Spring 2013 Edition
Saint Anselm of Canterbury (1033–1109) was the outstanding Christianphilosopher and theologian of the eleventh century. He is best knownfor the celebrated “ontological argument” for the existence of God inchapter two of theProslogion, but his contributions tophilosophical theology (and indeed to philosophy more generally) gowell beyond the ontological argument. In what follows I examineAnselm's theistic proofs, his conception of the divine nature, and hisaccount of human freedom, sin, and redemption.
Anselm was born in 1033 near Aosta, in those days a Burgundian town onthe frontier with Lombardy. Little is known of his early life. He lefthome at twenty-three, and after three years of apparently aimlesstravelling through Burgundy and France, he came to Normandy in 1059.Once he was in Normandy, Anselm's interest was captured by theBenedictine abbey at Bec, whose famous school was under the directionof Lanfranc, the abbey's prior. Lanfranc was a scholar and teacher ofwide reputation, and under his leadership the school at Bec had becomean important center of learning, especially in dialectic. In 1060Anselm entered the abbey as a novice. His intellectual and spiritualgifts brought him rapid advancement, and when Lanfranc was appointedabbot of Caen in 1063, Anselm was elected to succeed him as prior. Hewas elected abbot in 1078 upon the death of Herluin, the founder andfirst abbot of Bec. Under Anselm's leadership the reputation of Bec asan intellectual center grew, and Anselm managed to write a good deal ofphilosophy and theology in addition to his teaching, administrativeduties, and extensive correspondence as an adviser and counsellor torulers and nobles all over Europe and beyond. His works while at Becinclude theMonologion (1075–76), theProslogion(1077–78), and his four philosophical dialogues:Degrammatico (1059–60),De veritate, andDe libertatearbitrii, andDe casu diaboli (1080–86).
In 1093 Anselm was enthroned as Archbishop of Canterbury. Theprevious Archbishop, Anselm's old master Lanfranc, had died four yearsearlier, but the King, William Rufus, had left the see vacant in orderto plunder the archiepiscopal revenues. Anselm was understandablyreluctant to undertake the primacy of the Church of England under aruler as ruthless and venal as William, and his tenure as Archbishopproved to be as turbulent and vexatious as he must have feared. Williamwas intent on maintaining royal authority over ecclesiastical affairsand would not be dictated to by Archbishop or Pope or anyone else. So,for example, when Anselm went to Rome in 1097 without the King'spermission, William would not allow him to return. When William waskilled in 1100, his successor, Henry I, invited Anselm to return to hissee. But Henry was as intent as William had been on maintaining royaljurisdiction over the Church, and Anselm found himself in exile againfrom 1103 to 1107. Despite these distractions and troubles, Anselmcontinued to write. His works as Archbishop of Canterbury include theEpistola de Incarnatione Verbi (1094),Cur DeusHomo (1095–98),De conceptu virginali (1099),Deprocessione Spiritus Sancti (1102), theEpistola de sacrificioazymi et fermentati (1106–7),De sacramentis ecclesiae(1106–7), andDe concordia (1107–8). Anselm died on 21 April1109. He was canonized in 1494 and named a Doctor of the Church in1720.
Anselm's motto is “faith seeking understanding” (fides quaerensintellectum). This motto lends itself to at least twomisunderstandings. First, many philosophers have taken it to mean thatAnselm hopes toreplace faith with understanding. If one takes‘faith’ to mean roughly ‘belief on the basis oftestimony’ and ‘understanding’ to mean ‘beliefon the basis of philosophical insight’, one is likely to regardfaith as an epistemically substandard position; any self-respectingphilosopher would surely want to leave faith behind as quickly aspossible. The theistic proofs are then interpreted as the means bywhich we come to have philosophical insight into things we previouslybelieved solely on testimony. But as argued in Williams 1996(xiii-xiv), Anselm is not hoping to replace faith with understanding.Faith for Anselm is more a volitional state than an epistemic state: itis love for God and a drive to act as God wills. In fact, Anselmdescribes the sort of faith that “merely believes what it ought tobelieve” as “dead” (M 78). (For the abbreviations used inreferences, see the Bibliography below.) So “faith seekingunderstanding” means something like “an active love of God seeking adeeper knowledge of God.”
