## 1. Life



Ockham led an unusually eventful life for a philosopher. As with so
many medieval figures who were not prominent when they were born, we
know next to nothing about the circumstances of Ockham's birth
and early years, and have to estimate dates by extrapolating from
known dates of events later in his
 life.[1]



Ockham's life may be divided into three main periods.


### 1.1 England (c. 1287-1324)



Ockham was born, probably in late 1287 or early 1288, in the village
of Ockham (= Oak Hamlet) in Surrey, a little to the southwest of
 London.[2]
 He probably learned basic Latin at a village school in Ockham or
nearby, but this is not
 certain.[3]
 At an early age, somewhere between seven and thirteen, Ockham was
"given" to the Franciscan order (the so called
 "Greyfriars").[4]
 There was no Franciscan house (called a "convent") in the
tiny village of Ockham itself; the nearest one was in London, a
day's ride to the northeast. It was there that Ockham was
sent.



As an educational institution, even for higher education, London
Greyfriars was a distinguished place; at the time, it was second only
to the full-fledged Universities of Paris and Oxford. At Greyfriars,
Ockham probably got most of his "grade school" education,
and then went on to what we might think of as "high
school" education in basic logic and "science"
(natural philosophy), beginning around the age of fourteen.



Around 1310, when he was about 23, Ockham began his theological
training. It is not certain where this training occurred. It could
well have been at the London Convent, or it could have been at Oxford,
where there was another Franciscan convent associated with the
university. In any event, Ockham was at Oxford studying theology by at
least the year 1318-19, and probably the previous year as well,
when (in 1317) he began a required two-year cycle of lectures
commenting on Peter Lombard's *Sentences,* the standard
theological textbook of the day. Then, probably in 1321, Ockham
returned to London Greyfriars, where he remained. Although he had
taken the initial steps in the theology program at Oxford (hence his
occasional nickname, the *Venerabilis Inceptor*,
"Venerable Beginner"), Ockham did not complete the program
there, and never became a fully qualified "master" of
theology at Oxford. Nevertheless, London Greyfriars was an
intellectually lively place, and Ockham was by no means isolated from
the heat of academic controversy. Among his "housemates"
were two other important Franciscan thinkers of the day, Walter
Chatton and Adam Wodeham, both sharp critics of Ockham's views.
It was in this context that Ockham wrote many of his most important
philosophical and theological works.



In 1323 Ockham was called before the Franciscan province's
chapter meeting, held that year in Bristol, to defend his views, which
were regarded with suspicion by some of his confreres. About the same
time, someone--it is not clear who--went from England to the
Papal court at Avignon and charged Ockham with teaching
 heresy.[5]
 As a result, a commission of theologians was set up to study the
case. Ockham was called to Avignon in May, 1324, to answer the
charges. He never went back to England.


### 1.2 Avignon (1324-28)



While in Avignon, Ockham stayed at the Franciscan convent there. It
has sometimes been suggested that he was effectively under
"house arrest," but this seems an exaggeration. On the
contrary, he appears to have been free to do more or less as he
pleased, although of course he did have to be "on hand" in
case the investigating commission wanted to question him about his
writings. The investigation must not have demanded much of
Ockham's own time, since he was able to work on a number of
other projects while he was in Avignon, including finishing his last
major theological work, the *Quodlibets*. It should be pointed
out that, although there were some stern pronouncements that came out
of the investigation of Ockham, his views were never officially
condemned as heretical.



In 1327, Michael of Cesena, the Franciscan "Minister
General" (the chief administrative officer of the order)
likewise came to Avignon, in his case because of an emerging
controversy between the Franciscans and the current Pope, John XXII,
over the idea of "Apostolic poverty," the view that Jesus
and the Apostles owned no property at all of their own but, like the
mendicant Franciscans, went around begging and living off the
generosity of others. The Franciscans held this view, and maintained
that their own practices were a special form of "imitation of
Christ." Pope John XXII rejected the doctrine, which is why
Michael of Cesena was in Avignon.



Things came to a real crisis in 1328, when Michael and the Pope had a
serious confrontation over the matter. As a result, Michael asked
Ockham to study the question from the point of view of previous papal
statements and John's own previous writings on the subject. When
he did so, Ockham came to the conclusion, apparently somewhat to his
own surprise, that John's view was not only wrong but outright
heretical. Furthermore, the heresy was not just an honest mistake; it
was *stubbornly* heretical, a view John maintained *even
after he had been shown it was wrong*. As a result, Ockham argued,
Pope John was not just teaching heresy, but was a heretic himself in
the strongest possible sense, and had therefore effectively abdicated
his papacy. In short, Pope John XXII was no pope at all!



Clearly, things had become intolerable for Ockham in Avignon.


### 1.3 Munich (1328/29-47)



Under cover of darkness the night of May 26, 1328, Michael of Cesena,
Ockham, and a few other sympathetic Franciscans fled Avignon and went
into exile. They initially went to Italy, where Louis (Ludwig) of
Bavaria, the Holy Roman Emperor, was in Pisa at the time, along with
his court and retinue. The Holy Roman Emperor was engaged in a
political dispute with the Papacy, and Ockham's group found
refuge under his protection. On June 6, 1328, Ockham was officially
excommunicated for leaving Avignon without
 permission.[6]
 Around 1329, Louis returned to Munich, together with Michael, Ockham
and the rest of their fugitive band. Ockham stayed there, or at any
rate in areas under Imperial control, until his death. During this
time, Ockham wrote exclusively on political
 matters.[7]
 He died on the night of April 9/10, 1347, at roughly the age of
 sixty.[8]


## 2. Writings



Ockham's writings are conventionally divided into two groups:
the so called "academic" writings and the
"political" ones. By and large, the former were written or
at least begun while Ockham was still in England, while the latter
were written toward the end of Ockham's Avignon period and
later, in
 exile.[9]
 With the exception of his *Dialogue,* a huge political work,
all are now available in modern critical editions, and many are now
translated into English, in whole or in
 part.[10]
 The academic writings are in turn divided into two groups: the
"theological" works and the "philosophical"
ones, although both groups are essential for any study of
Ockham's philosophy.



