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Jed W. Atkins
1
Henry Chadwick, Some Reflections on Conscience: Greek, Jewish and Christian (Lon-
don: Council of Christians and Jews, 1968), 16–17. Chadwick treats the phenomenon of
conscience in antiquity at greater length in his later article ‘‘Gewissen,’’ Reallexicon für
Antike und Christentum 10 (1978): 1025–1107.
2
See, e.g., C. A. Pierce, Conscience in the New Testament (London: SCM Press, 1955);
C. S. Lewis, Studies in Words (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967), 181–213;
Chadwick, ‘‘Gewissen’’; Jürgen Blühdorn, ‘‘Gewissen I: Philosophisch,’’ in Theologische
Realenzyklopädie, vol. 13, Gesellschaft/Gesellschaft und Christentum VI—Gottesbe-
weise (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1984): 192–213; P. R. Bosman, Conscience in Philo and Paul:
A Conceptual History of the Synoida Word Group (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003).
Copyright by Journal of the History of Ideas, Volume 75, Number 1 (January 2014)
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JOURNAL OF THE HISTORY OF IDEAS ✦ JANUARY 2014
3
But see Richard Sorabji, ‘‘Graeco-Roman Origins of the Idea of Moral Conscience,’’
Studia Patristica 44 (2010): 361–83.
4
See Douglas C. Langston, Conscience and Other Virtues: From Bonaventure to Mac-
Intyre (University Park: Penn State University Press, 2001).
5
For a deflationary account of the evidence for the Greek Stoics’ contribution to the
development of the concept of conscience, see Don Marietta, Jr., ‘‘Conscience in Greek
Stoicism,’’ Numen 17 (1970): 176–87.
6
For a survey of the medieval treatments of conscience, see Timothy Potts, ‘‘Conscience,’’
in The Cambridge History of Later Medieval Philosophy, ed. Norman Kretzmann,
Anthony Kenny, and Jan Pinborg (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 687–
704. For a selection of the chief texts with commentary, see Timothy Potts, ed., Con-
science in Medieval Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980).
These lines have been the subject of much scrutiny by modern commenta-
tors. Scholars tend to agree that line 396 reproduces a shortened version of
a tripartite formula: (1) a form of the verb synoida—literally ‘‘to know
with,’’ ‘‘to know along with,’’ or ‘‘to know together with’’; (2) a reflexive
pronoun (here elided, perhaps for metrical reasons, but presumably it
would have been understood by the reader); (3) some transgression of a
moral law or code.9 Commentators have found less of a consensus over the
7
I owe this point to Mark Griffith.
8
The text and translation are from Euripides, Helen, Phoenician Women, Orestes, ed.
and trans. David Kovacs, Loeb Classical Library 11 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univer-
sity Press, 2002), with the exception of the translation for line 396, which I have altered
here and in all subsequent occurrences in other texts to achieve consistency.
9
See P. R. Bosman, ‘‘Why Conscience Makes Cowards of Us All: A Classical Perspec-
tive,’’ Acta Classica 40 (1997): 63–75, esp. 67–68; Bosman, Conscience in Philo and
Paul, 54–55; Pierce, Conscience, 21–28; Friedrich Zucker, Syneidesis-Conscientia: Ein
Versuch zur Geschichte des sittlichen Bewusstseins im griechischen und im griechisch-
römischen Altertum (1928; repr. in Semantica, Rhetorica, Ethica [Berlin: Akademie-
Verlag, 1963], 96–117), 101. For the full formula, see Ar. Thesm. 477; Xen. An. 1.3.10;
Dem. Or. 19.33.
10
For analysis with bibliography, see C. W. Willink, ed., Euripides Orestes (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1986), ad loc.
11
Yes: Zucker, Syneidesis-Conscientia, 101; Pierce, Conscience, 30–31; H. Osborne,
‘‘Synesis and Syneidesis,’’ Classical Review 45 (1931): 9; Werner Biel, Euripides Orestes
(Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1965), 47. No: V. A. Rodgers, ‘‘Synesis and the Expression
of Conscience,’’ Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies 10 (1969): 250; Manfred Class,
Gewissensregungen in der griechischen Tragödie (Hildesheim: Olms, 1964), 102; P. R.
