Dr. Mesle was associate professor of philosophy and religion at Graceland College, Lamoni, Iowa in 1987.
The following article appeared in Process Studies, pp. 59-70, Vol. 13, Number 1, Spring, 1983. Process Studies is published quarterly by the Center for Process Studies, 1325 N. College Ave., Claremont, CA 91711. Used by permission. This material was prepared for Religion Online by Ted and Winnie Brock.
If we take seriously Whitehead’s claim that the fundamental form of order and hence of value is aesthetic, and the accompanying principle of relatedness, it is obvious that unilateral power (the ability to affect without being affected) inherently inhibits the growth of value in human experience.
It seems reasonable to suppose that all people have some vague image of ideal personhood, or at least of what they want their lives to be like and what would be needed to bring that about. Put in very general terms, every person has a theory of value and of power and of the relationship between the two. While most people do not recognize it, they also have a view of the nature of reality which undergirds and shapes these other notions. Whitehead reminded us that "The importance of philosophy lies in its sustained effort to make such schemes explicit, and thereby capable of criticism and improvement" (PR xiv, x). The purpose of this essay is to make explicit two theories of value and power and their impacts on our images of personhood. More specifically, this essay will suggest some ways in which process metaphysics, with its concepts of value and power as inherently relational, founded on the claim that aesthetic order is universally basic, ought to influence our images of personhood.
I. Traditional Substance Theories of Value and Power
It seems obvious upon a little reflection that there is a strong relationship between classical metaphysics of substance and being and traditional images of personhood. Just as a substance is that which requires nothing but itself (and perhaps God) to exist; which has the power to exist independently of any relationships; and which demonstrates its relative degree of reality, power, and value by its imperviousness to external influence — so the Caesar, the hither ruling his family, the rugged individualist, and the successful financier establishes his or her relative power and value through conspicuous independence from the assistance or influence of others. Relationships and change are seen as accidental. Substance notions of reality produce substance images of personhood.
It is no mystery why value has been so tightly associated with substance and being. People want security. And they especially want to survive. Thus they value, and wish to imitate, that which they see as most able to endure through the turmoil of time. This approach to reality as being or substance intrinsically involves a notion of power.
A. The Philosophical Tradition
Plato provided a concise metaphysical formulation of the association of being and power in his declaration in The Sophist that "the definition of being is simply power." And he provided an accompanying definition of power. "My notion would be that anything which possesses any sort of power to affect another, or to be affected by another, if only for a single moment, however trifling the cause and however slight the effect, has real existence."1 But despite Plato’s insight that power is involved in both the ability to affect and the ability to be affected (with its implication that reality and value might involve both), there has been a persistent tendency to favor what Bernard Loomer has called unilateral power — the ability to affect while remaining unaffected.2 Although this tendency is evident in every field of human thought, it will be appropriate to examine it first in the philosophical tradition, where it goes hand in hand with the valuation of being over becoming.
Plato himself clearly preferred the power to affect over the power to be affected, and explicitly connected this power with value. In the second book of The Republic he asserted confidently that "things which are at their best are also least liable to he altered or discomposed." "Then everything which is good, whether made by art or nature or both, is least liable to suffer change from without."3 And of course, anything which is perfect cannot change at all, for this would imply that it must have been imperfect before the change or become imperfect because of the change. Consequently, Plato affirmed the forms to be eternal, unchangeable, and in no way dependent upon any relationships for their existence or value. Being itself the ultimate perfection, Plato’s form of the Good neither could nor needed to receive any value from the world of becoming. It could in no way be enriched by relationships with other centers of value. Thus, Plato explicitly united the concepts of reality, value, and unilateral power.
The figure of Socrates provides a persuasive illustration of how this association of power and value influences images of personhood. Only rarely, as in The Parmenides when Socrates is portrayed as a very young man, did Plato present Socrates as really learning from (being influenced by) other persons. Despite Socrates’ affirmation of his love of learning through dialogue with other persons, Plato apparently found it difficult to image his mentor and symbol of human perfection as really being influenced by others, even in philosophical dialogue.
