Instant digital products (PDF, ePub, MOBI) ready for you
Download now and discover formats that fit your needs...
Incarnating Feelings, Constructing Communities: Experiencing Emotions via Education, Violence, and Public Policy in the Americas 1st ed. Edition Ana María Forero Angel
This series investigates the history of the emotions in pre-modern societies, taking 1500 CE as the conventional threshold of modernity. In addition to new work on Greco-Roman and medieval European cultures, the series provides a home for studies on the emotions in Near Eastern and Asian societies, including pre-modern Egypt, India, China, and beyond.
The Elegiac Passion
Jealousy in Roman Love Elegy
Ruth Rothaus Caston
Envy and Jealousy in Classical Athens A Socio-Psychological Approach
Ed Sanders
Hope, Joy, and Affection in the Classical World
Edited by Ruth R. Caston and Robert A. Kaster
The Ancient Emotion of Disgust
Edited by Donald Lateiner and Dimos Spatharas
The Emotions in Early Chinese Philosophy
Curie Virág
Feelings Transformed
Philosophical Theories of the Emotions, 1270–1670
Dominik Perler
Feelings Transformed
Philosophical Theories of the Emotions, 1270–1670
Dominik Perler
Translated from the German by Tony Crawford
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and certain other countries.
Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above.
You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer.
CIP data is on file at the Library of Congress ISBN 978–0–19–938348–1
1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
Printed by Sheridan Books, Inc., United States of America
The translation of this work was funded hy Geisteswissenschaften International – Translation Funding for Humanities and Social Sciences from Germany, a joint initiative of the Fritz Thyssen Foundation, the German Federal Foreign Office, the colleting society VG WORT und the German Publishers & Booksellers Association.
Contents
Preface vii
Preface to the English Edition xi
Introduction 1
I.1 A Philosophical Approach to Emotions 1
I.2 Why Historical Analysis? 6
I.3 A Twofold Transformation 16
1. Thomas Aquinas: Emotions as Sensual Movements 23
1.1 A Simple Explanation? 23
1.2 The Soul and Its Faculties 27
1.3 The Characterization and Classification of the Emotions 37
1.4 The Cognitive Content of Emotions: Fear and Anger 53
1.5 How Can Emotions Be Rationally Controlled? 61
2. John Duns Scotus and William of Ockham: Emotions in the Will 73
2.1 Two Kinds of Emotions 73
2.2 Pain as a Sensual Suffering 79
2.3 Sadness and Free Will 87
2.4 The Separation of the Parts of the Soul and Its Consequences 95
2.5 Love, Enjoyment, and Voluntary Control 110
3. Michel de Montaigne: A Skeptical View of Emotions 123
3.1 A Theoretical Approach? 123
3.2 Dynamic Pyrrhonism 126
3.3 Applying the Skeptical Method: Sadness, Fear, and Anger 136
3.4 Is a Systematic Order of the Emotions Possible? 149
3.5 Natural Moderation Instead of Control 158
4. René Descartes: A Dualist View of Emotions 175
4.1 A Mechanistic Theory of Feelings? 175
4.2 The Functional Unity of Body and Mind 180
4.3 Emotions as Representations 192
4.4 Wonder and the Taxonomy of Emotions 204
4.5 Self-Control through Self-Respect 214
5. Baruch de Spinoza: Emotions as Psychophysical Units 225
5.1 A Naturalistic Approach 225
5.2 The Metaphysical Frame: Monism and Causal Order 229
5.3 Passive and Active Emotions 242
5.4 An Intellectualistic and Egoistic Error? 254
5.5 A Rationalistic Therapy 263
Conclusion 281
Notes 293
Bibliography 325
Name Index 339
Subject Index 343
Preface
We ask “What does ‘I am frightened’ really mean, what am I referring to when I say it?” And of course we find no answer, or one that is inadequate. The question is: “In what sort of context does it occur?”
