Plotino – Tratado 49,3 (V, 3, 3) — O intelecto da alma e o Intelecto “puro”

3. La sensación nos da la visión de un hombre y ofrece su imagen a la razón discursiva. Pero, ¿qué es lo que dice ésta? Nada diría y se limitaría a conocerla si no se preguntase a sí misma lo que esta imagen es, o si, en el caso de que la hubiese encontrado anteriormente, no respondiese con una apelación a la memoria, diciendo, por ejemplo, que es Sócrates. Sí optase por desenvolver su forma, tendría, entonces, que detallar todo lo que le ofrece su imaginación. Ahora bien, si dice que (Sócrates) es bueno, lo que hace es contestar de acuerdo con sus conocimientos derivados de la sensación. Y esta contestación es congruente, puesto que ella tiene en sí misma el modelo del bien. Pero, ¿cómo lo tiene? Sin duda, porque es semejante al bien y porque se ha fortalecido en la percepción del bien gracias a la iluminación de la Inteligencia. Pues, como se trata de una parte pura del alma, recibe en sí misma las huellas de la Inteligencia. Más, en este caso, ¿cómo no le damos el nombre de Inteligencia, y el de alma a todo lo que comienza a partir de la sensibilidad? Porque conviene que el alma sea razonable y todo esto de que ahora hablamos son operaciones del poder de razonar. Entonces, ¿cómo no ponemos fin a la cuestión, concediendo a esta parte el conocimiento de sí misma? Sin duda porque le hemos otorgado el que atienda a las cosas exteriores y el que se ocupe de ellas, dejando para la Inteligencia el examen de las cosas propias y el de todo lo que se da en ella misma. Sin embargo, podrá argüirse, ¿qué impide que el razonamiento, por alguna otra de sus potencias, examine lo que le es propio? Contestaríamos que, en tal caso, no se busca ya la razón discursiva o el razonamiento, sino que lo que se alcanza es la inteligencia pura. Y bien, ¿pero qué impide que la inteligencia pura se dé en nuestra alma? Nada, diríamos; pero convendría añadir, entonces, que se trata de una parte del alma. Y esto no podríamos decirlo, porque, aunque afirmemos que es algo nuestro, la Inteligencia se diferencia realmente de la razón discursiva y está siempre por encima de ella. No hay inconveniente en afirmar que es algo nuestro, aunque no tengamos que enumerarla entre las partes del alma. Porque es y no es algo nuestro. De ahí que unas veces nos sirvamos de ella y otras, en cambio, dejemos de hacerlo, mientras que siempre hacemos uso de la razón discursiva. Es algo nuestro, pues, cuando nos servimos de ella; no lo es, en cambio, cuando no la usamos. Pero, ¿qué significa servirse de la Inteligencia? ¿Significa, acaso, que nos convertimos en inteligencia y que hablamos como ella o según ella? Porque es claro que no somos la Inteligencia, sino que actuamos conforme a ella por la parte más alta de la razón que recibe su impronta. Sentimos, sin duda, por medio de los sentidos y somos verdaderamente los que sentimos pero, ¿ocurre lo mismo cuando razonamos? En efecto, somos nosotros los que razonamos y los que tenemos en nuestra mente las nociones propias del razonamiento, nociones que se confunden con nosotros mismos. Mas los actos que son propios de la Inteligencia vienen de lo alto y las imágenes de la sensación provienen de un mundo inferior. Y, siendo nosotros la parte principal del alma, nos encontramos también en medio de dos potencias, una inferior y otra superior, esto es, entre la inferior que es la sensación y la superior que es la Inteligencia. Estamos de acuerdo en conceder que la sensación es siempre algo nuestro, porque siempre sentimos; pero surge la duda cuando queremos afirmarlo de la Inteligencia porque no nos servimos siempre de ella, y ella es, además, algo separado. Algo separado en el sentido de que no se inclina hacia nosotros, sino que somos más bien nosotros los que nos inclinamos hacia ella cuando dirigimos nuestra mirada hacía lo alto. La sensación es para nosotros un mensajero, en tanto la Inteligencia es nuestro rey.