Among Ockham's most important writings are:


* Academic Writings
	+ Theological Works
		- *Commentary on the Sentences of Peter Lombard*
		(1317-18). Book I survives in an *ordinatio* or
		*scriptum*--a revised and corrected version, approved by
		the author himself for distribution. Books II-IV survive only as a
		*reportatio*--a transcript of the actually delivered
		lectures, taken down by a "reporter," without benefit of
		later revisions or corrections by the author.
		- *Seven Quodlibets* (based on London disputations held in
		1322-24, but revised and edited in Avignon 1324-25).
	+ Philosophical Works
		- Logical Writings
			* *Expositions* of Porphyry's *Isagoge* and of
			Aristotle's *Categories, On Interpretation,* and
			*Sophistic Refutations* (1321-24).
			* *Summa of Logic* (c. 1323-25). A large, independent
			and systematic treatment of logic and semantics.
			* *Treatise on Predestination and God's Foreknowledge with
			Respect to Future Contingents* (1321-24).
		- Writings on Natural Philosophy
			* *Exposition of Aristotle's Physics* (1322-24).
			A detailed, close commentary. Incomplete.
			* *Questions on Aristotle's Books of the Physics*
			(before 1324). Not strictly a commentary, this work nevertheless
			discusses a long series of questions arising out of Aristotle's
			*Physics.*
* Political Writings
	+ *Eight Questions on the Power of the Pope*
	(1340-41).
	+ *The Work of Ninety Days* (1332-34).
	+ *Letter to the Friars Minor* (1334).
	+ *Short Discourse* (1341-42).
	+ *Dialogue* (c. 1334-46).



Several lesser items are omitted from the above list.


## 3. Logic and Semantics



Ockham is rightly regarded as one of the most significant logicians of
the Middle Ages. Nevertheless, his originality and influence should
not be exaggerated. For all his deserved reputation, his logical views
are sometimes
 derivative[11]
 and occasionally very
 idiosyncratic.[12]



Logic, for Ockham, is crucial to the advancement of knowledge. In the
"Prefatory Letter" to his *Summa of Logic,* for
example, he praises it in striking language:



> 
> For logic is the most useful tool of all the arts. Without it no
> science can be fully known. It is not worn out by repeated use, after
> the manner of material tools, but rather admits of continual growth
> through the diligent exercise of any other science. For just as a
> mechanic who lacks a complete knowledge of his tool gains a fuller
> [knowledge] by using it, so one who is educated in the firm principles
> of logic, while he painstakingly devotes his labor to the other
> sciences, acquires at the same time a greater skill at this art.
> 



Ockham's main logical writings consist of a series of
commentaries (or "expositions") on Aristotle's and
Porphyry's logical works, plus his own *Summa of Logic,*
his major work in the field. His *Treatise on Predestination*
contains an influential theory on the logic of future contingent
propositions, and other works as well include occasional discussions
of logical topics, notably his *Quodlibets*.


### 3.1 The *Summa of Logic*



Ockham's *Summa of Logic* is divided into three parts,
with the third part subdivided into four subparts. Part I divides
language, in accordance with Aristotle's *On
Interpretation* (1, 16a3-8, as influenced by
Boethius's interpretation), into written, spoken and mental
language, with the written kind dependent on the spoken, and the
spoken on mental language. Mental language, the language of thought,
is thus the most primitive and basic level of language. Part I goes on
to lay out a fairly detailed theory of terms, including the
distinctions between (a) categorematic and syncategorematic terms, (b)
abstract and concrete terms, and (c) absolute and connotative terms.
Part I then concludes with a discussion of the five
"predicables" from Porphyry's *Isagoge* and
of each of Aristotle's categories.



While Part I is about terms, Part II is about
"propositions," which are made up of terms. Part II gives
a systematic and nuanced theory of truth conditions for the four
traditional kinds of assertoric categorical propositions on the
"Square of Opposition," and then goes on to tensed, modal
and more complicated categorical propositions, as well as a variety of
"hypothetical"
 (molecular[13])
 propositions. The vehicle for this account of truth conditions is the
semantic theory of "supposition," which will be treated
below.



If Part I is about terms and Part II about propositions made up of
terms, Part III is about arguments, which are in turn made up of
propositions made up of terms. It is divided into four subparts. Part
III.1 treats syllogisms, and includes a comprehensive theory of modal
 syllogistic.[14]
 Part III.2 concerns demonstrative syllogisms in particular. Part
III.3 is in effect Ockham's theory of consequence, although it
also includes discussions of semantic paradoxes like the Liar (the so
called *insolubilia*) and of the still little-understood
disputation form known as "obligation." Part III.4 is a
discussion of fallacies.



Thus, while the *Summa of Logic* is not in any sense a
"commentary" on Aristotle's logical writings, it
nevertheless covers all the traditional ground in the traditional
order: Porphyry's *Isagoge* and Aristotle's
*Categories* in Part I, *On Interpretation* in Part II,
*Prior Analytics* in Part III.1, *Posterior Analytics*
in Part III.2, *Topics* (and much else) in Part III.3, and
finally *Sophistic Refutations* in Part III.4.


### 3.2 Signification, Connotation, Supposition



Part I of the *Summa of Logic* also introduces a number of
semantic notions that play an important role throughout much of
Ockham's philosophy. None of these notions is original with
Ockham, although he develops them with great sophistication and
employs them with skill.



The most basic such notion is "signification." For the
Middle Ages, a term "signifies" *what it makes us think
of*. This notion of signification was unanimously accepted;
although there was great dispute over *what* terms signified,
there was agreement over the
 criterion.[15]
 Ockham, unlike many (but no means all) other medieval logicians, held
that terms do not in general signify thought, but can signify anything
at all (including things not presently existing). The function of
language, therefore, is not so much to communicate thoughts from one
mind to another, but to convey information about the
 world.[16]



In *Summa of Logic* I.33, Ockham acknowledges four different
kinds of signification. In his first sense, a term signifies whatever
things it is truly predicable of by means of a present-tensed,
assertoric copula. That is, a term *t* signifies a thing
*x* if and only if 'This is a *t*' is true,
pointing to *x*. In the second sense, *t* signifies
*x* if and only if 'This is (or was, or will be, or can
be) a *t*' is true, pointing to
 *x.*[17]
 These first two senses of signification are together called
"primary" signification.



In the third sense, terms can also be said to signify certain things
they are *not* truly predicable of, no matter the tense or
modality of the copula. For instance, the word 'brave' not
only makes us think of brave people (whether presently existing or
not); it also makes us think of the *bravery* in virtue of
which we call them "brave." Thus, 'brave'
signifies and is truly predicable of brave people, but also signifies
bravery, even though it is not truly predicable of bravery. (Bravery
is not brave.) This kind of signification is called
"secondary" signification.
 To
 a first approximation, we can say that a "connotative"
term is just a term that has a secondary signification, and that such
a connotative term "connotes" exactly what it secondarily
signifies; in short, connotation is just secondary
 signification.[18]
 The fourth sense, finally, is the broadest one: according to it any
linguistic unit, including a whole sentence, can be said to signify
whatever things it makes us think of in some way or other. A sentence
signifies in this sense whatever it is that its terms primarily or
secondarily signify.