Perhaps the best example in the history of philosophy of metaphysical preference for the power to affect over the power to be affected is Aristotle’s God, the Unmoved Mover. This name clearly declares the valuation. The Unmoved Mover is also the supreme exemplification of the notion of substance as that which exists independently. For Aristotle, there was a tension between the unchangeability of God and God’s character as being filly actual, since actuality for Aristotle definitely involved activity. The activity of God, therefore, is thought thinking itself in one eternal round, so perfectly complete and final that it knows nothing but itself.4
Aristotle was boldly self-consistent in recognizing that for God to have knowledge of the process of flux in the world would necessarily involve some change in God. To have knowledge of change is to be changed or affected in some degree. Hence, Aristotle’s God knew nothing of the world. But since the divine perfection involved having all possible value already actualized in the divine experience, God had no need of the world for the perfection of the divine life. Hence, Aristotle’s God neither was nor needed to be enriched by the world.
Although less explicit, it seems clear to me that this same preference for the power to affect is apparent in Descartes’ definition of substance as "a thing which so exists that it needs no other thing in order to exist."5 In Descartes’ system, of course, God is the only substance to which this strictly applies. Other substances "need only the concurrence of God in order to exist."6 The crux of this doctrine is that while substances may acquire accidental properties, they may not in themselves be affected in any essential way. Again, that which is most real, simply is, and the more real it is (God’s self-caused existence as opposed to finite substances) the more totally it excludes the power to be affected.
Leibniz saw clearly that this definition of substance means that finite entities must also then be devoid of any power to affect other entities. Obviously, if all finite substances were immune to being affected by other finite substances, there would be no substances available upon which they could exercise any power at all. Hence Leibniz clearly reflected the traditional assumption that entities with the power to affect are superior to, or more perfect than, entities with the power to be affected. In discussing those pre-established relations, which we normally take to be causal, he wrote:
A created thing is said to act outwardly insofar as it is perfect, and to suffer from another insofar as it is imperfect. Thus action is attributed to the Monad insofar as it has distinct perception, and passion or passivity insofar as it has confused perception.7
Given a system in which there are no genuine causal relationships at all (except God’s actions) it becomes especially curious to favor one kind of appearance of power over another. But translated into a discussion of experience (perception), it is clear that experience free of outside influence must be seen as of greater value than experience which is influenced.
A further witness to this tradition is offered by Locke. He wrote:
Power thus considered is two-fold, viz., as able to make, or able to receive any change. The one may be called active, and the other passive power. Whether matter be not wholly destitute of active power, as its author, God, is truly above all passive power; and whether the intermediate state of created spirits be not that alone which is capable of both active and passive power, may be worth consideration.8
In the hierarchy of being, this assumes, there is a direct relation between the kind of power present in any kind of being, and the value or degree of perfection present at that level. The ability to be affected is a sign of human finitude and imperfection. The logical conclusion would seem to be that the more nearly we are able to imitate the divine perfection, the less power we will have to be affected by other entities.
B. Motives for the Traditional View
There are, of course, obvious reasons why the two facets of power receive different valuations. In the philosophical field there has been the strong assumption that any perfect thing must already have all possible values (at least for its specific ontological status), so that any change must be for the worse. Thus, perfection involves immunity to change. Furthermore, the active power, as Locke calls it, is how we get things done, how we improve the present situation and work for the increase of value.
We have assumed, with good reason, that our superiority over — indeed, our survival in — the material world lies largely in our ability to shape it to our needs. As our power over the physical realm is perfected, it would seem, we will be less and less subject to its power to affect us and increasingly efficient in our power to affect it. Certainly that is the thrust and hallmark of the kind of power exercised in our modern technological society.
Both in philosophical and practical thought, there seems to be an underlying assumption that to really BE is to have the power to affect without being affected. The power to be affected, may, it is conceded, constitute a kind of being also, but such being is less real, less significant, less perfect, and certainly less valuable. The power to be affected is seen as weakness, as imperfection — actually as lack of power and lack of value.
C. Traditional Images of Persons and Communities
These traditional views of power and value have an obvious impact on our images of ideal personhood. For a young man in a tough neighborhood, his status (value) may be determined primarily by the number of other young men he can beat up, minus the number who can beat him up. In this, as in any pecking order, social value depends directly on the exercise of unilateral power. Thus the young man aspires for the ideal of perfect immunity to external control, to a sort of immutability with regard to the wishes of others. This is no less the ideal for many in the business world. A little financial power means freedom from the influence of others. Great financial power means the ability to influence others.