Ludwig
Wittgenstein,
Philosophical
Investigations II, ix
Over the past two decades, emotions have moved more and more into the focus of scientific research and have been studied primarily in psychological, biological, and neuroscientific perspectives. The empirical studies concentrate predominantly on explaining the origin and structure of such phenomena as joy, fear, and sadness, which are grouped under the common rubric of “emotions.” But what prompts us to apply a single rubric to a number of phenomena? By what criteria are these phenomena distinguished from others and classified? How are they described or even defined? And to whom are they ascribed? The present book is concerned with answers to these questions. It is intended not as an empirical study, but as a conceptual analysis. Its aim is to analyze the theoretical map on which the individual emotions are charted and set in relation to one another as well as to other mental and physical phenomena.
The perspective taken in its five chapters is that of the history of philosophy. Each chapter reconstructs and discusses influential theories of the emotions that originated in the late Middle Ages and the early modern period. The intention is not to provide the most exhaustive treatment possible of the extensive textual material, nor yet a history of the sources and their reception, but to analyze systematically relevant problems and to compare different theoretical approaches. The history of philosophy shows that there is far more than just one map on which the emotions can be drawn in their relationship to sensations, perceptions, beliefs, acts of volition, and other phenomena. Only when we examine a given map more closely can we explain what is meant by individual emotions.
In view of the multitude of theoretical maps, the intention of the present book is not to pick out a certain explanatory model, but to call attention to the transformations in the discussion of emotions that have occurred in the contexts of metaphysics, action theory, and moral psychology. At the same time, our investigation will also be concerned with how the question of transforming emotions has been answered in the respective contexts. How did philosophers explain that emotions are not something we only “suffer” passively, but often something we actively control, moderating them, sometimes suppressing them, or the opposite—arousing them? Thus we are concerned with a twofold transformation: change in the theoretical framework and, at the same time, in the emotions themselves. The particular attraction of investigations in the history of philosophy is that they bring to light the close connection between these two transformations, for the possibility of moderating or arousing emotions is explained very differently in the different theoretical frameworks.
The present study is not aimed exclusively at a specialist audience. For that reason, it dispenses with a detailed discussion of the secondary literature. However, the notes provide references to the most important commentaries and point out the differences from previous interpretations. The references to the primary sources have been integrated as far as possible into the text itself so that every reader can turn to them to verify the interpretations and to try them in greater depth. All quotations (with the exception of those from Montaigne, Descartes, and Spinoza) are in my own translation from the Greek, Latin, and French.
This book would not have been possible without the encouragement and active support of many people. I thank first of all the staff of the Leibniz Prize project “Transformations of the Mind: Philosophical Psychology from 1500 to 1750” at Humboldt-Universität, Berlin. I have presented preliminary studies and draft chapters to them in internal colloquia and learned a great deal from their critical questions, suggestions for improvement, and clarifications. I warmly thank Rebekka Hufendiek, Martin Lenz, Stephan Schmid, Pedro Stoichita, and Markus Wild for their thorough written comments on earlier versions of the individual chapters. In the spring of 2009, I had the opportunity as a visiting professor at the University of Tel Aviv to teach a graduate seminar on the texts discussed in this book. My talks with the students there, and also with David Konstan, who was in Tel Aviv at the same time, were a great help to me. I thank my colleagues at the Cohn Institute at the University of Tel Aviv for their exceedingly warm reception. I am also indebted for many suggestions to the students with whom I have discussed medieval and early modern texts in seminars in Berlin.
Preface
I have presented ideas that have found their way into this book in lectures in Vancouver, Toronto, Montreal, St. Louis, Leuven, Utrecht, Jerusalem, Würzburg, Munich, Freiburg im Breisgau, Basel, Graz, Rome, Jyväskylä, and Berlin. I thank all the participants in discussions for valuable questions, but most of all for pointing out unclear points and so motivating me to state my arguments more precisely, and not to lose sight of the philosophical forest for the many historical and philological trees. My sincere thanks go to Luz Christoph Seiberth and Sebastian Bender, who have supported me in obtaining literature and preparing the text for publication.
I am grateful to the stimulating interlocutors and also to the dedicated helpers I found in organizing conferences and reading groups on theories of the soul and the emotions in the Berlin Excellence Clusters “Topoi” and “Languages of Emotion.” I was given the opportunity to finish the work in idyllic surroundings at the Istituto Svizzero di Roma. I thank the directors of the institute for their hospitality and for a gift that is becoming more and more precious in the bustling routine of the university: time to read and write.
