General Ontology
10
General Ontology
Two Categories—Property and Substance
He, then, who believes in beautiful things, but neither believes in beauty itself nor is able to follow when someone tries to guide him to the knowledge of it—do you think that his life is a dream or a waking? Just consider. Is not the dream state, whether the man is asleep or waking, just this—the mistaking of resemblance for identity? I should certainly call that dreaming, he said.
Plato, Republic 476C
Nothing is permanent in a substance except the law itself which determines the continuous succession of its states.
Leibniz, Gerhardt 2
1—Introduction
If a person reflects on the world around him, it will become evident that there is a distinction between individual things like dogs and cars and their properties. Moreover, there is a clear distinction as well between the properties within an individual and the relations that individual sustains to other things. A specific dog is an individual thing called a substance, it has the property of being brown in it, and it stands in the relation of larger than to its food dish. In the history of philosophy, a number of thinkers have held that three of the categories of being are those of property, relation, and substance. In this chapter, we will investigate philosophical issues involved in the study of properties and substances in that order.
2—Properties
2.1 Three Views of Properties
Suppose we have before us two red, round spots named Socrates and Plato. Socrates and Plato are exactly alike in all their qualities (i.e., properties). Since they have the same size, shape, color, and so on, Socrates and Plato are a case of what is called quality agreement. Socrates and Plato are concrete particulars, that is, particular individual things that seem to have properties (in this case, spots that seem to have the property of being red). Other examples of concrete particulars are individual dogs, tables, or gold atoms. How are we to account for quality agreement? Three broad answers to this question have been offered.
First, there is extreme nominalism, defended by philosophers such as W. V. O. Quine and Wilfrid Sellars. In this view, properties do not exist at all, and concrete particulars and groups of concrete particulars are the only things that are real. An extreme nominalist would explain the “quality agreement” between Socrates and Plato as follows:
A has the property F if and only if Q
For example, Socrates has the “property” redness if and only if Q. What is Q? Q may be “The word red is true of Socrates” or it may be “Socrates is a member of the set of red, concrete particulars.” These two strategies can be pictured as in figures 10.1 and 10.2.
Figure 10.1. Extreme nominalist strategy #1
Figure 10.2. Extreme nominalist strategy #2
For the extreme nominalist, properties (e.g., redness) do not exist at all. Instead the only things that exist are concrete particulars (individual red things) and the “property words” (e.g., the word red ) that are true of them.
A second view of quality agreement is called nominalism, defended by philosophers such as D. C. Williams and Keith Campbell. Nominalists accept the existence of properties but hold that they are particular, individualized qualities called abstract particulars that cannot be possessed by more than one concrete particular. Here the term abstract is not used in its standard, metaphysical sense, namely, as something that exists outside space and time. Rather, abstract is used by nominalists in an epistemological sense, namely, as something that is brought before the mind by disregarding other things in its environment. For example, if one disregards the shape, smell, or size of a tomato and focuses only on its surface color, the tomato’s redness is abstract in the epistemological sense. Returning to Socrates, it has its own, particular redness and Plato has its own, particular redness, which we can call red1 and red2, respectively. Redness in general is a set of individual, abstract particulars, that is, red1, red2, . . . , redn, that are in all the concrete particulars (individual apples, spots, cars). Socrates is a whole composed of all its abstract particulars (red1, round1, etc.) as parts. This can be pictured by figure 10.3.
Figure 10.3. Socrates and Plato as wholes composed of abstract particulars
A third school of thought is realism, advanced by thinkers like D. M. Armstrong and Reinhardt Grossmann. On this view, Socrates and Plato have the very same property, redness, in each of them. Properties are ones-in-many; they can be possessed by many concrete particulars at the same time. The relationship between a property like redness and concrete particulars like Socrates and Plato is called exemplification, predication, or the instancing relation (one is an instance of the other). Properties are called universals, that is, multiply exemplifiable entities that can be had by many things at the same time. The redness exemplified by Socrates is identical to the redness exemplified by Plato. Realists picture quality agreement as in figure 10.4.
Figure 10.4. Realists’ picture of quality agreement
In sum, extreme nominalism, nominalism, and realism are different positions about the ontological status of properties. Extreme nominalists accept only the existence of concrete particulars (and sets of such particulars along with words true of them), nominalists embrace concrete and abstract particulars (along with sets of abstract particulars), and realists assert the reality of concrete particulars and properties understood as universals, that is, as entities that can be exemplified by many concrete particulars at once. Figure 10.5 charts these three positions.
Figure 10.5. Chart of ontological status of properties
2.2 Properties and the Debate About Naturalism
The debate about properties can be related to the debate about naturalism and abstract entities mentioned at the end of chapter eight. The universe may be defined as the total spatiotemporal system of matter and (impersonal) energy, that is, as the sum total of material objects, in some way accessible to the senses and to scientific investigation. The world may be defined as the sum total of everything that exists including nonspatiotemporal abstract entities. In the metaphysical sense, an abstract entity is a real entity that is not in space or time. Something is in space (or time) if it has spatial (or temporal) duration (we can ask, how big or how long is it?) and location (we can ask, where or when is it?). Abstract entities, in contrast, have neither spatial (or temporal) location nor duration. Naturalists believe only in the universe; philosophers who are sometimes called ontologists believe in the world. For the naturalist, therefore, nothing exists that does not have spatial (or temporal) location and/or duration (as depicted in figure 10.6).
Figure 10.6. The relation between naturalists’ and ontologists’ views
How does the debate about naturalism and the world relate to the debate about properties? First of all, extreme nominalists and nominalists are most often naturalists. Advocates of these views believe only in the existence of spatiotemporal concrete or abstract particulars. They deny that properties are universals. Second, all realists agree that properties can be exemplified by many things at once; the very same redness, for example, can be predicated of many red things at the same time. Does this mean that all realists believe that properties are abstract entities, that is, entities that are not inside of space and time? The answer is no, and to see why, we need to focus on the relation between a property (e.g., redness) and the things that have that property (e.g., Socrates and Plato), that is, on the exemplification relation.
There are three main ways that realists have understood this relationship. The first realist view of exemplification is the model-copy view. According to this position, properties like redness are abstract entities that exist outside of space and time. Moreover, properties do not enter into the particulars that supposedly have them. Instead, each particular has a copy of that property. For example, Socrates and Plato do not have the property of redness in them, but rather each has its own copy of redness. To say that redness can be exemplified by many red things is to say that each red thing can have its own copy of redness. Redness itself stays entirely outside of space and time and outside of the things that possess copies of it.