The theory of supposition was the centerpiece of late medieval
semantic theory. Supposition is not the same as signification. First
of all, terms signify wherever we encounter them, whereas they have
supposition only in the context of a proposition. But the differences
go beyond that. Whereas signification is a psychological, cognitive
relation, the theory of supposition is, at least in part, a theory of
reference. For Ockham, there are three main kinds of
 supposition[19]:


* Personal supposition, in which a term supposits for (refers to)
what it signifies (in either of the first two senses of signification
described above). For example, in 'Every dog is a mammal',
both 'dog' and 'mammal' have personal
supposition.
* Simple supposition, in which a term supposits for a concept it
does not signify. Thus, in 'Dog is a species' or
'Dog is a universal', the subject 'dog' has
simple supposition. For Ockham the nominalist, the only real
universals are universal concepts in the mind and, derivatively,
universal spoken or written terms expressing those concepts.
* Material supposition, in which a term supposits for a spoken or
written expression it does not signify. Thus, in 'Dog has three
letters', the subject 'dog' has material
 supposition.[20]



Personal supposition, which was the main focus, was divided into
various subkinds, distinguished in terms of a theory of "descent
to singulars" and "ascent from singulars." A quick
example will give the flavor: In 'Every dog is a mammal',
'dog' is said to have "confused and
distributive" personal supposition insofar as


* It is possible to "descend to singulars" as follows:
"Every dog is a mammal; therefore, Fido is a mammal, and Rover
is a mammal, and Bowser is a mammal ...," and so on for all
dogs.
* It is *not* possible to "ascend from any one
singular" as follows: "Fido is a mammal; therefore, every
dog is a mammal."



Although the mechanics of this part of supposition theory are well
understood, in Ockham and in other authors, its exact purpose remains
an open question. Although at first the theory looks like an account
of truth conditions for quantified propositions, it will not work for
that purpose. And although the theory was sometimes used as an aid to
spotting and analyzing fallacies, this was never done systematically
and the theory is in any event ill suited for that
 purpose.[21]


### 3.3 Mental Language, Connotation and Definitions



Ockham was the first philosopher to develop in some detail the notion
of "mental language" and to put it to work for him.
Aristotle, Boethius and several others had mentioned it before, but
Ockham's innovation was to systematically transpose to the
fine-grained analysis of human thought both the grammatical categories
of his time, such as those of noun, verb, adverb, singular, plural and
so on, and -- even more importantly -- the central
semantical ideas of signification, connotation and supposition
introduced in the previous
 section.[22]
 Written words for him are "subordinated" to spoken words,
and spoken words in turn are "subordinated" to mental
units called "concepts", which can be combined into
syntactically structured mental propositions, just as spoken and
written words can be combined into audible or visible sentences.



Whereas the signification of terms in spoken and written language is
purely conventional and can be changed by mutual agreement (hence
English speakers say 'dog' whereas in French it is
*chien*), the signification of mental terms is established by
nature, according to Ockham, and cannot be changed at will. Concepts,
in other words, are *natural signs*: my concept of dog
naturally signifies dogs. How this "natural signification"
is to be accounted for in the final analysis for Ockham is not
entirely clear, but it seems to be based both on the fact that simple
concepts are normally caused within the mind by their objects (my
simple concept of dog originated in me as an effect of my perceptual
encounter with dogs), and on the fact that concepts are in some way
"naturally similar" to their
 objects.[23]




This arrangement provides an account of synonymy and equivocation in
spoken and written language. Two simple terms (whether from the same
or different spoken or written languages) are *synonymous* if
they are ultimately subordinated to the same concept; a single given
term of spoken or written language is *equivocal* if it is
ultimately subordinated to more than one concept.



This raises an obvious question: Is there synonymy or equivocation in
mental language itself? (If there is, it will obviously have to be
accounted for in some other way than for spoken/written language.) A
great deal of modern secondary literature has been devoted to this
question. Trentman [1970] was the first to argue that no, there is no
synonymy or equivocation in mental language. On the contrary, mental
language for Ockham is a kind of lean, stripped down,
"canonical" language with no frills or inessentials, a
little like the "ideal languages" postulated by logical
atomists in the first part of the twentieth century. Spade [1980]
likewise argued in greater detail, on both theoretical and textual
grounds, that there is no synonymy or equivocation in mental language.
More recently, Panaccio [1990, 2004], Tweedale [1992] (both on largely
textual grounds), and Chalmers [1999] (on mainly theoretical grounds)
have argued for a different interpretation, which now tends to be more
widely accepted. What comes out at this point is that Ockham's
mental language is *not* to be seen as a logically ideal
language and that it does incorporate both some redundancies and some
ambiguities.



The question is complicated, but it goes to the heart of much of what
Ockham is up to. In order to see why, let us return briefly to the
theory of
 connotation.[24]
 Connotation was described
 above
 in terms of primary and secondary signification. But in *Summa of
Logic* I.10, Ockham himself draws the distinction between absolute
and connotative terms by means of the theory of definition.



For Ockham, there are two kinds of definitions: *real*
definitions and *nominal* definitions. A real definition is
somehow supposed to reveal the essential metaphysical structure of
what it defines; nominal definitions do not do that. As Ockham sets it
up, all *connotative* terms have nominal definitions, never
real definitions, and *absolute* terms (although not all of
them) have real definitions, never nominal definitions. (Some absolute
terms have no definitions at
 all.[25])



As an example of a real definition, consider: 'Man is a rational
animal' or 'Man is a substance composed of a body and an
intellective soul'. Each of these traditional definitions is
correct, and each in its own way expresses the essential metaphysical
structure of a human being. But notice: the two definitions do not
*signify* (make us think of) exactly the same things. The first
one makes us think of all rational things (in virtue of the first word
of the definiens) plus all animals (whether rational or not, in virtue
of the second word of the definiens). The second definition makes us
think of, among other things, all substances (in virtue of the word
'substance' in the definiens), whereas the first one does
not. It follows therefore that an absolute term can have several
distinct real definitions that don't always signify exactly the
same things. They will *primarily* signify--be truly
predicable of--exactly the same things, since they will primarily
signify just what the term they define primarily signifies. But they
can also (secondarily) signify other things as
 well.[26]



Nominal definitions, Ockham says, are different: There is one and only
one nominal definition for any given connotative
 term.[27]
 While a real definition is expected to provide a structural
description of certain things (which can be done in various ways, as
we just saw), a nominal definition, by contrast, is supposed to unfold
in a precise way the signification of the connotative term it serves
to define, and this can only be done, Ockham thinks, by explicitly
mentioning, in the right order and with the right connections, which
kind of things are primarily signified by this term and which are
secondarily signified. The nominal definition of the connotative term
"brave", to take a simple example, is "a living
being endowed with bravery"; this reveals that
"brave" primarily signifies certain living beings
(referred to by the first part of the definition) and that it
secondarily signifies -- or connotes -- singular qualities
of bravery (referred to by the last part of the
 definition).[28]
 Any non-equivalent nominal definition is bound to indicate a
different signification and would, consequently, be unsuitable if the
original one was correct.



