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Chapter 4

The Different States And Accidents Of Conscience

201. So far, I have presented a philosophical survey of moral science and shown that the formulation of moral obligation and its conversion into express precept came about in step with the development of the human intellective faculties. Imperative formulas increased in number, and progressively changed in accordance with the invariable laws of understanding itself.

The purpose of the discussion was to make possible a demonstration of the various ways of applying the law to our actions (cf. 147) and so give a satisfactory explanation of the different states and accidents of conscience. I indicated the process by which we form, or try to form, conscience in our spirit. I did this in order to determine the rules of conscience, the purpose of this book. I showed how any moral formula can generate a conscience when the formula is applied to the judgment of a particular action we are about to perform. Consequently there are, or can be, as many causes of conscience as there are, or can be, moral formulas, and as many consciences as there are causes producing them, although these consciences are sometimes identical and sometimes different.

202. Before we investigate the rules of conscience we must consider the important fact that the state of conscience in individuals and in the whole human race, which is composed of individuals, varies according to the times.

We must note that the moral law, which is everlasting, does not change substantially. What alters is the mode of discovering and determining the obligation, that is, the way we apply the law to the judgment of our actions.

A judgment about our actions always requires a syllogism, whose major is an imperative formula. These formulas are innumerable; we do not know them all, and they are not continually present to our spirit. As we have seen, we discover and form them successively, relative to the development of our faculties, which takes place in three ways: according to the degrees of universality of the formulas, according to the kinds of relationships on which the formulas are founded, and according to the three stages of human action (esteem, affections, external acts).

203. Hence, Prospero Fagnani should not be surprised at finding that the question of probabilism has been raised only in recent times. He admits that it is a 'difficult, dangerous' question, and accepts it is a matter of fact, but he is not justified in saying that 'the teaching is suspect for the sole reason it is new and a break from Church custom.' He adds: 'We cannot believe that so many enlightened men, of great intelligence, who have made it their chosen work to investigate human acts and moral virtues, did not recognise the force of probability.'(116) He would not have said this if he had known our theory about the different levels of reflection into which human thoughts are successively divided.

204. These levels cannot be ignored by anyone, however intelligent; they must be considered in their order because each level is the matter and object of the one above it. Because we are all subject to the psychological law according to which the mind operates only step by step, we require time to move through succeeding levels of reflection to higher thoughts. This is true for each of us, and if it is true for each, it is true for the human race, and for the large or small societies into which the human race is divided. All require lengthy periods of time to move to a higher level of reflection from any level other than the first. Furthermore, thoughts belonging to a high level of reflection do not become ordinary, and hence interesting, enlightening and worthy of our attention and discussion, except with the passage of time.

205. This fact should be borne in mind when we are dealing with the history of different sciences, and is especially important in the history of literature. If we neglect the fact in the study of literature, we shall have only imperfect sketches and learned dissertations, but never true history.

206. But granted a study of moral questions in the light of this principle revealed by true philosophy, we could indicate with historical sources the evolution of moral science as we have described it. At certain periods new, unheard-of questions would arise to herald a new epoch in which human understanding would pass from or arrive at a higher level of reflection.

This is not the place for us to deal with this very important but neglected area of research, although we would like to point out that when barbarism ceased and great thinkers appeared in the 13th. century (thanks mainly to the religious orders founded by St. Francis and St. Dominic), new questions in moral matters soon arose. St. Thomas, who lived at the time, makes the same observation: 'In our time we have heard among experts many new controversies about both natural and moral matters.'(117)

207. We should not wonder that in the intellectual splendour of the 16th. century, questions on conscience appeared under a new guise. A consideration of these questions, stated clearly only by theologians of the last three centuries, shows that the problems belong to a very high level of reflection.

In a period when the law is considered directly, we can concern ourselves only with the law and the absolute respect it merits. Decisions in cases of doubt are quite naturally made in favour of the law, and give rise to the principle: 'in doubt, the safer part is to be chosen.'

