Scotus, Aquinas, & Radical Orthodoxy: Using the Law of Non-Contradiction to Reframe the Univocalist Debate

Abstract

In this paper, I shall argue that the law of non-contradiction can be used to constructively reframe the univocalist debate. Duns Scotus argued famously that a term is univocal in two statements if its unity is sufficient for a contradiction. This logical definition was woven into his arguments against Henry of Ghent’s (and indirectly Thomas Aquinas’) view of analogy, arguing that all successful analogies must be built upon a univocal core. As early as the 1960s, this Scotist univocity had been singled out by French scholars and, by the turn of the century, had become the cherished whipping boy of Radical Orthodoxy, which claims that Scotus was the progenitor of modern onto-theology, nihilism, and secular immanence. While the genealogical critique in its fullness is beyond this paper’s scope, it illustrates the gravity of the question. If the doctrine of analogy is coherent—i.e., if Scotus turned to univocity without cause—then perhaps his condemnation is justified. However—in line with the principle quod est necessarium est licitum (that which is necessary is permissible)—if univocity is necessary for successful theological reference, then perhaps the doctrine of univocity can be defended regardless of its historical usage. This paper will argue that univocity is latent in all successful analogies, commencing with a fairly standard analysis of Scotus’ Ordinatio, then moving beyond Scotus to more constructively suggest that an expanded version of the argument from non-contradiction can help reframe the univocalist debate for today.

1. Introduction

In this paper, I shall argue that the law of non-contradiction can be used to constructively reframe the univocalist debate. Duns Scotus argued famously that a term is univocal in two statements if its unity is sufficient for a contradiction.1 This logical definition was woven into his arguments against Henry of Ghent’s (and indirectly Thomas Aquinas’) view of analogy, arguing that all successful analogies must be built upon a univocal core. As early as the 1960s, this Scotist univocity had been singled out by French scholars2 and, by the turn of the century, had become the cherished whipping boy of Radical Orthodoxy, which claims that Scotus was the progenitor of modern onto-theology, nihilism, and secular immanence.3 While the genealogical critique in its fullness is beyond this paper’s scope, it illustrates the gravity of the question. If the doctrine of analogy is coherent4—i.e., if Scotus turned to univocity without cause—then perhaps his condemnation is justified. However—in line with the principle quod est necessarium est licitum (that which is necessary is permissible)—if univocity is necessary for successful theological reference, then perhaps the doctrine of univocity can be defended regardless of its historical usage. This paper will argue that univocity is latent in all successful analogies, commencing with a fairly standard analysis of Scotus’ Ordinatio, then moving beyond Scotus to more constructively suggest that an expanded version of the argument from non-contradiction can help reframe the univocalist debate for today.

2. Scotus’ Argument from Contradiction

Scotus begins Ordinatio 1.3 with what might as well be a confession to the alleged crime:

I say that God is not only conceived in a concept that is analogous to a concept of a creature—that is, in a concept that is entirely different from one that is applied to a creature—but also in a concept that is univocal to him and to a creature.

(Ordinatio, 1.3.Q2.26)5

Having stated his thesis, Scotus then defines its terms:

And to avoid disagreement over the word “univocation,” I call a concept univocal if it is one in such a way that its unity is sufficient for a contradiction to arise when it is affirmed and denied of the same thing. Its unity is also sufficient for its use as a middle term in a syllogism so that we may conclude without committing a fallacy of equivocation that when the extremes are united in the middle term having that unity, they are also united among themselves.

(Ordinatio, 1.3.Q2.26)6

Scotus hereby weds univocity to logic. The laws of non-contradiction and excluded middle cannot survive being torn asunder from univocation. Regarding the former law, ‘X’ and ‘not X’ can only be a contradiction if X has a univocal meaning in both statements. The statements “the Titanic sunk” and “the Titanic has not sunk” only contradict if there is a univocal meaning for the term “Titanic”. Unless both speakers are referring to the same boat—i.e., the one that sank in the North Atlantic on 15 April 1912—then there can be no contradiction, for the statements do not contradict if one refers to the famous Titanic sinking, while the other refers to a large rugby player taking a bath. Univocity is also essential to syllogisms. In the syllogism ‘A is B, B is C, therefore A is C’ (Ibid, pp. 11–12), the term ‘B’ must have the same univocal meaning throughout.7 For example, take the famous syllogism:

Socrates is a man.