Bosman, ‘‘Pathology of a Guilty Conscience: The Legacy of Euripides’ Orestes,’’ Acta
Classica 36 (1993): 11–25, esp. 18; Bosman, Conscience in Philo and Paul, 68–69.
12
Bosman, ‘‘Pathology,’’ 18.
13
John Stuart Mill, Utilitarianism, chap. 3, quoted in Langston, Conscience and Other
Virtues, 101–2.
14
Thomas E. Hill, Jr., ‘‘Four Conceptions of Conscience,’’ in Integrity and Conscience,
ed. Ian Shapiro and Robert Adams (New York: New York University Press, 1998), 14.
15
Ibid.
16
See Cic. Leg. 1.40, Rosc. Am. 66–67, Mil. 61, Cat. 1.17. For a brief discussion of
conscience in Cicero’s speeches, see Ingo Gildenhard, Creative Eloquence: The Construc-
tion of Reality in Cicero’s Speeches (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 104–13.
17
Cf. Philo, De opificio mundi, 128; De confusione linguarum, 121; De ebrietate, 125;
Quod Deus immutabilis sit, 100, 128; Quod deterius potiori insidiari solet, 23. For dis-
cussion of conscience in Philo, see Richard T. Wallis, The Idea of Conscience in Philo of
Alexandria (Berkeley: Center for Hermeneutical Studies in Hellenistic and Modern Cul-
ture, 1975), 1–47; and, more recently, Bosman, Conscience in Philo and Paul, 107–90.
18
Chadwick, Reflections, 16.
19
For a thorough discussion of Seneca’s use of judicial imagery, see Brad Inwood, Read-
ing Seneca: Stoic Philosophy at Rome (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 201–23.
Plutarch begins his account by quoting line 396 from Euripides’s Orestes,
and in fact he echoes a couple of important elements of the Orestes passage.
First, he compares conscience to a sickness or illness that produces pain
(λπας; cf. Eur. Or. 398). Second, it appears that he replaces synesis in
Euripides’s text with logos. However, this substitution is not simply a mat-
ter of semantics,21 but represents a very different conception of conscience,
one which supplies the concept a metaphysical status that was absent in
Euripides’s text. To understand why, we must explore Plutarch’s psy-
chology.
A complete account of Plutarch’s psychology would require the
detailed discussion of a great number of passages scattered throughout the
philosopher’s Moralia. It is highly unlikely that the results of the attempted
synthesis would be tidy.22 One complicating factor, for instance, is Plu-
tarch’s tendency to mix psychology with demonology. In some passages the
philosopher represents daemons as external semi-divine beings. At other
places, however, he seems to identify daemons ‘‘with the more elevated
20
For Plutarch, De tranquillitate animi, I have used for text and translations Plutarch’s
Moralia VI, trans. W. C. Helmbold, Loeb Classical Library 337 (Cambridge, Mass.: Har-
vard University Press, 1939). I have at times slightly modified the Loeb’s translations.
21
Pace Bosman, ‘‘Pathology,’’ 19.
22
See John Dillon, The Middle Platonists: A Study of Platonism, 80 B.C. to A.D. 220
(London: Duckworth, 1977), 202–14. For more on Plutarch’s psychology, see Roger
Miller Jones, The Platonism of Plutarch and Selected Papers (New York: Garland, 1980);
and Tim Duff, Plutarch’s Lives: Exploring Virtue and Vice (Oxford: Clarendon, 1999),
72–98.
23
Daniel Babut, Plutarque et le stoı̈cisme (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1969),
390.
24
See W. Hamilton, ‘‘The Myth in Plutarch’s De facie (940F–945D),’’ Classical Quarterly
28 (1934): 24–30, and ‘‘The Myth in Plutarch’s De genio (589F–592E),’’ Classical Quar-
terly 28 (1934): 175–82, quotation at 175.
25
For a summary of the two-stage death, see John Dillon, ‘‘Plutarch and Second-Century
Platonism,’’ in Classical Mediterranean Spirituality: Egyptian, Greek, Roman, ed. A. H.
