by Bruce E.R. Thompson.
The question to be debated is this: is Peter Abelard an overlooked luminary of philosophy, or not?
There can be little question that Abelard is overlooked. In his eight-volume History of Philosophy, Father Frederick Copleston mentions him not at all, although he devotes two entire volumes to medieval philosophy. In his much briefer Medieval Philosophy, he mentions Abelard in passing, noting primarily that he was a contentious SOB who disagreed with his own teachers, and was therefore obliged to travel around a lot because he couldn’t find steady work. He was what we would today call an “adjunct instructor.”
If Abelard is remembered, it is not primarily for his contributions to philosophy. He is remembered—chiefly by English majors—because his tragic love affair with a young girl named Heloise resulted in what might be described as an involuntary sex-change operation. At the time, Heloise was a girl about the same age as Juliet! Abelard, a talented teacher, had been hired to be Heloise’s tutor. As Abelard describes it, they spent more time in exploring the sensory pleasures of touching lips than they did debating the Trinitarian nature of the deity. When Heloise became pregnant, Abelard prevailed upon a friend of his in the clergy to marry them. He then arranged for her to be whisked away to a nunnery. Her outraged father hired some goons to track Abelard down and give him a vasectomy. However, Abelard and Heloise continued to consider each other husband and wife for the remainder of their lives. Both had distinguished careers as thinkers and writers. Heloise was an early proponent of the rights of women. Abelard’s memoir of their affair, and their love letters to each other, became founding documents in a literary movement known as “courtly love,” in which an unrequited relationship brings out the best moral virtues in the lovers.
Peter Abelard was among the wandering scholars known as “goliards.” The works of Aristotle, newly translated into Latin, had recently become available in Western Europe, but they were not all collected together. Hence, scholars interested in classical logic had to move around, “like the paripatetics,” as Abelard described it, to find relevant texts and suitable teachers. Many of these wandering scholars were trained in music, so they supported themselves in their journeys by singing the Latin verses that they had composed, mostly on secular and romantic themes. Whether Abelard himself ever performed Goliard poetry to earn his bread and lodgings, we do not know. But the Goliard poets are the primary conduit by which the values of “courtly love” were transmitted from Arabic culture into medieval Europe. Today we know of goliard poetry primarily from a collection called the Carmina Burana, set to music by Carl Orff.
But all this hardly establishes Abelard’s credentials as a philosopher. So, on the first point, I think it must be conceded that—as a philosopher—Abelard is overlooked.
The second question may be more difficult to debate: does Abelard deserve his relative obscurity, or—as a philosopher—is he undeservedly overlooked? Certainly, his philosophical accomplishments seem meager. He proposed a solution to the medieval “problem of universals,” which was later given a much clearer statement and defense by the philosopher Duns Scotus. He also argued persuasively that moral culpability requires a conscious recognition that one is acting wrongly, an idea that was present in Roman law, but not yet fully accepted in European legal traditions. That’s not nothing, but it hardly warrants a towering reputation.
Nevertheless, I shall argue that Abelard deserves to be remembered as one of the greatest philosophers to have lived—easily in the top ten—not for any specific doctrine that he held, but for his description of the overall methodology by which good philosophy is done.
Abelard’s most important book is titled Sic et Non, Latin for “yes and no.” Most scholars agree that it was a text book. Abelard had very specific ideas on how material should be presented to students. Indeed, this is one of the points on which he disagreed with his own teachers. But Abelard’s goal was not to teach the doctrines that he had been taught, or even the doctrines that he himself believed to be true. His goal was to teach his students the methods of rational disputation so they could work out the truth for themselves—even if that meant disagreeing with their own masters (himself included). In Sic et Non we see Abelard’s method at work. Some questions addressed in Sic et Non include:
“Must human faith be completed by reason, or not?”
“Does faith deal only with unseen things, or not?”
“Is God a single unitary being, or not?”
The manner in which these questions were presented became the standard for philosophical scholarship from that time forward. St. Thomas Aquinas’ great treatise on theology, the Summa Theologica, was patterned after Abelard’s Sic et Non. The Summa Theologica in turn became the model for philosophical writing throughout the middle ages. To this day philosophers use the Sic et Non method, although it is now so much a part of our philosophical DNA that we use it almost reflexively.
The method is this: first, before any disputation is possible, the opposing position must be clearly explained. The arguments for that position must be put forward in a manner that shows why someone would hold such a position. In short, before you can disagree, you must show that you understand the position you are disagreeing with. Next, the opponent’s position must be critiqued. That is, you must respond to the arguments made by the opponent, showing the manner in which the opponent’s arguments are flawed. Finally, a differing position may be offered. Arguments must be given in support of the new position—arguments that carefully avoid the errors and pitfalls that beset the original opposing position.
Hegel called this method “dialectic” and used it in his own writings. Marx thought dialect was so important that history itself was driven by unconscious dialectical forces. All modern philosophers argue using the dialectical method, because…that is how good philosophy is done.
Peter Abelard was the first philosopher to use the dialectical method consciously, and to use it to make his students responsible for finding truth for themselves. Prior to Abelard, philosophers wrote treatises in which they tried to lay out the truth for their students. Wisdom was thought to lie in the past, not in the future. Scholars often refer to “Plato’s dialectic,” but even Plato only hinted at the method allegorically, illustrating its use by writing fictional conversations—dialogues—in which the method is implicit, but never explained. Socrates was earnest in claiming that a wise man knows only that he does not know; but, while Plato allowed Socrates to give lip service to this idea, Plato didn’t really believe it in his heart. Plato thought he knew the truth and was merely waiting for the rest of us to catch up.
Abelard was different. Abelard’s message to his students was this: “Here is what we think we know so far. Now it is up to you. Find our errors, and boldly learn what no one has learned before. Truth is in the future, not in the past.” I believe Abelard was the first philosopher to deliver that message, or at least to deliver it successfully, so that it was carried from that point forward. In my opinion that is enough for him to be ranked among the most important philosophers ever to have lived.
“I have ventured to bring together various dicta of the holy fathers, as they came to mind, and to formulate certain questions, which were suggested by the seeming contradictions in the statements. These questions ought to serve to excite tender readers to a zealous inquiry into truth and so sharpen their wits. The master key to knowledge is, indeed, a persistent and frequent questioning…By doubting we come to examine, and by examining we reach the truth.” – Peter Abelard, Sic et Non (A. D. 1120).