Thus we have traditionally chosen as our models of personhood the kings, athletes, politicians, mountain men, soldiers, and even Eastern mystics who typify the ability to affect those about them and/or to exist independently of their assistance and influence. And it is rather conspicuous that even where we have acknowledged as role models persons who seem to express relational power (the ability both to affect and to be affected) — like Jesus — we have generally insisted that they really could have called on twelve legions of angels or some equivalent if they needed to.
That this connection between power and value is operative in the arena of international politics is equally conspicuous. In his classic text, Peace and Wars A Theory of International Relations, Raymond Aron confirms that
An individual’s power is his capacity to act, but above all to influence the actions or feelings of others. On the international scene I should define power as the capacity of a political unit to impose its will upon other units.9
[Power is] the ability to keep others from imposing their will on the unit in question or to impose that unit’s will upon others.10
That this is how the majority of citizens of the United States — and the current administration — determine the value of nations is obvious to all the world. And it is certainly our fear that we may be losing our imagined power to influence other nations while remaining immune to their influence which contributes to driving us ever more frantically into militarism. As the big lie grows that nuclear war can be won, the illusion grows that the ability to destroy other nations with nuclear weapons is the supreme exemplification of unilateral power in human affairs. Our image of ideal nationhood seems to focus on the power to destroy any or all other nations without being destroyed by them.
II. An Alternative
The whole of Whitehead’s philosophy rebels against the traditional understanding of the nature and relationship of power and value. His rejection of independently existing substance in favor of a universe in which all entities are related, the idea of actual entities as valuing subjects prehending and creating themselves Out of the feelings of other subjects, the declaration that the most basic form of order is aesthetic, and the insistence that the lure toward beauty and adventure is a primary drive in the process of reality, are all examples of Whitehead’s fundamental insight that to be is to be related, to exhibit some degree of beauty in those relationships, and to have the power both to affect and to be affected.
Since persons are exemplifications of, not exceptions to, fundamental metaphysical categories, it is obvious that we, too, are essentially related and changing. Bernard Loomer has expressed this fact well.
In the relational viewpoint, the individual begins life as an effect produced by the many others in the world of his immediate past. But he is not simply a function of these relations. He is emergent from his relations; and in the process of his emergence he also creates himself. His life as a living individual consists of synthesizing into some degree of subjective unity the various relational causes or influences which have initiated his process of becoming something definite.11
The question then is not whether we shall be related hut how we shall image our ideal participation in and self-creation out of those relationships.
A. Human Beauty
How shall we be related? This question refers both to our relationships with the world and other persons, and to the internal structure of our own experience. Because I take seriously Whitehead’s claim that the most fundamental order of reality is aesthetic, and the attendant doctrine that "The real world is good when it is beautiful" (AI, Chapter XVIII, Section III), I want to propose that we use the category of beauty as the norm in constructing our images of person-hood and of personal and communal relations.
Whitehead distinguished between minor and major forms of beauty. The minor form of beauty asserts that logic and finitude place limitations on what any particular entity can successfully synthesize into a unified experience. The major form of beauty presupposes this but aims beyond the mere achievement of actuality toward greater richness and intensity of feelings. Whitehead attempts to define this major form of beauty in a variety of ways. The definition which I propose for use here, and which I think captures Whitehead’s intention, is as follows:12 Beauty is a structure of relationships in which the contrasting parts of a whole mutually support and enrich each other so that each part contributes to the value and richness of the whole while the whole enhances the individual strength and value of each of the parts. Ultimately, of course, beauty is a function of experience, but we commonly use the term to refer to objects so structured as to stimulate such experience.
While this definition is not primarily intended to address artistic issues, it can easily be illustrated in the arts. Music, literature, and the visual arts all depend upon the ability of the artist to select and arrange individual components (notes, words, colors) and to create relationships among them in which each element contributes to the beauty of the whole work while the unity of the work enhances the value of each individual part.
As a very simple illustration in human communities, it is obvious that athletic teams strive to develop this kind of aesthetic relation of mutual support among their members. The better each member performs, and the more willing each member is to be supportive of the other members, the better the team as a whole will perform. And generally speaking, the better those around us perform their roles, the easier it is for us to perform our best. The common exclamation, "What a beautiful play!" is more accurate than we usually realize.
But individual experience will disclose the same lessons to us. When the many aspects of our lives fit together well in relationships of mutual support, our lives are richer. As a teacher, for example, I am presently enjoying the opportunity to teach a seminar on a topic on which I am also writing a book. The two efforts tremendously enrich each other. They are mutually supportive. The more that we can bring every dimension of our life experience into such harmony, the easier things go.
