art is God's grandchild. It is clear then that the impressions made by art on nature are not permanent, but are inherently subject to attenuation and disappearance; the arrow falls, the house perishes. While the impressions of art do persist, they are preserved by natural means invoked for the purpose, as by the archer and the architect. Let us now consider how the violent motion of the arrow is continued for some time after it has left the archer.
How is Continued Violent Motion Possible?
The Philosopher [Aristotle] gave much thought to this subject. “If everything that is in motion, with the exception of things that move themselves [i. e., animals], is moved by something else, how is it that some things, e.g., things thrown, continue to be in motion when their movent is no longer in contact with them?” he asks.[1]
Some have suggested, continues the Stagirite, that the solu­tion to the problem lies in a process of "mutual replacement" (antiperistasis): the thrower at the same time as he throws the thing thrown, also imparts motion to the air, and the air in motion in turn imparts further motion to the thing thrown.[2] In general, A pushes B, B pushes C, C pushes D, and so on, and even, in a circular fashion, Z pushes A; hence the motion is continued, like the trucks in a railway train or the endless motion of a revolving belt. But it is manifest, says the Phi­losopher, that in such a case all the members, whatever the exact sequence may be, would have to be in motion simultane­ously, or at rest simultaneously, and hence when the original movent ceases to move the series all movement would instantly cease. The process of antiperistasis on this ground alone, not to mention other defects, fails therefore to explain the continued motion of the single thrown body after the original act of throw­ing has ceased. Hence, observes Aristotle, we must look else­where for the explanation of the thrown body.[3]
It is not the continued movement of the medium which ex­plains the movement of the projectile; this only pushes back the problem one step, since we still have to explain the continued movement of the medium. The continued local move­ment of the medium must be ruled out as the source of the projectile's continued motion: yet the source must lie with the medium in some way, since the medium is the only possible source of the projectile's continued motion after it has left the thrower, so the Philosopher writes.[4]

Thereafter while we must accept this explanation [antiperistasis] to the extent of saying that the original movent gives the power of being a movent either to air or to water or to something else of the kind, naturally adapted for imparting and undergoing motion, we must say further that this thing does not cease simultaneously to impart motion and to undergo motion: it ceases to be in motion at the moment when the movent ceases to move it, but it still re­mains a movent, and so it causes something else consecutive with it to be in motion, and of this again the same may be said. The motion begins to cease when the motive force produced in one number of the consecutive series is at each stage less than that possessed by the preceding member, and it finally ceases when one member no longer causes the next member to be a movent but only causes it to be in motion. The motion of these last two - of the one as movent and of the other as moved - must cease simultaneously, and with this the whole motion ceases.[5]

In another place the Philosopher sums up the theory of the continuance of violent motion in a succinct manner when he says: “the force transmits the movement, to the body by first, as it were, impregnating the air. . . . If the air were not en­dowed with this function, constrained movement would be impossible.”[6]
The original violence initiates the movement and gives to the circumambient medium the power of continuing it; however this is a transient power, and diminishes and finally fails, where­upon the violent movement ceases and the projectile falls.
It would appear that we must recognize in the medium not only a propulsive but also a resistive agency; the medium offers different resistance to the body's movement according as the medium is more or less easily divided by the body.[7] Thus, we can throw a stone more readily in air than under water. We shall further consider this twofold action of the medium later in connection with natural motion.
St. Thomas fully agrees with the foregoing doctrine of Aris­totle. In the section of this Commentary on the DE CAELO to which we have previously referred,[8] St. Thomas lays down, that in the violent movement of a stone the mover impresses motion only while it is in contact with the stone. Nevertheless, because air is both subtle and light it is susceptible to impressions. Consequently, when the violence of the mover desists, the air in contact with the stone continues to propel the stone, and gives also propulsive power to the conjoined air, which in its turn propels the stone, and so on. Consequently the first violence endures in the stone to all appearance, but really the stone continues to move because of the successive impressions of the air. Hence, if there were no such bodies as air, there would be no violent motion - si enim non esset tale corpus quale est aer, non esset motus violentus.
Aristotle and St. Thomas are unanimous that movement in a void, if such could exist, would be impossible.[9] In a void there would be no motivating medium to cause motion; nor would there be any determinate direction for movement, so that there could be no directed motion, which is absurd.[10] A stone could not be thrown from the hand nor an arrow shot from the bow in a void, if there were such.
This principle is the antithesis of the doctrines of original impetus (of which more in a later place) advanced by Buridan, Descartes, Newton, etc. According to the impetus doctrine, motion in a void is not only possible but is the most free of all motions and persists indefinitely; the function of the medium for the impetus theory is merely to retard motion.

The Principal Agent and its Instruments.
St. Thomas embarks on an interesting discussion of motion in the De Potentia.[11] He compares the continued movement of the arrow with the retention by the semen of the force originally imparted to it by the soul. This comparison has sometimes been taken to mean that St. Thomas subscribed to a theory of im­petus for moving bodies.[12] In truth, however, it cannot be thus interpreted. Let us consider St. Thomas' words:

An instrument is understood to be moved by the principal agent so long as it retains the power communicated to it by the prin­cipal agent; thus the arrow is moved by the archer as long as it re­tains the force wherewith it was shot by him. Thus in heavy and light things, that which is generated is moved by the generator as long as it retains the form transmitted thereby: so that the semen also is understood to be moved by the soul of the begetter, as long as it retains the force communicated by that soul, although it is in body separated from it. And the mover and the thing moved must be together at the commencement of but not throughout the whole movement, as is evident in the case of projectiles.

It will be evident in the first place that St. Thomas' com­parison here between the semen and the projectile is somewhat general, and is not to be taken in an unduly literal manner. The force impressed on the semen is more firmly attached to its nature than is the violent motion of an arrow. Furthermore, St. Thomas holds that the form of heavy and light bodies is not the cause of natural local motion, but is its principle, as he re­lates in the Contra Gentiles:[13]the form determines the place to which the body has a tendency, the actual movement to that place must have another and external cause, namely, the impulsion of the medium. Thirdly, even the continued force of the semen is dependent upon a suitable medium to preserve that force,[14] as indeed is manifestly the case with the preservation of any living thing.
In this discussion in the De Potentia St. Thomas does not refer to the action of the surrounding medium because here he is taking that action for granted. With the semen the retention of the force given to it by the soul of the begetter depends on the proper medium to conserve and apply that force. So with the arrow: the retention of the force given to it by the archer requires the participation of the medium, to preserve in itself the impression for as long as is proper, and to guide the arrow to the place determined by the original act of the archer.
St. Thomas is primarily concerned in this discussion with the fact that a body receives its power from the original agent, and retains it for a time after it leaves that agent; the arrow does not take off on its own account, nor does the semen acquire its force except from the begetter. The medium cannot originate the movement, only the initial act can accomplish this; but the force or impulse once given by the principal agent, the medium's function is to take up the subordinate task of carrying out the movement; so the movement persists after the body has sepa­rated from the principal agent. Thus, the captain directs and the sergeant sees that the direction is carried through. The whole movement depends on the initial act of the principal agent and is executed by the instruments of that agent under the agent's direction. Failure to achieve the end laid down by the principal agent is due to the defectibility of the instruments.
On the primacy of the principal agent St. Thomas writes: “An effect is ascribed more especially to the direction of the first mover towards the end than to the instruments which re­ceive that direction,"[15] Thus he can continue: "The arrow receives its direction to a fixed end through the impulse [ex impulsione] of the archer, so, too, natural bodies receive an inclination to their natural ends from their natural movers [the heavens], from whom they derive their forms, powers and move­ments," without in any way implying a doctrine of impetus. In the impetus doctrine no instrumental agent is required to con­tinue the original action; in St. Thomas' doctrine, a continuous hierarchy of movers is required.
Thus in no way in his doctrine of local motion does St. Thomas weaken the force of the principle that whatever is moved is moved by another.

