For the present, however, we are seeking the primary idea of genus, on which the others, the different species, depend, which is the source of all classification, the term under which universal ideas are embraced. And the idea of genus will be reached if we begin to reckon back from particulars; for in this way we shall be conducted back to the primary notion.
Now "man" is a species, as Aristotle says; so is "horse," or "dog." We must therefore discover some common bond for all these terms, one which embraces them and holds them subordinate to itself. And what is this? It is "animal." And so there begins to be agenus "animal," including all these terms, "man," "horse," and "dog."
But there are certain things which have life (anima) and yet are not "animals." For it is agreed that plants and trees possess life, and that is why we speak of them as living and dying. Therefore, the term "living things" will occupy a still higher place, because both animals and plants are included in this category.
Certain objects, however, lack life—such as rocks. There will therefore be another term to take precedence over "living things," and that is "substance." I shall classify "substance" by saying that all substances are either animate or inanimate.
But there is still something superior to "substance"; for we speak of certain things as possessing substance, and certain things as lacking substance. What, then, will be the term from which these things are derived? It is that to which we lately gave an inappropriate name, "that which exists." For by using this term they will be divided into species, so that we can say: that which exists either possesses, or lacks, substance.
This, therefore, is what genus is—the primary, original, and (to play upon the word) "general." Of course, there are the othergenera: but they are "special" genera: "man" being, for example, a genus. For "man" comprises species: by nations—Greek, Roman, Parthian; by colors—white, black, yellow. The term comprises individuals also: Cato, Cicero, Lucretius.
So "man" falls into the category genus, in so far as it includes many kinds; but in so far as it is subordinate to another term, it falls into the category species. But the genus "that which exists" is general, and has no term superior to it. It is the first term in the classification of things, and all things are included under it.
Now "man" is a species, as Aristotle says; so is "horse," or "dog." We must therefore discover some common bond for all these terms, one which embraces them and holds them subordinate to itself. And what is this? It is "animal." And so there begins to be agenus "animal," including all these terms, "man," "horse," and "dog."
But there are certain things which have life (anima) and yet are not "animals." For it is agreed that plants and trees possess life, and that is why we speak of them as living and dying. Therefore, the term "living things" will occupy a still higher place, because both animals and plants are included in this category.
Certain objects, however, lack life—such as rocks. There will therefore be another term to take precedence over "living things," and that is "substance." I shall classify "substance" by saying that all substances are either animate or inanimate.
But there is still something superior to "substance"; for we speak of certain things as possessing substance, and certain things as lacking substance. What, then, will be the term from which these things are derived? It is that to which we lately gave an inappropriate name, "that which exists." For by using this term they will be divided into species, so that we can say: that which exists either possesses, or lacks, substance.
This, therefore, is what genus is—the primary, original, and (to play upon the word) "general." Of course, there are the othergenera: but they are "special" genera: "man" being, for example, a genus. For "man" comprises species: by nations—Greek, Roman, Parthian; by colors—white, black, yellow. The term comprises individuals also: Cato, Cicero, Lucretius.
So "man" falls into the category genus, in so far as it includes many kinds; but in so far as it is subordinate to another term, it falls into the category species. But the genus "that which exists" is general, and has no term superior to it. It is the first term in the classification of things, and all things are included under it.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 58
Yet before Seneca presents the Platonic distinctions, he speaks of classification as a whole, and employs terms that most students of philosophy will be familiar with from the writings of Aristotle: the relationship of genus and species.
Yet again, I could go on for pages and pages about the “five predicables”, and all the logical details about how higher and lower classes relate to one another, but it is sufficient to at least begin with the awareness that we have it within our power to group things according to an orderly hierarchy. For all the variations in the way Aristotle, or Seneca, or the Scholastics employ the language, that basic rule remains the same.
Whenever I find something essentially in common between many different individual instances, I have formed an abstract idea of what is shared. This is the remarkable capacity of the mind, so immediate to our nature while also so deeply profound: to “draw out” the universal identity from a diversity of particulars.