Berlin, May 2010
Preface to the English Edition
The present book is the English translation of a German book that I finished in 2010. The text, including the references, has not been changed. But a great deal else has changed in the meantime, of course. For one thing, the scholarly debate has continued to advance in recent years. Theories of the emotions have increasingly taken the spotlight in studies of medieval and early modern philosophy, and it has become still more evident that, in these theories in particular, central problems of metaphysics, the philosophy of mind, moral psychology, and ethics have been discussed with particular intensity. For another, my own perspective on these theories has also changed in certain respects. I would briefly like to indicate three areas that, in my present view, call for closer study.
The first of these areas concerns the relationship between theories of the emotions and cognitive theory. A central thesis of this book is that medieval and early modern philosophers were particularly interested in the question of how we can alter our emotions. How can we overcome anger in ourselves in specific situations, decrease our wrath, or increase our joy? To answer this question, many authors appealed to cognitive mechanisms of control. They argued that we can change emotions only if we also change our perceptions, imaginings, judgments, and other cognitive states. Only if we judge the object of our anger differently, for example, can we reduce that anger, and only if we perceive the object of our joy more intensely can we increase our joy. Of course, the critical question is then how such a cognitive control is possible. Exactly how can we influence our emotions by means of our perceptions or judgments? Aristotelian authors addressed this question using a psychology of faculties. They argued that the whole soul consists of various faculties that produce different kinds of states or activities—perceptions, judgments, emotions, etc. All the faculties are coordinated with one another, so that activities of the faculty of judgment, for example, have immediate effects on the activities of the affective faculty. This
means, of course, that the unity and coordination of the faculties permit cognitive control of the emotions.
However, this argument depends on two strong assumptions. First, it assumes that there are in fact faculties that produce activities, and second, it presupposes that there is in fact a perfect coordination of all faculties. But what is there to justify the assumption of faculties in the first place? We cannot observe faculties; we can observe only individual activities. And why should we assume that the faculties, if they exist, are coordinated? Indeed, we observe over and over again that cognitive control fails. We are often unable to reduce our anger or to increase our joy. It would therefore seem all too optimistic to assume from the outset a coordinated system of faculties. Reflections of this kind motivated many skeptical or anti-Aristotelian authors in the early modern period to question, or to reject completely, the psychology of faculties. In recent years I have studied the debate on the faculties in depth (see The Faculties: A History, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), and this debate seems to me to be of central importance for an understanding of theories of the emotions. Only if it is clear how the assumption of faculties was justified in the context of an Aristotelian cognitive theory can we also understand how the cognitive control of emotions was explained. And only if it is clear how the Aristotelian assumption was replaced with new assumptions—in the context of a Cartesian or Spinozan cognitive theory, for example—can we also discern what anti-Aristotelian authors meant by references to a close relationship among perceptions, judgments, and emotions. Hence it is very important to examine more closely the discussions concerning the status and the function of faculties. This means, of course, that theories of the emotions must be more comprehensively embedded in the corresponding cognitive theories.
A second area that requires closer analysis concerns the relationship among the theories of the emotions and various areas of philosophy. Studies of emotions are now so well established in the contemporary debate that the “philosophy of the emotions” has become a discipline of its own. It is therefore tempting to expect such a discipline to have existed in the Middle Ages and the early modern period too, and to try to delimit it from other disciplines. Such a temptation must be resisted, however. In the period between the 13th and the 17th centuries, there was no separate “philosophy of the emotions”; there was rather an investigation of the emotions that took place as part of existing disciplines. The discipline in which this investigation took place varied depending on the author and the context, however. Two examples may serve to illustrate this. Thomas Aquinas discussed the nature and the function of the emotions in the second part of the Summa theologiae, that is, in a theological text, where his study follows a thorough analysis of human actions and precedes an analysis of the virtues (see
Section 1.1). The questions that interested him primarily were how we can produce good actions by means of the emotions, and how we can over time acquire a virtuous character so that we produce good actions again and again. Aquinas embedded the discussion of these questions in the context of a comprehensive moral theology. René Descartes proceeded very differently. In the preface to The Passions of the Soul, he wrote that he was investigating the emotions “as a natural philosopher” (see Section 4.1). He wanted mainly to analyze how different states originate in the brain through external influences, leading in turn to different emotions. Furthermore, he wanted to determine more precisely which particular facial expressions and gestures are elicited by the various emotions. He meant to explain these processes in the context of a mechanistic physiology. Thus he did not intend to embed the analysis of the emotions in a moral theology. Consequently, he concentrated not on moral questions in the strict sense (such as the question of what the goal and the structure of morally good actions are), but for the most part on questions that are relevant from a perspective of science and natural philosophy.
