Newtonian & Aristotelian Physics: Wolfgang Smith’s Path to Reconciliation

Wolfgang Smith’s Ontology

Wolfgang Smith posits that Nature comprises two distinct realms. The first is the “corporeal world,” which encompasses those bodies and sensory qualities we encounter with our ordinary five senses.³ Modern metaphysics tends to subjectivize such qualities; à la Locke, sensory or “secondary” qualities like colour are often interpreted as an artifice of the mind rather than an inherent property of the external world. Wolfgang Smith vehemently opposes this notion, arguing that all sensorily perceived attributes are integral components of external objects, which he calls “corporeal.”⁴ Henceforth I will refer to the mind-independent realm containing these attributes as the corporeal world.

The second realm in Smith’s ontology of Nature is the “physical universe,” which encompasses the measurable objects accessible to physics.⁵ Smith further divides the physical into two subdomains. The first is the “transcorporeal” realm, which includes measurable objects not directly associated with a specific corporeal entity;⁶ in a recent work Smith identifies transcorporeal objects directly with quantum systems.⁷ The other subdomain, the “subcorporeal,” consists of corporeal objects as understood in their quantitative dimensions.⁸ For any corporeal object X, that is to say, there is an associated subcorporeal object SX. Unlike X, SX lacks sensory qualities and consists of the quantitative remains of X. Put differently, SX is X conceived in the measurable terms of physics—i.e., geometrically, thermodynamically, spatiotemporally, etc.⁴

Although SX is quantitative, it nevertheless participates in the reality of X, leading Smith to his next core distinction between wholeness and irreducible wholeness (IW). In Smith’s ontological framework, irreducible wholeness transcends a mere summation of parts, contrasting with ordinary wholeness which is simply a collection of parts.

A classic example of an IW is a circle, since any instantiation of a circle by definition cannot be reduced to a mere collection of points on a graph. To illustrate this, imagine a graph filled with a random array of unconnected points scattered across the entire plane. Despite the possibility of connecting these points to form a circle, no rational observer would perceive a circle within this chaotic arrangement before doing so. This indicates that a circle is not reducible to a set of points on a graph and thus constitutes an IW. Furthermore, even if we imagine a collection of points arranged in a circle, it is clear that the concept of “circle” must precede the arrangement of these points; otherwise, it would be impossible to organize them into this shape in the first place. This fact was recognized by the famous Gestalt psychologist Wolfgang Köhler,⁹ who reiterated Aristotle’s insight that the whole is more than the sum of its parts.

Smith asserts that in the corporeal world any object X is necessarily an IW, a feature which is further reinforced by the possession of what St Thomas Aquinas called a “substantial form,” which arranges matter into one thing rather than another. And since all corporeal objects X are irreducible wholes, their counterpart objects SX are as well. However, the irreducible wholeness of SX is purely quantitative and constitutes the objective classical–physical properties also found in its associated corporeal object X, via participation of the former in the being of the latter.¹⁰

Substantivalism vs. Relationism

In light of Wolfgang Smith’s ontology, we can now turn to the challenge of reconciling substantivalism and relationism. In essence my proposal is that relationism pertains to the subcorporeal domain. As we ascend to the corporeal, however, we encounter more than just spatial relations: we find an absolute space that exists independently of the bodies which it contains.

When casting our gaze onto the corporeal world we encounter a space that transcends measurement. We perceive an independent plenum distinct from its contained bodies and the measurable relations between them. Space, in other words, appears to be more than a sum of parts and to possess a kind of corporeality or perceptibility. This is one reason why I propose that corporeal space should be considered substantival, exceeding the sum of its measurable parts and relations. In fact, within the corporeal realm, space assumes an identity of its own, as an IW, and as an independent container-boundary,¹¹ owing to its perceptibility.¹²

When we descend from the corporeal to the subcorporeal, what remains are only the measurable relations between objects, such as distances. And this aligns with the fundamental approach of physics, which concentrates on such relations without invoking the notion of absolute space. Wolfgang Smith’s distinction between the corporeal and the physical provides the basis of reconciliation between substantivalism and relationism, allowing for the validity of both perspectives, albeit at different ontological levels.

