Chapter 10
The Order Of Subordination
Among The Different Human Powers
644. We have considered the act of choice, the summit as it were of the human spirit and the most sublime of the subjective faculties. Now we have to pause and from this vantage point look down on all the other active powers in order to examine the wonderful chain that binds them, and see how, by relying on one another, they all finally depend upon the highest power of all which acts as their brake and their director.
We have seen how three kinds of forces manifest themselves in animality: 1. material forces; 2. the forces proper to the life instinct; 3. and the forces of the sensuous instinct. These three kinds of forces are manifestly subordinate to one another. The material forces are modified in their activity and dominated by the life instinct; at the same time, the life instinct is in its turn modified and dominated by the sensuous instinct as we have seen (cf. 401-415).
When manifested in a human being, the instinct for a new kind of human good, which is principally summarised in the desire for one's own aggrandisement, is seen to be superior to the sensuous instinct because of its intellectual condition. It extends a certain kind of authority and domination over the sensuous instinct itself which is usually unable to compete with such an opponent or master.
However, we have up to now dealt simply with ever nobler instincts, each one destined to govern the one below it. Above this sphere lies the spontaneity of the will which by natural right rules the other two instincts and prevents their collision. This spontaneity does not exist independently, however, in the human being. It soon finds a power greater than itself, to which it is naturally subject. This practical force influences and modifies spontaneity because it enables human beings to cling with varying degrees of strength to some known good which at their own pleasure they either enhance by exaggerating its worth and augmenting its activity, or undervalue by lowering its worth and decreasing its activity. But the practical force itself is simply the executive force of a preceding decree arising from the human being's faculty for determining his own volitions by choosing between them. This elective capacity was destined to be the highest of all the subjective powers and their focus point; it was to be the throne of human freedom, the power superior to every other human activity, by which we were to make ourselves like our Creator here on earth as we ruled ourselves, the other powers constituting us, and the activity of these powers.
645. It is precisely here that our human active unity is generated, just as in the consciousness of this union and unity between faculty and force our passive unity is generated. It was necessary that there should be a centre for the many elements making up the human being; the many phenomena and activities taking place in human nature had to have a primary, unique source. Moreover, this centre and source of all human functions would be insufficient if the functions themselves were not subordinate to one another, or did not form by mutual adherence the chain whose final link is human freedom as it makes its dominion felt over all the other elements, and perfects them through its own act, provided that the act is upright.
646. It is true that each faculty could attach itself directly to the subject even in the absence of this chain; it is also true that the faculties, which do not always preserve the intended subordination, sometimes act (drawing their forces directly from the subject) without awaiting a command from the highest faculty. This, however, would be insufficient to constitute human dignity, which resides in the natural order of subordination between the various faculties up to the highest.
The human subject, therefore, possesses a simple, unitive force as the root and mother of its faculties. Moreover, there is an order between the faculties themselves, some of which are destined to obey and some to command. As a result, the subject acts in two ways: either as the principle of each faculty or as the principle of all the faculties taken collectively. In the first case, each faculty acts independently of any other, and depends solely upon the subject as its principle; in the second case, the subject's action is communicated in order from one faculty to another just as electricity is communicated and passes through a whole series of metallic links.
647. When the subject acts as principle of all the faculties taken together, its work is more intimate, profound and essential; as the common principle of all the faculties, it must be the principle of principles in each faculty. Although the principles of each faculty can be activated separately from one another, they require to be moved according to their mutual order when the supreme principle reaches out to them all. This most intimate principle, which presides over all the faculties as the principle of their order, has its root precisely in freedom, that is, in the faculty for tipping the balance towards one of its various volitions.
648. It will be helpful if, at this point, we show once more, on the basis of certain facts, that there is nothing in the human being over which freedom is incapable of exercising some command. This marvellous power makes its bidding felt even in the material forces which compose the human body although, as we said, this communication of the power of freedom takes place through intermediate causes. Of their nature, the material forces constituting the first rudiments of the body are subject only to the life instinct as their direct master and ruler. Nevertheless, freedom modifies them through this instinct over which it makes its power felt by activating the sensuous instinct to which the life instinct is subject. In this way, freedom exercises its influence and acts by means of volitions.
Animal passions, which pertain to the sensuous instinct, are very often willed and, as we have seen, modify the life instinct. In its turn, the life instinct disposes and modifies the material forces in various ways so that the organic, living body composes and decomposes, assimilates or disassimilates material substances. St. Augustine testifies that he himself had experienced the human capacity for sweating at will; here the will commands the instinct.(275) He also adduces as proof of the soul's innate dominion over the body the case of Restitutus, a parish priest of the diocese of Calama, in Africa, who could will to make himself comatose (he looked like a dead man) provided that someone sang to him sadly. The only feeling that he retained was for high-pitched voices which he heard as though they were some distance away. He also gave no sign of respiration.(276) Cardano, and later Leibniz, were persuaded that the art of sense-alienation could be brought to the point where torture was no longer felt. Cardano affirmed that he had done this for himself,(277) although I am not sure how much credence we should give to this rather odd character. All this shows once more that free will is destined to dominate the life instinct which produces the feeling.
649. The fact remains that there seems no doubt whatsoever about the general proposition we have before us: `Freedom is born to dominate all the other powers by communicating its action from one power to another right down to the lowest.' Ability to achieve this, however, is an art that has to be learned. We begin to learn and make progress when stimulated by some natural need (although we still have to contend with the internal and external obstacles that impede all practical learning).
Notes
(275) `I know from my own experience that a person can sweat when he wants', De Civ. Dei, bk 14, ch. 24.
(276) `But there is something even more incredible than that, and many of the brethren have had recent experience of it. Restitutus, a priest of the church of Calama, could at will abstract himself from sense-life and lie prostrate like a dead man (he was asked to do this by people who wanted to see it for themselves), provided someone was prepared to imitate a person in pain. In this state, he was unable to feel people pinching or prodding him, and felt no pain even when slightly burnt by a flame (although he experienced pain from the wound afterwards). He felt nothing when he was pushed or moved, and like a dead man did not breathe. However, he said afterwards that he could hear human voices from a distance if they spoke clearly enough.' De Civit. Dei, bk 14, ch. 24.
(277) De Rerum Varietate, bk. 8, c. 43 [11, 17].