The model-copy view is not widely held because of the difficulties that have been raised against it. One such difficulty has been called the third man argument. This argument points out that the model-copy view of properties and exemplification makes two assumptions that, taken together, lead to a vicious infinite regress. Here are these two assumptions:
The nonidentity assumption: F things are F in virtue of some other thing, F-ness, which makes them F.
The self-predication assumption: F-ness is itself F.
The nonidentity assumption asserts that, for example, several red things (Socrates, Plato, a brick) are red in virtue of some other entity, redness itself, which is copied in each red thing. The self-predication assumption implies that not only are individual red things red but also redness itself is red.
Many realists accept the second assumption but reject the first one. They argue that the nonidentity assumption only applies to particulars and not universals; for instance, it is true that all red particulars are red in virtue of some other entity (redness), but redness itself is red and not in virtue of something else. But the main point here is that the model-copy view implies both of these assumptions and, taken together, they lead to a vicious infinite regress, which can be seen as follows: If we ask about a set of several red things (Socrates, Plato, a brick) what it is that accounts for their being red? The nonidentity assumption tells us that this is due to some other entity besides the red things, redness itself, that makes them red by being copied in them. So set 1 composed of three things (Socrates, Plato, a brick) is a set of red things because of redness.
But now the self-predication assumption assures us that not only are Socrates, Plato, and a brick red but also redness itself is red. This means that we can now puzzle over what it is that accounts for the redness of all the items in a new set 2 composed of Socrates, Plato, a brick, and redness itself. The nonidentity assumption demands that our answer must appeal to some other entity, call it redness2, possessed by all the members of set 2. But now we can form a new set 3 composed of Socrates, Plato, a brick, redness, and redness2, and ask what it is that accounts for the fact that all members of this new set are red. The answer will appeal to redness3, copied by all members in set 3. This procedure generates a vicious infinite regress, and thus the model-copy view should be rejected.
There are two more realist views of exemplification, which are advocated by impure realists and pure realists. These two schools of thought differ over a principle known as the axiom of localization: no entity whatsoever can exist at different spatial locations at once or at interrupted time intervals.
Let us focus our attention on spatial location. Concrete particulars like Socrates are at only one spatial location at one time. They cannot be in more than one place at the same time. The axiom of localization says that nothing can be in more than one place at the same time. An impure realist, such as D. M. Armstrong, denies the axiom of localization; properties are spatially contained inside of the things that have them. Redness is at the very place Socrates is, and redness is also at the very place Plato is. This means that redness violates the axiom of localization and can be at more than one place at the same time. Impure realists are naturalists at heart. Why? Because they accept the fact that properties are universals, that is, as entities that can be exemplified by more than one thing at once. But they do not want to deny naturalism and believe in abstract entities that are outside of space and time altogether. Thus impure realists hold that all entities are indeed inside space and time. But they embrace two different kinds of spatial entities: concrete particulars (Socrates) that are in only one place at a time, and universals (properties like redness), which are at different spatial locations at the very same time. For the impure realist, the exemplification relation is a spatial container relation. Socrates exemplifies redness in that redness is spatially contained inside of and at the same place as Socrates.
Pure realists, such as Reinhardt Grossmann, hold to a nonspatial (and atemporal) view of exemplification. Redness is “in” Socrates in the sense that Socrates has or exemplifies redness within its very being. But neither redness nor the exemplification relation itself is spatial. But doesn’t it make sense to say that redness is at the place where Socrates is? No, says the pure realist. The way to understand this relation is to say that Socrates, the red dot, is indeed spatially located on a page, and redness is surely “in” Socrates, but this “in” is not a spatial relationship (e.g., to say redness is on a page is to say that redness is “in” a spot and the spot is on a page). Properties are not in the concrete particulars that have them in the same way sand is in a bucket. The predication or exemplification relation is not a spatial container type of relationship.
Thus the impure realist accepts properties as universals but rejects them as abstract objects. The pure realist claims that the best way of understanding what it means to say that properties are universals is to view them as abstract objects (in the metaphysical sense). Nominalists are pure naturalists because they accept the axiom of localization; impure realists are impure naturalists because they reject the axiom of localization but accept the idea that everything is in space and time in some sense; and pure realists reject naturalism altogether and embrace abstract objects.
Our discussion about extreme nominalism, nominalism, and different forms of realism can be summarized as in table 10.1.
Table 10.1. Differentiating various forms of nominalism and realism
QUESTION
YES
NO
Do properties exist?
nominalists all forms of realism
extreme nominalists
Are properties universals (multiply exemplifiable)?
all forms of realism
extreme nominalists (they do not exist) nominalists (they do exist but are abstract particulars in the epistemological sense)
Are properties abstract entities (not in space and time)?
pure realists model-copy realists
extreme nominalists nominalists impure realists
Are properties “in” the concrete particulars that have them?
pure realists (the “in” is not a spatial relation) nominalists (accept the axiom of localization and the “in” is a normal spatial relation) impure realists (reject the axiom of localization and the “in” is an abnormal spatial relation)
extreme nominalists (there are no properties) model-copy realists (copies of properties are in their particulars, not properties themselves)
2.3 Assessing the Three Views
Let us set aside the intramural debate among realists about the nature of exemplification and concentrate now on the debate about the reality of properties among extreme nominalists, nominalists, and realists in general. Three main types of evidence have been center stage in this dispute: predication, exact resemblance, and the fact that properties themselves have properties (e.g., redness is a color). Let us briefly look at these in order, beginning with predication, that is, affirming something of another thing, ascribing some property to it, assigning a thing to a class, or designating a feature that belongs to something. Consider these sentences:
1. Socrates is red.
2. Plato is red.
The realist has a powerful, straightforward way of explaining the truth of these sentences: (1) and (2) express the fact that Socrates and Plato exemplify the same property, redness. Thus redness is a universal predicated of each. This predication can be made explicit in this way:
1’. Socrates has redness.
2’. Plato has redness.
In general, cases of predication are examples of what is called the one and the many. There are many red things, yet there is one unified class of red things that includes Socrates and Plato but would exclude, say, a third round spot just like them (call it Aristotle) that is blue and not red. The realist has a clear way of explaining predication and accounting for the one and the many, that is, for the unity of classes like the class of red things. This class is unified by the fact that all members of the class have the very same property (redness) predicated of them, and members excluded from that class (Aristotle) fail to exemplify that property. The realist challenges the extreme nominalist and the nominalist to offer a better account of predication.