Le sens a vu un homme et en a fourni l’image à la raison discursive. Que dit celle-ci? Il peut se faire qu’elle ne prononce rien et qu’elle se borne à en prendre connaissance. Il peut arriver aussi qu’elle se demande quel est cet homme, et que, l’ayant déjà rencontré, elle prononce, avec le secours de la mémoire, que c’est Socrate. Si elle développe l’image de Socrate, alors elle divise ce que lui fournit l’imagination. Si elle ajoute que Socrate est bon, elle parle encore des choses connues par les sens, mais ce qu’elle en affirme, savoir la bonté, elle le tire d’elle-même, parce qu’elle a en elle-même la règle du bien. Mais comment a-t-elle en elle-même le bien? C’est qu’elle est conforme au bien, et qu’elle en reçoit la notion de l’intelligence qui l’illumine : car cette partie de l’âme [la raison discursive] est pure et reçoit des impressions de l’intelligence (05).

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Mais pourquoi nommer âme plutôt qu’intelligence toute cette partie qui est supérieure à la sensation? C’est que la puissance de l’âme consiste à raisonner et que toutes ces opérations appartiennent à la raison discursive. Mais pourquoi ne lui attribuons-nous pas la connaissance de soi-même, ce qui mettrait fin à nos recherches? C’est que nous faisons consister la fonction de la raison discursive à considérer les choses extérieures et à en parcourir la diversité, tandis que nous attribuons à l’intelligence le privilège de se contempler elle-même et de contempler ce qu’elle a en elle-même. — Qui empêche, dira-t-on, que la raison discursive ne puisse, par une autre faculté de l’âme» considérer ce qui lui appartient? — C’est qu’alors, au lieu de la raison discursive et du raisonnement, on aurait l’intelligence pure.—Qui empêche donc que l’intelligence pure ne soit dans l’âme? — Rien, assurément. — Dirons-nous donc que l’intelligence pure est une partie l’âme ? —Non : nous dirons cependant qu’elle est nôtre. Elle est autre que la raison discursive ; elle est élevée au-dessus d’elle, et, d’un autre côté, elle est nôtre, quoique nous ne la comptions pas au nombre des parties de t’âme. Elle est nôtre d’une certaine manière, et elle n’est pas nôtre d’une autre manière : c’est que tantôt nous nous en servons, tantôt nous ne nous en servons pas, tandis que nous nous servons toujours de la raison discursive ; par conséquent, l’intelligence est nôtre quand nous nous en servons, et elle n’est pas nôtre quand nous ne nous en servons pas. Mais qu’est-ce que se servir de l’intelligence? Est-ce devenir intelligence et parler en cette qualité, ou parler conformément à l’intelligence? Nous ne sommes pas l’intelligence : nous parlons conformément à l’intelligence par la première partie de la raison discursive, partie qui reçoit des impressions de l’intelligence. Nous sentons par la sensation et c’est nous qui sentons. Est-ce aussi nous qui concevons et qui sommes conçus à la fois? ou bien est-ce nous qui raisonnons et qui concevons les notions intellectuelles qui éclairent la raison discursive? C’est en effet la raison discursive qui nous constitue essentiellement. Les actes de l’intelligence nous sont supérieurs ; ceux de la sensibilité, inférieurs : pour nous, nous sommes la partie principale de l’âme, la partie qui forme une puissance moyenne entre ces deux extrêmes, tantôt s’abaissant vers la sensibilité, tantôt s’élevant vers intelligence (breve1050). On reconnaît que la sensibilité est nôtre parce que nous sentons à chaque instant. Il ne paraît pas aussi évident que l’intelligence soit nôtre, parce que nous ne nous en servons pas toujours, et qu’elle est séparée en ce sens qu’elle n’incline pas vers nous, que c’est nous plutôt qui élevons nos regards vers elle. La sensation est notre messager, et l’intelligence notre roi (breve1051).

THE HIGHEST PART OF DISCURSIVE REASON RECEIVES IMPRESSIONS FROM INTELLIGENCE.