Other philosophers have noted that “faith seeking understanding”begins with “faith,” not with doubt or suspension of belief. Hence, they argue, the theistic arguments proposed by faith seekingunderstanding are not really meant to convince unbelievers; they areintended solely for the edification of those who already believe. This too is a misreading of Anselm's motto. For although the theisticproofs are borne of an active love of God seeking a deeper knowledge ofthe beloved, the proofs themselves are intended to be convincing evento unbelievers. Thus Anselm opens theMonologion with thesewords:
If anyone does not know, either because he has not heard orbecause he does not believe, that there is one nature, supreme amongall existing things, who alone is self-sufficient in his eternalhappiness, who through his omnipotent goodness grants and brings itabout that all other things exist or have any sort of well-being, and agreat many other things that we must believe about God or his creation,I think he could at least convince himself of most of these things byreason alone, if he is even moderately intelligent. (M1)
And in theProslogion Anselm sets out to convince “the fool,”that is, the person who “has said in his heart, ‘There is noGod’ ” (Psalm 14:1; 53:1).
Having clarified what Anselm takes himself to be doing in his theisticproofs, we can now examine the proofs themselves. In the first chapterof theMonologion Anselm argues that there must be some onething that is supremely good, through which all good things have theirgoodness. For whenever we say that different things areF indifferent degrees, we must understand them as beingF throughF-ness;F-ness itself is the same in each of them.Thus, for example, all more or less just things “must be more or lessjust through justice, which is not different in diverse things”(M 1). Now we speak of things as beinggood indifferent degrees. So by the principle just stated, these things mustbe good through some one thing. Clearly that thing is itself a greatgood, since it is the source of the goodness of all other things.Moreover, that thing is goodthrough itself; after all, if allgood things are good through that thing, it follows trivially that thatthing, being good, is good through itself. Things that are good throughanother (i.e., things whose goodness derives from something other thanthemselves) cannot be equal to or greater than the good thing that isgood through itself, and so that which is good through itself issupremely good. Anselm concludes, “Now that which is supremelygood is also supremely great. There is, therefore, some one thing thatis supremely good and supremely great—in other words, supreme amongall existing things” (M 1). In chapter 2 he applies theprinciple of chapter 1 in order to derive (again) the conclusion thatthere is something supremely great.
In chapter 3 Anselm argues that all existing things exist throughsome one thing. Every existing thing, he begins, exists either throughsomething or through nothing. But of course nothing exists throughnothing, so every existing thing exists through something. There is,then, either some one thing through which all existing things exist, orthere is more than one such thing. If there is more than one, either(i) they all exist through some one thing, or (ii) each of them existsthrough itself, or (iii) they exist through each other. (iii) makes nosense. If (ii) is true, then “there is surely some one power or natureof self-existing that they have in order to exist through themselves”(M 3); in that case, “all things exist more truly through thatone thing than through the several things that cannot exist withoutthat one thing” (M 3). So (ii) collapses into (i), and thereis some one thing through which all things exist. That one thing, ofcourse, exists through itself, and so it is greater than all the otherthings. It is therefore “best and greatest and supreme among allexisting things” (M 3).
In chapter 4 Anselm begins with the premise that things “are not allof equal dignity; rather, some of them are on different and unequallevels” (M 4). For example, a horse is better than wood, and ahuman being is more excellent than a horse. Now it is absurd to thinkthat there is no limit to how high these levels can go, “so that thereis no level so high that an even higher level cannot be found”(M 4). The only question is how many beings occupy thathighest level of all. Is there just one, or are there more than one?Suppose there are more than one. By hypothesis, they must all beequals. If they are equals, they are equals through the same thing.That thing is either identical with them or distinct from them. If itis identical with them, then they are not in fact many, but one, sincethey are all identical with some one thing. On the other hand, if thatthing is distinct from them, then they do not occupy the highest levelafter all. Instead, that thing is greater than they are. Either way,there can be only one being occupying the highest level of all.