The Attenuation of Violent Motion.
Why does the arrow finally fall? Why does its flight not continue indefinitely under the influence of the propelling air when once started by the archer? In considering this question we should see it in its more general content: always we perceive that the nearer a thing is to its cause the more powerful is the effect of that cause. Thus the nearer a body is to a fire the hot­ter it is: the heat of the fire is actual and it moves the neighbor­ing body from potency to act, so that heat becomes actual in the body. The nearer the body to the fire the greater is this effect, and consequently the hotter the body becomes.[16] So, a man who knows arithmetic teaches it to another, and the more conscientiously the pupil applies himself, the more does he learn.
Duhem cites an illuminating passage from al Bitrogi, the disciple of ibn Rushd, in which the attenuation of violent mo­tion is compared with the general inward radial attenuation of motion in the cosmos, al Bitrogi writes:[17]

[the stone and the arrow] continue to move, but by means of a virtue which remains applied to the stone or to the arrow after the projector has launched it; the more the arrow is separated from its motor, the more feeble the virtue becomes. As this virtue is consumed when the arrow falls, so the virtue that the Supreme Mover confers on the inferior spheres diminishes continually until it comes to the Earth which remains naturally immobile.
An influence radiating from a central point through a hier­archy of agents is attenuated and divided and diversified the farther removed it is from the center.[18] This is true whether we consider a state or a transition, whether the spreading rip­ples caused by dropping a pebble into a pond, or the cosmos as a whole proceeding from God.
The general principle illuminates such diverse things as the imperfection and contingency of the sub-lunary world and the inferiority of man's intellectual powers to the angel's. The eventual fall of the arrow; the crumbling of the old house; the impotency of seeds kept too long; the gradual cooling of hot bodies when the fire is removed; each of these processes of decay may be hastened or retarded in its own way according to the surroundings; but its ultimate extinction is as certain as the imperfection of terrestrial affairs compared with celestial.


[1] Physic. 266 b 27-30 (Oxford ed.).

[2] Physic. 215 a 15; 266 b 30 f.; 267 a 16 f.; etc. Ross' Commentary on thePhysics of Aristotle may profitably be consulted on antiperistasis and related matters.
[3] It is remarkable that so well-informed an historian as Pierre Duhem should have been mistaken about the Aristotelian doctrine on this matter. He attributes, quite wrongly, the absurd theory that the moving air impels the projectile, to Aristotle. In fact, as we have seen, Aristotle is at pains to show how untenable such a theory ­must be (cf. Leonardo, t. 3, préf., p. vi, etc.).
[4] Physic. 267 a 2-12.
[5] It is instructive to compare this process described by Aristotle, of combined motion and power of giving motion, with wave progression: e. g., the spreading ripples produced on the surface of a pond when a pebble is thrown in. We shall have more to say on this matter hereafter.
[6] De Caelo 301 b 25-29.
[7] Physic. 215 a 30, etc.
[8] III de Cael. et Mund., lect. 7.
[9] Physic. 215 a 18; a 23.
[10] Let us remark here that the so-called "vacuum" obtained by pumping the air out of a vessel is not to be regarded as a void, but rather as a medium of rare lightness and subtlety in which both natural and violent motions proceed with facility under the influence of the aethereal medium. A suggestive similitude will be found in the theory of "wave mechanics," a subject we shall discuss later.
[11] De Pot., q. 3, a II, ad 5.
[12] So, apparently, Garrigou-Lagrange: God: His Existence and His Nature, I,274 f. Dominic Soto, O. P. (1494-1560), the celebrated Spanish philosopher and theologian, invoked this discussion of St. Thomas' to support, it is said, an impetus theory of motion. Cf. Duhem, Leon. t. 3, p. 286 f.
[13] III Cont. Gent., c. 23.
[14] An interesting case may be found in the modern practice of artificial insemina­tion in animals which often requires the prolongation of the force of the semen be­yond its ordinary span. This is accomplished by providing a suitable medium at a favorable temperature.
[15] III Cont. Gent., c. 24: "How even things devoid of knowledge seek the good."
[16] On the doctrine of heat see, for instance, the last paragraph of III Cont. Gent., c. 69 (cf. Aristotle, Physic. 255 a 23). It will be evident that this doctrine of heat differs fundamentally from the theory of heat held in modern "Kantian" physical science.
[17] Duhem, Leon., t. 2, p. 191.
[18] III Cont. Gent., c. 64; Summa Theol., I, q. 89, a. 1, etc.
33 De Caelo 308 a 3; 310 b 25, etc
To be continued ....


Frits Albers’ critique of Gavin Ardley’s article, “The Physics of Local Motion”