All men are mortal.

Therefore, Socrates is mortal.

Unless the shared term ‘man’ is univocal in both instances the logical conclusion cannot be reached, and any homeless man with a beard might actually be the undead Socrates. Cross has already clearly articulated this reading, showing that Scotus believed one’s terms must stand still if theology is to be taken seriously as scientia. (Cross 2007, p. 194) Thus, without univocity “theology would simply perish”.8 In light of this, Scotus rather provocatively suggests that since other Masters use deductive arguments in both natural and revealed theology,9 therefore univocity is not an aberration from the prevailing tradition but ever assumed within it: “Masters who write of God and of those things that are known of God, observe the univocity of being in the way in which they speak, even though they deny it with their words”. (Ordinatio, 1.3.1, n. 7, XI).10

Next, Scotus puts his ‘logical-ized’ definition to work in a series of arguments for univocity.11 He first argues that a certain concept is logically distinct from an uncertain one for, as Bercken notes, “it is contradictory to have mutually exclusive attitudes (certainty and doubt) with respect to one and the same concept”. (Bercken 2016, 12) We may be certain a being exists while remaining uncertain if it is finite or infinite, and so existence is univocal across the finite-infinite divide for it is distinct from both. Similarly, a wife may doubt her husband’s fidelity while remaining certain of his existence, so sadly a cheating spouse still has the same univocal being as a faithful one. As Scotus writes:

The first argument runs as follows: every intellect that is certain about one concept and dubious about others has the concept about which it is certain as other than the dubious concept. The subject includes the predicate. But the intellect of a person in this life can be certain that God is a being while doubting whether this being is finite or infinite, created or uncreated; therefore, the concept of God as a being is other than this or that concept; and although included in each of these, it is none of them of itself, and therefore it is univocal… Proof of the major premise: one and the same concept can never be certain and doubtful at the same time. So either it is another concept [different from the doubtful ones], which is our thesis, or it is not, but then there is no certainty for any concept.12

This flows out of Scotus’ former definition of univocity, for if the statements ‘God is a finite being’ and ‘God is an infinite being’ are contradictory, then the shared term ‘being’ must be univocal (as in the Titanic example).13 Ironically, on this view, only univocity can properly articulate the ontological difference between infinite creator and finite creature, for only if there is a univocally shared term can heaven and earth be logically distinguished. While the historical controversy this argument generated is beyond our scope, its distinction between doubtful and certain concepts is useful for illustrating Scotus’ use of the law of non-contradiction as well as his desire to articulate the creator-creature divide.

Scotus next responds to thinkers such as Richard of Conington and Henry of Ghent, who argued that rather than one univocal concept in the mind that describes two similar entities (e.g., “white” describes both a “white man” and a “white wedding”), divine and human attributes are instead described by two intentionally distinct yet analogous concepts. These concepts are not the same but simply “so close to each other that the mind, incapable of discerning them, confuses them within a unique representation”. However, Scotus responds that,

if you say that the formal notion is other as regards those things that pertain to God, a disconcerting consequence results, that from the proper notion of anything found in creatures nothing can be inferred about God, because the notion of what each has is entirely different; indeed, there is no more reason to conclude that God is formally wise from the notion of wisdom that we perceive in creatures than there is to conclude that God is formally a stone; for some concept other than the concept of a created stone can be formed that bears a relationship to the concept of a stone as an idea in God, and therefore one can say, “God is formally a stone”, according to this analogous conception, just as he can be said to be “wise” according to that other analogous concept.