Armstrong (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986), 214–29. For Plutarch, De facie in
orbe lunae, I have used for text and translations Plutarch’s Moralia XII, trans. H. Cher-
niss and W. C. Helmbold, Loeb Classical Library 406 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Uni-
versity Press, 1957).
moon). However, the body and intellect never interact directly, and so need
an intermediary. It is the confluence of the soul with the body and the intel-
lect that produces the parts of the soul. The commingling of the body and
the soul results in the irrational and affective part of the soul; the combina-
tion of the soul with the intellect produces reason or logos (943A). Logos,
of course, was the key term in Plutarch’s account of conscience in De tran-
quillitate animi. Thus, it is now clear how logos fits into Plutarch’s psychol-
ogy. It is the product of the conjunction of the highest elements of the
human being—soul and intellect (nous).
While strictly speaking logos is a product of the mixture of both soul
and intellect (nous), Plutarch more closely associates the term with the lat-
ter. In fact, Plutarch sometimes appears to conflate nous and logos.26 At
times he so fully emphasizes the role of nous in the production of logos that
the other term, soul (psychē), is practically forgotten. For example, in De
Iside et Osiride Plutarch identifies the Egyptian god Osiris with ‘‘nous and
logos in the soul’’ (371A), which should rule over Typhon, the irrational
and bodily part of the soul (371B).27 Reason is the means by which the nous
exerts its influence over the soul as its ‘‘ruler and lord’’ (371A).
The mastery of nous and logos over the rest of the soul involves guid-
ance—and punishment. Plutarch deals especially with these facets of his
psychology in his treatment of Socrates’s famous sign or daemon (cf. De
gen. 589F–592E).28 Once again the discussion is couched in a myth. Ti-
marchus, a friend of Socrates’s son Lamprocles, sees a vision in which a
multitude of souls are being carried along by the river Styx. Some of these
souls slip off to Hades while others are carried upwards to the moon (De
gen. 591C). A guide interprets the vision. Every soul has a share in nous,
which here, just as in De facie, is presented as a distinct entity from the
soul.29 While most of the soul descends into the body and becomes irra-
tional, the nous and that part of the soul that is in contact with it remain
26
Babut, Plutarque et le stoı̈cisme, 390.
27
For Plutarch, De Iside et Osiride, I used for text and translations Plutarch’s Moralia V,
trans. F. C. Babbitt, Loeb Classical Library 306 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University
Press, 1936). I have modified the translations.
28
On this passage see Andrei Timotin, La démonologie platonicienne: Histoire de la
notion de daimōn de Platon aux derniers néoplatoniciens (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 249–51,
with additional bibliography at 249 n. 24; see also Klaus Döring, ‘‘Plutarch und das
Daimonion des Sokrates,’’ Mnemosyne 37 (1984): 376–92, esp. 381–85. For Plutarch,
De genio Socratis, I have used for text and translations Plutarch’s Moralia VII, trans.
P. H. De Lacy and B. Einarson, Loeb Classical Library 405 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
University Press, 1959). I have at times modified the translations.
29
See Hamilton, ‘‘Myth in Plutarch’s De genio’’; and, more recently, Werner Deuse, ‘‘Plu-
tarch’s Eschatological Myths,’’ in On the Daimonion of Socrates, ed. H.-G. Nesselrath
and D. A. Russell (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 182.
above, floating above the body ‘‘like a fisherman’s buoy’’ (De gen. 591E).
While most people suppose that nous, the rational part that is free from
corruption, is itself within the soul, ‘‘those who conceive the matter rightly
call it a daemon, because it is external’’ (591E).
The nous-daemon, like the nous-logos in Isis and Osiris, represents the
ruling and controlling part of the soul.30 When an individual errs, the nous-
daemon punishes the soul:
In this passage, Plutarch does not specify by what means the nous-daemon
punishes the erring soul. However, given Plutarch’s psychology it is plausi-
ble to assume that the nous carries out its punishments through the applica-
tion of reason (logos) to the irrational and recalcitrant soul. This hypothesis
receives additional support from the similarities between the passage in De
genio Socratis and the one from De tranquillitate animi. First, both the
nous in the former and the logos in the latter are responsible for self-
punishment. Second, Plutarch’s description of the punishment inflicted by
the nous at De gen. 592BC shares much of the same terminology with the
account in De tranq. anim. Upon recognition that the individual has erred
(ταις μαρταις; cf. De tranq. anim. 477A: τοις μαρτανομνοις), the
nous-daemon chastises the soul (κολαζομνη; cf. De tranq. anim. 476F:
κολαζομνης) and produces feelings of remorse (μεταμλειαν; cf. De tranq.
anim. 476F: μεταμλειαν), a sense of shame (α
σχνην; cf. De tranq. anim.