But Whitehead was also insistent that beauty involves contrast as well as harmony. Without contrast to give life intensity there is the threat of monotony and trivialty. But every new contrast threatens us with destructive discord and chaos. Whenever we hear a new idea which threatens our present concepts, or when a new and strange person enters our community, there is a new struggle to reconstruct aesthetic relationships. Success means richer, more dynamic and intense experience. Failure means the dis-integration of self or community. Thus the simpler and more homogeneous our experience and relationships, the more easily we sustain our identity. The greater the contrasts which upset our existing harmonies, the greater the threat to our survival.
The traditional approach to power would seem to grow out of the not uncommon experience that when we must incorporate new elements into our personal and communal aesthetic structures our stability is threatened. Thus the tradition has been long-lived because it speaks to part of our experience very persuasively. But it must be rejected, or at least qualified, because it is seriously inadequate to deal with the whole of our experience of power and value. As Daniel Day Williams so profoundly declared, "The self is a will to belong."13 We want to care for others and to be cared for by them. We want to touch their lives and to be touched by them. We want to share life with others, to enrich and be enriched. We want to belong to a community to which we can contribute and which can contribute to us. We want to be open to new insights, new experiences, and new relationships. Our fear of chaos and helplessness may drive us toward a substance image of personhood in which we attempt to insulate ourselves from disruptive influence, but our deeper longings for quality of life lure us toward other images.
B. Relational Power
Process theologians have written repeatedly about the priority of persuasion over coercion, especially with regard to divine power. But I think they have not succeeded in showing that this division is genuinely metaphysical. The real distinction, I am convinced, is between relational and unilateral power, as Bernard Loomer has argued. This distinction is more fundamental because it is directly related to the primary principle of relativity in opposition to substance metaphysics. While I cannot develop the argument here, I believe it makes sense to understand unilateral power as a special case arising out of the more basic relational power, much as determinism arises statistically out of subatomic indeterminancy. Furthermore, the distinction between unilateral and relational forms of power is directly relevant to the process concept of value as aesthetic.
Bernard Loomer defined relational power as the ability both to affect and to be affected. But I believe that his intention is more adequately expressed by a threefold distinction, following Whitehead’s analysis of experience. Thus relational power is here understood as the ability (1) to be affected, in the sense, especially, of being open, sensitive, receptive, and empathic; (2) to create oneself out of what has been experienced by synthesizing that data into an aesthetic unity; and (3) to influence others by the way in which one has received and responded to their influence.
The measure which Loomer suggests we apply to such power is that of size.14 Size measures the range of data, especially contrasting experiences like love and hate, or novelty and the need for security, which a person can creatively integrate. The greater the range of variety and contrast which the individual can positively prehend and organize into personal relational beauty, the greater the relational power of the person.
It follows that the greater the relational power of people — the greater their size — the greater their potential for aesthetic richness through the actualization of greater harmony and contrast. The greater the size the greater the ability of persons to accept external influences disruptive to the existing structures of their experience and to integrate those new contrasts into new and richer beauty. A person with great relational power is one who can enter into a wide range of personal relationships, who can entertain a wide range of ideas, and who can appreciate a wide range of values, even when those relationships, ideas, and values involve great contrast and produce much pain.
The differences between the logic of unilateral and relational powers become strikingly significant in the context of the inequalities of power among persons and communities which are so obvious in our experience.15 Unilateral power, by definition, increases in one person only as it decreases in another. As I increase my ability to affect you while remaining unaffected by you, your ability to affect me and remain unaffected by me must necessarily decline. When there is inequality of unilateral power, the weaker person bears the greater burden.
The opposite is more nearly true in the exercise of relational power. The more I try to be sensitive to your concerns and values, the more I will try to open you up to mine. And since my life will be enriched by what I receive from you, it is to my advantage to make your life as rich as possible. The greater your relational power, and the more rich and beautiful your life, the more you have to contribute to my life and the greater our ability to share beauty with each other. Thus relational power tends to increase relational power in others. And when there is inequality of relational power, the stronger person carries the greater burden.