While the corporeal domain comes with a space that transcends measurable relations, it is nonetheless true that corporeal space is measurable. The reason for this is that although space can indeed be bifurcated into a measurable collection of relations on the one hand, and something greater on the other, the measurable conception of space at the subcorporeal still participates in non-measurable, corporeal space—analogous to how a subcorporeal object SX participates in a corporeal object X, whilst also maintaining an identity distinct from X.¹³ Therefore, although substantivalism and relationism are both valid notions in their respective domains, there is still a sense in which the relational conception of space is ancillary to the substantival one; namely, the former is the measurable dimension of the latter.

The considerations here about space also apply to the nature of time, with one major difference. For Wolfgang Smith, time does not originate in the corporeal world, but in a higher domain which he calls the “intermediary.” The intermediary level consists of an uninterrupted flow of cosmic time, unbound by space, with no bodily parameters or relations. This cosmic time is essentially immeasurable, but also determines the measurable temporal relations from the corporeal level downwards. To use the lexicon of modern physics, “substantivalism” with respect to time is valid at the intermediary level, and “relationism” with respect to time is valid at the corporeal and subcorporeal levels.

Once more, we can also surmise that the measurable temporal relations between corporeal bodies participates in the immeasurable time of the intermediary. This is so because cosmic time determines and sustains these measurable relations. However, the measurable temporal relations between bodies are not essential to time as such; time would still be conceivable without bodies in measurable temporal relations, just as space is conceivable substantively without measurable spatial relations. Instead, these measurable relations derive their existence through participation in something immeasurable. As Plato remarks, “if the one has no participation in time whatsoever, it neither has become nor became nor was in the past”!¹⁴

Teleology, Motion, and Physics

The foregoing analysis sets the stage for what concerns me in this section: the relationship between teleology, frames of reference, and physics.

The principle that “all inertial frames of reference are equal” is well known to any physics student. This principle essentially asserts that between any two non-accelerating reference frames, neither can claim an absolute state of motion over the other. In other words, no inertial frame can rightfully claim to be really stationary while deeming the other as really moving.¹⁵ Claims about motion must rather be relativised to the perspective of specific inertial frames of reference. However, following the previous section, the existence of absolute space suggests that this principle may be incomplete. The existence and corporeality of absolute space implies that inertial motion extends beyond being a merely physical phenomenon and so in a sense must be absolute.

In this context I will contend that certain inertial reference frames can indeed be privileged over others, though on a non-physical, or corporeal, basis.¹⁶ I propose that this privilege is teleological. After arguing for and outlining said proposal I will close this section by considering its ramifications for our broader understanding of the relationship between physics and motion.

Consider the textbook example of a train moving along some tracks. According to physics, it is entirely coherent to argue that the tracks are moving while the train remains stationary.¹⁷ And in a certain sense this assertion holds true because what the physicist perceives is not the train per se, but the train’s associated physical object SX. When we literally open our eyes we of course do not see SX but a corporeal object X, with its own distinctive nature and substantial form—i.e., a train. Moreover, on the corporeal level, the train discloses itself as inherently designed for motion—its telos, or end, is directed towards movement, whereas the tracks have a different end. From this we can infer that it is the train, and not the tracks, that is truly in motion. The commonsense judgement (or perspective) of a bystander—that the train is moving rather than the tracks—ultimately proves to be correct.

To flesh this out a bit, consider the actual engineering of a moving steam train. The train harnesses steam power, generated by water in its boiler, which then drives pistons that connect to the wheels, propelling the train forward. This process entails an intrinsic orientation towards motion on the part of the train. We therefore have valid reason to privilege the train’s reference frame over that of the tracks. The train moves while the tracks remain stationary when in relative motion. Granted, this conclusion is only reached on a non-physical basis and primarily at the corporeal level. Nor does this perspective have any bearing on physics as such, which views inertial systems as measurable aggregates with equal claims to privileged states of motion—at least in terms of raw kinematics.

Obviously this analysis is applicable to any system intrinsically ordered towards motion, from turtles to spaceships. In general, I propose that when two objects are moving relative to each other inertially, the one teleologically predisposed towards movement via its corporeal manifestation should be privileged as being “in motion” over one that does not.¹⁸ This privilege, in turn, extends to the object’s associated physical system SX.