476F: α
σχνη, 477A: τω α
σχρω ), and disgrace (λγηδνα; cf. De tranq.
anim. 477A: τ λγεινν).
30
For an overview of the nous-daemon in Plutarch, see André Corlu, Plutarque: Le
démon de Socrate (Paris: Klincksieck, 1970), 47–64. See also Frederick Brenk, ‘‘An Impe-
rial Heritage: The Religious Spirit of Plutarch of Chaironeia,’’ in Aufstieg und Niedergang
der römischen Welt, pt. 2, vol. 36, fasc. 1, ed. Wolfgang Haase and Hildegard Temporini
(Berlin: du Gruyter, 1987), 248–349, esp. 275–94. Brenk situates Plutarch’s demonology
within a larger survey of the subject in ‘‘In the Light of the Moon: Demonology in the
Early Imperial Period,’’ in ibid., pt. 2, vol. 16, fasc. 3 (1986), 2068–2145, esp. 2117–30.
31
For Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, I have used for text and translations
Philostratus: The Life of Apollonius of Tyana II, ed. and trans. Christopher P. Jones,
Loeb Classical Library 17 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2005).
10
Philostratus has Apollonius linger over the meaning of the word synesis in
Euripides, and takes the opportunity to do some simple psychology. Like
Plutarch, Apollonius’s psychology involves nous (intellect or reason). How-
ever, in contrast to Plutarch, Apollonius clearly distinguishes nous from
synesis. Nous determines one’s actions; it is the decision-making part of
human beings. Synesis, on the other hand, is a separate entity. It reviews
the decisions made by nous and either praises or condemns the agent. While
nous is the rational faculty, synesis is related more closely to the emotional
part of human beings. Synesis, not nous, is responsible for producing Ores-
tes’s visions of the furies.
Apollonius’s subsequent remarks make it clear that the case of Orestes
illustrates more generally the phenomenon of a guilty conscience. Strik-
ingly, nous appears to be fallible in exercising its capacity to make moral
choices. Thus, if one’s nous chooses evil, synesis will condemn it, and
thereby produce the emotions of fear and anxiety typical of conscience-
stricken individuals. In this retrospective capacity, synesis works as an in-
dependent judging entity, a picture that is reinforced by judicial language
such as ‘‘laws’’ (νμοι) and ‘‘condemn’’ or ‘‘cross-examine’’ ("λγζει; VA
7.14.11). On the other hand, synesis functions prospectively as well as ret-
rospectively. For the man who chooses well, it serves as a constant compan-
ion, guide, and source of praise and encouragement (7.14.10).
This conception of the conscience as an independent judging faculty
has a modern ring to it. Indeed, both Bishop Butler and Immanuel Kant in
the eighteenth century provided influential accounts of conscience empha-
sizing just this notion.32 Moreover, Apollonius’s conception of a conscience
working prospectively and positively in addition to retrospectively and neg-
atively departs significantly from the accounts in Euripides and Plutarch.33
(For a similar notion of the positive, prospective conscience, see Seneca,
Ep. 43.5, 97.12–13.) What is more, the account Philostratus attributes to
Apollonius appears to use neither nous nor synesis in a technical philosoph-
ical sense, nor does it attempt to integrate the two within a larger psy-
chological framework. These latter two observations should not really be
surprising given the popular characteristic of Apollonius’s Neopythagore-
anism, an eclectic philosophical and religious movement that was con-
stantly borrowing from and contributing to a wide variety of other
philosophical, religious, cosmological, and medical traditions.34
32
See Langston, Conscience and Other Virtues, 80–84.
33
See Bosman, ‘‘Pathology,’’ 20.
34
See Peter Kingsley, Ancient Philosophy, Mystery, and Magic: Empedocles and Pytha-
gorean Tradition (Oxford: Clarendon, 1995), 317–34.
11
35
See Graham Anderson, ‘‘Putting Pressure on Plutarch: Philostratus Epistle 73,’’ Classi-
cal Philology 72 (1977): 43–45.