… My main objection to the alleged interpretation and application of the Aristotelian principles put forward by Ardley is, that they arbitrarily transfer the whole debate from ‘motion’ to ‘power to move’, and so become inconsistent with REAL facts.
I accept with St. Thomas the truth of the two universal principles that
(1) “whatever is moved is moved by another”, and
(2) “motion is recognized as a transition from a state of potentiality to a state of actuality”,
both quoted by Ardley in his “Physics of Local Motion”. They do neither include nor do they prepare us for what is to be brought into the debate: the altogether alien matter of the ‘transfer of power’ to actualise by another agent what had been actualised by its proper agent. I cannot stress enough that ‘power to actualise’ and ‘power to transfer actualisation’ are two totally different and unrelated matters. For either
(a) the original agent, although perfectly fitted to actualize a certain potential, may be totally unsuited to actualize the totally different potential of transferring the actualisation, or
(b) the new agent may be totally unsuited to be actualised for the execution of this original actualisation even regardless of the ludicrous situation when we do not know HOW, or by WHOM or by WHAT the transfer of power has been actualised.
Needless to say, this ‘transfer’ is not treated by Ardley in the sense that it is not even remotely explained. It remains a totally mysterious thing and breaks down on various occasions. Simply pointing to ‘air’ as the new agent is neither good physics nor good metaphysics.
Consider a 12-ton railway carriage, shunted by an engine and now quietly rolling along at a brisk jogger’s pace, unable to be stopped in its tracks by 10 able-bodied men. How can this engine, perfectly suited to actualise the carriage’s potential to motion, now do a totally different thing: cease to be the perfect actualising agent, and transfer the power to actualise that same potential to air? Just claiming that this must happen in the non-apparent need of another power or of another explanation is not serious metaphysics and results in unreal physics. No one can seriously entertain the thought.
(a) that air has now taken over the role of the engine and actually has received the power to move the carriage, and
(b) that air got this power from the engine.
The fact that marbles, once set in motion, roll perfectly on a horizontal plane in a man-made vacuum (airless tube) shows that air does not come into it. Yet the moving carriage and the moving marbles perfectly fulfil the two universal truths quoted above: they were moved by another and their movement is a case in which a potential they possessed has been activated.
The Ardley doctrine of transfer breaks down in the circular motion of a flywheel (grindstone). Here even ‘aether’ (in the absence of ‘air’ as a medium) would find it impossible to move the grindstone to the right at the top and to the left at the bottom, up on the left and down on the right. In fact it is impossible to let a ‘transfer-agent’ cater for the variations in speed (motion!) along the radial of the wheel. Yet here again, the motion of the wheel is in perfect accord with (1) and (2) above.
The fact is that, wherever we observe the actualisation of a potential into act, we see the actualisation being performed by an agent perfectly suited for the realisation of the potential, i.e. to make the potential actual, real. The flying stone, the bowled cricket ball, the fired bullet, the shunted carriage, the circling satellite, the turning flywheel all received the actualization of THEIR potential by THEIR most appropriate agent. The bowler does not move a railway carriage; the flying stone does not receive the power to go into orbit; only in tornadoes do we see air give powerful motion to flying objects. They are all examples of the one universal rule: the immediacy between an act and the actualisation of a potential appropriate to that act and appropriate to the potential.
And here we come across the solution that escaped Ardley and …. whoever.
Even in ‘local motion’, the question is not primarily one of motion, but of the much broader and far more primary (or fundamental) question expressed in (2) above: the actualisation of a potential. As shown by innumerable examples in nature, there is always an ‘immediacy’ between the already existing (actual) agent (perfectly fitted to perform the actualisation) and the potency that is being actualised. Circling satellites and rolling marbles show that ‘air’ does not come into this immediacy when the motion ‘in vacuum’ is considered; and the enormously complex actualisation of the motion of a freely rotating flywheel (up to the 5th power) eliminates ‘aether’ from the actualisation of this very specific potential, even assuming that such ‘transfer’ was feasible. In the absence of a ‘mediate’ agent, the freely rotating flywheel brings us back to the ‘immediacy’ between “act and potency” in motion as it is in ALL actualisation of a potential. If this immediacy exists between the ‘agent’ and the ‘motion’ of a turning flywheel as the only required bond expressed in (2) above, why not in ALL motion where, as examples of (2) above, there can only exist an immediacy between the perfectly fitted agent and the perfectly adapted result.
Ardley does not explain the mechanics, the steps, the HOW of the irrevocable break he postulates as occurring in the immediacy that exists between “act and potency” in motion, between the shunting engine and the carriage, once the carriage leaves the engine. This break in immediacy between act and potency is never postulated anywhere else in philosophy.
Neither does he explain HOW this ‘immediacy’ is now transferred to a most unsuitable agent, air, just because it is lying around. “Here, you will do!” But in the case of the rolling carriage we have the additional anomaly that the air is supposed to have received power to ‘move’ the carriage, but has no effect on the turning wheels (being examples of rotating flywheels) by which this movement becomes possible. The engine as the first and perfectly fitted actualiser of the whole movement saw its actualisation suddenly interrupted, broken off, and transferred to a most unsuitable ‘agent’ which did not even possess any of that potential even to have it actualised.
Impetus?
Not in the Newtonian sense of giving to something the property to keep itself in motion in the absence of the fundamental requisite of the Aristotelian philosophy: hylemorphism. In true Aristotelian metaphysics the realisation of the potential remains under the immediacy of the primary act for the duration of the actualisation without giving to the object “a second nature it did not have before”. And so the moving object remains moved “by another” even if not moved by air. ….
In conclusion I may quote two great Saints.
First St.
Thomas:
“The fact that the phenomena can be explained this way (Ardley) is no proof of the truth of these theories. For possibly the same phenomena might be explained in a wholly different way as yet unknown to men”.
To avoid being included in this wise warning, I have abstained from using physical principles as Ardley did, (air) and highlighted what the requirements are of the fundamental doctrine of “act and potency”. If one veers away from that, it must be done on sound metaphysical principles. To advocate a break in the essential unity between act and potency is bad metaphysics. It stinks of Manichaeism in which people can consider themselves excused from the immediacy between their acts and the results of their acts, and transfer the results to an agency outside themselves.
And then St. Bellarmine:
“In this I may myself be considered not bound by St. Thomas”, if St. Thomas advocates this “break” and this wholly unnecessary and totally inadequate “transfer”. …
[Ardley] starts with two metaphysical principles,
(1) whatever is moved is moved by another, and
(2) motion is recognised as a transition from a state of potentiality to a state of actuality.
In other words, he wishes to open up before his readers a metaphysical dissertation. And specifically, he wishes to develop his whole thesis within the context of ‘hylemorphism’, the doctrine of the transfer from potentiality to actuality. But not fully understanding either the universality of metaphysical principles in general or specifically the hylemorphistic principles in particular, he brings ‘air’, a physical entity, not only into his argument, but in to the fundamentals of his arguments, and with that the whole thing collapses; from then on it is neither physics nor metaphysics, but a “dangerous mixture” which is impossible to gel. Needless to say, the tranfser to ‘air’ from whatever went before to whatever role ‘air;’ is now supposed to do becomes inexplicable (mere verbiage) as from now on his whole argument is no longer metaphysics, but neither has it come down to true physics, bur results in a degeneration of both.
… I developed my whole argument within the context where Ardley fell away …: within the context of hylemorphism on the fundamentals of Aristotelian metaphysics. As a brief recapitualtion of what I said I highlight the following:
ALL actualisation from potentia to act takes place IN the potentia. The form an artist gives is IN the marble, the UN-formed ‘matter’. Thus, if motion is a true actualistion from ‘potentia’ to ‘act’, then, as long as the motion lasts, the actualisation takes place where the potentia is: IN the moving ball, the rolling railway carriage, the encircling satellite. THAT is the immediacy between act and potentia, not the physical ‘nearness’ of the cause, and THERE it is where it takes place. The cause remains IN the actualisation of the potentia. And the moving carriage clearly shows that actualisation is still taking place.
In other words: THE AIR COMES TOO LATE! There is no room for it! The actualisation the engine gave to the potentia of the carriage is already taking place precisely where the potentia is: IN the moving body even before they separated, and it is obvious that it is THERE where this actualisation continues after separation until the carriage stops. And since it is equally obvious that, as long as this actualisation continues and the cause of it is continually present (even if not ‘near’: NO physics!), the moving object is truly moved by another for as long as the movement lasts, since ALL actualisation clearly shows that the cause of it is present for ads long as the actualisation endures. Depending on whether the carriage has to be shunted for a mile of for a few hundred yards, the engine will give the precise actualisation to the potentia for the required result.
For as long as ‘Moses’ remains ‘in the marble’, the actualisation of this form endures, even if the artist is long since dead. As the ‘cause’ of this actualisation he is still present in the actualisation. And depending on the size of the statue, the artist will give ‘form’ to the ‘marble’ for the required effect. The cause puts an indelible stamp on his, her, its actualisation of a specific potential. That’s how specific causes are immediately recognised: a bowled cricket ball, a moving carriage, a long-forgotten painting. ….
And that is why St. Paul could write to the Romans, and over their heads to all of us,
“The anger of God is being revealed from Heaven against all impiety and depravity of men who keep Truth imprisoned in their wickedness. For what can be known about God is perfectly plain. Ever since God created the world, His everlasting Power and Deity – however invisible – have been there for the mind to see in the things He has made. That is why such people are without excuse: they knew God and yet refused to honour Him as God, or to thank Him. Instead, they made nonsense out of logic and their empty minds were darkened. The more they called themselves ‘philosophers’, the more stupid they grew …” [Rom. 1:18-22].