How would an extreme nominalist treat (1)? He or she would offer a linguistic reduction of (1) (see chap. 9). That is, he or she would claim that (1) really asserts the same thing as (and can be replaced by) (1’ ): Socrates is a red thing. (1’ ) says that Socrates is a red, concrete particular. There are different versions of extreme nominalism, and it is beyond the scope of this chapter to discuss them. But on at least one popular version, the extreme nominalist would go on to claim that the word red is true of Socrates and that Socrates is a member of the set of red things. Note that (1’ ) avoids any reference to properties.
There are two main problems with the extreme nominalist view of predication. First, the extreme nominalist simply asserts that Socrates is a member of the class of red things. But the realist wants to know what accounts for the fact that Socrates and Plato are members of the set of red things while Aristotle (the round, blue spot) is not. The realist has an answer: Socrates and Plato have the property of redness and Aristotle does not. The unity of this class is grounded in a property shared by all members of the class. However, the extreme nominalist cannot make this move because of his denial of properties. Thus he can give no answer as to what grounds the unity of the class of red things and what excludes Aristotle from that class.
Second, the problem of the one and the many (how natural classes can be unified while still having many different members) does not occur only at the level of redness and red things. It also occurs regarding words themselves. For example, we may ask how many words are in this sequence: red, red, blue. The answer is two or three depending on what you mean by a word. There are two word types (the type red and the type blue) and three word tokens. Word types are universals that can be in more than one place at once; word tokens are particular instances of their types. Now when the extreme nominalist tries to solve the problem of how red things can be red by saying that the word red is true of each red thing, this seems to imply that it is the very same word (red in this case) that is used of each red thing, and this treats the word red as a type (a universal). In this regard, consider the following statement of extreme nominalism made by David Hume:
When we have found a resemblance among several objects [e.g., white objects], that often occur to us, we apply the same name [“white”] to all of them. . . . After we have acquired a custom of this kind, the hearing of that name revives the idea of one of those objects and makes the imagination conceive it with all its particular circumstances and proportions.
All the italicized words in Hume’s statement seem to refer to universals. Hume got rid of the universal property “whiteness” itself by reducing it to the word white being true of all white things. But he only replaced one universal (whiteness itself) with another one (the word type “white”). The extreme nominalist can avoid this problem by saying that the word type “white” is just a class of individual word tokens of “white.” But this leads to a vicious infinite regress because we can now ask what it is that accounts for the unity of the class of word tokens of “white,” and either the extreme nominalist will not answer this question or else will postulate a new word used of all the words in the class of tokens, and so on to infinity. Either way, extreme nominalism is an inadequate view of predication.
How might a nominalist solve the problem of predication? In this way:
1’’’. Socrates has red1, and red1 is a member of the class of red abstract particulars.
Plato would have red2, and Aristotle would have blue1. Remember, the class mentioned in (1’’’) is not the class of red concrete particulars, but of red abstract particulars.
Unfortunately, the nominalist view of predication suffers from the same problem that was raised against extreme nominalism. What grounds the class of red abstract particulars such that red1 and red2 are members of that class but blue1 is not? Again, the realist would say that red1 and red2 have the same property (redness) in them, and blue1 does not. But the nominalist cannot answer this question without involving himself in the same type of vicious regress we saw in the case of extreme nominalism.
In sum, the phenomenon of predication is a problem for extreme nominalism and nominalism because these views do not have an adequate account of what it is that places something in its class, that unifies the class, and that excludes other things from class membership. The realist can explain this, however, by appealing to the possession of the same property or the failure to possess that property.
The second piece of evidence used in the debate about the reality of properties is exact resemblance. Things in the world resemble or fail to resemble each other in various ways. Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle are exactly alike in being round, but Socrates and Plato resemble each other in respect to being red and Aristotle does not. In general, when two things, a and b, are exactly alike, there will be a respect F in which they resemble each other. This respect will be the property F-ness, possessed by a and b. For the realist, therefore, the exact similarity of color between Socrates and Plato is explained by the fact that each exemplifies the very same property, redness, which constitutes the respect in which they are alike. The realist challenges the extreme nominalist and nominalist to come up with an adequate account of exact similarity.
The extreme nominalist will respond to this challenge by claiming that all red things simply stand in an exact similarity relation with each other and that this is just a basic fact that cannot be explained. As a matter of simple, brute fact, Socrates and Plato resemble each other and not a yellow dog. However, there are two problems with this approach. First, there does, in fact, seem to be a respect of resemblance between Socrates and Plato, namely, they resemble each other in being red. Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle all resemble each other in a different respect—being round. In spite of what the extreme nominalist claims, these different respects of resemblance are not brute facts, but rather metaphysical phenomena that can be explained by citing a property held in common among the resembling entities that constitutes their respect of resemblance.
Second, the extreme nominalist view of resemblance either collapses into realism or it involves a vicious infinite regress. To see this, note that when Socrates, Plato, and a red brick all resemble each other, the extreme nominalist will explain this by saying that they all stand in the relation of exact similarity. But if this is so, then the relation of exact similarity will itself become a relational universal that is repeated in every case where two things exactly resemble each other. Socrates will stand in the same exact similarity relationship to Plato that Plato stands in to the red brick. But this solution collapses into realism by treating the exact similarity relation as a universal.
To avoid this problem the extreme nominalist will have to say that each pair of red things stands in its own, individual exact similarity relation. This can be pictured as in figure 10.7 (ES stands for an exact similarity relation between two things).
Figure 10.7. Individual exact similarity relations
Here, Socrates and Plato stand in their own exact similarity relation to each other (ES1), and so on, with Plato and the red brick and Socrates and the red brick. But now a problem arises. Each of these exact similarity relations themselves will exactly resemble each of the other exact similarity relations. How is this to be explained? The extreme nominalist will have to postulate higher exact similarity relations between each pair of lower exact similarity relations as depicted in figure 10.8.
Figure 10.8. Higher-order exact similarity relations
This extreme nominalist strategy can be repeated to infinity, and it generates a vicious regress. The nominalist has the very same problem. The only difference between the nominalist and the extreme nominalist is that the nominalist will replace Socrates, Plato, and the red brick in the diagram above with red1, red2, and red3 (the abstract particular in the brick). In sum, if the extreme nominalist and nominalist leave the exact resemblance among concrete or abstract particulars as basic, unexplainable phenomena, then this seems to be false because there will be respects of resemblance that can be specified by citing the property held in common by the resembling entities. Moreover, the exact similarity relation itself will either be a repeatable, relational universal or else there will be a vicious infinite regress of such relations. The exact resemblance among things, therefore, would seem to count in favor of realism.