12
its sins, as when the one man asks, ‘‘Why are you distraught?
What sickness is destroying you?’’ And the other one answers,
‘‘Conscience, since I am conscious of having done terrible things’’
[ σνεσις, τι σνοιδα δεν’ ε
ργασμνος]. And on the other
hand, the lyric poet writes, ‘‘Fostering hope—a good nurse of old
age.’’ You would not err, therefore, in calling the allotted daemon
‘‘conscience’’ [τ συνειδς]. But it must be understood that with
respect to conscience [του συνειδτος] there are two sorts: the
one type relating to our faculties of knowing [τ μ&ν "π' ταις
γνωστικαις μω ν δυνμεσι] is called ‘‘attentive’’ [προσεκτικν]
and the other relating to the appetitive faculties [τ δ& "π' ταις
(ρεκτικαις δυνμεσι] is called ‘‘conscience’’ homonymously with
the genus [συνειδ ς μωνμως τω γνει] (In Alc. 23.2–18).36
It may at first appear curious that Olympiodorus should refer to this frag-
ment to illustrate the blessings of a clear conscience, for the fragment from
Pindar itself contains no language suggestive of the concept. However, this
is not the first time that a Greek philosopher has associated Pindar’s words
with the concept of conscience. In Plato’s Republic, the aged Cephalus
claims that ‘‘for the man who is conscious that he’s done nothing unjust
[τω
δ& μηδ&ν )αυτω #δικον συνειδτι] there is always present sweet
hope—a good nurse of old age, as Pindar says’’ (Pl. Resp. 331A).38 He
36
For the text, I have used Olympiodorus: Commentary on the First Alcibiades of Plato,
ed. L. G. Westerink (1956; repr., Amsterdam: Hakkert, 1982). The translation is my own.
37
The text is from Pindar II: Nemean Odes, Isthmian Odes, Fragments, ed. and trans.
William H. Race, Loeb Classical Library 485 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University
Press, 1997). The translation is my own.
38
The text is from Platonis Opera IV, ed. John Burnet (Oxford: Clarendon, 1902). The
translation is my own.
13
subsequently quotes in full the passage from Pindar reproduced above. Sig-
nificantly, Cephalus’s description of conscience employs the same formula
as the Orestes: a form of the verb synoida, a reflexive pronoun (implied in
the Orestes but present in the Republic), and some moral failing of which
the knower is conscious. Thus, Plato’s Republic, a work with which Olym-
piodorus was familiar,39 provides a convenient link between Euripides,
Orestes 396, and Pindar, Fragment 214, and between the retrospective mis-
ery of a guilty conscience and the prospective blessings of a clear con-
science.
Olympiodorus explores the prospective and retrospective capacities of
conscience further by utilizing some familiar imagery. As is common in the
passages we have been examining, he associates the conscience with judg-
ment and punishment by using such familiar legal terminology as ‘‘judge’’
and ‘‘witness.’’ In its judicial capacity the conscience is inerrant. However,
the conscience here also plays a prospective role. It unfailingly avoids what
is evil and turns the soul towards ‘‘what is proper.’’ The conscience thus
functions in a guiding and motivating capacity. Apparently, though, the
soul is capable of resisting the conscience’s guidance and direction towards
appropriate action. Thus, it is only after the conscience has failed in its
prospective capacity as guide that it begins to operate in its retrospective
capacity as judge.
How, though, does this account of the conscience relate to psychology?
Olympiodorus mentions that the conscience is ‘‘within us,’’ but he also
associates it with daemons. Is conscience a part of the soul? If so, to what
part of the soul does it belong? Is it more closely related to reason or the
emotions—or is it a faculty of its own? In order to answer these questions,
we must examine the following three aspects of this passage: (1) the identi-
fication of the conscience (syneidos) with the individual’s allotted daemon;
(2) what the scholiast means when he says that the conscience is the ‘‘choic-
est peak of the soul’’; and (3) the division of conscience (syneidos) itself into
two types depending on whether it is relating to the attentive or appetitive
faculties.