(Ordinatio I, d. 3, nos. 39–40)14

If an analogy is merely the juxtaposition of two distinct concepts without any univocal commonality, then God can be characterized as a stone with the same accuracy as he can be called wise, for both concepts are equally blind (Labooy 2014, p. 65). This version of analogy is unable to provide the unity required for a contradiction, for the two concepts are distinct, and so cannot have a shared underlying term.15

Scotus’ next argument is based upon what he considers to be the traditional theological method:

every metaphysical inquiry about God proceeds in the following way: it considers the formal notion (ratio) of something, then it removes from that formal notion the imperfection that it has in creatures while retaining the formal notion as such, to which it then attributes completely the highest perfection and in this way, it attributes that notion to God. For example, take the formal notion of wisdom (or of intellect) or of the will. It is first considered in itself and according to itself. Then, given that this notion does not in itself formally imply any imperfection or limitation, the imperfections that are connected with it in creatures are removed from it. Then, once the notions of wisdom and will as such are preserved, these properties are attributed to God in the most perfect way. Therefore, every inquiry about God assumes that the intellect has an identical, univocal concept that it receives from creatures.

(Ordinatio 1.3.Q2. 39–40)16

One first peels off all the creaturely imperfections from a term then magnifies the remnant to an infinite degree appropriate for the divine (Christopher Insole calls this the “Infinity Function”) (Insole 2001). As Bercken summarizes: “We can only attribute pure perfections to God if we first have a notion of what a pure perfection is, independently of God’s having it”.17 However, an even simpler way of referring to the divine could be found not merely in infinite perfections but in infinity itself.18 Infinity does not add any additional content to being:

a concept more perfect and yet simpler, available for us, is the concept of infinite being. This concept is simpler than the concept ‘good being’, ‘true being’ or concepts of other, similar things; because ‘infinite’ is not a quasi-attribute or property of being, or of that of which it is said. Rather it signals an intrinsic mode of that entity, such that when I say ‘infinite being’ I don’t have a concept that is like an accidental concept, composed out of the subject and property, but, rather, I have an essential concept of a subject in a certain grade of perfection, viz. infinity, just as ‘intense white’ doesn’t express the same things as an accidental concept like ‘visible white’, indeed the intensity expresses an intrinsic grade of whiteness in itself. And thus the simplicity of the concept ‘infinite being’ is evident.

(Ordinatio. I, d. 3, pt. 1, qq. 1–2, n. 58, Vat. III.40)19

Regarding intense whiteness, there are not two separate things added together (i.e., whiteness and intensity) into a compound. You cannot have color without a degree of shade; color always comes ‘pre-shaded’. The intensity of color is not something external added after the fact, but a mode of its own intrinsic being. In Cross’ words, the “shade is variable but not a separate property”.20 In the same way, the degree of being, whether infinite or finite, does not compound or add something to being (i.e., such as adding ‘wisdom’ or ‘goodness’ would do) but is merely a mode (i.e., the level of intensity) of being. Infinity does not negate simplicity and thus is the highest possible designation for the divine. Scotus thus takes such pains to protect divine otherness through simplicity and infinity, revealing a similarity—at least of intention—with Aquinas, who also peeled off creaturely layers from perfection terms (e.g., Summa Theologiae q.13.9). It is fitting that both of their nicknames are degrading, for both the ‘dumb ox’ and the ‘dunce’ are ever-humble at the feet of transcendence.

Some would say it was precisely by his emphasis on language (rather than ontology) that Scotus sought to maintain this true otherness of divine Being. As his defenders argue—albeit in the face of some lingering objections—for Scotus univocity was a semantic, not an ontological, thesis, concerned primarily with the univocity of concepts. It is about the nature of words, not words about nature.21 However, as Pickstock rightly retorts, even if univocity was primarily semantics rather than ontology, Scotus tended to “semanticize” ontology, and so the two are not mutually exclusive in his system.22 Furthermore, it is difficult to imagine how a semantic thesis can have no ontological implications whatsoever. Scotus himself once asked: “How can the concept common to God and creatures be considered real unless it can be abstracted from some reality of the same kind?”23