This important difference must be borne in mind. It would be misleading to assume that Thomas Aquinas and Descartes pursued a single project of a “philosophy of the emotions.” There was no such project in the Middle Ages and the early modern period. Rather, the issues investigated by the individual authors were oriented after their various overarching projects or disciplines— such as those of moral theology or of natural philosophy. Daniel Garber recently pointed out that it would be methodologically inappropriate to look for a unified “philosophy of the emotions” in earlier texts. He concisely writes, “The earlier theories of the passions and emotions we examined are embedded in a rich web of philosophical context; modern theories are more autonomous” (“Thinking Historically/Thinking Analytically: The Passion of History and the History of Passions,” in Thinking about the Emotions: A Philosophical History, ed. A. Cohen and R. Stern, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017, 23). This observation cannot be overemphasized. We must always ask in what context a medieval or early modern philosopher discussed a given problem, what significance that context had for a theory of the emotions, and how that theory was integrated in a more comprehensive theory. And, of course, we must also ask how and why different problems were addressed in different contexts. In any case, the context-specific differences between individual authors must be analyzed more closely.
Finally, there is a third area that calls for closer examination. This one concerns the relation of medieval and early modern theories of the emotions to presentday theories. This book makes it plain that there are, in spite of all differences, important points of correspondence. For example, Aquinas, Ockham, Descartes,
and Spinoza all agreed, as do many present-day philosophers, that emotions are not merely feelings, but states with a cognitive content. Indeed, that is the reason why emotions can be transformed by other cognitive states. It would therefore be misleading to say that it was only in the 20th century that a “cognitive turn” took place in debates on the emotions (see the concluding chapter). It was known long before the 20th century that emotions are a certain kind of cognition. Does this mean that medieval and early modern authors simply anticipated the findings of modern emotion research and that we can alternate between older and present-day theories at will? Not at all. The special attraction of older theories consists in the fact that they seem to address familiar issues in a completely different context and thus often arrive at different conclusions. Again, an example may serve to illustrate this. Medieval authors agreed that we humans are living beings with a body, and that our cognition in this life is therefore physically grounded. However, they noted that our soul continues to exist and can remain active after the body’s death. This moved some authors, such as William of Ockham, to claim that the soul can still produce cognitions when it is separated from the body—purely intellectual cognitions with no physical basis. Ockham also thought that the soul can still produce emotions after death—purely volitive emotions that also have no physical basis (see Section 2.3). In concrete terms, that means that the soul separated from the body can have a purely mental joy. This joy consists in nothing other than in the consent that the will gives to an object that the intellect judges to be good. Thus for Ockham there is a joy that clearly has a cognitive content but is completely bodiless.
This is a thesis that hardly any philosopher would agree with today. However cognitive states are conceived in contemporary debates, it seems to be clear that they always have a physical basis. To present-day philosophers, it makes little sense to speak of a purely mental joy produced by a soul separated from the body. At precisely this point we see that we must proceed very cautiously in speaking of cognitive states: the states referred to as cognitive in different contexts are of very different kinds. It would therefore be inappropriate to say that there is a unified, much less a single, “cognitivist theory of the emotions” in the 14th century and in the 21st century. But we also see that revisiting older theories can be productive. It forces us to deal with fundamental questions: What do we mean by an emotion with a cognitive content? What conditions must be fulfilled for such an emotion to arise? And what kind of subjects can produce it—only physical living beings, or bodiless souls too? We might even say that studying older theories produces an alienation effect. (I describe this effect in detail in “The Alienation Effect in the Historiography of Philosophy,” in Philosophy and the Historical Perspective, ed. M. van Ackeren, Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2018, 140–154.) The characterization of emotions as physically grounded states, which seems to go without saying today, is suddenly no longer a natural and self-evident fact—looking at it in the light of another theory alienates it. It turns out to be the product of a certain theory about the constitution of cognitive subjects, just as Ockham’s view too, of course, is the product of a certain theory. This study induces us to think about both theories—the theory that is dominant today as well as Ockham’s. We must ask ourselves what arguments there are for and against each of the two theories. I find this a special benefit of studying the history of philosophy. It not only leads to more exact knowledge of an older theory, but it also motivates us to think about the specific characteristics of a present-day theory. It may also lead us to see the present-day theory as being historically contingent just as the older theory is. In any case, comparing older and contemporary theories of the emotions does not simply amount to discovering mere “earlier versions” or anticipations of present-day theories. It rather makes us examine the given theoretical frame more precisely. Future studies should devote increasing attention to this purpose.