Olympiodorus’s readiness to give the name ‘‘conscience’’ to Socrates’s
daemon seems to be in line with a longer tradition whose roots go back
at least as far as Plutarch. As we have seen, Plutarch identified the nous-
daemon as the originator of the phenomenon of conscience. According to
39
See Harold Tarrant, ‘‘Politikê Eudaimonia: Olympiodorus on Plato’s Republic,’’ in
Plato’s Political Theory and Contemporary Political Thought, vol. 2, ed. Konstantine
Boudouris (Athens: International Association for Greek Philosophy and Culture, 1997),
200–207.
14
40
Dillon, Middle Platonists, 319–20.
41
For the influence of Plutarch on Apuleius, see P. G. Walsh, ‘‘Apuleius and Plutarch,’’ in
Neoplatonism and Early Christian Thought: Essays in Honor of A. H. Armstrong, ed.
H. J. Blumenthal and R. A. Marcus (London: Variorum, 1981), 20–32; Gerald Sandy,
The Greek World of Apuleius (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 199.
42
See Timotin, Démonologie platonicienne, 260–86.
43
Dillon, Middle Platonists, 320.
44
For the text of De deo Socratis, I have used Apuleius: De philosophia libri III, ed.
C. Moreschini (Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1991).
45
For similar passages, see Maximus’s Dialexeis 8 and 9 in Maximus of Tyre: The Philo-
sophical Orations, ed. M. B. Trapp (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997).
15
‘‘the flower of the intellect [nous].’’46 Plotinus argues that this part of the
soul remains uncorrupted because it does not sink into the body entirely.
Instead, it remains in the intelligible world and participates in the activity
of the divine Nous (cf. Enn. 4.8.8). Perhaps by the ‘‘choicest peak of the
soul’’ Olympiodorus is referring to the part of the soul that has not yet
descended into the body and remains in the intelligible world?
This is possible, but not likely. Plotinus’s teaching was, as he himself
admits, against the standard teaching of the school, and almost every Plato-
nist afterwards followed Proclus in rejecting Plotinus’s theory of the soul’s
partial descent (cf. Proclus, Elem. Theol. Prop. 211).47 According to Proclus,
Plotinus’s theory of partial descent divides the soul and needlessly confuses
the highest part of the soul with the nous, which is distinct from the soul.
However, even the Platonists who rejected Plotinus’s theory of the soul’s par-
tial descent vacillated on the relationship between intellect (nous) and soul.
As E. R. Dodds points out, the Neoplatonic nous is simultaneously part of us
and that to which we aspire, which indicates some ambiguity on whether it
should be seen as a part of the soul.48 Thus, the Platonic psychology no less
than the Platonic demonology that was at hand for Olympiodorus’s use as
he attempted to explain the function and status of the conscience was infected
with ambiguity. Perhaps it was in an attempt to clear up this ambiguity that
he added the following final sentence to his conclusion that Socrates’s dae-
mon may be called ‘‘syneidos’’: ‘‘But it must be understood that with respect
to conscience there are two sorts: the one type relating to our faculties of
knowing is called ‘attentive’ and the other relating to the appetitive faculties
is called ‘conscience’ homonymously with the genus.’’ This clarifying sen-
tence seems to settle any debate about whether conscience (syneidos) is sepa-
rate from the soul. Conscience here is a faculty of the soul.
Now, strictly speaking, Olympiodorus does not call conscience itself a
faculty. Rather, he says that it relates to two faculties (δυνμεσι). However,
Olympiodorus’s position becomes clearer when his remarks are put into
the context of a contemporary discussion of consciousness. According to
John Philoponus, some ‘‘recent’’ interpreters of Aristotle posited a sixth
faculty (#λλην *κτην τιν+ δναμιν) of the soul in addition to the standard
quintet of ‘‘intellect [nous], thought, opinion, rational wish, and choice’’
(In de an. 464.34–36). This additional ‘‘attentive’’ (τ προσεκτικν) fac-
ulty ‘‘roves over all powers [δι+ πντων . . . τω ν δυνμεων], cognitive and
46
See Dillon, Middle Platonists, 393.
47
See also E. R. Dodds, Proclus: The Elements of Theology (Oxford: Clarendon, 1963),
309.
48
Dodds, Elements of Theology, 309.