Regardless, in sum, Scotus has built from non-contradiction to divine infinity. While this univocal structure may seem to reduce the creator to creaturely language, this was clearly the opposite of Scotus’ intention. He believed it was only through univocal language that God’s transcendence could mean anything at all, and his doctrine of divine infinity was meant to articulate this otherness without undermining the very words by which it is articulated. In line with this, Scotus did not necessarily wish to negate analogy but merely show that univocity is inherent within any successful analogy, combined with a handsome portion of equivocal otherness.24 It is precisely this blend of equivocity and univocity that makes analogy so useful for theological speech, admitting the equivocal otherness of God without negating the very terms of that admission. A similar sentiment might even be hinted at in Aquinas when he refers to a middle way that need not entirely negate univocity.25

Of course, the above defenses of Scotus’ texts have been argued for and against by others, and much of what has been repeated here would not necessarily be disputed by Radical Orthodoxy. For example, Milbank, in his Syndicate article, readily acknowledges that Scotus wished to maintain the creator-creature distinction,26 for it is not Scotus’ intentions but the actual implications of his theory that are on trial. As such, the goal of this first section was not to re-exegete Scotus to somehow absolve him anew, but rather to lay the textual foundation necessary in order to preface our next—and perhaps more interesting—step. Having laid the groundwork in Scotus’ use of the law of non-contradiction, this paper will now expand that argument beyond Scotus in order to redefine the univocalist debate (and while it is unclear in Scotus whether univocity is solely semantic, our project will move beyond Scotus and explore the potential ontological implications, as well).

3. Expanding the Argument from Contradiction

It is here that we move beyond historical description to contemporary construction, making moves and using language in a way that might be anachronistic in terms of the historical Scotus or Aquinas, but which nonetheless creatively engages with some of the conversations and debates they have continued to inspire today, particularly within the Radical Orthodoxy camp. Now, in Scotus, ‘being’ applies univocally to creator and creature. But what if one went a crucial step further than Scotus27, and asked if the law of non-contradiction itself applies univocally to both creator and creature? Or rather, if one wishes to be more precise, what if we ask if ‘wisdom’, ‘reason’, or ‘logicalness’ applies univocally to both creator and creature? (For the law of noncontradiction is not technically the kind of thing that could apply propositionally in this way, and one is certainly not saying that God is the law of non-contradiction. In contrast, it has often been said that God is reason or wisdom or logic itself, or, of course, the logos).28 If the answer to this question is ‘yes’, then logicalness/reason/wisdom/law of non-contradiction applies univocally to the divine (e.g., God cannot both ‘be’ and ‘not be’), and we have univocity. If the answer is ‘no’, then the defenders of analogy have to set aside the law of non-contradiction as a law in any absolute sense. This would be a massive admission, for

To argue that the law of non-contradiction is false is to imply that it is not also true. In other words, the critic presupposes that what he or she is criticizing can be either true or false, but not both true and false. But this presupposition is just the law of non-contradiction itself—the same law the critic aims to refute. In other words, anyone who denies the principle of non-contradiction simultaneously affirms it.

(Baggini and Fosl 2010, pp. 36–37)

That is why Aristotle wrote that anyone who negates the law of non-contradiction is “no better than a mere plant [i.e., an unthinking object] … if words have no meaning, [then] reasoning with other people, and indeed with oneself, has been annihilated”.29 While some might appear to have moved past the law of non-contradiction (e.g., Pseudo-Dionysius),30 most theologians would have to rethink their systems in order to continue in their rejection of univocity. While Radical Orthodoxy has tended to underemphasize the analytical side of Thomas Aquinas,31 even he held unshakeably to the law of non-contradiction:

the first indemonstrable principle is that ‘the same thing cannot be affirmed and denied at the same time,’ which is based on the notion of ‘being’ and ‘not-being’: and on this principle all others are based….

(Summa Theologiae 1a, 1, 8, ad 2)32

First of all that which destroys the nature of being is contrary to it. Now, the nature of being is destroyed by its opposite, just as the nature of man is destroyed by things opposite in nature to him or to his parts. But the opposite of being is non-being, with respect to which God is inoperative, so that he cannot make one and the same thing to be and not to be; he cannot make contradictories to exist simultaneously… God is unable to make opposites exist in the same subject at the same time and in the same respect.