Now, several commentators, following Trentman and Spade, concluded on
this basis that there are no *simple* connotative terms in
Ockham's mental language. They reasoned as follows: a
connotative term is synonymous with its nominal definition, but there
is no synonymy in mental language according to Ockham; mental
language, therefore, cannot contain both a simple connotative term and
its complex nominal definition; since it must certainly have the
resources for formulating adequate definitions, what must be dispensed
with is the defined simple term; and since *all* connotative
terms are supposed to have a nominal definition, it follows that
mental language contains only absolute terms (along with
syncategorematic ones, of course). It even came to be supposed in this
line of interpretation, that the very central point of Ockham's
nominalist program was to show that if anything can be truly said
about the world, it can be said using only absolute and
syncategorematic terms, and that this is precisely what happens in
mental language.



The consequences were far-reaching. Not only did this interpretation
claim to provide an overall understanding of what Ockham was up to,
but it also inevitably led to conclude that his whole nominalist
program was bound to failure. All relational terms, indeed, are taken
to be connotative terms in Ockham's semantics. The program,
consequently, was thought to require the semantical reduction of all
relational terms to combinations of non-relational ones, which seems
hardly possible. Thus, the question whether there are simple
connotative terms or not in Ockham's mental language is crucial
to our understanding of the success of his overall ontological
project. Since spoken and written languages are semantically
derivative on mental language, it is vital that we get the semantics
of mental language to work out right for Ockham, or else the
systematic coherence of much of what he has to say will be in
jeopardy.



In view of recent scholarship, though, it appears highly doubtful that
Ockham's purpose really was to use nominal definitions to
eliminate all simple connotative terms from mental language. For one
thing, as Spade had remarked himself, Ockham never systematically
engages in explicit attempts at such semantical reductions, which
would be quite odd if this was the central component of his
nominalism. Furthermore it was shown that Ockham did in fact hold that
there *are* simple connotative terms in mental language. He
says it explicitly and repeatedly, and in a variety of texts from his
earlier to his later philosophical and theological
 writings.[29]
 The secondary literature, consequently, has now gradually converged
on the view that, for Ockham, there is no synonymy among
*simple* terms in mental language, but that there can be some
redundancy between simple terms and complex expressions, or between
various complex expressions. If so, nothing prevents a simple
connotative concept to coexist in mental language with its nominal
definition.



Ockham indeed explicitly *denies* that a complex definition is
in general wholly synonymous with the corresponding defined
 term.[30]
 His point, presumably, is that the definition usually signifies
*more* things than the defined term. Take "brave"
again. Its definition, remember, is "a living being endowed with
bravery". Now, the first part of this complex expression makes
us think of *all* living beings, whereas the simple term
"brave" has only the brave ones as its primary
significates and does not signify in any way the non-brave living
beings. This shows in effect that simple connotative terms are not
-- at least not always -- shorthand abbreviations for their
nominal definitions in Ockham's view. And it must be conjectured
that *some* simple connotative concepts can be directly
acquired on the basis of perceptual experiences, just as absolute ones
are supposed to be (think of a relational concept like "taller
than" or a qualitative one like "white").



Ockham's nominal definitions, then, should not be seen as
reductionist devices for eliminating certain terms, but as a
privileged means for making conspicuous what the (primary and
secondary) significates of the defined terms are. The main point here
is that such definitions, when correctly formulated, explicitly reveal
the ontological commitments associated with the normal use of the
defined terms. The definition of "brave" as "a
living being endowed with bravery", for example, shows that the
correct use of the term "brave" commits us only to the
existence of singular living beings and singular braveries.
Ockham's nominalism does not require the elimination of simple
connotative concepts after all; its main relevant thesis, on the
contrary, is that their use is ontologically harmless since they do
not signify (either primarily or secondarily) anything but individual
things, as their nominal definitions are supposed to make it
clear.


## 4. Metaphysics



Ockham was a nominalist, indeed he is the person whose name is perhaps
most famously associated with nominalism. But nominalism means many
different things:


* A denial of metaphysical universals. Ockham was emphatically a
nominalist in this sense.
* An emphasis on reducing one's ontology to a bare minimum, on
paring down the supply of fundamental ontological categories. Ockham
was likewise a nominalist in this sense.
* A denial of "abstract" entities. Depending on what one
means, Ockham was or was not a nominalist in this sense. He believed
in "abstractions" such as *whiteness* and
*humanity,* for instance, although he did not believe they were
universals. (On the contrary, there are at least as many distinct
whitenesses as there are white things.) He certainly believed in
immaterial entities such as God and angels. He did not believe in
mathematical ("quantitative") entities of any kind.



The first two kinds of nominalism listed above are independent of one
another. Historically, there have been philosophers who denied
metaphysical universals, but allowed (individual) entities in more
ontological categories than Ockham does. Conversely, one might reduce
the number of ontological categories, and yet hold that universal
entities are needed in the categories that remain.


### 4.1 Ockham's Razor



Still, Ockham's "nominalism," in both the first and
the second of the above senses, is often viewed as derived from a
common source: an underlying concern for ontological parsimony. This
is summed up in the famous slogan known as "Ockham's
Razor," often expressed as "Don't multiply entities
beyond
 necessity."[31]
 Although the sentiment is certainly Ockham's, that particular
formulation is nowhere to be found in his texts. Moreover, as usually
stated, it is a sentiment that virtually *all* philosophers,
medieval or otherwise, would accept; no one wants a needlessly bloated
ontology. The question, of course, is which entities are needed and
which are not.



Ockham's Razor, in the senses in which it can be found in Ockham
himself, never allows us to *deny* putative entities; at best
it allows us to refrain from positing them in the absence of known
compelling reasons for doing so. In part, this is because human beings
can never be sure they know what is and what is not "beyond
necessity"; the necessities are not always clear to us. But even
if we did know them, Ockham would still not allow that his Razor
allows us to *deny* entities that are unnecessary. For Ockham,
the only truly necessary entity is God; everything else, the whole of
creation, is radically contingent through and through. In short,
Ockham does not accept the Principle of Sufficient Reason.