Monday, May 2, 2011

Very Conception of Science Has Been Lost



 
...
The traditional doctrine of geocentrism is based upon the conception of the Stellatum, the sphere of the stars, which rotates diurnally around the Earth. Between the Stellatum and the Earth there are the planets, the "wanderers," which differ visibly from the stars by the complexity of their apparent motions. What is of primary significance, however, is the underlying two-sphere architecture of the cosmos: the notion of an outermost sphere, comprised of stars, in perpetual revolution about the Earth, conceived as the innermost sphere. It is crucial to understand that the distinction between the two spheres, so far from being merely cosmographical, is primarily ontological, which is to say that the respective spheres represent two distinct ontologic domains, two worlds, if you will; and it is worth noting that to this day one speaks of "spheres" in a distinctly ontologic sense. It is likewise crucial to understand that the two worlds-the stellar and the terrestrial-define a hierarchic order: that the stellar world, namely, is "higher" than the terrestrial: and again I would point out that the adjectives "high" and "low" have to this day retained their hierarchic connotation. One sees thus that the two­-sphere conception of the cosmos defines a dimension of verticality which is at once cosmographic, ontologic, and axiological. The immensity of spatial distance separating our Earth from the stellar sphere becomes thus indicative of the stupendous hiatus, both ontologic and axiological, separating the two domains. To be sure, the stellar world is not to be identified with the spiritual, which is metacosmic and invisible to mortal gaze; but yet, as the highest cosmic sphere, the stellar world reflects the spiritual to a preeminent degree. According to ancient belief, there is an intimate connection between the stellar and the angelic realm, the realm of the so-called gods. The Earth, on the other hand, occupies the lowest position within the cosmic hierarchy, and this again is to be understood in a threefold sense.
These somewhat sparse indications may perhaps suffice to provide an initial glimpse of what geocentric cosmology is about. One sees that with his telescope and his polemics, Galileo had assaulted far more than a mere cosmography. It was not simply a question of whether the Earth does or does not move-whatever that might mean! Nor was it simply a question of whether the Galilean claim contradicts certain passages in Scripture, such as when the Good Book speaks of the Sun as "rising," or as "running its course." What stands at issue, clearly, is nothing less than an entire Weltanschauung. It is in fact the notion of cosmic hierarchy, of "verticality" in the traditional sense, that has come under attack. But let us note that this notion is intimately connected to the conception of spiritual ascent. One may object on the grounds that it is surely possible to "ascend" spiritually without flying up into the sky; but whereas the spiritual or metaphysical sense of verticality needs indeed to be distinguished from the cosmographic, it yet remains that the two are profoundly related. It is not mere imagination or pious poetry that Christ - ­and before Him, Enoch and Elias - "was taken up, and a cloud received him out of their sight." (Acts 1:9) The question remains, moreover, whether the two senses of verticality can in fact be separated on an existential plane, and whether the cosmographic sense may not indeed play a vital role in the spiritual life. One wonders whether an individual who thinks, a la Einstein,that "one coordinate system is as good as another," can in fact maintain a living belief in the possibility of spiritual ascent. What counts spiritually, as one knows, is what we believe with our entire being: inclusive, one is tempted to say, of the body itself, the corporeal component of our nature. Does not the First Commandment exhort us to love God "with all thine heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy might"? There can be little doubt that the ternary heart-­soul-might corresponds to the Pauline pneuma psyche-soma, which is to say that we are enjoined to love God not only with our spiritual and mental faculties, but with our corporeal being as well. Moreover, in line with this basic principle, the Church has decreed that the literal or "corporeal" sense of Scripture must not be denied,[i] must not be simply jettisoned, as contemporary theologians are wont to do. Authentic Christianity has always rejected angelism in any of its manifestations; if man is indeed a trichotomous being, his religious convictions and discipline need to be in a sense trichotomous as well. Getting back to the basic concept of verticality, it follows, then, that the cosmographic sense cannot be cast aside with impunity; and I would add that history appears to bear this out. It is surely not accidental that in the wake of the Copernican Revolution religious faith has visibly waned. In the more educated strata of society, at least, belief in the teachings of Christianity, to the extent that it has survived at all, has become strangely hollow, and conspicuously lacking in the force of existential conviction. There are notable exceptions, to be sure, but the overall trend is unmistakable; in a very real sense, Western man has forfeited his spiritual orientation. Having suffered the loss of cosmographic verticality, he finds himself in a flattened-out universe in which the concerns of authentic religion make little sense. Let it not be said that religion or spirituality have no need of a cosmology: nothing could be further from the truth. As Oskar Milosz has wisely observed: "Unless a man's concept of the physical universe accords with reality, his spiritual life will be crippled at its roots": yes, it is happening before our very eyes! Getting back to Galileo and his famous trial, one cannot but commend the Church for rallying to the defense of a position which in truth is its own.

It is vital to understand that geocentric cosmology is inherently an iconic doctrine. It pertains thus to the traditional sciences as distinguished from the modern, which are concerned with the material and thus non-iconic aspects of cosmic reality. As Seyyed Hossein Nasr explains:

The modern sciences also know nature, but no longer as an icon. They are able to tell us about the size, weight and shape of the icon and even the composition of the various colors of paint used in painting it, but they can tell us nothing of its meaning in reference to a reality beyond itself.[ii]

This is a very apt illustration, and a most enlightening one. A great deal of misunderstanding and confusion in the debate over geocentrism could have been avoided if the disputants on both sides had realized that the geocentrist claim is to be understood as an iconic truth, a truth which transcends the domain of the modern physical sciences. In reality geocentrism has to do with meaning, with cosmic symbolism, and thus with the mystery of essence. It is not a truth which can be defined, let alone demonstrated, on a positivistic plane.
Having characterized geocentrism as an iconic doctrine, it may be well to point out that what stands at issue is not a matter of symbolism in some psychological sense, but a matter, rather, of objective truth. Geocentrism is thus a scientific doctrine, one which pertains, as I have said before, to the province of the traditional sciences. As such it demands a certain ability to "see," to enter into a superior mode of vision, a mode that is able to discern the meaning of the icon as distinguished from mere "shapes and colors." The contemporary scientist, on the other hand, has been trained to fix his gaze precisely upon the outermost aspects of corporeal reality: is it any wonder that he misses the iconic sense? After considerable schooling one learns to reduce the icon to mere shape and color: reduce the universe, that is, to its material and quantitative components. And so it comes about that the true meaning of geocentrism generally escapes not only its scientific critics, but its contemporary scientific defenders as well.[iii] The debate rages, more often than not, over the outer husk.
Not only the reality, however, but the very conception of science in the traditional sense, has been virtually lost in the modern West. Even theologians, who should know better, have for the most part not a clue: if they had, they would not have busied themselves with the task of "demythologizing" sacred texts. Why this blindness? It is not a question of erudition, or even perhaps of "faith" in the religious sense; what is needed is a traditional ambience, something which in the West has disappeared centuries ago. Nasr is no doubt profoundly right when he compares the traditional sciences to "jewels which glow in the presence of the light of a living sapiential tradition and become opaque once that light disappears."[iv] We need to realize that this marvelous metaphor applies not only to various recondite disciplines, such as alchemy or astrology but likewise to geocentrism, the meaning of which everyone presumes to understand. Given that cosmic realities are connected to their exemplars by way of essence, it follows that a worldview in which essence has been lost is one in which no traditional science - be it geocentrism or any other­ - can find recognition. Such a science may of course survive in its outer forms, even as the shapes and colors of an icon remain visible when its meaning has been lost. Geocentrism, in particular, may survive in its cosmographic dimension; thus reduced, however, to its external sense, it becomes in effect a superstition: a mere vestige of a forgotten worldview. In terms of Professor Nasr's metaphor, geocentrism has thus become "opaque."



[i] In 1909, in a ruling on “The Historical Character of the Earlier Chapters of Genesis,” the Pontifical Biblical Commission denied the validity of “exegetical systems” which exclude the literal sense of Genesis. See Henry Denzinger, The Sources of Catholic Dogma (London: Herder, 1957), 2121-2128. It is to be noted that Pope St. Pius X, in his Motu proprio of 1907, “Prestantia Scripturae”, has declared the rulings of the Biblical Commission to be binding. See Denzinger, 2113.
[ii] The Philosophy of Seyyed Hossein Nasr (La Salle, IL: Open Court, 2001), 487.
[iii] It may surprise some readers to learn that geocentrism still has scientific advocates. One of the best-known today is Gerardus Bouw, director of the Association for Biblical Astronomy, and editor of Biblical Astronomer, a journal dedicated to the scientific defense of geocentrism. See also his treatiseGeocentricity (Cleveland: Association for Biblical Astronomy, 1992).
[iv] Op. cit., 488.