A third piece of evidence in the debate is the fact that properties themselves have properties:
3. Red is a color.
This statement says that the first-order property, being red, has a second-order property, being a color. First-order properties are those directly predicated of individuals like Socrates or Plato. Second-order properties are properties of first-order properties. For example, redness and blueness have the property of being a color, but sweetness does not have that second-order property. Properties come in hierarchies. The realist has a straightforward way of explaining sentences like (3):
3’. Redness has coloredness.
The realist challenges the extreme nominalist and nominalist to explain sentences like (3). The extreme nominalist will give a linguistic reduction of (3) by claiming that it says the very same thing as and therefore can be replaced by (3” ):
3”. Red things are colored things.
Note that (3” ) only refers to concrete particulars and makes no reference to properties. But does (3” ) really say the same things as (3), and in general, do reductions of this sort really work? If we can find an example of this type of strategy that fails, the extreme nominalist view will be refuted. Is there such an example? Yes:
4. Red things are spatially extended things.
4’. Red is an extension.
The extreme nominalist would be committed to this reductive pattern, because, in his view, (4) and (4’ ) say the same thing, (4) makes mention of properties, and therefore, it should be replaced by (4’ ), which does not mention properties. (4) is true since red things like bricks are extended throughout a region of space. However, (4’ ) is clearly false. Red is a color not an extension. Being six inches long is an example of the property of extension. Thus the extreme nominalist reduction strategy leads to falsehoods and, therefore, fails.
The same things can be said of the nominalist reduction strategy. He will handle (3) as follows:
3’’’. Reds are colors.
Here the reference is not to concrete but to abstract particulars. However, every red abstract particular is also extended in space (e.g., the red1 of Socrates is extended throughout Socrates’s surface). Thus the following sentence will be true:
5. Reds are extensions.
The nominalist reductive strategy will then enable us to derive (5’ ) from (5):
5’. Redness is extendedness.
But (5’ ) is clearly false; redness is a color, not an extendedness. It would seem, then, that sentences like (3), in which properties are possessed by other properties, cannot be adequately handled by extreme nominalism or nominalism, but they can be explained by the realist.
We have investigated different views about the existence and nature of properties, and we have looked at three pieces of evidence involved in disputes in this area of metaphysics. It would seem that properties do, in fact, exist and that they are genuine universals. However, reality involves a lot more than properties; there are also individual things like dogs and cats that have properties. Philosophers call such individuals substances, and it is to the study of the nature of substance that we now turn.
3—Substances
The English term substance has many different meanings associated with it. Likewise, there have been different uses of the term in the history of philosophy. However, the most central idea of substance in the history of metaphysics is one that takes living organisms—individual human beings, butterflies, dogs, oak trees—as the paradigm cases (i.e., the standard, clearest examples) of substances. In our study of substance, we will (1) examine the traditional notion of substance, (2) compare a substance with a property-thing, (3) consider the major rival to the traditional notion of substance, and (4) draw some implications from the traditional position. In order to understand what follows, let us consider an individual brown, adult dog, Fido. A doctrine of substance should explain what appear to be things we know about Fido, and the traditional notion of substance does just that.
3.1 The Traditional View of Substance
The traditional view of substance is the one held by Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas. There are certain differences between them in this area of their thought, and not all philosophers are agreed as to the precise interpretation of every facet of these thinkers’ overall positions about the metaphysics of substance. Nevertheless, Aristotle and Aquinas are sufficiently clear and agreed on their views to label their positions as the traditional view. A considerable number of philosophers up to the present have embraced the traditional view. Individual substances like Fido present certain facts to the philosopher that the metaphysics of substance tries to explain. There are seven things apparently true of Fido, and these seven features form the core of the traditional position.
3.1.1 Ownership of Properties
Properties do not show up in the world all by themselves. One does not, for example, find brownness sitting on a bookshelf all by itself. Properties have owners, and a substance is the owner of properties. Substances have properties that are “in” them; properties are had by the substances that possess them. Fido has brownness, a certain shape, the property of weighing twenty-five pounds, and so on. These properties are present in Fido. In this sense, substances are more basic than properties. It makes sense to ask about a property, what has that property? But it does not make sense to ask about a substance—for example, Fido—what has that substance? Properties are “in” substances, but substances are basic in that they are not “in” or had by things more basic than them. Substances do the having; properties are had. The etymology of the word substance (sub means “under,” stance means “stand”; thus substance means “to stand under”) brings out this aspect of substance as that which stands under properties as their owner.
3.1.2 Unity and Wholeness at a Time
A substance like Fido is a whole and, as such, is a deep unity of properties, parts, and capacities. First, a substance is a deep unity of properties. Properties come together in groups, not individually; for example, brownness, being twenty-five pounds, and having a certain shape, are three different properties that form a unity in Fido. Moreover, the brownness is united to the shape of Fido in a way that the redness of a nearby apple is not united to Fido’s shape. This would be true even if the apple were inside Fido’s mouth, and thus the redness of the apple were spatially closer to parts of Fido—say, his nose—than the brownness of his tail. Finally, Fido is a deeper unity of properties than, say, a heap of salt. Such a heap would be a unity of whiteness and the heap’s shape. But such a whole, though a true unity of these properties, is not as deep a unity as is Fido. Fido’s properties are much more intimately related to each other than are the properties in lesser unities like heaps of parts. These facts about the unity of properties are called the adherence of properties. Properties adhere together in substances, that is, they are united together. What explains this fact? The traditional view says that adherence is explained by inherence: all of Fido’s properties are united because they all are owned by (or inhere in) the same substance that stands under them.
A substance is also a unity of parts. Fido’s nose, eyes, heart, and legs are parts that form a unified whole. The difference between a property and a part is this: a property is a universal that would still exist even if a substance having it were extinguished from being. A different dog could have brownness even if Fido ceased to be. A part is a particular that would not survive if a substance having it were extinguished. If Fido were to “pop out of existence,” all of his parts (e.g., his nose) would cease to be. The parts of a substance are united in such a way that the whole is prior to its parts in this sense: the parts of a substance are what they are in virtue of the role they play in the substance as a whole. Thus the identity of a substance’s parts presupposes the substance as a whole. The chamber of a heart is what it is in virtue of the role it plays in the heart as a whole; a heart is what it is in virtue of the role it plays in the circulatory system; the circulatory system is what it is in virtue of the role it plays in the organism as a whole. Moreover, when the parts of a substance are removed, they change. As Aristotle said, a severed human hand is no longer human because it is no longer a part of the substance that gave it its identity. The severed hand is merely a heap of atoms and other parts, which will become evident in a few weeks. It has lost its unity.