But let us suppose that instead of the law alone, we consider, by a further reflection, our spirit in relationship to the law. As the object of special attention, this new relationship changes the question. When human beings gave their attention directly to the law, only the authority of the law had to be considered together with its sacred right of imposing obligation. But when people reflectively consider themselves in relationship to the law, and ponder the uncertain state of their spirit, wondering whether the law obliges in such a state, they no longer think of the law alone, but ask whether the law binds them here and now; they consider the law in the force it exercises over human beings.

In the first period, only the law was considered, and its effective bond was accepted as certain; in the second period, the question falls on this bond itself. In the first period the obligation was examined relative to the law; in the second it was examined relative to human freedom as well, that is, to the person, the subject of the obligation. Thus, a new factor had to be considered, not clearly noted beforehand, because reflection had not yet progressed to such heights or at least had not been strengthened enough to include and calculate simultaneously both elements constituting the bond, that is, the law that binds and the subject capable of being bound.

It is not my intention in the above observation to express any opinion or declare defective the principle mentioned, which would be untimely. I simply wish to explain the reason why, for three centuries, debate about probable opinion has continued in the Church. For many years the authority of the law and the conclusion that it must be observed even in doubt had been the centre of attention. In a succeeding period, when the human spirit was the centre of attention, it was thought the principle could be submitted once more to examination, and be doubted. This may or may not have been a correct conclusion, but we should not be surprised that modern authors believed themselves authorised to depart from the opinion of earlier thinkers; their argument was now based on a new element, on a relationship scarcely considered by their predecessors.

208. Consideration of the nature of all the principal questions concerning probable opinion would show that only at a late stage could these questions be raised in the Church and the world. The world first had to have books, and different opinions had to be debated. It should not surprise us that only when the world had reached this stage did people begin to ask questions about the opinion to be followed. Thus, for a person to act safely, was it sufficient that the chosen opinion could rely upon the authority of one, two, three, or even more moral theologians? And if the authority was sufficient, could the opinion be followed with peace of mind, even if unfavourable to the law and opposed by an equal number of equally authoritative teachers, or even by a greater number with greater authority? Could one at least follow the majority opinion that favoured freedom and declared the action lawful, when no contrary argument was known?

These questions are at the centre of the whole debate about probable opinion. They all presuppose a relationship between our conscience and the authority of moral theologians. They also presuppose reflection upon the opinion of many moral theologians, a reflection impossible for the theologians themselves to make at the time; they had to decide by other arguments whether an action was lawful or not. Thus, when we hear: 'Follow the authority of moral theologians', or: 'If you have the support of sound moral theologians, you can safely follow them' (this second formula limits the first), and form our conscience accordingly, we act differently from our predecessors. They formed their conscience either according to the most immediate formula, which is 'Follow the light of reason', or the formula: 'Follow the word of God in the divine scriptures', or similar moral formulas, which all existed prior to writers of moral theology and disputes about their authority.

209. It is foolish, therefore, and unjust to use certain generally accepted views to block discussion of the new questions as though modern problems constituted an unlawful departure from tradition. Such a mistaken attitude has no bearing on the questions, and offers no help in solving them. We should keep in mind the words of Jesus Christ who, in his wisdom, foresaw that the divine truths he had consigned to the human race would necessarily undergo development in the course of time without losing anything of their validity. The immense possibilities of his heavenly teaching would be shown by constantly renewed applications of the same truths, and through insistent reflection. As Jesus said: 'Every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like a householder who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.'(118)

210. Nevertheless it would be seriously wrong to try to solve new problems by new principles irreducible to earlier principles. Such solutions would be fully refuted by showing that the principles used in the solution were not to be found, even implicitly, in Christian tradition. On the other hand, when those who propose and resolve new questions can demonstrate that they are using the earlier, unchangeable principles, or principles logically reducible to these, the new form of the questions and their solution cannot harm the researchers, who are praised by Christ for being 'scribes trained for the kingdom of heaven.'