But how should we interpret situations where there is no obvious disposition toward motion at all? For example, a rock moving inertially after being thrown, or falling toward the earth under the influence of gravity at terminal velocity?

Such scenarios typically fall into two categories as outlined by Aristotle in his Physics: (1) motions that occur naturally or stem from the inherent locomotive tendencies of bodies; and (2) motions that occur violently or go against the natural locomotive tendencies of bodies.¹⁹ The case of a rock falling towards the earth constitutes an example of “natural motion.” This movement results from the rock’s inherent inclination to move towards the centre of the Earth, where it finds its “natural place of rest.”²⁰ In contrast, a rock being thrown constitutes a case of violent motion, as this goes against the rock’s natural tendency to be at rest near the Earth’s centre.

In instances of natural motion, there are inherent dispositions toward movement, though they are not readily apparent. To fully discern these tendencies, I propose that one must consider them within some broader metaphysical framework of motion, as seen in Aristotle’s physics for example. When analysing two reference frames in relative inertial motion, priority should be given to the frame in which the corporeal object exhibits a predisposition towards motion, rather than the frame in which the object does not. In instances of violent motion within the corporeal realm, this motion originates from one object A causally interacting with another object B. B either has an inherent end (telos) of being in motion itself or of imparting motion to A. In cases of violent inertial motion, the objects involved in this causal interaction should be regarded as “in motion” over objects that are not. Therefore, in cases where dispositions toward motion are not obvious, real motion at the corporeal level can still be discerned teleologically. Once again, and to reemphasize, these conclusions about motion do not change anything concerning physics per se, since they pertain to the corporeal domain.

The aforementioned recognitions invite us to reconsider the relationship between physics and motion. More specifically, they compel us to ask whether physics truly deals with motion properly so called, with real changes in spatial place over time.

As we have noted, physics—with the possible exception of electrodynamics—treats all inertial reference frames equally. This suggests that in terms of raw mechanics the physics of inertial systems is, in actual fact, blind to motion. If every system can claim to be in motion, it would seem that, in a more fundamental sense, none truly is. It seems there are no real changes in spatial place over time, because when each and every system can lay claim to being in motion at the expense of every other, they all effectively cancel each other out. This rings especially true in light of the fact that physics is blind to the teleological origin of motion—the factor which I have said distinguishes inertial frames of reference. Therefore, when it comes to inertial systems, physics does not deal with motion as such. It rather deals with a surrogate kind of motion wherein all systems have equal privilege and bodies “move” relative to each other.²¹

This surrogate, “physical” understanding of motion is intelligible to us only because it is anchored in our corporeal understanding of motion with its attendant teleological and ontological entailments. The physicist’s understanding of inertial motion is in fact parasitic upon such motion as we observe in the corporeal world. The criteria for distinguishing between true and false motion are established at the corporeal level, analogous to how a building’s foundation supports the structure that rests upon it. Just as understanding the superstructure’s function does not occur in isolation, the same applies to understanding the physicist’s conception of inertial frames.

When it comes to scenarios involving acceleration, it seems prima facie that physics does deal with motion. The acceleration of a body is, after all, agreed on universally by all inertial frames and so is considered an absolute in Newtonian mechanics. But this is also misleading: strictly speaking, the Newtonian law of motion which relates the acceleration of a mass particle to an external force acting upon it is primarily concerned not with motion as such but with its variation. And rightly so, given that acceleration is meant to represent some change in a pre-defined quantity (velocity) rather than provide a value for that quantity.

It would appear that physics qua physics can actually tell us nothing concerning rest and motion in any absolute sense—not because there is no such thing as rest or motion, but because physics concerns notions that either ground motion conceptually or deal with its variance. This blind spot in physics comes about as a result of the field’s exclusion of absolute space and the teleology of inertial frames at the corporeal level.

Towards a Reintegration of Aristotelian Physics

We have discussed two pivotal propositions. The first is that there is such a thing as absolute space, but that its existence is corporeal. The second is that some inertial frames of reference can be objectively privileged over others on teleological grounds. These recognitions prompt us to re-evaluate the relevance of Aristotelian physics—a paradigm which has long been considered obsolete—and I contend that an Aristotelian physics of bodies, together with the modern physicist’s conception of motion, are two indispensable aspects of an even greater account of motion. Before presenting my thesis, however, I will first present a brief overview of Aristotelian physics and its relevance within the context of modern physics.