Finally, a substance is a unity of capacities (potentialities, dispositions, tendencies). In philosophy we distinguish between some x that is F but can be G from some x that is F but cannot be G. For example, salt is solid but can be dissolved in water, and a diamond is solid but cannot be dissolved in water. Counterfactual statements are true of substances. A counterfactual statement is a claim that says what would be the case if, contrary to fact, such and such were to happen. For example, if an acorn were to be put in the soil (even though it is in a jar), then it would sprout a root. Such counterfactuals are explained by saying that a substance has a set of capacities that are true of it even though they are not actualized. The salt has the capacity of solubility while in the saltshaker; the acorn has the capacity to sprout a root in a jar. A substance is a deep unity of its capacities. Fido has the capacity to bark while silent, to run, to wag his tail, and so on, and he is a deep unity of his capacities.
Capacities come in natural groupings and in hierarchies. For example, a human has various capacities to believe and think certain things, various capacities to feel certain things, and various capacities to choose certain things. These different capacities form natural groupings in an individual substance (e.g., a particular human being) that can be called intellectual, emotional, and volitional capacities. Psychologists, doctors, biologists, and others study the groupings and interconnections among the capacities of various types of substances such as birds and plants.
Capacities also come in hierarchies. There are first-order capacities, second-order capacities to have these first-order capacities, and so on, until ultimate capacities are reached. For example, if Jill can speak English but not Russian, then she has the first-order capacity for English as well as the second-order capacity to have this first-order capacity (which she has already developed). She also has the second-order capacity to have the capacity to speak Russian, but she may lack the first-order capacity to do so.
A higher-order capacity is realized by the development of lower-order capacities under it. An acorn has the ultimate capacity to draw nourishment from the soil, but this can be actualized and unfolded only by developing the lower capacity to have a root system, then developing the still lower capacities of the root system, and so on. When a substance has a defect (e.g., a child is colorblind), it does not lose its ultimate capacities. Rather, it lacks some lower-order capacity it needs for the ultimate capacity to be developed.
A substance’s capacities culminate in a set of its ultimate capacities that are possessed by it solely in virtue of the substance belonging to its natural kind; for example, Smith’s ultimate capacities are his because he belongs to the natural kind “being human.” A substance’s inner nature includes its ordered structural unity of ultimate capacities. A substance cannot change in its ultimate capacities; that is, it cannot lose its ultimate nature and continue to exist. Smith may replace his skin color from exposure to the sun and still exist, but if he loses his humanness, his inner nature of ultimate capacities that constitutes being human, then Smith ceases to exist.
In sum, a substance is a deep unity of properties, parts, and capacities. Moreover, the type of unity in a substance is to be understood by depicting the substance as a whole that is metaphysically prior to its parts in that they get their identity by the role they play in the substance as a whole.
3.1.3 Identity and Absolute Sameness Through Change
A substance is a continuant that remains the same through change. This point will be more fully developed in chapter sixteen, when we look at personal identity. Change presupposes sameness. If some x (a dog) goes from being F (being brown) to being G (being yellow) then the very same x (the dog itself) must be present at the beginning, during, and at the end of the change. It changes. In fact a change can be understood as the coming or going of a property by a substance at or throughout a period of time. A substance regularly loses old parts, properties, and lower-order capacities and gains new ones. But the substance itself underlies this change and remains the same through it.
A long event like a baseball game has temporal parts and, in fact, is the sum of its temporal parts. A baseball game is a sum or totality of nine innings, and each inning is a temporal part of the game. By contrast, substances do not have temporal parts. Substances move through their histories; for example, Fido is fully present at every moment of his life. Fido is not a sum of individual “dog stages” like a baseball game is a sum of “game stages” (innings).
3.1.4 Law and Lawlike Change
As a substance like an acorn grows, it changes through time. These changes are lawlike. That is, each new stage of development and growth comes to be and replaces older stages in repeatable, nonrandom, lawlike ways. These lawlike changes are grounded in a substance’s inner nature, which, in this context, can be understood as a dynamic principle of activity or change immanent within the individual substance. The acorn changes in specific ways because of the dynamic inherent tendencies latent within its nature as an oak. Each natural kind of thing will have its own type of lawlike changes that are normal for members of that kind, and these changes are grounded in the nature of the substances of that kind.
Moreover, this inner nature sets limits to change. If a substance breaks these limits, the substance no longer exists. For example, as a caterpillar changes into an adult butterfly, the organism’s inner nature specifies the precise sequence of stages the organism can undergo in the process of growth. If the organism goes beyond the boundaries of such a change, say, if the caterpillar turned into a fish, we would not say that the caterpillar still exists as a fish; rather, we would say that the caterpillar ceased to be and a fish came to be. Thus the lawlike changes that make up a substance’s nature (1) specify the ordered sequence of change that will occur in the process of maturation and (2) set limits to the kind of change a thing can undergo and still exist and be counted as an example of its kind.
3.1.5 The Unity of the Natural Kind Itself
You may recall from the first half of the chapter that the unity of a natural class of things, say, the class of red objects, can be explained by the realist by saying that each member of the class has the very same property in it—in this case, redness. This property explains the unity of the class, why certain objects (a fire truck) belong in the class, and why other objects (a banana) do not.
The same point can be made regarding substances. Substances fall into natural classes called natural kinds, for example, the classes of dogs and humans. This can be explained by saying that each member of a natural kind has the very same essence in it. All humans have humanness, and that explains the unity of the class of humans, why certain things (Smith) belong in that class, and why other things (Fido) do not. In this sense, a thing’s natural kind (essence, nature, “whatness”; Aristotle called an individual substance a primary substance and a primary substance’s essence a secondary substance) is the set of properties the thing possesses such that it must have this set to be a member of the kind, and if it loses any of its essential properties it ceases to exist.