211. There is only one way, therefore, to refute new solutions, when they have indeed been shown to be founded on the earlier, perpetual principles. Granted the reasonableness of the questions, it must be demonstrated that the error of modern moralists lies in the application of the principles. If this is not shown, it is useless to object that the questions and their solutions are new. A new, correctly reasoned solution does not change old teaching; it enriches it.

212. This is the teaching of the Fathers, one example of which will suffice. Vincent of Lérins proposed a question that has become extremely important in modern times: 'Can religion progress?'(119) He replies: 'Certainly it can, and greatly. What can be more invidious to human beings, and hateful to God himself, than attempting to forbid progress? But it must be true progress of faith, not an alteration of faith. Progress is present when a thing grows of its nature; change transmutes one thing into another. Intelligence, knowledge and wisdom must increase and make solid progress in each individual and in mankind as a whole, in each person and in the whole Church, through different ages and centuries, but always consistently, that is, according to the same teaching, sense and opinion. Religion in our souls imitates the body. The parts of the body grow and take shape as the years pass, but they still remain what they were before.'(120) Could there be a better solution in our days to questions concerning the progress of religion?

213. It is, therefore, neither completely true nor completely false to say, as some probabilists do that 'in difficulties about faith, recourse must be had to the earlier authorities, but in difficulties about morals, to modern teaching.'(121) No modern teaching about morals or faith can be accepted unless it is a legitimate conclusion from earlier principles as old as the gospel and reason. The conclusion must be tied to these eternal principles, whether the arguments connecting it to the principles are long or short; what matters is the final connection with the irrefutable principles. Granted this connection, the conclusion, resulting from new circumstances, new positive laws, and new relationships discovered by the mind, can be as new as we wish. In short, it is drawn from a new level of reflections.

214. What we have said complies with the method which, with God's help, we have constantly followed in this work: 'We will start with self-evident principles continually taught in the Church. From them we shall deduce by logical necessity the solutions we seek.' Whether these are new or old does not interest us; in the end they will always be old if they are seen to be virtually contained in the old principles, despite their new appearance or expression.

If we have erred, anyone who has received a greater light from God can correct us, but only on condition that he uses the principle of method we have proposed for ourselves. He must show that in our reasoning we have either lost sight of the earlier principles, or not deduced our opinions directly from them. If he does this he will finish our work for us; he will accomplish what we have tried to do, and what we believe we have done. But because we are not infallible, our persuasion of success (in good faith) may have deceived us. We have only one desire in this and all other writings: to uphold firmly the constant principles of faith and morals in the Church, teacher of all who are willing to listen to her; and by strict logic to deduce our teaching from these principles. If we have inadvertently departed from these principles, we have done the opposite of what we wish; and anyone who points this out to us, will be doing what we desire and ask him to do.

215. To sum up. Our intention was first to describe the origin and the different states and accidents of conscience, and of the spirit that tries to form conscience, so that we could investigate the rule of action applicable to each state and accident. We could not fully describe these states without first observing the diversity of the moral formulas according to which we form conscience. We therefore traced the history of these formulas and their different classes. We said that consciences vary according to the nature of the formulas producing them. We then distinguished and classified consciences according to the distinction and classification of the formulas.

216. We must note, however, that besides distinguishing consciences according to their causes, which are the moral formulas used to produce them, they must also be distinguished according to certain characteristics they have. These characteristics are the effect of the moral formulas themselves and of their different application. We must list them carefully, together with the various states of conscience they constitute.

217. First, because conscience is a moral judgment about our actions, the judgment has either been made and completed or does not yet exist. If it does not exist, we have not formed any conscience about the moral value of our actions. Thus, relative to conscience, there are two states of our spirit: the state when our spirit has formed a conscience and the state when it has not formed a conscience.