Anselm concludes the first four chapters by summarizing hisresults:
Therefore, there is a certain nature or substance oressence who through himself is good and great and through himself iswhat he is; through whom exists whatever truly is good or great oranything at all; and who is the supreme good, the supreme great thing,the supreme being or subsistent, that is, supreme among all existingthings. (M 4)
He then goes on (in chapters 5–65) to derive the attributes that mustbelong to the being who fits this description. But before we look atAnselm's understanding of the divine attributes, we should turn to thefamous proof in theProslogion.
Looking back on the sixty-five chapters of complicated argument in theMonologion, Anselm found himself wishing for a simpler way toestablish all the conclusions he wanted to prove. As he tells us in thepreface to theProslogion, he wanted to find
a single argument that needed nothing but itself alone forproof, that would by itself be enough to show that God really exists;that he is the supreme good, who depends on nothing else, but on whomall things depend for their being and for their well-being; andwhatever we believe about the divine nature. (P,preface)
That “single argument” is the one that appears in chapter 2 of theProslogion. (We owe the curiously unhelpful name“ontological argument” to Kant. The medievals simplycalled it “Anselm's” argument [ratioAnselmi].)
The proper way to state Anselm's argument is a matter of dispute, andany detailed statement of the argument will beg interpretativequestions. But on a fairly neutral or consensus reading of theargument (which I shall go on to reject), Anselm's argument goes likethis. God is “that than which nothing greater can be thought”; inother words, he is a being so great, so full of metaphysical oomph,that one cannot so much as conceive of a being who would be greaterthan God. The Psalmist, however, tells us that “The fool has said inhis heart, ‘There is no God’ ” (Psalm 14:1; 53:1). Is itpossible to convince the fool that he is wrong? It is. All we need isthe characterization of God as “that than which nothing greater can bethought.” The fool does at least understand that definition. Butwhatever is understood exists in the understanding, just as the planof a painting he has yet to execute already exists in theunderstanding of the painter. So that than which nothing greater canbe thought exists in the understanding. But if it exists in theunderstanding, it must also exist in reality. For it is greater toexist in reality than to exist merely in the understanding. Therefore,if that than which nothing greater can be thought existed only in theunderstanding, it would be possible to think of something greater thanit (namely, that same being existing in reality as well). It follows,then, that if that than which nothing greater can be thought existedonly in the understanding, it would not be that than which nothinggreater can be thought; and that, obviously, is a contradiction. Sothat than which nothing greater can be thought must exist in reality,not merely in the understanding.
Versions of this argument have been defended and criticized by asuccession of philosophers from Anselm's time through the present day(seeontological arguments). Our concern here is with Anselm's own version, thecriticism he encountered, and his response to that criticism. A monknamed Gaunilo wrote a “Reply on Behalf of the Fool,” contending thatAnselm's argument gave the Psalmist's fool no good reason at all tobelieve that that than which nothing greater can be thought exists inreality. Gaunilo's most famous objection is an argument intended to beexactly parallel to Anselm's that generates an obviously absurdconclusion. Gaunilo proposes that instead of “that than which nothinggreater can be thought” we consider “that island than which no greatercan be thought.” We understand what that expression means, so(following Anselm's reasoning) the greatest conceivable island existsin our understanding. But (again following Anselm's reasoning) thatisland must exist in reality as well; for if it did not, we couldimagine a greater island—namely, one that existed in reality—and thegreatest conceivable island would not be the greatest conceivableisland after all. Surely, though, it is absurd to suppose that thegreatest conceivable island actually exists in reality. Gauniloconcludes that Anselm's reasoning is fallacious.
Gaunilo's counterargument is so ingenious that it stands out as by farthe most devastating criticism in his catalogue of Anselm's errors.Not surprisingly, then, interpreters have read Anselm's reply toGaunilo primarily in order to find his rejoinder to the Lost Islandargument. Sympathetic interpreters (such as Klima 2000) have offeredways for Anselm to respond, but at least one commentator (Wolterstorff1993) argues that Anselm offers no such rejoinder, precisely becausehe knew Gaunilo's criticism was unanswerable but could not bringhimself to admit that fact.