So much for some methodological considerations. After finishing the German book, I pursued some ideas from it further in three essays in English. For this reason, Chapters 1 and 2 overlap at certain points, although without literal repetitions, with the following texts: “Why Is the Sheep Afraid of the Wolf? Medieval Debates on Animal Passions,” in Emotion and Cognitive Life in Medieval and Early Modern Philosophy, ed. L. Shapiro and M. Pickavé, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012, 32–52; “Ockham on Emotions in the Divided Soul,” in Partitioning the Soul: Debates from Plato to Leibniz, ed. K. Corcilius and D. Perler, Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014, 179–198; and “Emotions and Rational Control: Two Medieval Perspectives,” in Thinking about the Emotions: A Philosophical History, ed. A. Cohen and R. Stern, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017, 60–82.
Finally, I thank Tony Crawford for the careful English translation, which I have read in draft.
Berlin, January 2018
Feelings Transformed
Introduction
I.1 A Philosophical Approach to Emotions
Hardly anything seems more familiar to us than the abundance of emotions that we experience every day. We are glad when we receive a nice gift; we are afraid when we are threatened; and we get angry when we learn of a great injustice. We often observe emotions occurring in other people too: we see someone gripped by anger; we observe children laughing with joy; and we watch couples who have fallen out separating in hatred. Emotions are so omnipresent and natural in day-to-day life that they need no explanation. The need for an explanation arises only when we want to go beyond listing the various emotions observed at one point or another and analyze all the phenomena we observe in ourselves and others. What analysis would be appropriate from a present-day perspective? It seems at first as if only an empirical analysis would teach us something, because only that would provide us with insight into the origins and the general structure of emotions. If we carry out biological, psychological, neuroscientific, and other empirical investigations, we cannot only describe individual emotions, but we can also explain what stimuli produce them, what brain structures they are manifested in, and what behavior patterns they elicit. We can then also explain why certain types of emotions coincide with a certain physical expression, and on this basis we may be able to draw up a classification of basic emotions. If we use in addition the empirically grounded investigative methods of the social sciences, we can explain how, beginning with the basic emotions, different socially and culturally shaped emotions arise, depending on different contexts. We can also study what value is attached to these emotions, how that value has changed in the course of historic development, and what differences can be observed in different social groups. If these investigations are based on abundant data, and if the established methods of empirical research are adequate, we may go beyond a purely subjective, more or less anecdotal description of individual emotions and construct a theory of emotions—a theory that tells us about the nature and the special function of emotions. Is there any room left then for a philosophical analysis? The need for such an analysis arises whenever the concepts we use, both in everyday life and
in empirical studies, are unclear or imprecise. Only when we have examined these concepts and explained them in their relations to one another do they acquire clear outlines. Only then can we see what they are supposed to explain in the first place, what overall framework they operate in, and what explicit or implicit assumptions they depend on. Philosophical problems are thus always conceptual problems: they concern not the empirical data, but the way in which we integrate and evaluate the data. Consequently, philosophical problems cannot be solved by accumulating more and more data and performing more and more individual empirical investigations. Instead, we must reflect on the schemas in which the data are ordered and the presuppositions they bring with them.