There is risk inherent in relational power. When I open myself up to your feelings, I must be as willing to share your sufferings as your joys. And as I open my feelings up to you, I take the risk that you will use them against me. My act of relational power cannot guarantee that you will choose to respond relationally rather than unilaterally. And there is no assurance that my relational size will be great enough to overcome the unilateral power of another. It is in the nature of relational power to generate power and freedom in others and to take the risks that entails.
If the concepts of relational power and aesthetic value are accepted as more adequate categories for understanding human experience than those arising from substance metaphysics, then we must obviously change our images of ideal personhood and ideal communities. The task of reconstructing the images will be a long one. But in many cases it is less a matter of creating new images than it is of recognizing a more solid foundation and criterion upon which to evaluate existing images which have long been in competition. And this new foundation can help to eliminate divisions between traditionally separate images which ought to be joined.
A great many people today are insisting that we must reject traditional images of power, but they lack an alternative concept of power upon which to base new images. A conspicuous example is the struggle to break free of traditionally "male" concepts of power. Traditionally men have been seen as good when they exhibit unilateral power through domination and control. Women have been seen as good when they were weak by this standard. The qualities of sensitivity and changeability which women were supposed to develop are obviously the opposite of unilateral power. As men and women have sought to break free of those molds and to establish new identities and images for themselves, they have often complained of the lack of alternatives. Women have often felt compelled to seek unilateral power in order to gain effective influence in their communities; but they have begun to see this as a regression to the very images they sought to escape. Men have often been fearful of becoming, or seeming to become, weak and effeminate through the development of their qualities of sensitivity and nurture. What is needed is a new image of power. I propose that the concept of relational power is an important contribution because (as Loomer points out) it blends the best of these traditional roles into a unified theory of power in which agents are sensitive and nurturing as well as effective. This new model can affect our images both of ourselves and of our interpersonal relationships.
Another important area in which destructive models of interpersonal relationships are generated by traditional images of power has to do with the relationships between children and their parents and teachers. Obviously, we parent best and teach best when we are most sensitive to the hopes, fears, confusions, angers, excitements, frustrations, and insights of our children and students. But a great many parents and teachers have been raised and trained with the image of a good parent or teacher as one who — out of concern to shape the child effectively — appears totally uninfluenced by the child. In the name of stability of life and values, our children are presented with role models of adults who (at least on the surface) make every effort to block out the feelings and influence of the child. For the same reasons, children are taught to hold beliefs and values without openness to external challenges or alternatives. Although the inadequacies of these images have long been recognized by some, we have lacked an alternative understanding of personal power to which these parents and teachers and young people might be directed.
The consequence, of course, is that we perpetuate those models of power which impoverish our lives. Children who are taught to achieve stability through the automatic rejection of new ideas, values, and relationships are deprived of great opportunities for growth of value in their lives. As a teacher, I frequently grieve over the steadfast refusal of some students to entertain new possibilities for beauty in their lives while others around them are blossoming. And while some do retain stability at this terrible price, many find their beliefs and values collapsing because they have never been taught or exercised in the practice of relational power. They have developed little size, little capacity for integrating new and contrasting ideas and values into their existing personal structures. Thus they lose even what their parents and teachers hoped they were giving them — the stability to survive. Although the inadequacies of these models have long been lamented in some circles, and increasingly so in recent years, my point is that the problems are perpetuated by the lack of clearly formulated models and images of power.
Our increasing understanding of our inescapable relatedness to our environment may be helping to make people receptive to this new model of power and value. We have thought that survival in nature means increasing our ability to shape the environment while becoming increasingly immune to its influence on us. To this end we have become tremendously adept at distorting the basically relational process of learning into a destructive unilateral event. Since we can never affect anything of which we have no knowledge, every general or hunter recognizes that the more you know about the activities of the enemy or prey, the more successfully you can kill them. Through the aid of modern science we have learned so much about our physical and animal environment that we can destroy and kill with tremendous efficiency. But we surely do so only as we refuse to be open to the full value of that environment and the full experience of animals. If we were more filly open to the value experience of animals, we would almost certainly turn from such slaughter. And as we learn that we are related to their lives whether we like it or not, we are being forced to recognize that unilateral power does not ultimately hold survival value for us. If we are to survive, much less increase our ability to draw value from the environment, we must develop relational power in this area. We must be sensitive to the environment, be willing to be affected by it, and be able to enter into relationships of aesthetic mutual support with it.