A more careful look at Anselm's reply to Gaunilo, however, shows thatAnselm offered no rejoinder to the Lost Island argument because herejected Gaunilo's interpretation of the original argument of theProslogion. Gaunilo had understood the argument in the way Istated it above. Anselm understood it quite differently. Inparticular, Anselm insists that the original argument did not rely onany general principle to the effect that a thing is greater when itexists in reality than when it exists only in the understanding. Andsince that is the principle that does the mischief in Gaunilo'scounterargument, Anselm sees no need to respond to the Lost Islandargument in particular.
Correctly understood, Anselm says, the argument of theProslogion can be summarized as follows:
Therefore,
Anselm defends (1) by showing how we can form a conception of thatthan which nothing greater can be thought on the basis of ourexperience and understanding of those things than which a greatercan be thought. For example,
it is clear to every reasonable mind that by raising ourthoughts from lesser goods to greater goods, we are quite capable offorming an idea of that than which a greater cannot be thought on thebasis of that than which a greater can be thought. Who, for example,is unable to think . . . that if something that has a beginning andend is good, then something that has a beginning but never ceases toexist is much better? And that just as the latter is better than theformer, so something that has neither beginning nor end is betterstill, even if it is always moving from the past through the presentinto the future? And that something that in no way needs or iscompelled to change or move is far better even than that, whether anysuch thing exists in reality or not? Can such a thing not be thought?Can anything greater than this be thought? Or rather, is not this anexample of forming an idea of that than which a greater cannot bethought on the basis of those things than which a greater can bethought? So there is in fact a way to form an idea of that than whicha greater cannot be thought. (Anselm's Reply to Gaunilo8)
Once we have formed this idea of that than which nothing greater canbe thought, Anselm says, we can see that such a being has featuresthat cannot belong to a possible but non-existent object — or, inother words, that (2) is true. For example, a being that is capableof non-existence is less great than a being that exists necessarily.If that than which nothing greater can be thought does not exist, itis obviously capable of non-existence; and if it is capable ofnon-existence, then even if it were to exist, it would not be thatthan which nothing greater can be thought after all. So if that thanwhich nothing greater can be thought can be thought — that is, if itis a possible being — it actually exists. (This reading of theargument of theProslogion is developed at length in Williamsand Visser 2009, chapter 5.)
Recall that Anselm's intention in theProslogion was to offera single argument that would establish not only the existence of Godbut also the various attributes that Christians believe God possesses.If the argument of chapter 2 proved only the existence of God, leavingthe divine attributes to be established piecemeal as in theMonologion, Anselm would consider theProslogion afailure. But in fact the concept of that than which nothing greater canbe thought turns out to be marvelously fertile. God must, for example,be omnipotent. For if he were not, we could conceive of a being greaterthan he. But God is that than which no greater can be thought, so hemust be omnipotent. Similarly, God must be just, self-existent,invulnerable to suffering, merciful, timelessly eternal, non-physical,non-composite, and so forth. For if he lacked any of these qualities,he would be less than the greatest conceivable being, which isimpossible.
The ontological argument thus works as a sort ofdivine-attribute-generating machine. Admittedly, though, theappearance of theoretical simplicity is somewhat misleading. The“single argument” produces conclusions about the divine attributesonly when conjoined with certain beliefs about what is greater orbetter. That is, the ontological argument tells us that God haswhatever characteristics it is better or greater to have than to lack,but it does not tell us which characteristics those are. We must havesome independent way of identifying them before we can plug them intothe ontological argument and generate a full-blown conception of thedivine nature. Anselm identifies these characteristics in part byappeal to intuitions about value, in part by independent argument. Toillustrate Anselm's method, I shall examine his discussions of God'simpassibility, timelessness, and simplicity.
