Anyone remotely familiar with philosophy or has attended some basic introductory course may be familiar with ‘the problem of change’. It is often used, rightly, to introduce the subject. Change happens; nature is change and change signifies the renewal of life.
It is thus not a problem in itself but it has been boggling the minds of thinkers because it seems to present us with the limits of our knowledge of nature and of our intellect. Change and its collateral others ‘difference’ and ‘multiplicities’ have been the subjects of many an attempt to understand what nature is, who we are and what our role within nature is.
The two sources of western thinking are said to be mainly Plato and Aristotle. For ease of understanding and differentiating I suggest that we describe each of these philosophers’ work as follows.
Plato is concerned with identity and difference: what is it that is common in a type of things if they are all individually distinct and different? In virtue of what are instances said to be similar and to belong to a single type? Plato: in virtue of their ‘look’. If they look alike it is because in them we see the same thing; things are not identical but similar and this in virtue of their sharing a common look, a shape, or an idea (an image or a form).
Aristotle, on the other hand, is troubled precisely by the seeming necessary relationship between things that do not look alike, that do not seem similar at all and that therefore one cannot relate to each other and root this relationship simply in some resemblance. Aristotle is troubled by the limits of Plato’s solution.
This is where the ‘chicken and the egg’ conundrum comes in: what justifies our (seemingly) certain conviction that an egg and a chicken are related so as to believe that an egg will, should the right conditions hold, transform itself into a chicken? How are these two things (the egg and the chicken) that, at face value (thus according to the way they look and to their form), are dissimilar, belong together so intensely and so intimately that the transformation from one to the other seems to our intellect necessary and certain?
How come we don’t also believe, for instance, that the chicken may very well also become itself an egg?
The real question is this: do we Maltese believe that an eight-cell embryo is a human or not?
Aristotle moved what for Plato was the inhabitant of an ideal world (the world of ideas, of images or of forms) into the very matter of the thing itself. In fact many argue that in Aristotle we find the germs of modern genetics because he thought that all matter is inscribed with the form (the image) of the thing to which it belongs.
Matter is not, in reality, neutral but has literally inscribed into it ‘to what’ it belongs, what essence it is of.
Therefore, to return to the chicken and the egg example, an egg is defined by the ‘kind’ to which it belongs: it is a chicken-egg (or a duck-egg, never a neutral egg), because its intrinsic drive is to become what from the very beginning defines what it is, i.e. a chicken.
Here comes in the famous Aristotelian discourse of “potentiality and actuality”. It is said, therefore, that the egg is a chicken in potentiality. Its life, unless hindered by external forces, is driven by the energy to fulfil its potential; it is not at rest but in motion towards that ideal, that aim, that telos or form, namely the chicken.
Only disruption can halt or cancel the process; its nature is in motion and the motor is the urge to fulfil itself and be outwardly what it already is inwardly and in essence.
Now, there may be some who would not agree with aspects of the reading above; that is absolutely fine and surely this is not an attempt at a scholarly article. To the contrary, I believe that any attempt to indulge in scholarly discussions would, at this stage, be precisely that, indulgence and a luxury which distracts us from the main issue here: we are called to decide on the meaning of human life.
It is of no use to quibble about technical differences such as those between ‘human embryo’ and ‘human being’ which still include the ‘elephant in the room’, i.e. the common term ‘human’. What does it mean?
Are there degrees of humanity? If there are, would those apply only to an eight-cell embryo, an older embryo, to persons with physical and/or mental ‘limitations’? Are there numeric quotas when it comes to defining or using the term ‘human’?
It is also of no use referring superficially to Plato or Aristotle, or to Fr Peter for that matter, without a real engagement with their thought because all these and many others can be used and abused by whomever and on whichever side of the argument.
The real question is this: do we Maltese believe that an eight-cell embryo is a human or not? There are serious repercussions whichever side you’re on, but especially if the answer to that question is in the negative.
It is true that nature is change and it is true that this is in itself a renewal of life; but it is also equally true that nature has been feared since ancient times precisely because it seems not to care for and not to value the life of individuals at all. It rolls over and proceeds forcefully.
The very inception of philosophy, ethics, science and technology has its roots in the human urge to counter that forceful violence of nature and to cushion its effects on human life. The problem of change has thus been a problem also because it is scary and violent: let us make sure that man-made change is not equally scary and that it fully understands (scientifically and philosophically) and (ethically) cares for its effects on individuals and on our basic and holistic understanding of human life itself.
The repercussions are many and very serious indeed.
Manuel Vella Rago holds a PhD in philosophy and is a visiting lecturer at the Department of International Relations of the University of Malta.