There is also good reason for doubting whether the unilateral model of power any longer has survival value at the national level. War has always been a primary expression of contests of unilateral power between nations. But war between nations is no longer something we can expect to survive, either as nations or as individuals. It is admittedly difficult to envision, however, an image of what a relationally powerful nation would be like. We do not seem to have any solid examples to study. Obviously the problem is a complex one, for relational power involves risk taking, and national leaders may legitimately feel that they have no right to take such risks with the life of the nation. This might be a persuasive argument if there were no risks of destruction in war. But that risk is present in a way never before.
A nation which operated by relational power would be one which actively attempted to be sensitive to the feelings of persons in other nations, to the needs, fears, hopes, angers, and goals of other nations (as well as of its own citizens), and which allowed those to influence its policies. But this is not to say, of course, that other nations would determine its policy. The nation, like a person, would create its own policies out of its sensitivity to other nations, as well as its own concerns.
The not too distant debate over the Panama Canal treaties might be an example of such an act of relational power. Without being too optimistic about our motives, it seems fair to hope that we were partly led to that action by our recognition that the people of Panama felt humiliated by our presence there, and angered by our profit from their labor and suffering in the building of the canal. Their sense of having suffered injustice at our hands, along with a growing sense of autonomy and dignity among Latin American nations in general, seems to have been a significant element in our decision.
Relational power is not unrealistic for national policy. Relational power does not mean the abdication of self-interest. Rather, it requires the recognition that our interests are inescapably intertwined with the interests of others. Economically, this is obvious. But an image of nationhood suggested by true relational power goes further than economics. It affirms that the richer the total economic, cultural, spiritual, and intellectual life of others, the richer our potential for aesthetic value relations. The greater their beauty, the greater our joint beauty can be. Thus relational power involves our openness to every dimension of the lives of other persons and nations.
If we take seriously Whitehead’s claim that the fundamental form of order and hence of value is aesthetic, and the accompanying principle of relatedness, it is obvious that unilateral power (the ability to affect without being affected) inherently inhibits the growth of value in human experience. Relational power (the ability to be affected, to create oneself, and to affect others by having first been affected by them) is the essential foundation for the growth of such aesthetic value. The acceptance of beauty as the primary criterion of value, and of relational power as the means of producing such value, necessitates the development of new images of personhood and nationhood. We must reject those images arising from substance philosophies and shortsighted pragmatism which falsely elevate success in the pecking order to the supreme image of ideal personhood.
1Plato, The Sophist, in The Dialogues of Plato, B. Jowett, trans. (N.Y.: Random House, 1937), Vol. 2, p. 255.
2Bernard Loomer’s 1975 lecture on "Two Conceptions of Power," delivered at the University of Chicago Divinity School, seems to me to be the major statement clarifying the process contribution to the concept of power. I am simply building on, and providing some background to, his ideas. The lecture was originally published in the Divinity School’s quarterly, Criterion 15:1, Winter 1976. It was subsequently published in PS 6:1, Spring 1976. I cite the Criterion.
3Plato, ibid., Vol. 1, pp. 64Sf.
4Aristotle, Metaphysics, Bk. 12, Ch. 9, The Basic Works of Aristotle, Richard McKeon, ed. (N.Y.: Random House, 1941).
5Descartes, Philosophical Works of Descartes, Haldane and Ross, trans. (U.S.: Dover Publications, Inc., 1955), Vol. 1, p. 239.
6Ibid., p. 240.
7Leibniz, Monadology, in Leibniz: Discourse on Metaphysics/ Correspondence with Arnauld/ Monadology, George Montgomery, trans. (La Salle, IL: Open Court Publishing Co., 1973), pp. 261-62.
8John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, A. C. Fraser, ed. (N.Y.: Dover Publications, Inc., 1959), Vol. 1, pp. 309-10.
9Raymond Aron, Peace and War: A Theory of International Relations, (N.Y., Washington: Frederick A. Praeger, Publisher, 1967), p. 47.
10Ibid., p. 57.
12See AI, Chapter 17, "Beauty.’
13Daniel Day Williams, The Spirit and the Forms of Love, (N.Y., Evanston: Harper & Row, 1968), p. 105.
14Loomer, "S-I-Z-E is the Measure," Religious Experience and Process Theology, Harry James Cargas, Bernard Lee, eds. (N.Y.: Paulist Press, 1976), and also, "Power," pp. 26-27.
15Loomer, "Power," p. 25.