According to the doctrine of divine impassibility, God is invulnerableto suffering. Nothing can act upon him; he is in no way passive. Hetherefore does not feel emotions, since emotions are states that oneundergoes rather than actions one performs. Anselm does not find itnecessary toargue that impassibility is a perfection; hethinks it is perfectly obvious that “it is better to be . . .impassible than not” (P 6), just as it is perfectlyobvious that it is better to be just than not-just. His intuitionsabout value are shaped by the Platonic-Augustinian tradition of whichhe was a part. Augustine took from the Platonists the idea that thereally real things, the greatest and best of beings, are stable,uniform, and unchanging. He says inOn Free Choice of theWill 2.10, “And you surely could not deny that theuncorrupted is better than the corrupt, the eternal than the temporal,and the invulnerable than the vulnerable”; his interlocutorreplies simply, “Could anyone?” Through Augustine (andothers) these ideas, and the conception of God to which they naturallylead, became the common view of Christian theologians for well over amillennium. For Anselm, then, it is obvious that a being who is in noway passive, who cannot experience anything of which he is not himselfthe origin, is better and greater than any being who can be acted uponby something outside himself. So God, being that than which nothinggreater can be thought, is wholly active; he is impassible.
Notice that Augustine also found it obvious that the eternal isbetter than the temporal. According to Plato'sTimaeus, timeis a “moving image of eternity” (37d). It is a shifting and shadowyreflection of the really real. As later Platonists, includingAugustine, develop this idea, temporal beings have their existencepiecemeal; they exist only in this tiny sliver of a now, which isconstantly flowing away from them and passing into nothingness. Aneternal being, by contrast, is (to use my earlier description) stable,uniform, and unchanging. What it has, it always has; what it is, italways is; what it does, it always does. So it seems intuitivelyobvious to Anselm that if God is to be that than which nothing greatercan be thought, he must be eternal. That is, he must be not merelyeverlasting, but outside time altogether.
In addition to this strong intuitive consideration, Anselm at leasthints at a further argument for the claim that it is better to beeternal than temporal. He opens chapter 13 of theProslogionby observing, “Everything that is at all enclosed in a place or time isless than that which is subject to no law of place or time” (P13). His idea seems to be that if God were in time (or in a place), hewould be bound by certain constraints inherent in the nature of time(or place). His discussion inMonologion 22 makes the problemclear:
This, then, is the condition of place and time: whatever isenclosed within their boundaries does not escape being characterized byparts, whether the sort of parts its place receives with respect tosize, or the sort its time suffers with respect to duration; nor can itin any way be contained as a whole all at once by different places ortimes. By contrast, if something is in no way constrained byconfinement in a place or time, no law of places or times forces itinto a multiplicity of parts or prevents it from being present as awhole all at once in several places or times. (M22)
So at least part of the reason for holding that God is timeless is thatthe nature of time would impose constraints upon God, and of course itis better to be subject to no external constraints.
The other part of the reason, though, is that if God were in placeor time he would haveparts. But what is so bad about havingparts? This question brings us naturally to the doctrine of divinesimplicity, which is simply the doctrine that God has no parts of anykind. Even for an Augustinian like Anselm, the claim that it is betterto lack parts than to have them is less than intuitively compelling, soAnselm offers further arguments for that claim. In theProslogion he argues that “whatever is composed of parts isnot completely one. It is in some sense a plurality and not identicalwith itself, and it can be broken up either in fact or at least in theunderstanding” (P 18). The argument in theMonologiongoes somewhat differently. “Every composite,” Anselm argues, “needs thethings of which it is composed if it is to subsist, and it owes itsexistence to them, since whatever it is, it is through them, whereasthose things are not through it what they are” (M 17). Theargument in theProslogion, then, seeks to relate simplicityto the intuitive considerations that identify what is greatest and bestwith what is stable, uniform, and unchanging; the argument in theMonologion, by contrast, seeks to show that simplicity isnecessary if God is to be—as the theistic proofs have alreadyestablished—the ultimate source of his own goodness and existence.
Anselm's success in generating a whole host of divine attributesthrough the ontological argument does present him with a problem. He must show that the attributes are consistent with each other—inother words, that it is possible for one and the same being to have all ofthem. For example, there seems at first glance to be a conflict betweenjustice and omnipotence. If God is perfectly just, he cannot lie. Butif God is omnipotent, how can there be something he cannot do? Anselm'ssolution is to explain that omnipotence does not mean the ability to doeverything; instead, it means the possession of unlimited power. Nowthe so-called “ability” or “power” to lie is not really a power at all;it is a kind of weakness. Being omnipotent, God has no weakness. So itturns out that omnipotence actuallyentails the inability tolie.