3.1.6 Final Causality
The traditional doctrine of substance contrasts efficient, material, formal, and final causes. An efficient cause is that by means of which an effect takes place. The efficient cause brings about the effect. For example, when one ball hits and moves another, the first ball is an efficient cause. A material cause is the matter or “stuff” of which something is made. A formal cause is the essence or “whatness” of a thing (the humanness of Smith). A final cause is that for the sake of which an effect or change is produced. Many advocates of the traditional view hold that an individual substance has, within its nature (formal cause), an innate, immanent tendency (final cause) to realize fully the potentialities within its nature. An acorn changes “in order to” realize a mature oak nature; a fetus grows with the end in view of actualizing its potentialities grounded in human nature. Today, the doctrine of final causality is viewed by many to be outdated and unscientific. Instead, it is often thought that the efficient and material cause is all that is needed to explain a substance’s change, that explaining an acorn’s growth, for example, only requires citing the chemical parts and processes in the acorn. We cannot evaluate this claim here, but it should be pointed out that the notions of formal and final causes are (1) primarily philosophical, and arguments for and against them are beyond the scope of science; (2) compatible with and complementary to the notion of efficient and material causes.
3.1.7 The Problem of Individuation
There is a final issue regarding substances called the problem of individuation: Given that two things have exactly the same properties, how is it that the two are not the same thing? What differentiates them and makes them two individuals? Consider the two spots Plato and Socrates at the beginning of this chapter. They share all their properties in common. If properties are universals (both spots have the very same properties), what then is it that makes them two spots instead of just one? One may be tempted to say that the spots are different because of their different spatial locations on a sheet of paper. But clearly, this will not do. Why? Because two spots cannot be at different locations if, metaphysically speaking, they are not already different spots. Difference of spatial location presupposes difference and individuation and thus cannot constitute individuation.
The same problem of individuation arises with individual substances. If Smith and Jones have the very same human nature, then how are they different? What makes them two humans instead of one? Several answers have been offered to this question, and we cannot survey them here. Suffice it to say that there must be something in an individual substance besides its nature that individuates it. Whatever that something is, it can be called a substance’s “thisness.” Thus an individual substance like Smith is sometimes called a this-such. By claiming that Smith is a “such,” a philosopher means that Smith possesses a universal nature, shared by all members of Smith’s natural kind “being human,” and this nature answers the deep question, what kind of thing must Smith be to exist at all? By claiming that Smith is a “this,” a philosopher means that Smith is also an individual different from other members of his kind. Thus an individual substance is a this-such; it is a combination of two metaphysical entities: a universal nature and an individuating component.
3.2 Substances Versus Property-Things
Currently, there is a debate as to whether living organisms are, in some sense, “reducible to” physical entities. A closely related issue is whether biology is “reducible to” chemistry and physics. These questions involve a number of complicated issues that require treatment beyond the scope of an introductory text in philosophy. However, a central part of this debate can be clarified by looking at different kinds of parts and wholes; specifically, at the difference between a substance, understood in the traditional sense, and a property-thing.
The world around us contains a number of different kinds of wholes with parts. Different types of wholes manifest different kinds and degrees of unity. Here are three examples that go from lesser to greater unity: a heap of salt, a car, a living organism. A heap is a weak kind of unity. It contains parts that are merely united in that those parts are spatially close to each other. A heap can have either homogeneous or heterogeneous parts. A pile of salt is a heap with homogeneous parts (all the parts, e.g., the grains of salt, are the same as each other); a pile of junk could be a heap with heterogeneous parts.
An artifact is a classic example of a deeper type of unity found in wholes called property-things, ordered aggregates, or structured stuff. For example, the parts of a car are not merely united by spatial proximity; they also have a mechanical unity in the way they function together according to a design in the mind of the designer of the car. While property-things have a deeper type of unity than a mere heap, property-things have different, lesser kinds of unities than true substances. Table 10.2 brings out the difference between property-things and substances.
Examples of substances include individual living organisms, such as a dog, an oak tree, or a human being. Examples of property-things include individual artifacts, such as a clock, a table, or a car. In order to understand the main differences between a substance and a property-thing, a few comments should be made on the points contained in table 10.2 as they apply to examples of each category.
Table 10.2. Differences between property-things and substances
Property-thing
Substance
Requires two categories to classify it (e.g., a table is structured wood, a car is shaped metal).
Requires one category to classify it (Fido is a dog, Jim is a human).
Derives its unity from (1) an external principle in the mind of a designer artificially imposed from the outside on a set of parts to form the object or (2) contingently entering into a set of external relations to form a whole.
Derives its unity from its own internal essence or nature, which serves as a principle of unity from within the substance.
Parts are metaphysically prior to the whole. The existence and nature of the whole depends on the parts.
Whole is prior to its parts. The parts are what they are in virtue of their function in the whole that informs and employs them.
Parts are related to each other by external relations. Parts are the same inside or outside of the whole and thus are indifferent to those wholes.
Parts are related to each other by internal relations. Parts lose identity when severed from the whole and thus are dependent on those wholes.
Wholes have no new properties not in parts except new utility for human purpose and new shape, dimension and spatial order.
Wholes have new kinds of properties not in parts grounded in the essence of the substance as a whole unit.
No absolute sameness and strict identity through change (e.g., through loss of old parts and gain of new ones).
Maintains absolute sameness and strict identity through change (e.g., through loss of old parts and gain of new ones).
First, consider row one. Property-things require two metaphysical categories to classify them. For example, a table is structured wood. Wood is included in the category of “stuff” and is a kind of material. The structure of the table is a set of ordering relations, in this case spatial relations of shape, size, and volume. Thus the category of relation and the category of stuff is required to classify a property-thing. By contrast, a substance is a true, deep unity and only requires one category—that of substance—to classify it. Dogs, humans, and oak trees are all substances.
Next, consider row two. Property-things are not deep unities, but rather accidental (i.e., nonessential) combinations of an ordering relational property (e.g., the structure of the table) artificially and externally imposed on preexistent materials (e.g., the wood). The unity of a property-thing does not spring from or reside within its own being; instead, at least for human artifacts, it resides in the plan contained in the mind of the designer of the property-thing. Here, a designer assembles an arrangement of parts and uses a principle of unity in his or her mind to impose externally a structural order from the outside onto a set of parts to form the object in question. The unity of a watch does not spring from within the parts of the watch or from within the watch taken as a whole; it resides in the designer’s mind. Similarly, the unity of a naturally occurring property-thing, such as a mountain, derives from a set of parts (e.g., boulders, pieces of dirt) contingently entering into external relations with other parts and being held together to form the mountain. By contrast, the unity of a substance springs from and resides within the substance and is due to the internal essence or nature of the substance that serves as its principle of unification. The unity of the parts and properties of a dog or human are due to the essence within it.