Nevertheless, we do sometimes have sufficient methodological grounds
for positively affirming the existence of certain things. Ockham
acknowledges three sources for such grounds (three sources of positive
knowledge). As he says in *Sent.* I, dist. 30, q. 1: "For
nothing ought to be posited without a reason given, unless it is
self-evident (*literally,* known through itself) or known by
experience or proved by the authority of Sacred Scripture."


### 4.2 The Rejection of Universals



In the case of universal entities, Ockham's nominalism is
*not* based on his Razor, his principle of parsimony. That is,
Ockham does not hold merely that there is no good reason for affirming
universals, so that we should refrain from doing so in the absence of
further evidence. No, he holds that theories of universals, or at
least the theories he considers, are outright incoherent; they either
are self-contradictory or at least violate certain other things we
know are true in virtue of the three sources just cited. For Ockham,
the only universal entities it makes sense to talk about are universal
concepts, and derivative on them, universal terms in spoken and
written language. Metaphysically, these "universal"
concepts are singular entities like all others; they are
"universal" only in the sense of being "predicable
of many."



With respect to the exact ontological status of such conceptual
entities, however, Ockham changed his view over the course of his
career. To begin with, he adopted what is known as the
*fictum*-theory, a theory according to which universals have no
"real" existence at all in the Aristotelian categories,
but instead are purely "intentional objects" with a
special mode of existence; they have only a kind of
"thought"-reality. Eventually, however, Ockham came to
think this intentional realm of "fictive" entities was not
needed, and by the time of his *Summa of Logic* and the
*Quodlibets* adopts instead a so called
*intellectio*-theory, according to which a universal concept is
just the act of thinking about several objects at once; metaphysically
such an "act" is a singular quality of an individual mind,
and is "universal" only in the sense of being a mental
sign of several things at once and being predicable of them in mental
 propositions.[32]


### 4.3 Exposition or Parsing Away Entities



Thus, Ockham is quite certain there are no metaphysically universal
entities. But when it comes to paring down the number of basic
ontological categories, he is more cautious, and it is there that he
uses his Razor ruthlessly--always to suspend judgment, never to
deny.



The main vehicle for this "ontological reduction" is the
theory of connotation, coupled with the related theory of
"exposition." The theory of exposition, which is not fully
developed in Ockham, will become increasingly prominent in authors
immediately after him. In effect, the theory of connotation is related
to the theory of exposition as explicit definition is related to
contextual definition. The notion of the "square" of a
number can be explicitly defined, for example, as the result of
multiplying that number by itself. Contextual definition operates not
at the level of terms, but at the level of propositions. Thus,
Bertrand Russell famously treated 'The present king of France is
bald' as amounting to 'There is an *x* such that
*x* is a present king of France and *x* is bald, and for
all *y* if *y* is a present king of France then
*y* = *x*'. We are never given any outright
definition of the term 'present king of France', but
instead are given a technique of paraphrasing away seemingly
referential occurrences of that term in such a way that we are not
committed to any actually existing present kings of France. So too,
Ockham tries to provide us, at the propositional level, with
paraphrases of propositions that seem at first to refer to entities he
sees no reason to believe
 in.[33]



For example, in *Summa of Logic,* II.11, among other places,
Ockham argues that we can account for the truth of 'Socrates is
similar to Plato' without having to appeal to a relational
entity called "similarity":



> 
> For example, for the truth of 'Socrates is similar to
> Plato', it is required that Socrates have some quality and that
> Plato have a quality of the same species. Thus, from the very fact
> that Socrates is white and Plato is white, Socrates is similar to
> Plato and conversely. Likewise, if both are black, or hot, [then] they
> are similar *without anything else added.* (Emphasis added.)
> 



In
 this way, Ockham removes all need for entities in seven of the
traditional Aristotelian ten categories; all that remain are entities
in the categories of substance and quality, and a few entities in the
category of relation, which Ockham thinks are required for theological
reasons pertaining to the Trinity, the Incarnation and the Eucharist,
even though our natural cognitive powers would see no reason for them
at
 all.[34]
 As is to be expected, the ultimate success of Ockham's program
is a matter of considerable
 dispute.[35]



It should be stressed again, however, that this program in no way
requires that it should be possible to dispense altogether with terms
from any of the ten Aristotelian categories (relational and
quantitative terms in particular). Ockham's claim is simply that
all our basic scientific terms, whether absolute or connotative,
signify nothing but singular substances or qualities (plus some
singular relations in certain exceptional theological cases).


## 5. Natural Philosophy



Ockham's "physics" or natural philosophy is of a
broadly Aristotelian sort, although he interprets Aristotle in his own
fashion. Ockham wrote a great deal in this area; indeed his
*Exposition of Aristotle's Physics* is his longest work
except for his *Commentary on the
 Sentences*.[36]



As a nominalist about universals, Ockham had to deal with the
Aristotelian claim in the *Posterior Analytics* that science
pertains to certain propositions about what is universal and
necessary. He discusses this issue in the Prologue to his
*Exposition of the
 Physics*,[37]
 and there agrees with Aristotle. But he interprets Aristotle's
dictum as saying that knowledge bears upon certain propositions with
general (universal) terms in them; it is only in that sense that
science deals with the universal. This of course does not mean that
for Ockham our scientific knowledge can never get beyond the level of
language to actual things. He distinguishes various senses of
'to know' (*scire*, from which we get
*scientia* or "science"):


* In one sense, to "know" is to know a proposition, or a
term in that proposition. It is in this sense that the object of a
science is universal, and this is what Aristotle had in mind.
* In another sense, we can be said to "know" what the
proposition is about, what its terms have supposition for. What we
"know" in that sense is always metaphysically individual,
since for Ockham there isn't anything else. This is not the
sense in which Aristotle was speaking.



As described
 earlier,
 Ockham holds that we do not need to allow special entities in all ten
of Aristotle's categories. In particular, we do not need them in
the category of quantity. For Ockham, there is no need for real
"mathematical" entities such as numbers, points, lines,
and surfaces as distinct from individual substances and qualities.
Apparent talk about such things can invariably be parsed away, via the
theory of connotation or exposition, in favor of talk about substances
and qualities (and, in certain theological contexts, a few relations).
This Ockhamist move is illustrative of and influential on an important
development in late medieval physics: the application of mathematics
to non-mathematical things, culminating in Galileo's famous
statement that the "book of nature" is written in the
"language of mathematics."