Another apparent contradiction is between God's mercy and hisjustice. If God is just, he will surely punish the wicked as theydeserve. But because he is merciful, he spares the wicked. Anselm triesto resolve this apparent contradiction by appeal to God's goodness. Itis better, he says, for God “to be good both to the good and to thewicked than to be good only to the good, and it is better to be good tothe wicked both in punishing and in sparing them than to be good onlyin punishing them” (P 9). So God's supreme goodness requiresthat he be both just and merciful. But Anselm is not content to resolvethe apparent tension between justice and mercy by appealing to someother attribute, goodness, that entails both justice and mercy; he goeson to argue that justice itself requires mercy. Justice to sinnersobviously requires that God punish them; but God's justicetohimself requires that he exercise his supreme goodness in sparingthe wicked. “Thus,” Anselm says to God, “in saving us whom you mightjustly destroy . . . you are just, not because you give us our due, butbecause you do what is fitting for you who are supremely good”(P 10). In spite of these arguments, Anselm acknowledges thatthere is a residue of mystery here:
Thus your mercy is born of your justice, since it is justfor you to be so good that you are good even in sparing the wicked. Andperhaps this is why the one who is supremely just can will good thingsfor the wicked. But even if one can somehow grasp why you can will tosave the wicked, certainly no reasoning can comprehend why, from thosewho are alike in wickedness, you save some rather than others throughyour supreme goodness and condemn some rather than others through yoursupreme justice. (P 11)
In other words, the philosopher can trace the conceptual relationsamong goodness, justice, and mercy, and show that God not only can butmust have all three; but no human reasoning can hope to show why Goddisplays his justice and mercy in precisely the ways in which hedoes.
InOn Freedom of Choice (De libertate arbitrii)Anselm defines freedom of choice as “the power to preserve rectitude ofwill for its own sake” (DLA 3). He explores the notion ofrectitude of will most thoroughly inOn Truth (Deveritate), so in order to understand the definition of freedom ofchoice, we must look first at Anselm's discussion of truth. Truthis a much broader notion for Anselm than for us; he speaks of truth notonly in statements and opinions but also in the will, actions, thesenses, and even the essences of things. In every case, he argues,truth consists in correctness or “rectitude.” Rectitude, in turn, isunderstood teleologically; a thing is correct whenever it is or doeswhatever it ought, or was designed, to be or do. For example,statements are made for the purpose of “signifying that what-is is”(DV 2). A statement therefore is correct (has rectitude) when,and only when, it signifies that what-is is. So Anselm holds acorrespondence theory of truth, but it is a somewhat unusualcorrespondence theory. Statements are true when they correspond toreality, but only because corresponding to reality is what statementsarefor. That is, statements (like anything else) are truewhen they do what they were designed to do; and what they were designedto do, as it happens, is to correspond to reality.
Truth in the will also turns out to be rectitude, again understoodteleologically. Rectitude of will means willing what one ought to willor (in other words) willing that for the sake of which one was given awill. So, just as the truth or rectitude of a statement is thestatement's doing what statements were made to do, the truth orrectitude of a will is the will's doing what wills were made to do. InDV 12 Anselm connects rectitude of will to both justice andmoral evaluation. In a broad sense of ‘just’, whatever isas it ought to be is just. Thus, an animal is just when it blindlyfollows its appetites, because that is what animals were meant to do.But in the narrower sense of ‘just’, in which justice iswhat deserves moral approval and injustice is what deserves reproach,justice is best defined as “rectitude of will preserved for its ownsake” (DV 12). Such rectitude requires that agents perceivethe rectitude of their actions and will them for the sake of thatrectitude. Anselm takes the second requirement to exclude both coercionand “being bribed by an extraneous reward” (DV 12). For anagent who is coerced into doing what is right is not willing rectitudefor its own sake; and similarly, an agent who must be bribed to do whatis right is willing rectitude for the sake of the bribe, not for thesake of rectitude.
Since, as we have already seen, Anselm will define freedom as “thepower to preserve rectitude of will for its own sake,” the arguments ofOn Truth imply that freedom is also the capacity for justiceand the capacity for moral praiseworthiness. Now it is both necessaryand sufficient for justice, and thus for praiseworthiness, that anagent wills what is right, knowing it to be right, because it is right.That an agent wills what is right because it is right entails that heis neither compelled nor bribed to perform the act. Freedom, then, mustbe neither more nor less than the power to perform acts of thatsort.