Of course, such schemas are also discussed in the various empirical disciplines. New empirical findings are often obtained by interpreting existing data in the context of new theories or by questioning assumptions that had seemed self-evident. For example, only critical reflection on behaviorism’s assumptions allowed a “cognitive turn” in empirical research on emotions. Only then was it possible to understand emotions as states with a cognitive content and to study the formation of that content in detail.1 Thus there are by all means theoretical debates in the empirical sciences, and theories are revised as a result of them. However, such debates usually presuppose generally accepted fundamental concepts, as dissent can arise only from a shared conceptual basis in the first place. It is possible to argue about how the cognitive content of emotions arises, for example, only if we are more or less in agreement on what we mean by cognitive content.2 It is precisely with these conceptual foundations that philosophical analyses begin. Rather than assuming that the concept of cognitive content, or other basic concepts, are already understood, philosophical analyses are aimed at clarifying them. At least five problems then arise.
First, the seemingly naive but fundamental question arises of whether there is such a thing as the emotions at all. We may call this the problem of unity: is the concept of emotion sufficiently definite that it can be applied to a unified class of phenomena? An affirmative answer seems obvious, because we seem to find it easy to assign joy, fear, anger, outrage, and many other emotions to a single class, which we distinguish from the class of beliefs and from that of sensations. But objections to this answer have been raised time and time again. “Emotions do not form a natural class,” Amélie Oksenberg Rorty has provocatively asserted.3 It is by no means plausible that all the phenomena that we ordinarily group together under the term “emotion” really belong together. Perhaps our term is misleading, just as the term “fish” is misleading when we apply it to trout and whales. Just because we see these creatures in water doesn’t mean they belong to the same category of animals.
Or perhaps our term is based on a historically developed convention that could be changed at any time. Or perhaps it is based on the false assumption that there must be something that connects joy, fear, anger, outrage, etc. But is there in fact any such thing? Let us examine the spontaneous fear that grips a person when a big dog lunges at her and the outrage that rises in her when she thinks about executives receiving salaries in the millions while millions of people starve. The fear is a reaction immediately triggered by sensory impressions, whereas the outrage is the result of a moral reflection. A cat attacked by a dog would also be afraid, but it would never be able to become outraged. Why should these two phenomena nonetheless belong to one and the same class? Perhaps we should classify the spontaneous fear together with instinctive sensory impressions but classify outrage together with moral judgments. In any case, we need to explain why we put very different kinds of phenomena in one bag. Perhaps what the bag contains is an assortment of miscellaneous things.
This brings us to the second problem, which we may call the problem of structure. Even if we admit that we are using a single collective term for different phenomena, the question arises of what characterizes those phenomena. In other words, what is the particular structural characteristic that allows us to distinguish emotions from other mental phenomena? Various answers come to mind. We might answer that they are characterized by intentionality: that is, by being directed at objects or states of affairs. We are always glad of something, afraid of something; we hope for something, etc. But this characteristic is also found in other mental phenomena. Some would even say it is the characteristic of all mental phenomena, because beliefs, perceptions, wishes, imaginings, etc. are also intentional.4 We might answer further that emotions have a physical component. Thus we tremble when we are in great fear, and we blush with joy. But this characteristic is also found in other phenomena, including in particular sensations (such as pain) and longer-lasting states of mind or moods (such as depression). We might also assert that emotions have a phenomenal component. That is, it feels a certain way to be outraged or joyous. But, of course, this component too is found in sensations and moods. We could also state that emotions have a motivational component. When we are afraid of a big dog, we are spontaneously motivated to flee, and when we are outraged at an injustice, we want to do something to combat it. But this component is also found in instincts, desires, and wishes; all of them motivate us to act. Finally, we might point out that emotions are distinguished by an evaluative component. When we are happy about a gift, we see it as something good, and when we are afraid of the dog, we estimate it to be dangerous and bad for us. But, once again, this component is not specific to emotions either; wishes and especially value judgments are also evaluative. Is there nothing, then, that distinguishes only emotions? Or
should we be looking for a different kind of characteristic, a very particular one? Or is the peculiarity of emotions the fact that they have a bundle of structural characteristics that overlap with those of other mental phenomena? In that case, how would we explain how emotions are related to sensations, moods, wishes, value judgments, etc.? These questions show that it is not enough just to clarify the concept of emotion. We need to lay out a whole network of concepts to organize different mental phenomena and set them in relation to one another.