The basic principle underlying Aristotelian physics is that motion is a form of change from potency to act. For Aristotle there are thus two kinds of change or “motion”: the kind seen when a substance alters in its accidental characteristics, and change in the spatial location of a body over time.²² Both types of motion involve the “actualization of that which was once potential.”²³ For the purposes of this essay I use the term “motion” to refer to the second kind of change, in keeping with how we have used the term hitherto.

In his account of motion Aristotle makes use of two concepts to explain this phenomenon. The first we have seen already: teleology. The second is the concept of force. For Aristotle, of course, force is not understood in the same sense as in modern physics; i.e., as an influence propagated through a locally contained and mathematically describable field (usually represented by scalars or vectors). Rather, for Aristotle force is best understood as a power emanating from the immeasurable substance of a body.²⁴ Despite its difference from modern physics, Aristotle’s notion of force does nonetheless bring about change in spatial place over time—it is just that this change is not alleged to be mediated through mathematized fields, i.e., “physically.” By employing the concepts of teleology and force, Aristotle constructed a theory of motion that applies across a wide range of contexts, most notably celestial and terrestrial motion (only the latter concerns us here).

As we noted earlier, one of Aristotle’s key distinctions is that between natural and violent motion. Natural motion arises from an object’s inherent end (telos), driving it toward its proper place on Earth,²⁰ while violent motion results from some disruption to an object’s natural motion by a force from another body.²⁴ The natural motions of objects for Aristotle are governed by numerous principles which relate to the five elements; he held that the element of earth naturally tends to rest at the centre of the Earth, while the elements of water, air, and fire tend to ascend away from the centre, each to different extents.²⁰ These behaviours reflect a teleological orientation possessed by the elements and the objects they compose. In contrast, violent motions occur when an external force is applied to an object, disrupting natural movement; throwing a rock into the air, for instance, represents a case of violent motion, as it interrupts the rock’s natural inclination to move toward the earth. Aristotle also argued that force is transmitted through “contact” between two bodies.

These foundational ideas led Aristotle to conclusions often considered at odds with modern physics; most notably, that the natural motions of fire, air, water, and earth result from a teleological drive toward their destined places. Today we interpret such phenomena through the lens of the principles and forces of modern physics; we say the rock falls to the ground due to Earth’s gravitational field, not because it harbours an intrinsic propensity to settle at the planet’s core. Similarly, air rises because of its lower density, not because it “desires” to ascend to a particular place. Moreover, unlike Aristotle’s metaphysical explanations, modern physics brings the advantage of being mathematically grounded, allowing precise and testable predictions about the natural world.

Another way that Aristotle’s physics differs from modern physics is that, in the case of violent motions, Aristotle posited that a force is always required to keep a body moving.²⁵ This obviously contradicts Newton’s first law of motion/inertia, which states that an object at rest remains at rest, and an object in motion remains in motion—at constant speed and in a straight line—unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.

Such discrepancies have caused most to dismiss Aristotle wholesale. Carlo Rovelli, on the other hand, suggests we should not rush to judgment on this score. For instance, Rovelli remarks that Aristotelian physics can actually be seen as an approximation of Newtonian mechanics when applied to bodies moving through fluids.²⁶ The notion that Aristotelian physics simply contains no truth whatsoever is mistaken. And in light of Wolfgang Smith’s account of reality, in particular, the physics of Aristotle appears to be quite relevant indeed. In fact, as I will now argue, the modern physicist’s understanding of motion and Aristotle’s are not only compatible but, when combined, afford us a more profound and illuminating view of motion.

First of all, in the consideration of whether natural motion is driven by forces and physical fields or by teleological orientation, there is no reason why these two explanations cannot coexist on different ontological strata, corresponding to Smith’s physical and corporeal domains. At the corporeal level, teleological explanations account for the generalized motions of bodies. Meanwhile physical explanations involving forces and fields apply to motion at the physical or quantitative level. The two are complementary, insofar as teleological explanations address the broader question of why motions occur in the way they do, while physical explanations account for the measurable behaviours that arise as bodies fulfil said generalized motions. These allegedly “contradictory explanations” rather provide a more complete understanding of natural motion, from both qualitative and quantitative standpoints. Consider how the telos of a rock provides a generalized explanation for “why” it falls to the ground, while the quantitative notion of gravity—couched in the mathematical language of scientific theory—explains specified measurables displayed during the rock’s free fall (such as velocity, gravitational acceleration, loss of potential energy, etc.).