Thus Anselm takes it to be obvious that freedom is a powerforsomething: its purpose is to preserve rectitude of will for its ownsake. God and the good angels cannot sin, but they are still free,because they can (and do) preserve rectitude of will for its own sake.In fact, they are freer than those who can sin: “someone who has whatis fitting and expedient in such a way that he cannot lose it is freerthan someone who has it in such a way that he can lose it and beseduced into what is unfitting and inexpedient” (DLA 1). Itobviously follows, as Anselm points out, that freedom of choice neitheris nor entails the power to sin; God and the good angels have freedomof choice, but they are incapable of sinning.
But if free choice is the power to hold on to what is fitting andexpedient, and it is not the power to sin, does it make any sense tosay that the first human beings and the rebel angels sinned throughfree choice? Anselm's reply to this question is both subtle andplausible. In order to be able to preserve rectitude of will for itsown sake, an agent must be able to perform an action that has itsultimate origin in the agent him- or herself rather than in someexternal source. (For convenience I will refer to that power as “thepower for self-initiated action.”) Any being that has freedom ofchoice, therefore, will thereby have the power for self-initiatedaction. The first human beings and the rebel angels sinned through anexercise of their power for self-initiated action, and so it isappropriate to say that they sinned through free choice. Nonetheless, free choice does not entail the power to sin. For freechoice can be perfected by something else, as yet unspecified, thatrenders it incapable of sinning.
InOn the Fall of the Devil (De casu diaboli)Anselm extends his account of freedom and sin by discussing the firstsin of the angels. In order for the angels to have the power topreserve rectitude of will for its own sake, they had to have both awill for justice and a will for happiness. If God had given them only awill for happiness, they would have been necessitated to will whateverthey thought would make them happy. Their willing of happiness wouldhave had its ultimate origin in God and not in the angels themselves.So they would not have had the power for self-initiated action, whichmeans that they would not have had free choice. The same thing wouldhave been true,mutatis mutandis, if God had given them onlythe will for justice.
Since God gave them both wills, however, they had the power forself-initiated action. Whether they chose to subject their wills forhappiness to the demands of justice or to ignore the demands of justicein the interest of happiness, that choice had its ultimate origin inthe angels; it was not received from God. The rebel angels chose toabandon justice in an attempt to gain happiness for themselves, whereasthe good angels chose to persevere in justice even if it meant lesshappiness. God punished the rebel angels by taking away theirhappiness; he rewarded the good angels by granting them all thehappiness they could possibly want. For this reason, the good angelsare no longer able to sin. Since there is no further happiness left forthem to will, their will for happiness can no longer entice them tooverstep the bounds of justice. Thus Anselm finally explains what it isthat perfects free choice so that it becomes unable to sin.
Like the fallen angels, the first human beings willed happiness inpreference to justice. By doing so they abandoned the will for justiceand became unable to will justice for its own sake. Apart from divinegrace, then, fallen human beings cannot help but sin. Anselm claimsthat we are still free, because we continue to be such that if we hadrectitude of will, we could preserve it for its own sake; but we cannotexercise our freedom, since we no longer have the rectitude ofwill to preserve. (Whether fallen human beings also retain the powerfor self-initiated action apart from divine grace is a tricky question,and one I do not propose to answer here.)
So the restoration of human beings to the justice they were intendedto enjoy requires divine grace. But even more is needed than God'srestoration of the will for justice. InCur Deus Homo(Why God Became A Human Being) Anselm famously attempts toshow on purely rational grounds that the debt incurred by human sincould be suitably discharged, and the affront to God's infinitedignity could be suitably rectified, only if one who was both fullydivine and fully human took it upon himself to offer his own life onour behalf.
References in this article to Anselm's works use the followingabbreviations:
DLA = De libertate arbitrii DV = De veritate M = Monologion P = Proslogion
All translations are my own.
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Augustine, Saint |Duns Scotus, John |free will |medieval philosophy |ontological arguments