Talking about mental phenomena immediately brings up a third problem, the problem of ascription: to whom or to what should emotions be ascribed? To the mind, of course, we might answer just as quickly. As obvious and as trivial as this answer may be, it is no less questionable on a closer look. For if emotions have a physical component, they also concern the body, and not only in the sense that they have a neuronal basis, which is probably true of all mental phenomena. Emotions manifest themselves in specific gestures and facial expressions. Are they nonetheless simply mental phenomena? Is fear something mental and the trembling merely a concomitant phenomenon or a contingent effect? That hardly seems plausible. We do not tremble in addition to or after being afraid; we tremble in fear; the physical behavior is a constitutive component.5 Should emotions then be ascribed to the body? Or to a unity of body and mind? What might we mean by such a unity? Questions like these lead us directly into metaphysical territory, for only when we have sufficiently clarified what entities body and mind are is it possible to explain the status of a subject to which we would ascribe emotions as “mixed” phenomena.
The problem of ascription is relevant in another respect as well. If emotions are to be ascribed to a mind–body unity, then obviously only living things that have a mind can be the subjects of emotions. But can we not ascribe emotions to animals as well, as the example of the cat that is afraid of the dog illustrates? Does that mean that we must ascribe a mind to the cat too? Or does it merely mean that some kind of “minimum mind” with cognitive structures is necessary for an emotion to occur? How might we characterize such a mind and distinguish it from a “maximum mind” such as we find in an adult human being?6 In any case, the concepts of mind and cognitive structure must be clarified if the discussion of emotions as mental phenomena is not doomed to vagueness. But the problem of ascription can also be posed as a mereological problem: Are emotions ascribable to the whole of an organism, or only to a part, such as the brain or a cognitive subsystem? Is it permissible to make the statement, which is in fact customary in some empirical sciences, that joy and fear are in the brain and can be seen there, by means of imaging techniques for example? This question too can be answered only when the concepts of system and subsystem are clear.7
In addition, there is a fourth problem that is often obscured by talking about phenomena. We may call this the problem of categories: What kind of entities are the emotions? To what category do they belong? Once again, a spontaneous answer comes to mind: we might answer that they are nothing other than states of a mind or of a whole organism (whether human or animal). To be in fear or joy would then mean nothing other than being in a certain state. But it can immediately be objected that an emotion is not something static. Let us examine a specific case. The parents of a ten-year-old girl are waiting for their daughter, who has not come home from school, and in the evening they become afraid. The longer they wait, the greater their fear becomes. Then they hear on the radio that a severe traffic accident has occurred in their neighborhood: their fear grows to panic. But a short time later, the parents of another girl in their daughter’s class call them on the telephone and report that their daughter is with them: their fear subsides. Evidently, fear in this case is a longer-lasting process that can increase and decrease in its intensity. Can such a process be characterized as a state? And can it be described as a simple state? Or must we call it a complex state that is composed of many individual states (perceptions, imaginings, sensations, wishes, judgments, etc.) that can be altered or exchanged? What is it then that makes all these states form a unit? Furthermore, the question arises whether emotions are always actual states or processes. Suppose someone describes the girl’s parents as a very anxious people who are always quick to worry. Is the disposition to become afraid an emotion in itself? Or is it only the precondition for an emotion? And in that case, how does an actual state or process arise from the disposition? These questions can be answered only when we have clarified what we mean by states, processes, and dispositions. That is why emotions can be categorized only in reference to a comprehensive metaphysical model. Finally, there is a fifth problem that must be addressed, which we may call the problem of imputation. It is not clear whether we can ascribe an emotion to a person (or perhaps to an animal) as something that they can somehow direct or control and that therefore falls within the sphere of what can be imputed to them, for which they can be held responsible. Emotions have an ambivalent character in this regard. They seem to be phenomena that we can in fact control by intentionally arousing or moderating them in ourselves. For example, a person can open the newspaper and read so many articles about excessive executive salaries that she becomes outraged and begins to curse furiously. Conversely, she can also try to understand the complex economic background and so moderate her outrage, or she can simply turn her attention to another topic and change her emotional state in that way. But there are also emotions that seem to overcome us and that are beyond our control. A person facing a growling attack dog is overcome with fear. Try as she may to convince herself
that the dog is well trained, her fear will not simply subside or disappear. And a person who falls head over heels in love is overcome with an uncontrollable feeling that cannot be moderated or extinguished by any rational reflection: she is simply at the mercy of this feeling. But how can emotions be something we can actively induce and control and at the same time be something we passively undergo, something that overcomes us? Are there two kinds of emotions, active and passive? Or do all emotions have an active and a passive aspect? And what can we be held responsible for: only for the emotions that we can control? But to what extent can we control them? Can a person moderate or shut off her outrage as if at the push of a button by making the appropriate reflections? Or is there an element here too that is beyond her control? An answer to these questions is possible only when the concepts of activity and passivity are clear and when we examine the cognitive mechanisms by which emotions are accessible. That requires in turn an explanation of what we mean by such mechanisms to begin with, and in what sense they can be ascribed to a person.