[Taken from previous post]

Esoterism and Cosmology: From Ptolemy to Dante and Cusanus



By Wolfgang Smith
There are doctrinal conflicts which can only be resolved on an esoteric plane. In the present article I propose to reflect upon one such conflict: the antithesis, namely, between a geocentric and a heliocentric worldview. It happens, however, that there is more than one geocentrism, even as there are several distinct kinds of heliocentrism. It is necessary, therefore, to sort out these various conceptions, which pertain to different levels and must not be confounded: only then can we grasp the crux of the problem.
In the first place it is needful, once again, to distinguish between two very different ways of knowing: the way of cognitive sense perception, which takes us into the corporeal domain, and the modus operandi of physical science, which gives access to what I term the physical universe.[1]

This said, it becomes apparent that the primary geocentrism-the geocentrism which is natural to mankind-is based upon the first way of knowing: looking up at the sky, one actually perceives the stars and planets circling the Earth, while the Earth itself is experienced as central and immobile. In regard to the second way of knowing, one generally takes it for granted that science has come down unequivocally on the side of heliocentrism. It happens, however, that contemporary physics does allow a geocentric hypothesis: the notion, namely, that the Earth does not move, does not indeed orbit around the Sun; according to Einsteinian relativity, no experiment can possibly prove otherwise. Admittedly, this is not much of a geocentrism; but so far as the scientific way of knowing is concerned, it is the most that can be said: physical geocentrism, let us call it, to distinguish the latter from the primary kind. To be sure, there is also a physical heliocentrism, which affirms that it is likewise admissible to consider the Sun to be at rest and the Earth to orbit around the Sun. On the level of physical theory, thus, there is no conflict between the two positions, which is to say that both derive support from the principles of relativity. I have argued elsewhere that these principles, which appear to hold on the physical plane, are expressive of the fact that the notion of substance has no more place in fundamental physics: in a world in which only relations exist, I submit, Einsteinian relativity reigns supreme.[2]