(Summa Contra Gentiles, Book II, ch 25, par 11–12)33

For a more modern example (of which there are many), Alan Darley—in his defense of the rationality of analogy—maintains the strong thesis that:

[the law of non-contradiction] applies to [God] literally and supremely… The principle of non-contradiction is grounded upon the Primary Name of God, He Who Is, by which He cannot not Be. Similarly, the law of identity (A = A), which depends on the law of non-contradiction, is the creaturely analogue of the Tetragrammaton, ‘I AM THAT I AM.’ (Exodus 3:14).

(Ibid, p. 231)

In sum, asking if logicalness itself applies univocally to the divine places the critics of univocity in an uncomfortable position. They must admit that the law of non-contradiction is univocally applicable to both creator and creature or abandon its very ‘law-ness’ (which would take a bold person indeed). However, this latter move is exactly the one that Radical Orthodoxy—and Catherine Pickstock in particular—dares to make.

In her 2005 article in Modern Theology, Catherine Pickstock asks

…does analogy in logic violate the principle of non-contradiction? One must concede… that it appears to do so. Scotus was rigorous and correct in this respect… Just as there can only be pure identity and simplicity in the infinite—since finite things are always composed and shifting—so, inversely, there can be no mere logical identity in the un-limited since this notion only makes sense by reference to limitations.34

Pickstock justifies her position by arguing that since the laws of logic were formulated within an Aristotelian ontology they lose their applicability when looking beyond finite substance:

For Aristotle… the law of excluded middle applies because there is such a thing as (for him always limited) “substance”… If God, as according to Aquinas, lies beyond limited substance, then the law loses its field of application. In a similar fashion, the law of excluded middle cannot readily apply to participation of the bounded in the unbounded. For the finite to enter into participation in the infinite is to enter into identity and non-identity, and this coincidence is reflected and doubled in the circumstance that the finite here becomes both finite and infinite at once… Creation seems to impose these mysteries and the incomprehensible logic of analogy seems sensitive to them. According to a Scotist perspective, however, they undergo a démystification… the space for the Logos to amend even our logic may be somewhat lacking on Scotist premises.

(Ibid, pp. 554–55, 557–58)

Thus, basic laws of logic seem to break down on the doorstep of divinity.35

Though Pickstock is responding to Scotus’ argument from non-contradiction rather than the expansion of it in this paper, her response to the former seems equally applicable to the latter. Returning to our original question: Does logicalness apply univocally to both creator and creature? If yes, then non-contradiction (i.e., the predication ‘is logical’) is univocally true of both, and we have univocity. But if the answer is no (as Pickstock maintains) then why must God fit into the logical either/or of creator/creature? If logicalness does not apply to the divine, then how can it be said that univocal language illogically contradicts divine transcendence? Indeed, if God transcends logic then our language can be univocal without negating God’s equivocal otherness, for whatever contradiction was once implied here is no longer an issue. Radical Orthodoxy wishes to make a logical exception for analogy, but once that ladder is let down anyone can climb up, including the exponents of univocity.36 Theologians such as Pickstock (and perhaps even Pseudo-Dionysius in certain places)37 embrace a trans-logical realm only to retreat to logic when they need it to fight a foe. They have failed, as it were, to be consistent in their inconsistencies. This is not to argue against a trans-logical realm—indeed, as a theologian one sees the appeal—but simply to recognize that once that realm is entered it can work just as well for univocity as for analogy.

Perhaps Pickstock et al. might respond by turning to the recent surge in dialetheism and para-consistent logic. Dialetheism maintains—contra the principle of explosion—that the existence of one contradiction does not justify another; thus enabling one to embrace contradiction in analogy without opening the door to a univocal contradiction:

It might be argued that if it is logically possible for any contradiction to be true… then all contradictions are rationally acceptable. This, though, most certainly does not follow… The fact that something is a logical possibility does not entail that it is rational to believe it. It is logically possible that I am a fried egg, though believing that I am is grounds for certifiable insanity… there is a lot more to rationality than consistency. A view, such as that the earth is flat, may be quite consistent (and so logically possible in traditional terms), and yet quite irrational….