I soon find that this is a sort of sliding scale, in that the breadth of my definitions can be broader or narrower, in which one category will include lesser ones, and it, in turn, will be subsumed into a greater one. On the simplest level, a genus has a wider inclusion, and a species has a more limited inclusion.
Each species is a part of a genus, and that genus is itself a species to a higher genus, and so on. It only stops at either extreme end, when we have reached the most comprehensive category, or we have descended to the most selective category.
Examples, like the ones Seneca offers, always help to make this clearer:
Take the species “man”, or “human being” if you prefer that name. It is part of the larger genus of “animal”, of which “dog” or “cat” are also a species.
“Animals” are then a species of the larger genus “living things”, of which “plants” are also a species.
“Living things” are then a species of the larger genus “substances”, of which “stones” are also a species.
We can go even further, for “substances” are then a species of the larger genus “being” or “that which exists”, of which things which lack a concrete presence are also a species.
When a fine old professor first introduced me to this model in the form of what is called the Tree of Porphyry, it was as if the scales had fallen from my eyes. I had always somehow known that the Universe worked in harmony, while this now aided me in seeing how the parts fit within the whole, how the many branches were joined together by the trunk.
In my own head, I also sometimes imagine it in the form of expanding concentric circles or spheres. We could say that at the center or at the “bottom” are the simplest of particles, and then reaching outward to infinity or at the “top” is the fullness of Being itself, which some of us choose to call God.
It is the role of the understanding to discover purpose in the world, and the Universe is happy to reveal her design, if only we look with clarity and consistency.
Yet before Seneca presents the Platonic distinctions, he speaks of classification as a whole, and employs terms that most students of philosophy will be familiar with from the writings of Aristotle: the relationship of genus and species.
Yet again, I could go on for pages and pages about the “five predicables”, and all the logical details about how higher and lower classes relate to one another, but it is sufficient to at least begin with the awareness that we have it within our power to group things according to an orderly hierarchy. For all the variations in the way Aristotle, or Seneca, or the Scholastics employ the language, that basic rule remains the same.
Whenever I find something essentially in common between many different individual instances, I have formed an abstract idea of what is shared. This is the remarkable capacity of the mind, so immediate to our nature while also so deeply profound: to “draw out” the universal identity from a diversity of particulars.
I soon find that this is a sort of sliding scale, in that the breadth of my definitions can be broader or narrower, in which one category will include lesser ones, and it, in turn, will be subsumed into a greater one. On the simplest level, a genus has a wider inclusion, and a species has a more limited inclusion.
Each species is a part of a genus, and that genus is itself a species to a higher genus, and so on. It only stops at either extreme end, when we have reached the most comprehensive category, or we have descended to the most selective category.
Examples, like the ones Seneca offers, always help to make this clearer:
Take the species “man”, or “human being” if you prefer that name. It is part of the larger genus of “animal”, of which “dog” or “cat” are also a species.
“Animals” are then a species of the larger genus “living things”, of which “plants” are also a species.
“Living things” are then a species of the larger genus “substances”, of which “stones” are also a species.
We can go even further, for “substances” are then a species of the larger genus “being” or “that which exists”, of which things which lack a concrete presence are also a species.
When a fine old professor first introduced me to this model in the form of what is called the Tree of Porphyry, it was as if the scales had fallen from my eyes. I had always somehow known that the Universe worked in harmony, while this now aided me in seeing how the parts fit within the whole, how the many branches were joined together by the trunk.
In my own head, I also sometimes imagine it in the form of expanding concentric circles or spheres. We could say that at the center or at the “bottom” are the simplest of particles, and then reaching outward to infinity or at the “top” is the fullness of Being itself, which some of us choose to call God.
It is the role of the understanding to discover purpose in the world, and the Universe is happy to reveal her design, if only we look with clarity and consistency.
—Reflection written in 5/2013
IMAGES: examples of the Tree of Porphyry
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