The points in row three follow naturally from the items listed in row two. For a property-thing, the parts exist prior to the whole, not only temporally (i.e., the clock’s parts were on the desk before the clock was assembled) but also metaphysically. The parts of a clock exist and are what they are independent of their incorporation into the clock as a whole. A table leg, watch spring, and automobile tire are what they are prior to their incorporation into their wholes. These parts are identified by the stuff that composes them—structured wood for a table leg, wound iron for a clock spring. In fact, the wholes depend on those parts for their overall structure.
For substances, however, the order is reversed. The substance as a whole is prior to its parts in this sense: its parts are gathered and formed by the direction of the substance and its essence taken as a whole, and those parts receive their identity by virtue of their incorporation into the substance as a whole. For example, a specific chamber of the heart is what it is, not by virtue of the stuff that composes it (as with parts of a property-thing), but due to the role the chamber plays in the heart taken as a whole (e.g., a chamber is that which functions to open and close in a precise way due to the nature of the heart as a whole). And a heart is what it is in virtue of the functional role it plays in the circulation system taken as a whole. Finally, the circulation system (and other systems) gains its identity by the role it plays in the organism as a whole. Thus the whole organism is prior to its parts in that the whole has a principle of unity within it that gives identity to its parts.
Row four emphasizes the fact that the parts of a property-thing are related to each other by means of external relations. This means that the relations do not enter into the very nature of those parts and they are indifferent to the relations. For example, the spring and gears of a clock are related to each other by various mechanical and spatial relations. But these relations do not make the parts what they are. In fact, the spring is “indifferent” to the other parts of the clock or to the clock taken as a whole. That is, the spring is the same as itself inside or outside the clock. Again, a table leg can change its relations with other parts of a table by being removed and placed in another room, but this does not affect the identity of the leg.
By contrast, the parts of a substance are related to each other by means of internal relations. To understand the nature of internal relations, suppose we have two entities, a and b, that are standing to each other in some relation R. There are two things true of internal relations as they are usually construed. First, if the R of a to b is internal to a, then anything that does not stand in R to b is not identical to a. If the relation “brighter than” between yellow and purple is internal to yellow, then any thing that is not brighter than purple cannot be the color yellow. Second, if one entity, a, is internally related to another entity, b, b may or may not be internally related to a. Yellow is internally related to purple and vice versa. However, on a view of animals as traditional substances, while an animal’s heart is internally related to the animal as a whole, the opposite is not true. On the traditional view, the organs of an animal are what they are because of the role they play in the organism taken as a whole. Assuming this view solely for the purpose of illustration, the traditional view depicts an animal’s organs as internally related to the animal such that if that organ, say a hand, is severed from the animal, it ceases to exist as an organ. But the animal as a whole is not internally related to any particular organ. If an animal loses a hand, it is still identical to the very same animal that existed with the hand.
By way of application, the parts of a substance are what they are by virtue of the relations they sustain to other parts and to the substance as a whole. If the parts drop out of those relations, the parts lose their identity. If a heart or a hand is severed from an individual human, it ceases to be a heart or a hand, it loses its principle of unity (which will become evident over time as it decays!), and it becomes a property-thing. The parts of a substance are not indifferent to their incorporation in a substance. They gain their identity from the substance of which they are parts, and they lose their identity when outside those substances.
Row five emphasizes the fact that property-things have no new kinds of properties not already resident in their parts. A property-thing merely provides a structure through which an already existing natural agency can channel energy to produce an effect that can be interpreted in a new way. For example, a clock has no new kinds of properties not resident in its parts. It does have a different set of spatial properties—a new shape and dimension—but these are not new kinds of properties not already in the parts of the clock. Instead, they are different spatial properties due to a new arrangement of the spatial properties already resident within the clock’s parts prior to assembly. Further, the wound spring of the clock serves as a natural agency, a natural source of energy that the structure of the clock (its gears, etc.) can channel in a new way not possible if the spring did not have the clock’s structure to serve as a medium for directing that energy. This allows an effect to be produced—the moving of the clock’s hands—that is new. But the newness of this effect is not due to the clock’s possessing a new kind of property not present in the parts of the clock prior to assembly. Rather, this new effect can be understood as (1) a new geometrical motion (e.g., circular motion of the hands), which is the same kind of property possible for a wound spring without being in a clock (i.e., it could produce a different noncircular geometrical motion, but the motion would still be geometrical); (2) an effect that can be externally interpreted in a new way according to an artificial convention (e.g., we interpret this circular motion as “telling time,” but this is not really a property of the clock’s hands, but a conventional way of viewing the motion of the hands from a system outside the clock).
This feature of property-things is very controversial, and not all philosophers accept it. Some believe that property-things may have emergent properties, roughly, genuinely new kinds of properties exemplified by property-things as wholes not characteristic of their parts.
According to the traditional view, a substance—in contrast to a property-thing—has new properties true of it as a whole but not true of its parts prior to their incorporation into their substances. These new properties are founded in the nature of the substance (humanness for Jim, doghood for Fido). For living organisms, these new properties include things like specific kinds of reproduction, assimilation, growth, and so forth. These new properties cannot be accounted for solely by the laws of chemistry and physics and are due, in part, to the new nature governing the substance taken as a whole.
Finally, row six mentions a topic that will be covered more fully in chapter sixteen. Here we can only assert, without much defense or detail, that when a property-thing undergoes a change by losing old parts and gaining new ones, it does not really remain the same entity. If the parts of a clock were gradually replaced by a new set of parts, the clock would literally be a different clock. However, a substance can maintain absolute identity and genuine sameness through accidental change because the substance is a whole that is prior to and underlies its parts and accidental properties.
Our purpose here is to clarify the difference between a property-thing and a substance. In the process of doing this, we have mentioned that living organisms appear to be genuine substances and not property-things. It is beyond the scope of this chapter to look further at that debate. But you should now be in a position to think about this issue for yourself. In the remaining pages of this chapter, we will look at the major rival to the traditional view of substance: the bundle theory.
3.3 The Bundle Theory of Substance
3.3.1 A Statement of the View
According to the traditional view, a substance is not just a collection of properties. It is a thing that owns or underlies properties. For various reasons such as a rejection of the traditional view on empiricist grounds because one cannot have a sense impression of the substance that, say, underlies a dog’s visible properties, some philosophers have formulated a rival view of substance called the bundle theory. On this view, a substance is not an individuated essence that has properties embedded in it; rather, a substance is just a collection or bundle of properties themselves, nothing more, nothing less. To clarify this, consider the dog Fido. Fido is brown, has a certain weight, shape, smell, texture, and so forth. Let us call the various properties of this sort Pi–Pn.