It should be noted that there is evidently no heliocentrism based upon cognitive sense perception. Nonetheless, apart from what I have termed physical heliocentrism, there is a renowned heliocentrism championed by Galileo, which insists, supposedly on scientific grounds, that the Earth does move. One sees, however, that in claiming to have demonstrated the motion of the Earth, Galileo was in fact mistaken: his celebrated "Eppur Si Muove" remains to this day unproved. What 1 shall term Galilean heliocentrism turns out to be a bastard notion, a spurious hybrid, one can say, of the aforesaid two ways of knowing.
There is also, however, a third kind of heliocentrism, which might be termed traditional, iconic, and even perhaps esoteric; we will consider that heliocentrism in due course. But first it behooves us to reflect in some depth on the meaning and significance of the primary geocentrism.
I
t has been said that the geocentrist worldview is suited to the mentality of the so-called primitive man, someone who accepts the testimony of the senses uncritically and is supposedly incapable of scientific thought. One maintains, moreover, that human perception is inherently unreliable and subject to manifold illusions, which need to be rectified through scientific means. Even scientists admit, of course, that sense perception does indeed constitute our one and only
means of access to the external world; but one denies that it can per se bestow an authentic and accurate knowledge of things as they are. For that one needs to supplement the human faculties by scientific instruments, and avail oneself of the theories which underlie their use. The role of sense perception in the cognitive process is thus reduced ultimately to elementary acts, such as the reading of a pointer on a scale.
Oversimplified as this brief characterization of the scienceoriented epistemology may be, it does serve to identify the contemporary scientistic denigration of sense perception as a serious and respectable way of knowing. To the scientistic mentality the modus operandi of science appears as the sole legitimate means for the acquisition of authentic knowledge; as Bernand Russell once put it: "What science cannot tell us, mankind cannot know." But of course this is far from being the case! We need to understand from the outset that cognitive sense perception can give access to domains of reality beyond the range of scientific inquiry, and that in our daily life it does in fact give access to an authentic world which physical science as such cannot know. We need to remind ourselves that cognitive perception is neither a physiological nor indeed a psychological act, but is consummated in the intellect, the highest faculty within the human compound. So high, in fact, is that faculty, that according to Platonist philosophers it transcends the categories of space and time. Cognitive sense perception, thus, even in its humblest quotidian manifestations, proves to be something quite miraculous, something literally "not of this world." Moreover, in view of the fact that it constitutes our normal God-given means of knowing the external world, its scientistic denigration, I say, is not only fallacious, but impious as well. What actually limits the truth and the depth of human perception are not our faculties as such, but the use we make of them; and one should add that in this regard a collective decline appears to have been in progress since earliest times. It seems likely, moreover, that the scientistic denigration has itself had a debilitating effect upon our capacity to perceive, and has in fact accelerated our collective descent from the pristine state, a state in which, according to sacred tradition, man had the ability to penetrate "the things that are made" so as to apprehend "the invisible things of God" which they exemplify. The evolution of the scientistic outlook constitutes thus a late phase in that age old descent which St. Paul has characterized as a "darkening of the heart." It is no doubt a fine line that separates true science from scientistic negation; yet we are told in no uncertain terms that those who cross that line are "without excuse." In words which appear to have lost none of their relevance, the Apostle describes the resultant condition of these perpetrators: "Professing themselves to be wise," he declares, "they became fools." (Rom. 1:20-22)
Having alluded to the collective decline which our powers of perception have suffered, it is to be noted that even in this diminished state we are yet able to behold a world that is truly sublime, and incomparably richer-and more real! than the universe disclosed by the methods of physical science. To be sure, the scientific way of knowing has its validity and its corresponding ontological domain, as does the way of perception; but the latter, one is obliged to say; is the greater of the two. For it is by way of cognitive perception that we can know not merely the quantitative and material components of being, but can ascend to a knowledge of essences, and even, Deo volente, to a perception of "the invisible things of God."
Getting back to the question of geocentrism, it is to be noted that the worldview at which one arrives through sense perception is perforce geocentric. Now, in light of the preceding reflections, this fact, so far from constituting some kind of stigma, bestows in itself a certain legitimacy and indeed a certain primacy upon the geocentric Weltanschauung. One can say of the latter that it constitutes the normal human outlook, which as such cannot be illegitimate or void of truth. What we learn by way of our senses is that the Earth we stand upon reposes at the center of the universe, and that the Sun, Moon, planets and stars revolve around the Earth. It is true - as we have been told often enough - that the geocentrist outlook is suited to the understanding of simple arid untutored minds; but it is equally true that this worldview is congenial to the understanding of sages and saints.
The traditional doctrine of geocentrism is based upon the conception of the Stellatum, the sphere of the stars, which rotates diurnally around the Earth. Between the Stellatum and the Earth there are the planets, the "wanderers," which differ visibly from the stars by the complexity of their apparent motions. What is of primary significance, however, is the underlying two-sphere architecture of the cosmos: the notion of an outermost sphere, comprised of stars, in perpetual revolution about the Earth, conceived as the innermost sphere. It is crucial to understand that the distinction between the two spheres, so far from being merely cosmographical, is primarily ontological, which is to say that the respective spheres represent two distinct ontologic domains, two worlds, if you will; and it is worth noting that to this day one speaks of "spheres" in a distinctly ontologic sense. It is likewise crucial to understand that the two worlds-the stellar and the terrestrial-define a hierarchic order: that the stellar world, namely, is "higher" than the terrestrial: and again I would point out that the adjectives "high" and "low" have to this day retained their hierarchic connotation. One sees thus that the two­-sphere conception of the cosmos defines a dimension of verticality which is at once cosmographic, ontologic, and axiological. The immensity of spatial distance separating our Earth from the stellar sphere becomes thus indicative of the stupendous hiatus, both ontologic and axiological, separating the two domains. To be sure, the stellar world is not to be identified with the spiritual, which is metacosmic and invisible to mortal gaze; but yet, as the highest cosmic sphere, the stellar world reflects the spiritual to a preeminent degree. According to ancient belief, there is an intimate connection between the stellar and the angelic realm, the realm of the so-called gods. The Earth, on the other hand, occupies the lowest position within the cosmic hierarchy, and this again is to be understood in a threefold sense.
These somewhat sparse indications may perhaps suffice to provide an initial glimpse of what geocentric cosmology is about. One sees that with his telescope and his polemics, Galileo had assaulted far more than a mere cosmography. It was not simply a question of whether the Earth does or does not move-whatever that might mean! Nor was it simply a question of whether the Galilean claim contradicts certain passages in Scripture, such as when the Good Book speaks of the Sun as "rising," or as "running its course." What stands at issue, clearly, is nothing less than an entire Weltanschauung. It is in fact the notion of cosmic hierarchy, of "verticality" in the traditional sense, that has come under attack. But let us note that this notion is intimately connected to the conception of spiritual ascent. One may object on the grounds that it is surely possible to "ascend" spiritually without flying up into the sky; but whereas the spiritual or metaphysical sense of verticality needs indeed to be distinguished from the cosmographic, it yet remains that the two are profoundly related. It is not mere imagination or pious poetry that Christ - ­and before Him, Enoch and Elias - "was taken up, and a cloud received him out of their sight." (Acts 1:9) The question remains, moreover, whether the two senses of verticality can in fact be separated on an existential plane, and whether the cosmographic sense may not indeed play a vital role in the spiritual life. One wonders whether an individual who thinks, a la Einstein, that "one coordinate system is as good as another," can in fact maintain a living belief in the possibility of spiritual ascent. What counts spiritually, as one knows, is what we believe with our entire being: inclusive, one is tempted to say, of the body itself, the corporeal component of our nature. Does not the First Commandment exhort us to love God "with all thine heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy might"? There can be little doubt that the ternary heart-­soul-might corresponds to the Pauline pneuma psyche-soma, which is to say that we are enjoined to love God not only with our spiritual and mental faculties, but with our corporeal being as well. Moreover, in line with this basic principle, the Church has decreed that the literal or "corporeal" sense of Scripture must not be denied,[3] must not be simply jettisoned, as contemporary theologians are wont to do. Authentic Christianity has always rejected angelism in any of its manifestations; if man is indeed a trichotomous being, his religious convictions and discipline need to be in a sense trichotomous as well. Getting back to the basic concept of verticality, it follows, then, that the cosmographic sense cannot be cast aside with impunity; and I would add that history appears to bear this out. It is surely not accidental that in the wake of the Copernican Revolution religious faith has visibly waned. In the more educated strata of society, at least, belief in the teachings of Christianity, to the extent that it has survived at all, has become strangely hollow, and conspicuously lacking in the force of existential conviction. There are notable exceptions, to be sure, but the overall trend is unmistakable; in a very real sense, Western man has forfeited his spiritual orientation. Having suffered the loss of cosmographic verticality, he finds himself in a flattened-out universe in which the concerns of authentic religion make little sense. Let it not be said that religion or spirituality have no need of a cosmology: nothing could be further from the truth. As Oskar Milosz has wisely observed: "Unless a man's concept of the physical universe accords with reality, his spiritual life will be crippled at its roots": yes, it is happening before our very eyes! Getting back to Galileo and his famous trial, one cannot but commend the Church for rallying to the defense of a position which in truth is its own.
It is vital to understand that geocentric cosmology is inherently an iconic doctrine. It pertains thus to the traditional sciences as distinguished from the modern, which are concerned with the material and thus non-iconic aspects of cosmic reality. As Seyyed Hossein Nasr explains:
The modern sciences also know nature, but no longer as an icon. They are able to tell us about the size, weight and shape of the icon and even the composition of the various colors of paint used in painting it, but they can tell us nothing of its meaning in reference to a reality beyond itself.[4]
This is a very apt illustration, and a most enlightening one. A great deal of misunderstanding and confusion in the debate over geocentrism could have been avoided if the disputants on both sides had realized that the geocentrist claim is to be understood as an iconic truth, a truth which transcends the domain of the modern physical sciences. In reality geocentrism has to do with meaning, with cosmic symbolism, and thus with the mystery of essence. It is not a truth which can be defined, let alone demonstrated, on a positivistic plane.