Of course, the five problems just mentioned are not a complete list of the philosophical problems to be clarified. These are just some of the fundamental issues, the entrance gates, so to speak, to further problems in the philosophy of mind, metaphysics, action theory, and moral psychology. But those who study emotions can hardly avoid discussing them. For we can gain an insight into the nature and structure of emotions only if it is sufficiently clear what we mean by mental phenomena and their characteristics, a mind–body unity, a complex state, and a cognitive mechanism. An analysis of these conceptual problems is of course no substitute for empirical investigations, as we still need data to which the individual concepts can be applied. Nor are they a substitute for the discussion of methods and theories in the various empirical disciplines. It would be unreasonable to simply substitute the conceptual work of philosophy for empirical work or to assume there could be such a thing as pure conceptual work that could ignore the empirical findings. But neither can empirical studies, conversely, take the place of the conceptual work of philosophy; rather, they inevitably lead to it because they always resort, in structuring and evaluating the data, to fundamental concepts that are by no means self-evident and that require explanation. Only when these concepts have been clarified do we discern the frame in which the empirical findings are assimilated. And only then can we see how the nature and the function of emotions can be explained.
I.2 Why Historical Analysis?
It would seem obvious to start the conceptual analysis against the background of contemporary empirical studies. It is therefore no surprise that the
philosophical discussions in interdisciplinary contexts (such as the interdisciplinary cognitive sciences) have seen a new upsurge,8 because new empirical findings can be immediately taken up in these contexts and used in testing the applicability of individual terms and the explanatory power of whole theories. Why should we choose the history of philosophy as a perspective from which to study emotions? And why should we examine specifically the period between 1270 and 1670, as the following chapters do?9 Various answers come to mind.
First, it may be pointed out that numerous conceptual distinctions and definitions that are still relevant in present-day discussions originated in the late medieval and early modern debates. For example, the 13th-century authors (notably Thomas Aquinas) asserted that emotions always have a “formal object,” that is, an object that is specified and evaluated in a certain respect. Fear, for instance, is directed at an object that is evaluated as bad and threatening; joy is directed at one that is estimated to be useful and good. Different kinds of emotions can be distinguished and classified by examining their respective formal objects. Anthony Kenny and a number of contemporary authors after him have revisited this insight.10 For another example, Baruch de Spinoza declared that emotions necessarily have physical components and must therefore be described from both a physical and a mental perspective. In the recent debates, Antonio Damasio has taken up this idea by advocating Spinoza’s theory as a source of inspiration for neurobiological theories.11 In spite of their historic remoteness, central elements of the theories from the 13th to 17th centuries are still relevant.
Furthermore, we can observe that these theories are sometimes important sources of negative inspiration. They serve a contrasting backdrop, so to speak, to an appropriate theory of the emotions. Perhaps the most popular foil in this regard is the Cartesian theory. It has been pointed out time and again that we can offer an adequate explanation of the emotions only if we take leave of the “Cartesian legacy” and discard a number of assumptions, such as the assumption that emotions are merely mental feelings that are really distinct from the physical states, and the further assumption that these feelings have no cognitive value because they are not clear, exact ideas and hence do not indicate how things really are in the world. Thus John Deigh, for example, has stated that René Descartes marked the beginning of a long tradition of noncognitivist theories that reduce the emotions to phenomenal experiences and that this is precisely the tradition that must be opposed today.12 This estimation is certainly disputable and is hard to reconcile with certain statements in which Descartes does not separate the emotions from physical states, nor deny that they have any cognitive value.13 But regardless of whether the negative reference to Descartes