Such an application of mathematics violates a traditional Aristotelian
prohibition against *metabasis eis allo genos,* grounded on
quite reasonable considerations. The basic idea is that things cannot
be legitimately compared in any respect in which they differ in
species. Thus it makes little sense to ask whether the soprano's
high C is higher or lower than Mount Everest--much less to ask
(quantitatively) *how much* higher or lower it is. But for
Aristotle, straight lines and curved lines belong to different species
of lines. Hence they cannot be meaningfully compared or measured
against one another. The same holds for rectilinear motion and
circular motion. 



Although the basic idea is reasonable enough, Ockham recognized that
there are problems. The length of a coiled rope, for example, can
straightforwardly be compared to the length of an uncoiled rope, and
the one can meaningfully be said to be longer or shorter than, or
equal in length to, the other. For that matter, a *single* rope
surely stays the same length, whether it is coiled or extended
full-length. Ockham's solution to these problems is to note
that, on his ontology, straight lines and curved lines are not
*really* different species of lines--because lines are not
extra things in the first place. Talk about lines is simply a
"manner of speaking" about substances and qualities.



Thus, to compare a "curved" (coiled) rope with a
"straight" (uncoiled) one is not really to talk about the
lengths of lines in two different species; it is to talk about two
*ropes*. To describe the one as curved (coiled) and the other
as straight (uncoiled) is not to appeal to specifically different
kinds of entities--curvature and straightness--but merely to
describe the ropes in ways that can be expounded according to two
different patterns. Since such talk does not have ontological
implications that require specifically different kinds of entities,
the Aristotelian prohibition of *metabasis* does not apply.



Once one realizes that we can appeal to connotation theory, and more
generally the theory of exposition, without invoking new entities, the
door is opened to applying mathematical analyses (all of which are
exponible, for Ockham) to all kinds of things, and in particular to
physical nature.



Ockham's contributions were by no means the only factor in the
increasing mathematization of science in the fourteenth century. But
they were important
 ones.[38]


## 6. Theory of Knowledge



Like most medieval accounts of knowledge, Ockham's is not much
concerned with answering skeptical doubts. He takes it for granted
that humans not only can but frequently do know things, and focuses
his attention instead on the "mechanisms" by which this
knowledge comes about.


### 6.1 The Rejection of Species



Ockham's theory of knowledge, like his natural philosophy, is
broadly Aristotelian in form, although--again, like his natural
philosophy--it is "Aristotelian" in its own way. For
most Aristotelians of the day, knowledge involved the transmission of
a
 "*species*"[39]
 between the object and the mind. At the sensory level, this species
may be compared to the more recent notion of a sense
"impression." More generally, we can think of it as the
structure or configuration of the object, a structure or configuration
that can be "encoded" in different ways and found
isomorphically in a variety of contexts. One recent author, describing
the theory as it occurs in Aquinas, puts it like
 this:[40]



> 
> Consider, for example, blueprints. In a blueprint of a library, the
> configuration of the library itself, that is, the very configuration
> that will be in the finished library, is captured on paper but in such
> a way that it does not make the paper itself into a library. Rather,
> the configuration is imposed on the paper in a different sort of way
> from the way it is imposed on the materials of the library. What
> Aquinas thinks of as transferring and preserving a configuration we
> tend to consider as a way of encoding information.
> 



The configuration of features found in the external object is also
found in "encoded" form as a species in the organ that
senses the object. (Depending on the sense modality, it may also be
found in an intervening medium. For example, with vision and hearing,
the species is transmitted through the air to the sense organ.) At the
intellectual level, the so called "agent intellect" goes
to work on this species and somehow produces the universal concept
that is the raw material of intellectual
 cognition.[41]



Ockham rejected this entire theory of species. For him, species are
unnecessary to a successful theory of cognition, and he dispenses with
 them.[42]
 Moreover, he argues, the species theory is not supported by
experience; introspection reveals no such species in our cognitive
 processes.[43]
 This rejection of the species theory of cognition, which had been
foreshadowed by several previous authors (such as Henry of Ghent in
the thirteenth century), was an important development in late medieval
 epistemology.[44]


### 6.2 Intuitive and Abstractive Cognition



One of the more intriguing features of late medieval epistemology in
general, and of Ockham's view in particular, is the development
of a theory known as "intuitive and abstractive
cognition." The theory is found in authors as diverse as Duns
Scotus, Peter Auriol, Walter Chatton, and Ockham. But their theories
of intuitive and abstractive cognition are so different that it is
hard to see any one thing they are all supposed to be theories of.
Nevertheless, to a first approximation, intuitive cognition can be
thought of as perception, whereas abstractive cognition is closer to
imagination or remembering. The fit is not exact, however, since
authors who had a theory of intuitive and abstractive cognition
usually also allowed the distinction at the *intellectual*
level as well.



It is important to note that abstractive cognition, in the sense of
this theory, has nothing necessarily to do with
"abstraction" in the sense of producing universal concepts
from cognitive encounters with individuals. Instead, what abstractive
cognition "abstracts" from is the question of the
*existence or non-existence* of the object. By contrast,
intuitive cognition is very much tied up with the existence or
non-existence of the object. Here is how Ockham distinguishes
 them:[45]



> 
> For intuitive cognition of a thing is a cognition such that by virtue
> of it it can be known whether the thing exists or not, in such a way
> that if the thing does exist, the intellect at once judges it to exist
> and evidently knows it to exist ... Likewise, intuitive cognition
> is such that when some things are known, one of which inheres in the
> other or the one is distant in place from the other or is related in
> another way to the other, it is at once known by virtue of the
> incomplex cognitions of those things whether the thing inheres or does
> not inhere, whether it is distant or not distant, and so on for other
> contingent truths ...
> 
> 
> Abstractive cognition, however, is that by virtue of which it cannot
> be evidently known of the thing whether it exists or does not exist.
> And in this way abstractive cognition, as opposed to intuitive
> cognition, "abstracts" from existence and non-existence,
> because by it neither can it be evidently known of an existing thing
> that it exists, nor of a non-existent one that it does not exist.
> 
> 
> 



Ockham's main point here is that an intuitive cognition
*naturally* causes in the mind a number of true
*contingent* judgements about the external thing(s) that caused
this intuitive cognition; for example, that this thing exists, or that
it is white, and so on. This does not prevent God from deceiving any
particular creature if He wants to, even when an intuitive cognition
is present, but in such a case, God would have to neutralize the
natural causal effect of this intuitive cognition (this is something
He can always do, according to Ockham) and directly cause instead a
false judgement. Intuitive cognitions, on the other hand, can
sometimes induce false beliefs, too, if the circumstances are abnormal
(in cases of perceptual illusions in particular), but even then, they
would still cause some true contingent judgements. The latter at any
rate is their distinctive feature. Abstractive cognitions, by
contrast, are not such as to naturally cause true judgements about
contingent
 matters.[46]


## 7. Ethics



Ockham's ethics combines a number of themes. For one, it is a
*will*-based ethics in which intentions count for everything
and external behavior or actions count for nothing. In themselves, all
actions are morally neutral.