Having characterized geocentrism as an iconic doctrine, it may be well to point out that what stands at issue is not a matter of symbolism in some psychological sense, but a matter, rather, of objective truth. Geocentrism is thus a scientific doctrine, one which pertains, as I have said before, to the province of the traditional sciences. As such it demands a certain ability to "see," to enter into a superior mode of vision, a mode that is able to discern the meaning of the icon as distinguished from mere "shapes and colors." The contemporary scientist, on the other hand, has been trained to fix his gaze precisely upon the outermost aspects of corporeal reality: is it any wonder that he misses the iconic sense? After considerable schooling one learns to reduce the icon to mere shape and color: reduce the universe, that is, to its material and quantitative components. And so it comes about that the true meaning of geocentrism generally escapes not only its scientific critics, but its contemporary scientific defenders as well.[5] The debate rages, more often than not, over the outer husk.
Not only the reality, however, but the very conception of science in the traditional sense, has been virtually lost in the modern West. Even theologians, who should know better, have for the most part not a clue: if they had, they would not have busied themselves with the task of "demythologizing" sacred texts. Why this blindness? It is not a question of erudition, or even perhaps of "faith" in the religious sense; what is needed is a traditional ambience, something which in the West has disappeared centuries ago. Nasr is no doubt profoundly right when he compares the traditional sciences to "jewels which glow in the presence of the light of a living sapiential tradition and become opaque once that light disappears."[6] We need to realize that this marvelous metaphor applies not only to various recondite disciplines, such as alchemy or astrology but likewise to geocentrism, the meaning of which everyone presumes to understand. Given that cosmic realities are connected to their exemplars by way of essence, it follows that a worldview in which essence has been lost is one in which no traditional science - be it geocentrism or any other­ - can find recognition. Such a science may of course survive in its outer forms, even as the shapes and colors of an icon remain visible when its meaning has been lost. Geocentrism, in particular, may survive in its cosmographic dimension; thus reduced, however, to its external sense, it becomes in effect a superstition: a mere vestige of a forgotten worldview. In terms of Professor Nasr's metaphor, geocentrism has thus become "opaque."
Geocentric cosmology, whether conceived Ptolemaically or according to the Tychonian system … affirms that the stars and the seven classical planets - Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Sun, Venus, Mercury and Moon - are engaged in ceaseless revolution around the Earth, as if mounted on giant rotating spheres. In short, the heavens revolve while the Earth stands still: what is the significance of that? To the ancients it meant that the stars and planets are principles of motion in the terrestrial sphere. Even as the Sun gives rise to the alternation of day and night, and of the seasons, and the Moon gives rise to oceanic tides and other phenomena, so it is with the stars and the five remaining planets: such was the ancient belief. Astronomy and astrology were thus bound together as complementary aspects of a single science. One must not forget that Ptolemy has left us not only his Almagest - the most comprehensive and influential treatise on astronomy produced in antiquity - but also the Tetrabiblos; which deals with predictive astrology.
Given that the celestial spheres do indeed exert an influence upon the terrestrial world, how, let us ask, is that influence transmitted to the sublunar realm? At the hands of Aristotle this question received a rather physical answer: Having convinced himself on philosophical grounds that there can be no such thing as empty space, and persuaded that the celestial spheres are composed of an element termed the aether, Aristotle thought that each sphere exerts a kind of mechanical force upon the next, from the Stellatum down to the terrestrial. And since the latter sphere does not move, the result must be a mixing of the elements, and thus the production of internal motion and change. Such, at least, is the apparent sense of the Aristotelian doctrine. It seems, however, that earlier conceptions of stellar influence had been far more theological than physical, if one may put it so; we must remember that preceding civilizations had populated the heavens with gods or angels, as we prefer to say - who presumably disposed over more spiritual means of communicating their influence to the sublunar realm. But be this as it may, the celestial spheres were evidently conceived as "active" in relation to the terrestrial, which is to say that the worldview of these early civilizations was inherently astrological.
This basic feature of ancient cosmology has of course been abandoned in the wake of the Copernican Revolution. Copernicus himself tried hard to salvage as much as he could of the old cosmology; he was by no means a revolutionary or an iconoclast. Yet, by a kind of relentless logic, his astronomical innovation did precipitate the collapse of the ancient worldview: in the minds and imagination of those who, following Copernicus, came to espouse the heliocentric cosmography, astrology became a dead issue. For now the Earth itself revolves, and presumably acts upon other planets, even as these act upon the Earth. The new cosmology is visibly democratic: the traditional hierarchy, in which the Earth had been relegated to the lowest position, has been replaced by a planetary system in which the terrestrial globe enjoys more or less equal status with its six companion planets. There is now no more up and 'down, no more east and west,' 'north' and 'south,' except of course in relation to a particular planet orbiting the Sun. Clearly, the very basis for an astrological outlook has disappeared.
In the new cosmology, the stars and classical planets no longer exert an influence upon the Earth; or better said, no longer exert a "higher" influence. According to contemporary physics, there is an interaction via gravitational and electromagnetic forces; and certainly, in that sense, the Sun, Moon and stars still affect the Earth. But it is needless to point out that the action of forces or exchange of particles admitted by the physics of our day are nothing like the "influence of the celestial spheres" as conceived in ancient lore - which is of course precisely the reason why the very idea of astrology appears to us today as a primitive and indeed exploded superstition.
Iconic truth has to do with the relation of a cosmic to a metacosmic reality. However, since every cosmic entity is related to the metacosmic realms in multiple ways, it exemplifies a multiplicity of iconic truths. To read a cosmic icon, therefore, it is needful to make a choice; or better said: to engage in a particular perspective or point of view. What one beholds depends, so to speak, upon one's angle of vision; and as we change our point of vantage, the resultant perception may formally contradict the preceding cognition.
Having spoken of geocentrism as an iconic doctrine, I would like now to point out that heliocentrism, rightly understood, constitutes an iconic doctrine as well. The two seemingly rival contentions, thus, are both correct, which is to say that each embodies an iconic truth; it is the perspective, the point of view, that differs. More precisely: the two doctrines correspond to different levels of vision. The heliocentric position corresponds evidently to a more intellectual or internal kind of vision, inasmuch as it contradicts what might be termed the testimony of sense perception. Its iconic truth, moreover, derives from the fact that the Sun, as the representative of Deity, does by right occupy the center of the universe. As "the author not only of visibility in all visible things, but of generation and nourishment and growth" … the Sun could not be conceived Ptolemaically as a mere planet, one among several that revolve about the Earth. Considering the overtly theophanic, one might almost say, "liturgical" outlook of the traditional heliocentric orientation, it is hardly surprising that heliocentrism has been especially associated with the Pythagorean and Platonist traditions, as opposed to the Aristotelian. Based on the report of Philolaus, the Pythagoreans espoused a non-geocentric cosmology in which the Earth revolves around a central fire, the so-called Altar of the Universe, which however was apparently not identified with the Sun. That identification came about later at the hands of the Neoplatonists, whose cosmology thus became overtly heliocentric. Later still, in the Renaissance movement championed by Marsilio Ficino, the doctrine came alive again, but in a somewhat altered form; one might say that what Ficino instituted was indeed a religion, a kind of neopaganism. Copernicus himself was profoundly influenced by this movement, as can be clearly seen from numerous passages in the De Revolutionibus. To cite but one example (from the tenth chapter of the First Book) which enables us to savor the spirit of those Renaissance times:
In the middle of all sits the Sun enthroned. In this
most beautiful temple, could we place this luminary
in any better position from which he can illuminate
the whole at once? He is rightly called the Lamp, the
Mind, the Ruler of the Universe; Hermes Trismegistus
names him the Visible God, Sophocles' Electra
calls him the All-seeing. So the Sun sits as upon a royal
throne ruling his children the planets which circle
round him.
Yet despite these panegyrics, it appears that the light of iconic truth was fast fading. A kind of earth-bound literalism, hostile to the spirit of Platonic philosophy, was beginning to manifest itself, foreboding the advent of the modern age. Neither in Marsilio Ficino nor in Copernicus do we encounter an authentic revival of Platonist doctrine, nor can it be said that the resultant heliocentristn conforms altogether to its traditional prototype: "rather was it comparable," writes Titus Burckhardt. "to the dangerous popularization of an esoteric truth." ….
It behooves us to ponder this highly significant statement. Why should the truth of heliocentrism be "esoteric"? And why should its popularization be "dangerous"? We have already characterized the truth of authentic heliocentrism as "iconic"; are we perhaps to conclude that "iconic" and "esoteric" are one and the same? But by that token, authentic geocentrism would be "esoteric" as well. I propose to give at least a partial answer to these questions. Let it be noted, first of all, that there is a prima facie opposition, a kind of logical contradiction, between the geocentric and the heliocentric claims. It is to be noted, furthermore, that heliocentrism is based upon an intellective vision which replaces or supersedes the sensory. The crucial point, however, is that authentic heliocentrism does not deny that sensory truth, but accommodates it, rather, within an enlarged and perforce hierarchic vision of reality. Vivekananda has put it well when he said that "Man does not move from error to truth, but from truth to truth: from truth that is lower to truth that is higher." This toleration and indeed recognition of lower truth, I say, constitutes a mark of authentic esoterism. The higher truth is never destructive of the lower: quite to the contrary! A so­-called esoterism, therefore, which undercuts the normal and in a sense God-given beliefs of mankind is perforce a false esoterism. Christ Himself has said: "I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill." And by way of further emphasis, He added: "For verily I say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled." (Matt. 5:17,18) To be sure, Christ is speaking presumably of the Mosaic law, and not of cosmology; yet even so I surmise that His words do also apply to the body of basic beliefs grounded in the Old Testament tradition, which certainly includes geocentrism. Till "heaven and earth pass," all these "lower truths" shall remain effective and binding upon us: let no man cast them off before he has actually attained the higher - before "heaven and earth have passed away" - on pain of falling into what an Upanishad calls "a greater darkness."
Getting back to the prima facie contradiction between the geocentrist and the heliocentrist claims, I would like now to point out that this conflict cannot be resolved on the level of our ordinary "common sense" views concerning physical or corporeal reality. Nor indeed can it be resolved on an Aristotelian basis, let alone a Cartesian. It needs to be resolved on the ground of a Platonist - or if you will, a Vendantistmetaphysics: no lesser realism, it appears, will do. And yes, that ground is indeed "esoteric," to say the least.