Such complementarity between teleological and physical explanations indeed encompasses all manner of natural motion exhibited by the elements, as previously described. Teleological explanations, however, take precedence over physical ones, as they offer ultimate reasons for why motions occur. In this optic, physical explanations assume a secondary role, providing the quantitative characteristics of natural motion accessible by the modus operandi of physics.

Let us now consider the apparent conflict between Aristotle’s views and Newton’s first law of motion. This tension, I propose, may be resolved by acknowledging that Aristotle’s concept of force is fundamentally different from Newton’s. As previously noted, Aristotle conceived of forces as essentially powers or propensities effecting spatial change, emanating from the substantial forms of bodies. Crucially, he did not consider them to be measurable actions propagated through mathematized fields. This striking difference between Aristotle’s conception of force and the modern scientist’s—namely the fact that the two definitions are not in competition—opens the door to reconciling Aristotle’s view on “eternal motion” with Newton’s first law.

When it comes to forces as mathematized actions, Newton is absolutely correct in asserting that an object set in motion by a force will continue to move indefinitely in a vacuum without the continual application of that force (i.e., the first law). This fact is trivially true given the mathematical formalism of Newtonian physics. However, from the perspective of causal powers, Aristotle is also right in positing that the continual application of a force is needed to maintain motion: for if we view forces as emanating from the substance of bodies, as causal powers, there is no reason to think that forces do not continuously influence other bodies—even if they are not in direct physical contact! In fact, as a general principle, it can be understood that once an Aristotelian force causes a body to move or change spatially, it continues to exert influence “at a distance” on that body until another force acts upon it. Thus the Newtonian and Aristotelian perspectives on motion are complementary. Although it is accurate that a body can theoretically keep moving indefinitely in a vacuum, if it was initially set in motion by a Newtonian force from another body, its motion is perpetually maintained by an Aristotelian force operating ontologically between the two bodies, even in the absence of a Newtonian force.

These ideas presented above are admittedly in early stages and may seem incomplete at this point. However, with further development, these concepts could pave the way for a revival of Aristotelian physics. The initial step in this endeavour is to refine the integration of Aristotelian physics with classical mechanics at the terrestrial level. Following this, it will be important to explore how Aristotle’s views on celestial bodies can be reconciled with modern, empirically supported understandings of the cosmos.

Closing Remarks

At the beginning of this essay it was noted that the roots of modern physics can be largely traced to Sir Isaac Newton, whose revolutionary work laid the foundation for the field. Since then, however, physics has aimed to discard any notion of non-physical or absolute motion, which Newton himself advocated. As the arguments of this essay suggest, the endeavour to suppress such reckonings seems to have been ultimately misguided. In light of distinctions introduced by Wolfgang Smith, it is entirely reasonable to posit the existence of absolute space and time. We have also considered how Smith’s ontological distinction between corporeal and physical reality allows for a harmonisation between absolutist or substantivalist views of spatiotemporal reality and relationist perspectives. Moreover, we can now see that preferred and non-preferred frames of reference may be discerned on teleological grounds. All of which suggests that a radical reconception of the very nature of physics—exploiting the strengths of both mathematical and Aristotelian paradigms—is a very real possibility.

What is needed next is a thoroughgoing deployment of the concepts and arguments advanced in this essay, foundations having been laid for an understanding of motion couched in Smith’s ontology. Obviously, there remains much to be done in the application of these principles to more complicated examples and nuanced areas of analysis.

*   *   *

May the conclusions drawn from this essay serve as a reminder of the rich and expansive nature of Wolfgang Smith’s legacy—a legacy which I am sure has much more to offer mankind in his quest to understand reality. I strongly suspect that we have barely scratched the surface of what the categories and distinctions of Wolfgang Smith might reveal!

John Taylor is a graduate student at the London School of Economics.

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