Again, there is a strong dose of divine command theory in
Ockham's ethics. Certain things (i.e., in light of the previous
point, certain *intentions*) becomes morally obligatory,
permitted or forbidden simply because God decrees so. Thus, in Exodus,
the Israelites' "spoiling the Egyptians" (or rather
their *intention* to do so, which they carried out) was not a
matter of theft or plunder, but was morally permissible and indeed
obligatory--because God had commanded it.



Nevertheless, despite the divine command themes in Ockham's
ethics, it is also clear that he wanted morality to be to some extent
a matter of reason. There is even a sense in which one can find a kind
of natural law theory in Ockham's ethics; one way in which God
conveys his divine commands to us is by giving us the natures we
 have.[47]
 Unlike Augustine, Ockham accepted the possibility of the
"virtuous pagan"; moral virtue for Ockham does not depend
on having access to revelation.


### 7.1 The Virtues



But while moral virtue is possible even for the pagan, moral virtue is
not by itself enough for salvation. Salvation requires not just virtue
(the opposite of which is moral vice) but merit (the opposite of which
is sin), and merit requires grace, a free gift from God. In short,
there is no necessary connection between virtue--moral
goodness--and salvation. Ockham repeatedly emphasizes that
"God is a debtor to no one"; he does not *owe* us
anything, no matter what we do.



For Ockham, acts of will are morally virtuous either extrinsically,
i.e. derivatively, through their conformity to some more fundamental
act of will, or intrinsically. On pain of infinite regress, therefore,
extrinsically virtuous acts of will must ultimately lead back to an
intrinsically virtuous act of will. That intrinsically virtuous act of
will, for Ockham, is an act of "loving God above all else and
for his own sake."



In his early work, *On the Connection of the Virtues*, Ockham
distinguishes five grades or stages of moral virtue, which have been
the topic of considerable speculation in the secondary
 literature:[48]


1. The first and lowest stage is found when someone wills to act in
accordance with "right reason"--i.e., because it is
"the right thing to do."
2. The second stage adds moral "seriousness" to the
picture. The agent is willing to act in accordance with right reason
even in the face of contrary considerations, even--if
necessary--at the cost of death.
3. The third stage adds a certain exclusivity to the motivation; one
wills to act in this way *only* because right reason requires
it. It is not enough to will to act in accordance with right reason,
even heroically, if one does so on the basis of extraneous, non-moral
motives.
4. At the fourth stage of moral virtue, one wills to act in this way
"precisely for the love of God." This stage "alone
is the true and perfect moral virtue of which the Saints
speak."
5. The fifth and final stage can be built immediately on either the
third or the fourth stage; thus one can have the fifth without the
fourth stage. The fifth stage adds an element of extraordinary moral
heroism that goes beyond even the "seriousness" of stage
two.



The difficulty in understanding this hierarchy comes at the fourth
stage, where it is not clear exactly what *moral* factor is
added to the preceding three
 stages.[49]


### 7.2 Moral Psychology



At the beginning of his *Nicomachean Ethics*, Aristotle
remarked that "the good is that at which all things aim."
Each thing, therefore, aims at the good, according to the demands of
its nature. In the Middle Ages, "Aristotelians" like
Thomas Aquinas held that the good for human beings in particular is
"happiness," the enjoyment of the direct vision of God in
the next life. And, whether they realize it or not, that is what all
human beings are ultimately aiming at in their actions. For someone
like Aquinas, therefore, the human will is "free" only in
a certain restricted sense. We are *not* free to choose for or
against our final end; that is built into us by nature. But we are
free to choose various *mean*s to that end. All our choices,
therefore, are made under the aspect of leading to that final goal. To
be sure, sometimes we make the wrong choices, but when that occurs it
is because of ignorance, distraction, self-deception, etc. In an
important sense, then, someone like Aquinas accepts a version of the
so called Socratic Paradox: No one knowingly and deliberately does
 evil.[50]



Ockham's view is quite different. Although he is very suspicious
of the notion of final causality (teleology) in general, he thinks it
is quite appropriate for intelligent, voluntary agents such as human
beings. Thus the frequent charge that Ockham severs ethics from
metaphysics by denying teleology seems
 wrong.[51]
 Nevertheless, while Ockham grants that human beings have a natural
orientation, a tendency toward their own ultimate good, he does not
think this restricts their choices.



For Ockham, as for Aristotle and Aquinas, I can choose the means to
achieve my ultimate good. But in addition, for Ockham unlike Aristotle
and Aquinas, I can choose whether to *will* that ultimate good.
The natural orientation and tendency toward that good is built in; I
cannot do anything about that. But I *can* choose whether or
not to *to act* to achieve that good. I might choose, for
example, to do nothing at all, and I might choose this knowing full
well what I am doing. But more: I can choose to act knowingly directly
*against* my ultimate good, to *thwart*
 it.[52]
 I can choose evil *as evil*.



For Ockham, this is required if I am going to be morally responsible
for my actions. If I could not help but will to act to achieve my
ultimate good, then it would not be morally praiseworthy of me to do
so; moral "sins of omission" would be impossible (although
of course I could be mistaken in the means I adopt). By the same
token, moral "sins of commission" would be impossible if I
could not knowingly *act against* my ultimate good. But for
Ockham these conclusions are not just required by theory; they are
confirmed by experience.


## 8. Political Philosophy



The divine command themes so prominent in Ockham's ethics are
much more muted in his political theory, which on the contrary tends
to be far more "natural" and
 "secular."[53]
 As sketched
 above,
 Ockham's political writings began at Avignon with a discussion
of the issue of poverty. But later on the issues were generalized to
include church/state relations more broadly. He was one of the first
medieval authors to advocate a form of church/state separation, and
was important for the early development of the notion of property
rights.



