by his reflective thought, his considered judgment, and his careful regard for the consequences of his affairs. This reflective, deliberative power that checks those first impulses is what they call the intellect (ʿaql), inasmuch as it restrains a person from what he was about to do just as a hobble (ʿiqāl) restrains a she-camel from wandering wherever she pleases. That, then, is what they name “intellect.”

Knowledge of this, they add, is established only by rational demonstration: he repelled the impulses by a thought that issued from prior knowledge, so it is “intellect” from the side of action, not from the side of knowledge. What the Greeks call “intellect,” however, pertains to knowledge, not to action, and thereafter becomes a principle for action.

He continues:

“In their usage the term ‘intellect’ carries no relational sense, whereas in Arabic it does, for ʿaql is always the ʿaql of something. The concept of intellect in their language is not intended to be relative to anything, even though they may define it by reference to something or derive it from something. They designate it by a name that belongs to it in virtue of its own essence, not on account of its relations; and if it is ever related, it is only to its specific act, as with ‘knowledge’ and ‘knower.’ Indeed, ‘intellect’ and ‘knowledge’ are, for them, interchangeable terms. They further claim that the act of the intellect—which is its actuality—is identical with its very essence; thus ‘intellect’ and ‘intellector’ are, in their view, one and the same.”