3. Now let us suppose that the senses have perceived a man, and have furnished an appropriate image thereof to discursive reason. What will the latter say ? It may say nothing, limiting itself to taking notice of him. However, it may also ask itself who this man is; and, having already met him, with the aid of memory, decide that he is Socrates. If then discursive reason develop the image of Socrates, then it divides what imagination has furnished. If discursive reason add that Socrates is good, it still deals with things known by the senses; but that which it asserts thereof, namely, his goodness, it has drawn from itself, because within itself it possesses the rule of goodness. But how does it, within itself, possess goodness? Because it conforms to the Good, and receives the notion of it from the Intelligence that enlightens itself; for (discursive reason), this part of the soul, is pure, and receives impressions from Intelligence.

WHY DISCURSIVE REASON SHOULD BELONG TO THE SOUL RATHER THAN TO INTELLIGENCE.

But why should this whole (soul-) part that is superior to sensation be assigned to the soul rather than to intelligence? Because the power of the soul consists in reasoning, and because all these operations belong to the discursive reason. But why can we not simply assign to it, in addition, self-consciousness, which would immediately clear up this inquiry? Because the nature of discursive reason consists in considering exterior things, and in scrutinizing their diversity, while to intelligence we attribute the privilege of contemplating itself, and of contemplating its own contents. But what hinders discursive reason, by some other faculty of the soul, from considering what belongs to it? Because, in this case, instead of discursive reason and reasoning, we would have pure Intelligence. But what then hinders the presence of pure Intelligence within the soul? Nothing, indeed. Shall we then have a right to say that pure Intelligence is a part of the soul? No indeed; but still we would have the right to call it “ours.” It is different from, and higher than discursive reason; and still it is “ours,” although we cannot count it among the parts of the soul. In one respect it is “ours,” and in another, is not “ours;” for at times we make use of it, and at other times we make use of discursive reason; consequently, intelligence is “ours” when we make use of it; and it is not “ours” when we do not make use of it. But what is the meaning of “making use of intelligence”? Does it mean becoming intelligence, and speaking in that character, or does it mean speaking in conformity with intelligence? For we are not intelligence; we speak in conformity with intelligence by the first part of discursive reason, the part that receives impressions from Intelligence. We feel through sensation, and it is we who feel. Is it also we who conceive and who simultaneously are conceived ? Or is it we who reason, and who conceive the intellectual notions which enlighten discursive reason? We are indeed essentially constituted by discursive reason. The actualizations of Intelligence are superior to us, while those of sensation are inferior; as to us, “we” are the principal part of the soul, the part that forms a middle power between these two extremes, now lowering ourselves towards sensation, now rising towards Intelligence. We acknowledge sensibility to be ours because we are continually feeling. It is not as evident that intelligence is ours, because we do not make use of it continuously, and because it is separated, in this sense, that it is not intelligence that inclines towards us, but rather we who raise our glances towards intelligence. Sensation is our messenger, Intelligence is our king.

3. Sense sees a man and transmits the impression to the understanding. What does the understanding say? It has nothing to say as yet; it accepts and waits; unless, rather, it questions within itself “Who is this?” – someone it has met before – and then, drawing on memory, says, “Socrates.”

If it should go on to develop the impression received, it distinguishes various elements in what the representative faculty has set before it; supposing it to say “Socrates, if the man is good,” then, while it has spoken upon information from the senses, its total pronouncement is its own; it contains within itself a standard of good.

But how does it thus contain the good within itself?

It is, itself, of the nature of the good and it has been strengthened still towards the perception of all that is good by the irradiation of the Intellectual-Principle upon it; for this pure phase of the soul welcomes to itself the images implanted from its prior.

But why may we not distinguish this understanding phase as Intellectual-Principle and take soul to consist of the later phases from the sensitive downwards?

Because all the activities mentioned are within the scope of a reasoning faculty, and reasoning is characteristically the function of soul.

Why not, however, absolve the question by assigning self-cognisance to this phase?

Because we have allotted to soul the function of dealing – in thought and in multiform action – with the external, and we hold that observation of self and of the content of self must belong to Intellectual-Principle.

If any one says, “Still; what precludes the reasoning soul from observing its own content by some special faculty?” he is no longer posting a principle of understanding or of reasoning but, simply, bringing in the Intellectual-Principle unalloyed.

But what precludes the Intellectual-Principle from being present, unalloyed, within the soul? Nothing, we admit; but are we entitled therefore to think of it as a phase of soul?