There can be little doubt, moreover, that this too is the ground upon which Dante conceived his monumental vision of what might be termed the integral cosmos. In a single poetic cosmography he combined, if you will, the geocentrist and the heliocentrist cosmologies; and it is highly significant that one passes from the former to the latter precisely at the Empyrian, which thus represents the boundary, as it were, between the two "worlds." For indeed, as one crosses that boundary, the ascending spheres no longer expand, but now contract; in that supernal and indeed angelic realm, the hierarchic ordering of successive spheres is reversed: here to "ascend" means to approach the center, where stands the Altar of the Universe, the Throne of God. The Empyrean, thus the outermost Ptolemaic sphere - marks the point of reversal, where "heaven and earth shall pass," which is also the point where "a new heaven and a new earth" shall come to be." (Is. 65:17, Rev. 12:1)
There question arises whether the preeminence of authentic heliocentrism may not be reflected on the physical plane in some corresponding cosmographieal preeminence. Does not the very principle of cosmic symbolism demand that the superior glory of the true heliocentric vision be mirrored somehow in the actual geometry of the planetary system? I submit that what Copernicus refers to as "a wonderful symmetry in the universe, and a definite relation of harmony in the motion and magnitude of the orbs, of a kind not possible to obtain in any other way," is none other than that reflection. Admittedly, the Copernican and the Tychonian systems prove to be mathematically equivalent,[7] which is to say that they predict the same apparent orbits; yet even so, the symmetries and harmony of which Copernicus speaks with justified ardor remain hidden in the Tychonian scheme, while they become resplendently manifest in the Copernican. One has mixed feelings, therefore, concerning the contemporary defense of geocentrism. Christian believers do well in guarding a doctrine which proves to be basic to their faith; but the reductionist spirit of the times has forced the debate onto a cosmographic plane where the essential has already been lost, and where the defenders find themselves at a distinct disadvantage. As 1 have noted before, the principle of relativity has offered a certain protection to the beleaguered Tychonians; but at the same time it has rendered the geocentrist cause hopeless on physical ground. Meanwhile the fact remains that a heliocentric coordinate system offers undeniable theoretical advantages precisely because it is adapted to the symmetries Copernicus had his eye upon: the very symmetries that bear witness to the heliocentric truth. The Tychonians may be right in claiming that they too can explain the observable facts, but one wonders at what cost in the form of ad hoc interventions. …. There is something pathetic in the spectacle of these defenders, whom the opposing side does not deem worthy even of a response.
What necessarily baffles the exoterist mentality is what might be termed the multivalency of authentic revelation, be it scriptural or cosmic. Truth is hierarchical, and so Scripture and the cosmos itself need be in a sense hierarchical as well. No single perspective or level of understanding, no single "darshana," can do full justice to the integral truth: revelation itself informs us of this fact in various ways. Typically both Scripture and the cosmic revelation do so by way of "fissures," that is to say, by way of seeming incongruities which disturb and puzzle us, and hopefully spur us on to seek a higher level of truth. As Christ Himself intimated to His disciples on the eve before His passion: "I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now."(John 16:12) Humility in the moral sense is not enough: we need also an intellectual and indeed theological humility. To preserve ourselves from falling into some arid dogmatism, we need ever to continue on our way: "from truth that is lower to truth that is higher." Dogmas, it seems, are meant for the viator, the spiritual traveler, not for the armchair theologian. It is not that dogmas of a sacred kind are simply provisional or limited in the ordinary sense, but rather that they harbor unsuspected truths. We need, as I have said, to continue on our way; as the author of Hebrews points out: "Strong meat belongeth to them that are full of age."(Heb. 5:14) Moreover, since truth derives ultimately from God, this progressive ascent constitutes indeed an itinerarium mentis in Deum, a "journey into God." But clearly, it is a journey in which the viator himself is progressively changed; in the words of St. Paul: "But we all with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, as by the Spirit of the Lord. "(2 Cor. 3:18)
As I have noted before, the higher truth of heliocentrism is reflected in the superior beauty or "symmetry" of the corresponding mathematical description; but one must remember that the "high truth" in question pertains to what may indeed be termed an esoteric level of vision. Reduced to a scientific theory in the contemporary sense - a mere cosmography - heliocentrism ranks in reality below its geocentric rival; as I have pointed out, the latter doctrine, limited though it be, corresponds to the testimony of human sense perception, and opens therefore upon vistas of truth which must remain forever unknown to the physical scientist as such. The problem with an "exoteric" geocentrism, on the other hand - a geocentrism that simply denies the heliocentric truth - is that it ultimately lacks a credible defense against a scientific heliocentrism: referents and epicycles, figuratively speaking, do not stand up well against the equations of Kepler and Newton. Even the most committed geocentrist can hardly fail to recognize a superior cogency in the heliocentric theory, and secretly sense that another truth must stand at issue, a truth which is not comprehended within the geocentric outlook. But alas, on a strictly exoteric plane that other truth becomes perforce hostile, perforce threatening to the integrity of the geocentric worldview. What by right should spur us on to seek a higher, more comprehensive level of understanding - ­what by right should be liberating - comes thus to be feared and rejected as a rank heresy.
The situation, however, is further complicated by the circumstance that heliocentrism has generally come to be identified with the Galilean doctrine, which is in fact a rank heresy. I have already argued that Galilean heliocentrism erodes the sense of verticality which supports and indeed enables the spiritual life: that it plunges us into a flattened and de-essentialized cosmos in which the claims of religion cease to be credible. I propose now to consider another ill effect of the Galilean heresy, which in a way is complementary to the aforesaid loss of verticality.
Every religion is perforce homocentric in its worldview. To put it in Christian terms: Man occupies a central position in the universe because he is made in the image and likeness of Him who is the absolute center of all that exists. Furthermore, man is central because, as the microcosm, he in a way contains within himself all that exists in the outer world, even as the center of a circle contains in a sense the full pencil of radii. Or again, man is central because he is the most precious among corporeal beings. In fact, Genesis teaches that God created the Earth as a habitat for man, and the Sun, Moon, and stars "for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years." It is on account of man's centrality, moreover, that the Fall of Adam could affect the entire universe. Now, it is true that the centrality of which we speak is above all metaphysical, or mystical, as one might also say; yet even so, it is in the nature of things that this "essential" centrality should be reflected cosmographically. Does not the outer manifestation invariably mirror the inner or essential reality? To suppose that man can be metaphysically central while inhabiting a speck of matter occupying some nondescript position in some nondescript galaxy - that would surely be incongruous in the extreme. Once again: it would deny the very principle of cosmic symbolism, and thus the theophanic nature of cosmic reality. To be sure, it is possible, on an abstract philosophic lane, to affirm metaphysical centrality and cosmographic acentrality in same breath; I doubt, however, that one can do so on an existential level, that is to say, in point of actual credence. To the extent that we truly believe the stipulated acentrality of the Earth, we are bound to relinquish the traditional claim of homocentrism: in reality, I say, these two articles of belief are mutually exclusive. One can, of course, pay lip-service to both, as contemporary theologians might do; but actual belief - that is something else entirely.
The objection may be raised that it is indeed possible to espouse an acentric cosmology without detriment to the rightful claims of religion; and one might point to Nicholas of Cusa by way of substantiating that contention. True enough! One needs however to understand that the Cusan cosmology is profoundly Platonic, and corresponds, once again, to an authentically esoteric point of view. Its so-called acentrality is consequently worlds removed from the contemporary relativistic acentrality, and could be more accurately termed a "pancentrality." By the same token, moreover, the Cardinal does not simply deny the geocentrist claim, as does the Galilean astronomer: in reality he transcends the geocentrist contention, and in so doing, paradoxically, justifies and founds it "in spirit and in truth." "It is no less true," declares Nicholas of Cusa, "that the center of the world is within the Earth than that it is outside the Earth"; for indeed, "the Blessed God is also the center of the Earth, of all spheres, of all things in the world." Here, in this terse and lucid statement worthy of a sanctified mind, we breathe the pure and invigorating air of a Christian esoterism. It is ever the way of authentic esoterism to "deny" only by affirming a higher truth, which contains but vastly exceeds the original claim.
It is true that the Earth enshrines the center of the universe; but so do the Sun, the Moon, and the myriad stars. Yet it is evidently the first of these recognitions that matters most to us so long as we are denizens of this terrestrial world. As I have noted before, we depend upon that recognition, that truth, for our orientation: our spiritual orientation no less than our physical.
What happens, now, when we ascend from a geocentric to an authentically heliocentric worldview: do we retain the original homocentrism? One may surmise that as we transcend the geocentric outlook, we likewise transcend the lesser theological conception of homocentrism, in accordance with the Pauline dictum: "I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me."(Gal. 2:20) The resultant and indeed higher homocentrism is in reality a Christocentrism; but again, that Christocentrism is not destructive of the earlier notion, the lesser truth - even as the Christ who "liveth in me" is not destructive of the "I" that "lives." It is once again a question of levels, of hierarchy. Meanwhile the intrinsic connection between geocentrism and the lesser homocentrism endures on the plane to which either notion applies, which is none other than the plane corresponding to our human condition. Let no one therefore deny either of these notions, either of these truths, "from below": the consequences of that denial cannot but be tragic in the extreme. Such a denial of either truth affects and indeed "poisons" every aspect of human culture, beginning with the life of religion, which it undermines.
….



Notes
[1] On this question, refer to my monograph The Quantum Enigma (Peru, IL: Sugden, 1995), especially the first two chapters.
[2] See my article “The Status of Geocentrism,” Sacred Web, July 2002 (to appear).
[3] In 1909, in a ruling on “The Historical Character of the Earlier Chapters of Genesis,” the Pontifical Biblical Commission denied the validity of “exegetical systems” which exclude the literal sense of Genesis. See Henry Denzinger, The Sources of Catholic Dogma (London: Herder, 1957), 2121-2128. It is to be noted that Pope St. Pius X, in his Motu proprio of 1907, “Prestantia Scripturae”, has declared the rulings of the Biblical Commission to be binding. See Denzinger, 2113.
[4] The Philosophy of Seyyed Hossein Nasr (La Salle, IL: Open Court, 2001), 487.
[5] It may surprise some readers to learn that geocentrism still has scientific advocates. One of the best-known today is Gerardus Bouw, director of the Association for Biblical Astronomy, and editor of Biblical Astronomer, a journal dedicated to the scientific defense of geocentrism. See also his treatise Geocentricity (Cleveland: Association for Biblical Astronomy, 1992).
[6] Op. cit., 488.
[Do not have access to remaining footnotes].