We believe [God] to be something than which nothing greater can be thoughtThe
Foolwhen he hears“something than which nothing greater can be thought,” understands
what he hears, and what he understands is in his intellect. (But) it cannot exist in the
intellect alone. For if it exists only in the intellect, it can be thought to exist also in
reality, which is greater. If therefore itexists only in the intellect, this same thing than
which a greater cannot be thought, is a thing than which a greater can be thought. But this
surely cannot be. So something than which no greater can be thoughtexistsboth in the
intellect and in reality. (Charlesworth 1965, 116, my translation)
I first explicate Anselm's key phrase “something than which no greater can be thought”
(henceforth “a G”). I then take up his reasoning, then the question of whether its premises
are true.
“A G” is an indefinite description. Its form lets many things satisfy it (as with “something
brown and red” and “something canine”). What the Fool understands is this description.
A natural thought would be that what is “in his intellect,” if not just a token string of
words, is the property the description expresses, being a G. But as the argument proceeds,
it supposes that the Fool “has in mind” some particular thing that has the property, an “it”
that cannot exist in the mind alone. Anselm seems to suppose, in short, that by
understanding the description a G, one comes into some sort of direct cognitive relation
with something that is a G: one thinks of or refers to a particular G. For Anselm, then,
being such that no greater can be thought means being such that no one nondivine can
refer to a greater possible object, under any description.^2 A G is a greatest possible being
to which we can refer. If there is hierarchy of greatness with a topmost level to which we
can refer, then, “a G” automatically picks out only something(s) on the topmost level. If
we can refer to an unending progression of ever greater possible beings, “a G” does not
refer.
“A G” has a modal element: it speaks of items to which we can refer. To make sense of
this “can,” I now introduce a bit of technical terminology that will be repeatedly useful.
The sentence “Possibly there are ostriches” asserts that in at least one history the universe
could have, ostriches would exist. In fact, one such history has taken place. “Possibly
Churchill runs a three-minute mile” asserts that in at least one history the universe could
have, Churchill pulls off this surprising feat. Churchill has not yet done this, and barring
reincarnation or resurrection, he will not. So it appears that actual history is not any of
those in which Churchill does this: no such history has taken place. But still, it's in some
sense possible that he do so. Every sentence instancing the form possibly P asserts the
existence of at least one history the universe could have in which P. Every sentence
instancing the form necessarily P asserts that there is no history the universe could have
in which ¬P. The sentence “necessarily 2+2=4” asserts that there is no history the
universe could have in which this is false; that is that in every possible history, 2+2=4.
Every sentence using “can,” of course, is equivalent to one using “possibly” (e.g., “There
can be ostriches”).
Philosophers call histories the universe could have possible worlds. So we can
end p.81
now explicate Anselm this way: something x is a G only if no nondivine being in any
possible world can refer to any being greater than x actually is. Now surely, for every