We cannot describe it as belonging to the soul though we do describe it as our Intellectual-Principle, something distinct from the understanding, advanced above it, and yet ours even though we cannot include it among soul-phases: it is ours and not ours; and therefore we use it sometimes and sometimes not, whereas we always have use of the understanding; the Intellectual-Principle is ours when we act by it, not ours when we neglect it.

But what is this acting by it? Does it mean that we become the Intellectual-Principle so that our utterance is the utterance of the Intellectual-Principle, or that we represent it?

We are not the Intellectual-Principle; we represent it in virtue of that highest reasoning faculty which draws upon it.

Still; we perceive by means of the perceptive faculty and are, ourselves, the percipients: may we not say the same of the intellective act?

No: our reasoning is our own; we ourselves think the thoughts that occupy the understanding – for this is actually the We – but the operation of the Intellectual-Principle enters from above us as that of the sensitive faculty from below; the We is the soul at its highest, the mid-point between two powers, between the sensitive principle, inferior to us, and the intellectual principle superior. We think of the perceptive act as integral to ourselves because our sense-perception is uninterrupted; we hesitate as to the Intellectual-Principle both because we are not always occupied with it and because it exists apart, not a principle inclining to us but one to which we incline when we choose to look upwards.

The sensitive principle is our scout; the Intellectual-Principle our King.

III. For sense, indeed, sees a man, and transmits the figure of him to the dianoetic part. But what does this part say ? Perhaps it does not yet say any thing, but only knows that it is a man, and there stops. Unless, indeed, it should consider with itself, who this is, if it happens that it has before met with him, and should say, employing memory for this purpose, that it is Socrates. If, however, it should also evolve the form of the man, it will then distribute into parts those things which it received from the imagination. And if it should also say, Is he a good man ? it will make this inquiry from the information which it derived through sense. But that which it says on this occasion, it will now possess from itself, containing in itself a rule by which it forms a judgment of good. How then does it contain the good in itself ? May we not say, so far as it is boniform, and is corroborated to the perception of a thing of this kind, in consequence of intellect shining upon it ? For the pure part of the soul is this, and receives the supervening vestiges of intellect. Why, however, is not this intellect, but the rest beginning from the sensitive power is soul ? May we not say, because it is necessary that soul should consist in the discursive energies of reason ? But all these are the works of the reasoning power. Why, however, do we not grant to this part the power of intellectually perceiving itself, and thus become liberated from doubt ? Is it because we assign to it the office of considering, and being busily employed about externals; but we conceive it to be the province of intellect, to survey both itself, and the forms which it contains? If, however, some one should say, what therefore prevents this part from considering things pertaining to itself, by another power ? He who says this, does not investigate either the dianoetic or reasoning power, but assumes a pure intellect. What then prevents a pure intellect from existing in the soul ? We reply, nothing prevents this. But farther still, it is necessary to inquire, whether this pure intellect is something belonging to soul ? We reply, it does not belong to the soul, and yet it is our intellect, being different from the dianoetic power, and proceeding on its summit. At the same time, however, it is ours, though we must not con-numerate it with the parts of the soul. Or we may say, that it is ours, and yet not ours. Hence we use, and do not use it; but we always employ the dianoetic power. And it is ours indeed, when we use it, but not ours when we do not use it. But what is it to use a pure intellect ? Is it to pronounce ourselves as becoming either such an intellect, or conformable to it ? For we are not intellect. We subsist, therefore, conformable or according to it, the first reasoning power being the recipient of it. For we are sentient through sense, and we ourselves perceive sensibly. Are we therefore thus dianoetically perceived, and do we thus dianoetically energize? Or shall we say that we indeed are reasoning beings, and that we intellectually perceive the conceptions which are in dianoia ? For we are this. But the conceptions arising from the energies of intellect, are in such a way above us, as those arising from the energies of sense are beneath us. And we are this peculiarity of soul, viz., the middle of a twofold power, the worse and the better; sense being the worse, but intellect the better power. And with respect to sense, indeed, it seems that we always grant it to be ours; for we are always sentient; but this is dubious with respect to intellect, because we do not always use it1 and because it is separate. But it is separate because it does not verge to us, but we rather looking on high, tend to it. Sense, however, is our messenger, but intellect is our king.