(Priest et al. 2006, p. 34)

Dialetheism recognizes that lived experience requires one to constantly bracket off areas of unresolved contradiction (e.g., between determinism and freewill), without these exploding and wiping out all other forms of reasoning (e.g., that my car and another car cannot inhabit the same space at the same time) (Ibid, 234.). Thus, one could maintain—perhaps for scriptural or theological reasons—that analogy is entitled to a trans-logical status while univocity is not, for one contradiction does not automatically justify another. However—even if one were to grant the truth of dialetheism—this objection would still be moot, for univocity is not ‘another’ contradiction at all. Rather, univocity would be entailed in the contradiction of analogy itself. This becomes clear when one thinks through the implications of Pickstock’s claim:

participated esse at once is and is not the divine esse: if a thing is “like” what is higher than it, and this is irreducible to its being like in some ways (univocally) and unlike in other ways (equivocally), then it must be at once present as something that exists and yet also present as not this thing—and in the same way and the same respect.38

If analogy is a contradiction (as Pickstock believes) it would make a statement which both ‘is’ and ‘is not’ applicable to God. She is correct that this would not be a compound (e.g., 55% equivocal, 45% univocal) that could be distilled and reduced back into univocal and equivocal parts. Rather, the nature of a contradiction is that both are wholly true at the same time and in the same way (i.e., 100% univocal, 100% equivocal). This would not be reducible to univocity, for there would be no space where univocity is distinct from equivocity in order to then be untangled from it. However, it could still be said that univocity is wholly true (100% univocity) for that is the ‘both/and’ nature of contradiction. Univocity and equivocity are both wholly true at the same time and in the same way; that is precisely what makes it a contradiction. Pickstock has escaped the reducibility of a rational compound, but only by unwittingly absolutizing both univocity and equivocity. Arguing that theological language contradictorily both is and is not, accurate for the divine, results in a trans-logical defense that uses the same recipe (100% univocal, 100% equivocal) to justify both analogy and univocity. Analogy remains—as Scotus always insisted—a union of equivocity and univocity; Pickstock has merely made it a contradictory union. An analogy would invoke precisely the same contradiction as univocity—and not one contradiction justified by another—thus side-stepping the objection from dialetheism. These would not be separate contradictions but merely unique ways of viewing the same contradiction.

Now, whether this one contradiction should more properly be called univocal or analogous is an interesting question, and perhaps this is where the initial intentions of both positions can be reconciled. On the one hand, traditional proponents of analogy could maintain that this irreducible, trans-logical unity of similarity and dissimilarity has been the precise definition and goal of analogy all along. On the other hand, Scotus did not negate analogy but merely wished to show that univocity was necessary for any successful analogy, which is true to the spirit of the above contradiction. Thus, a trans-logical wedding of the two positions could simultaneously fulfill the underlying aims of both. God would be wholly transcendent, for our language would be wholly equivocal, but in a way that does not undermine the very speaking of that ontological difference, for our language would also be truly univocal. Indeed, once one goes beyond logic to defend their position, not only does this benefit transfer to their enemy, but it also inverts all structures of opposition, reconciling contradictory positions, and reuniting lion and lamb. In a trans-logical realm, the line between univocity and analogy breaks down: the two become one flesh.39 How attractive one finds this trans-logical reconciliation depends on whether one was willing to swallow Pickstock’s initial move beyond reason.40 However, the question of whether or not it is reasonable to transcend reason is beyond our scope here. This paper merely argues that whatever answer one gives to that question, one still cannot shake some shred of univocity. Fleeing to contradiction or to dialetheism may nuance some of the grimmer implications of an unrestrained univocity, but it cannot ultimately escape univocity itself.

One could protest that this project has begged the question. By asking if ‘logicalness is true univocally of creator and creature’, one has assumed that logicalness could not apply analogously (i.e., the very thing supposed to be under debate). Though not dealing with our specific question, Alan Darley made a passing comment to this effect: “We could say that the law of non-contradiction is analogously predicated of the Deity”.41 However, firstly, even if analogy without univocity were possible in general, it would not be applicable in this specific case. For analogy implies that something both is and is not the case, leaving at least some terrain in which it cannot univocally apply. But the nature of a law is that there is no realm, no exception, no gap in which it does not hold. Thus, analogy would be inconsistent with the absoluteness required for law-ness. If the law of non-contradiction is only analogously true, it ceases to be a law and becomes a mere generality (i.e., something that is only true most of the time).