16
49
For Philoponus, I have used for text Ioannis Philoponi in Aristotelis de anima libros
commentaria, ed. Michael Hayduck (Berlin: Reimer, 1897), quoting translations from
‘‘Philoponus’’: On Aristotle’s ‘‘On the Soul 3.1–8,’’ trans. William Charlton (Ithaca: Cor-
nell University Press, 2000).
50
For Damascius, I have used the text and translation in The Greek Commentaries on
Plato’s Phaedo, vol. 2, Damascius, ed. L. G. Westerink (Amsterdam: North Holland Pub-
lishing Company, 1977).
51
Westerink, Damascius, 162, note on §271.
17
52
See entry II under ‘‘Conscience’’ in the Oxford English Dictionary: ‘‘Consciousness of
right and wrong; moral sense.’’
53
See Lewis, Studies in Words, 181–99.
54
See entry II under ‘‘Conscience’’ in the Oxford English Dictionary: ‘‘Consciousness of
right and wrong; moral sense.’’
55
The authorship of ‘‘Philoponus’s’’ In de anima 3 is disputed. For the reasons for attri-
buting authorship to someone other than Philoponus, see Charlton, ‘‘Philoponus,’’ 1–10.
Given the lack of conclusive evidence on the matter, I shall take the liberty of referring to
the author of In de anima 3 as Philoponus.
56
For Philoponus’s (seemingly inconsistent) presentation of Plutarch’s position, see espe-
cially In de an. 464.23–30 and In de an. 465.22–31.
18
This attentive part, they say, stands over what happens in a human
being and says ‘‘I exercised intellect,’’ ‘‘I thought,’’ ‘‘I opined,’’ ‘‘I
became spirited,’’ ‘‘I experienced desire’’; and in general this atten-
tive power of the rational soul ranges over all the powers, the
rational, the non-rational and the vegetable. If, they say, the atten-
tive power is to range over all, let it go over the senses too and say
‘‘I saw,’’ ‘‘I heard.’’ For it is proper to what lays hold of the activi-
ties to say this. If it is the attentive part, then, that says this, it
follows that this is what lays hold of the activities of the senses.
For there ought to be one thing laying hold of all, since the human
being is one. If one laid hold of these and another of those, it
would be, as he himself says elsewhere, as if you perceived this and
I that. It must, then, be one thing, and that is the attentive part.
This attentive part roves over all powers, cognitive and vital. But
if it is roving over the cognitive it is called ‘‘attentive,’’ which is
why, when we want to rebuke someone who is wool-gathering
in his cognitive activities we say ‘‘Pay attention to yourself!’’
Whereas if it is going through the vital powers it is called ‘‘con-
science’’ [συνειδς], which is why the tragedy says ‘‘Conscience
[ σνεσις], since I am conscious to myself of having done terrible
things.’’ The attentive part, then, is what lays hold of the activities
of the senses (In de an. 464.37–465.17).57
57
I depart from Charlton’s translation by rendering syneidos as ‘‘conscience’’ rather than
‘‘conscious.’’
19
And that this is so [namely, that it is the job of the attentive part
of the soul to know the activities of the senses] can be seen from
the things themselves. For when reason [του λγου] is engrossed
with something, even if sight sees, we do not know that it has
seen because reason is engrossed. And later, when reason [ λγος]
comes to itself and, though not seeing the friend, even now says
that it has seen him, it is as if it were taking up a small imprint of
the thing seen and, though it was engrossed, now having come to
λγου] to
its senses it said that it saw. So it belongs to reason [του
say ‘‘I saw’’ (In de an. 466.29–34).
58
Wolfgang Bernard, ‘‘Philoponus on Self-Awareness,’’ in Philoponus and the Rejection
of Aristotelian Science, ed. Richard Sorabji (London: Duckworth, 1987), 160.
20
the ability to reflect upon its own acts. It is this reflection that constitutes
self-awareness.
Where does the conscience fit into such a framework? As I mentioned
above, Philoponus (in agreement with Olympiodorus) associates conscience
with consciousness. This relationship should not be surprising: it is neither
an unreasonable nor unprecedented position to associate attending to
oneself in general—consciousness—with a sort of moral or ethical self-
interrogation—conscience.59 Given this relationship with consciousness,
conscience must be a cognitive act whereby one reflects on one’s thoughts
and desires as well as the actions that one has performed; and in fact, a
little later (In de an. 555.12) Philoponus defines syneidos (‘‘conscience’’) as
an ‘‘intellectual act’’ (νοερ+ν πρα ζιν). What holds true for the more general
case of consciousness must also hold for the more specific case of con-
science: reason has the capacity to reflect on the acts in question. Thus,
there is no more need for a separate faculty for conscience than there was
for consciousness.