The traditional view of substance would analyze Fido in this way:
Fido = {Pi–Pn, the individuated essence of Fido}
Fido has a essential nature, doghood, that is exemplified by an individuator (to account for the individuality of Fido compared to Spot). Further, just as pins are stuck into a pin cushion, so Fido’s accidental properties—those he could lose and still exist—namely, Pi–Pn, are owned by and embedded in the substance (the individuated essence) that is Fido.
By contrast, the bundle theory of substance would analyze Fido as follows:
Fido = {Pi–Pn, a bundling relation R}
On the bundle theory, there is no owner of a thing’s properties. They do not relate to the substance that has them as a property being possessed by a substance. Rather, the relationship between properties and a substance is very much like a part-whole relation. If you strip away all of Fido’s properties, nothing is left. Fido is nothing more than a “combination,” “bundle,” “cluster,” “collection” of properties. Now there is an obvious difference between Fido and a situation where the brownness, shape, and so forth of Fido were unconnected and scattered throughout the room. Thus Fido is not just a certain list of properties; Fido is a set of certain properties bundled directly together. Thus Pi–Pn, together with the bundling relation R that ties these properties into the same collection exhaust a metaphysical analysis of Fido. This, then, is the difference between the traditional and the bundle theory of substance.
3.3.2 An Evaluation of the View
An obvious advantage of the bundle theory is that it does not involve commitment to an entity (an individuated dog nature) that is not empirically observable. And if one believes that metaphysics should be done within the boundaries of sense impressions, then bundle theory will be attractive, since one can observe Pi–Pn in Fido, as well as the fact that these properties form a single cluster. On the other hand, those who do not feel constrained to do metaphysics within the confines of sensation will not take this to be a major point.
On the negative side, two major objections have been raised against the bundle theory. First, it cannot account for the contingency of substances. Individual substances like Fido are not necessary beings. They are contingent—they exist in space and time, come to be and perish, and, in general, they could have not existed at all. But if properties are universals, and if universals are what realists take them to be—timeless, spaceless, necessary beings (necessary in that, while they owe their existence to God, there is no possible world in which properties do not exist)—then the bundle theory turns substances into necessary beings. Why? Because the bundle theory holds that a substance like Fido is exhausted by its properties and all its properties are universals. Thus, since Fido is merely a collection of universals, Fido himself must be a necessary being.
A bundle theorist could respond that Fido is more than a collection of universal properties. He is collection of properties in a bundling relation. But this will not solve the problem because the bundling relation, R, is itself a universal that will be present in every bundle of properties. Given that properties are universals, and given that substances are merely a list of properties and a bundling relation, no account of the individuality and contingency of a substance like Fido is readily available. It will not do simply to claim that Fido is a specific, individual occurrence of certain properties being bundled together. This response begs the question and merely asserts the individuality and contingency of Fido. The issue is not whether Fido is a contingent individual. Indeed, he is. The issue is whether the bundle theory can account for this fact. Merely asserting what is obvious does not answer the problem.
Second, the bundle theory cannot maintain that substances are literally the same things through change. The reason is obvious. Since a substance is just a bundled cluster of certain properties, if one of those properties leaves, you have a new, different cluster. If Fido goes from brown to yellow, we have an old cluster (containing brown) ceasing to be and a new cluster (containing yellow) coming to be. On this view, Fido is not a continuant that is literally the same through change. In fact, change is an illusion. Fido is really just a succession of dog stages. At each moment of Fido’s life, there is a specific bundle of properties that exist at that moment. In chapter sixteen we will investigate sameness through change. But for now, it should be pointed out that if real sameness through change of living organisms is true and reasonable to believe, then the bundle theory is in trouble.
4—A Final Point to Ponder
In this chapter we have investigated some metaphysical issues involved in two categories of being—property and substance. We have also found reason to accept a realist view of properties and a traditional notion of substances, though we readily admit that a short chapter in an introductory text in philosophy cannot hope to treat all the issues necessary to adequately justify these positions. Suffice it to say that most Christian thinkers, though by no means all of them, and many non-Christian thinkers have held to a realist doctrine of properties and a traditional notion of substance, and they have done so for good reasons. If we assume the truth of these two positions, then two things follow. First, crude, sensate forms of empiricism (knowledge and justified belief can operate only within the bounds of the five senses) are false because at least many properties (that of being triangular or of being even) are not knowable within those boundaries. Second, physicalist forms of naturalism are false as well because neither properties nor the individuated essences that constitute substances are material beings. These conclusions, if correct, are by no means unimportant for the life of the church and the texture of modern culture.
Chapter Summary
Properties and relations are two main categories of reality. There are three views of properties: extreme nominalism (properties do not exist), nominalism (properties are abstract particulars), and realism (properties are universals). Extreme nominalists and nominalists accept the axiom of localization and are naturalists. Impure realists deny the axiom and hold a weakened form of naturalism. Pure realists are not naturalists. Most realists reject the model-copy view of exemplification.
Three main issues are involved in the debate among extreme nominalists, nominalists, and realists: predication (Socrates is red), exact resemblance (Socrates and Plato exactly resemble each other in being red), and the fact that properties themselves have properties (red is a color). These issues provide evidence for the superiority of realism.
The traditional view of substance explains several metaphysical phenomena: the ownership of properties, unity and wholeness at a time, sameness through change, the fact of lawlike change, the unity of the natural kind itself, final causality, and the problem of individuation. There are several important differences between true substances and property-things, and these differences shed light on the claim that living organisms are true substances. The bundle theory of substance is a major rival to the traditional view. However, it suffers from two main difficulties: (1) given that properties are universals, the bundle theory turns substances into necessary beings; (2) it cannot embrace real sameness through change for substances.
Checklist of Basic Terms and Concepts
abstract entity
abstract particular
accidental property
adherence
axiom of localization
bundle theory
capacity (potentiality, disposition, tendency)
change
concrete particular
contingent
continuant
counterfactual statement
efficient cause
exact resemblance
exemplification
external relation
extreme nominalism
final cause
formal cause
heap
heterogeneous parts
homogeneous parts
impure realist
individuation
inherence
inner nature
instancing
internal relation
lawlike change
material cause
model-copy view
natural kind
nature
nominalism
nonidentity assumption
nonspatial (and atemporal) view of exemplification
paradigm case
part
predication
property
property-thing (ordered aggregate or structured stuff)
pure realist
quality agreement
realism
relation
self-predication assumption
spatial container view of exemplification
substance
the one and the many
third man argument
this-such
tokens
types
universals
world