Secondly, to say that the law of non-contradiction is analogously true is to say that the law that something cannot ‘both be and not be’, is and is not true. Could we not then equally say that perhaps univocity itself is analogously true? The term ‘univocal’ may mean something different to God than to us and so univocity could be analogously true of both creator and creature.42 Thirdly, any analogy that lacks a univocal middle term must transcend logical analysis, and so any attempt to say the law of non-contradiction is analogously true already assumes that it is not. While reductionism must halt at the door of simplicity—for there would be no more complexity to breakdown—an analogy is not simple, for it goes in two directions, maintaining that something both is and is not. One might argue that analogy is simple in some way that transcends logical reduction, existing as a mystical wedding of similarity and dissimilarity that cannot be torn asunder. Similarly, divine simplicity is often thought to merge complex traits in a way that is simply beyond human reason. But this was exactly Scotus’ point: a non-univocal analogy must transcend logical analysis. If dissimilarity and similarity are both present at the same time and in the same way, then analogy is a contradiction. If both are present but not at the same time and in the same way, then they are logically distinct, and so theoretically separable into univocal and equivocal parts. One must, as it were, pick their poison. Now, if one is willing—as Pickstock is—to make the trans-logical move to defend analogy then they are welcome to it, but they should admit that this can work just as much in favor of univocity as against it, leading back to our initial thesis. Thus, to say that logicalness is only analogously true would not escape the trans-logical realm and the implications of this paper.

Some might retort to our thesis that these discussions around analogy and univocity have to do with language, not being. And as a historical point about Scotus or Aquinas, they may or may not be right. Yet conceptually, it is unclear how theological language can have no ontological implications whatsoever, and yet still claim to be minimally concerned with the actual nature of theos. Further, to say that logicalness/illogicalness is the sort of thing that only refers to theological propositions, not to God himself, may at first seem like a helpful way to avoid the implications of our argument. But it is merely a variation on the trans-logical move of Pickstock. For if the reality is beyond our ability to grasp it in words, could univocal statements be both true and not true of God in a way that is similarly beyond our linguistic and cognitive grasp? Could linguistics not be indicative of ontology in a way that is also beyond our ability to grasp or articulate? Thus, this boundary between linguistics and ontology is somewhat reminiscent of the issue of the noumenal in Kant, wherein he tried to articulate what one cannot say, yet in so doing end up saying quite a lot about it. And if that boundary can be pierced in order to articulate what cannot be said, why can’t it likewise be pierced to articulate what can be?

4. Conclusions

This paper has constructively expanded Scotus’ argument from contradiction by asking if logicalness itself applies univocally to the creator and creature. If yes, then some form of univocity must be true. If not, then there is no longer a problem with univocal language contradicting transcendence, for contradictions are now permissible. And if one retorts that these discussions are only about language, not being, then why can’t God’s being directly parallel our own without denigrating God, in some way that also goes beyond our semantic understanding? While it is historically debatable how Aquinas might answer these questions, it is hard to see philosophically how he could truly escape the dilemma (indeed, he may even have realized the problem himself, cf. ST 1a.13.5). Either tactic one applies to this question—whether the rational approach of Alan Darley or the more ‘mystical’ interpretation of Pickstock—leads back to the necessity of univocity for the logical coherence of theological language. However, all is not lost for the doctrine of analogy. Along the way, we identified a possible creative convergence of the two theories in a trans-logical realm, a union that seems in line with the spirit of Scotus himself, who did not wish to negate analogy or divine otherness but rather save them through univocity. In this sense, the underlying desire of both the dunce and the dumb ox could be constructively reconciled into one method, articulating transcendence without undermining the very terms of that articulation. Ultimately—regardless of which answer to the dilemma one adopts—this expansion of Scotus’ argument from contradiction has reframed the contemporary and more constructive aspects of the univocalist debate.