Philoponus’s conception of conscience is in a sense backwards-looking:
his identification of conscience with an act of reason (logos) recalls Plu-
tarch’s own suggestion that conscience was a product of reason (logos).
This observation is perhaps unsurprising given Philoponus’s positive pres-
entation of Plutarch’s psychology in the same section as his treatment of
conscience (cf. In de an. 463–66). However, Philoponus’s conception of
conscience also in at least some respects anticipates that of Aquinas, who
likewise argues that conscience is a cognitive act belonging to reason. Like
Philoponus, Aquinas arrives at this conclusion by relating conscience to
consciousness. To be conscious or aware of something requires that one is
thinking or reflecting on it. Likewise, conscience (conscientia) results ‘‘from
the actual connection of knowledge to what we do. And so, properly speak-
ing, conscience designates an act’’ (ST I, Q. 79, A. 13).60
V. CONCLUSION
59
See Richard Sorabji, Self: Ancient and Modern Insights about Individuality, Life, and
Death (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 259. Sorabji offers the Stoics as an exam-
ple of philosophers who ‘‘spoke of attending to themselves [προσοχ,] in moral self-
interrogation.’’
60
Translation after Aquinas on Law, Morality, and Politics, trans. Richard J. Regan, 2nd
ed. (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2002), 4, which in turn follows the 1952 Marietti recension
of the Leonine text. See also Potts, Conscience in Medieval Philosophy, 50–51. Of course,
21
the history of European philosophy since Plato: where else can we find such
a wide-ranging discussion of the topic, before or since?’’61 The evidence pre-
sented in this article has done nothing to change this assessment. However,
while pre-medieval discussions of conscience may not have addressed at any
great length such matters as whether conscience can err, in what circum-
stances it is binding on the individual, or its relationship to practical reason-
ing and the virtues, I hope to have shown that at least some ancient Greek
philosophers did share their medieval successors’ concern with analyzing the
phenomenon of conscience and its place within the human soul.
The series of pre-medieval analyses of conscience examined in this
article owed its stimulus and coherence to Euripides’s Orestes, which fur-
nished Philostratus and—especially—Platonists such as Plutarch, Olympio-
dorus, and Philoponus with a common text, vocabulary, and philosophical
concerns. As a consequence, the conceptions of conscience offered by these
philosophers related to each other in significant ways, even if the authors
of these accounts were not in every case aware of their predecessors’ treat-
ments of Euripides’s Orestes. While Plutarch argued that Orestes’s guilty
conscience was caused by reason, itself a product of nous, Philostratus sug-
gested that synesis was a faculty independent of nous and reason. Olympio-
dorus, though working in the same Platonic tradition as Plutarch, opted for
a more sophisticated account of the conception of conscience as an entity
suggested by Philostratus. For Olympiodorus conscience is an independent
faculty of awareness that relates to both the cognitive and appetitive facul-
ties of the soul. Philoponus in turn accepted the relationship between con-
sciousness or awareness and conscience proposed by such commentators as
Olympiodorus, but followed Plutarch in associating it with reason. Accord-
ing to Philoponus’s account, conscience is a cognitive act. Philoponus’s
conception of conscience sounds foreign to modern ears accustomed to
thinking of the concept in terms of an independent judging faculty. Ironi-
cally, perhaps it is precisely its difference from the popular modern notion
of conscience that makes this older conception relevant for those who
would rehabilitate the concept of conscience at a time when faculty psy-
chology has fallen out of favor in psychology and philosophy.62
Duke University.
while both Philoponus and Aquinas conceive of conscience as an act of reason, the former
does not also align conscience with Aristotle’s conception of the practical syllogism like
the latter.
61
Potts, Conscience in Medieval Philosophy, 70.
62
I would like to thank Peter Burian, Malcolm Schofield, and Richard Sorabji for conver-
sations about conscience, and the two anonymous reviewers for JHI for their helpful
comments.
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