The Franciscan Order at this time was divided into two parties, which
came to be known as the "Conventuals" and the
"Spirituals" (or "zealots"). The Spirituals,
among whom were Ockham, Michael of Cesena, and the other exiles who
joined them in fleeing Avignon, tried to preserve the original ideal
of austere poverty practiced and advocated by St. Francis himself (c.
1181-1226). The Conventuals, on the other hand, while
recognizing this ideal, were prepared to compromise in order to
accommodate the practical needs of a large, organized religious order;
they were by far the majority of the order. The issue between the two
parties was never one of doctrine; neither side accused the other of
heresy. Rather, the question was one of how to shape and run the
order--in particular, whether the Franciscans should (or even
could) renounce all property rights.


### 8.1 The Ideal of Poverty



The ideal of poverty had been (and still is) a common one in religious
communities. Typically, the idea is that the individual member of the
order owns no property at all. If a member buys a car, for instance,
it is not strictly his car, even though he may have exclusive use of
it, and it was not bought with his money; he doesn't have any
money of his own. Rather it belongs to the order.



The original Franciscan ideal went further. Not only did the
individual friar have no property of his own, *neither did the
order*. The Franciscans, therefore, were really supposed to be
"mendicants," to live by begging. Anything donated to the
order, such as a house or a piece of land, strictly speaking remained
the property of the original owner (who merely granted the
*use* of it to the Franciscans). (Or, if that would not
work--as, for example, in the case of a bequest in a will, after
the original owner had died--the ownership would go to the
Papacy.)



Both the Spirituals and the Conventuals thought this ideal of
uncompromising poverty was exhibited by the life of Jesus and the
Apostles, who--they said--had given up all property, both
individually *and collectively*. St. Francis regarded this as
the clear implication of several Scriptural passages: e.g., Matt.
6:24-34, 8:20, 19:21. In short, the Apostolic (and Franciscan)
ideal was, "Live without a safety net."



Of course, if everyone lived according to this ideal, so that no one
owned any property either individually or collectively, then there
would be no property at all. The Franciscan ideal, then, shared by
Conventuals and Spirituals alike, entailed the total abolition of all
property rights.



Not everyone shared this view. Outside the Franciscan order, most
theoreticians agreed that Jesus and the Apostles lived without
individual property, but thought they did share property collectively.
Nevertheless, Pope Nicholas III, in 1279, had officially approved the
Franciscan view, not just as a view about how to organize the
Franciscan order, but about the interpretation of the Scriptural
passages concerning Jesus and the Apostles. His approval did not mean
he was endorsing the Franciscan reading as the correct interpretation
of Scripture, but only that it was a permissible one, that there was
nothing doctrinally suspect about
 it.[54]



Nevertheless, this interpretation was a clear reproach to the Papacy,
which at Avignon was wallowing in wealth to a degree it had never seen
before. The clear implication of the Franciscan view, therefore, was
that the Avignon Popes were conspicuously *not* living their
lives as an "imitation of Christ." Whether for this reason
or another, the Avignon Pope John XXII decided to reopen discussion of
the question of Apostolic poverty and to come to some resolution of
the matter. But, as Mollat [1963] puts it (perhaps not without some
taking of
 sides):[55]



> 
> When discussions began at Avignon, conflicting opinions were freely
> put forward. Meanwhile, Michael of Cesena, acting with insolent
> audacity, did not await the Holy See's decision: on 30 May 1322
> the chapter-general [of the Franciscan order] at Perugia declared
> itself convinced of the absolute poverty of Christ and the Apostles.
> 



It was this act that provoked John XXII to issue his first
contribution to the dispute, his bull *Ad conditorem* in 1322.
There he put the whole matter in a legal framework.


### 8.2 The Legal Issues



According to Roman law, as formulated in the Code of Justinian,
"ownership" and "legitimate use" cannot be
permanently separated. For example, it is one thing for me to own a
book but to let you use it for a while. Ownership in that case means
that I can recall the book, and even if I do not do so, you should
return it to me when you are done with it. But it is quite another
matter for me to own the book but to grant you *permanent* use
of it, to agree not to recall it as long as you want to keep it, and
to agree that you have no obligation to give it back *ever*.
John XXII points out that, from the point of view of Roman law, the
latter case makes no sense. There is no practical difference in that
case between your having the use of the book and your owning it; for
all intents and purposes, it is yours.



Notice the criticism here. It is a legal argument against the claim
that the Papacy as an institution can own something and yet the
Franciscans as an order, collectively, have a permanent right to use
it. The complaint is *not* against the notion that an
individual friar might have a right to use something until he dies, at
which time use reverts to the order (or as the Franciscans would have
it, to the Papacy). This would still allow some distinction between
ownership and mere use. Rather the complaint is against the notion
that the order would not own anything outright, but would nevertheless
have permanent use of it that goes beyond the life or death of any
individual friar, so that the ownership somehow remained permanently
with the Papacy, even though the Pope could not reclaim it, use it, or
do anything at all with it. John XXII argues that this simply
abolishes the distinction between use and ownership.


### 8.3 Property Rights



Special problems arise if the property involved is such that the use
of it involves consuming it--e.g., food. In that case, it appears
that there is no real difference between ownership and even temporary
use. For things like food, using them amounts for practical purposes
to owning them; they cannot be recalled after they are used. In short,
for John XXII, it follows that it is impossible fully to live the life
of absolute poverty, even for the individual person (much less for a
permanent institution like the Franciscan order). The institution of
property, and property "rights," therefore began in the
Garden of Eden, the first time Adam or Eve ate something. These
property rights are not "natural" rights; on the contrary,
they are established by a kind of positive law by God, who gave
everything in the Garden to Adam and Eve.



Ockham disagreed. For him, there was no "property" in the
Garden of Eden. Instead, Adam and Eve there had a natural right to use
anything at hand. This natural right did not amount to a
*property* right, however, since it could not have been used as
the basis of any kind of legal claim. Both John XXII and Ockham seem
to agree in requiring that "property" (ownership) be a
matter of positive law, not simply of natural law. But John says there
was such property in the Garden of Eden, whereas Ockham claims there
was not; there was only a *natural* right, so that Adam and
Eve's use of the goods there was legitimate. For Ockham,
"property" first emerged only after the Fall when, by a
kind of divine permission, people began to set up special positive
legal arrangements assigning the legal right to use certain things to
certain people (the owners), to the exclusion of anyone else's
having a *legal* right to them. The owners can then give
permission to others to use what the owners own, but that permission
does not amount to giving them a legal right they could appeal to in a
court of law; it can be revoked at any time. For Ockham, this is the
way the Franciscans operate. Their benefactors and donors do not give
them any legal rights to use the things donated to them--i.e., no
right they could appeal to in a court of law. Rather the donation
amounts only to a kind of permission that restores the original
natural (not legal) right of use in the Garden of
 Eden.[56]