218. It is clear that as long as we doubt whether our action is lawful or not, we have not yet pronounced a definite judgment on its moral value; we still have no conscience about the action. This obviously contradicts the commonly used term doubtful conscience. A doubtful conscience in fact is not a conscience, because anyone who doubts has not yet made a judgment.(122)

219. On the other hand, a formed conscience with its different kinds is a judgment, and will therefore have the same accidents as other judgments. But every judgment is true or false. Therefore any conscience is true or false.

220. The different states of conscience we have listed present certain questions relative to our actions. Ethics has to solve these questions, which can be reduced to the following:

When conscience is not yet formed, can we act licitly before forming a conscience about our action? When we are obliged to form it, what are the rules governing its formation?

When conscience is already formed, how must we act if it is a true conscience? How must we act if it is an erroneous conscience?

These four general questions will form the subject of the next book.

221. However, before applying ourselves to the task, we must again point out (cf. 217) that both true and erroneous conscience, as well as the suspension of our judgment which prevents us from forming a conscience, are:

1. the effect of one or more of the moral formulas we have noted;
2. the effect of the different way we apply the formulas to our conscience.

Because formulas are the major of a syllogism, whose conclusion is conscience, conclusions will vary according to the nature of the major proposition and the way it is applied. Moreover, because the state of our conscience changes according to the variety and multiplicity of the formulas and the different ways of applying them (and the ways are partly dependent on the moral state of our will), we can now identify various subdivisions of conscience. However, such modifications are closely connected with the rules of conscience, and it will be more appropriate to discuss them when we set out these rules.

222. The rules of conscience are themselves moral formulas, and we have distinguished moral formulas into classes. If we wish to know the class to which the rules belong, it is easy to see they belong to the highest order of reflection, and bring moral science to completion, as shown in the 'Classification Table' (cf. 200). A work on conscience, therefore, should conclude ethics, not begin it.

223. This will be clear if we consider that the formulas which direct our conscience presuppose already determined formulas so that the formulas of conscience are founded in the relationship of the determined formulas with the subject they bind, that is, the human being.

In fact all the formulas constituting moral science can be divided into two classes: 1. those determining the actuality of the law (these are more or less abstract in form, and include a greater or smaller number of beings and their relationships); 2. those determining the bond of obligation produced by the law in each person (these are mainly the formulas of conscience). The second group presupposes the first, and therefore has to be determined last. This explains why this work on conscience, as we have said, could not have been written earlier: moral science was not yet sufficiently developed.

Notes

(116) In I lib. Decretalium.

(117) Opusc. 73, de Usuris in Proemio. The following is correct, if understood within certain limits: 'Experts engage in contemporary problems. A person who can solve the modern difficulties about simony, irregularity, etc. with St. Augustine's teaching, and settle the question of contracts with the principles used by Gregory of Nyssa and of Nazianzen, is indeed a fine judge.' The limits are: 1. the experts must themselves be true and sound, not people who have the temerity to write nonsense and call themselves 'experts'; 2. being sound does not depend upon finding detailed answers in St. Augustine and other Fathers, where such answers are often non-existent, but in deducing answers from the same more or less proximate principles and with the same iron logic used by St. Augustine and the other Fathers.

(118) Mt 13: 52.

(119) 'But someone might ask: "Is there no progress of religion in the Church of Christ?"' (Commonit. n. 23).

(120) Commonit. n. 23.

(121) [Rosmini provides no reference]

(122) It is not correct to say that anyone with a so-called doubtful conscience judges that he doubts. Judgment about the doubt, if formed at all, is not conscience, which is a judgment about the morality of an action. Nor is it sufficient to say we judge that the morality of the action is doubtful. Such a judgment is impossible because the morality of the action in itself can be only good or bad .Consequently, to speak about an action of doubtful morality affirms nothing whatsoever about the action but only that we are doubtful about its morality; we still do not have reasons for making a certain judgment about it. It is exactly the same as saying that we have not yet formed conscience.

Consequently, to speak about an action of doubtful morality affirms nothing whatsoever about the action but only that we are doubtful about its morality; we still do not have reasons for making a certain judgment about it. It is exactly the same as saying that we have not yet formed conscience.