Essays in Radical Empiricism Part 4

[37] [Cf. "How Two Minds Can Know One Thing," below, pp. 123-136.]

[38] The notion that our objects are inside of our respective heads is not seriously defensible, so I pa.s.s it by.

[39] [The argument is resumed below, pp. 101 sq. ED.]

[40] Our minds and these ejective realities would still have s.p.a.ce (or pseudo-s.p.a.ce, as I believe Professor Strong calls the medium of interaction between 'things-in-themselves') in common. These would exist _where_, and begin to act _where_, we locate the molecules, etc., and _where_ we perceive the sensible phenomena explained thereby. [Cf.

Morton Prince: _The Nature of Mind, and Human Automatism_, part I, ch.

III, IV; C. A. Strong: _Why the Mind Has a Body_, ch. XII.]

[41] [Cf. below, p. 188; _A Pluralistic Universe_, Lect. IV-VII.]

[42] I have said something of this latter alliance in an article ent.i.tled 'Humanism and Truth,' in _Mind_, October, 1904. [Reprinted in _The Meaning of Truth_, pp. 51-101. Cf. also "Humanism and Truth Once More," below, pp. 244-265.]

III

THE THING AND ITS RELATIONS[43]

Experience in its immediacy seems perfectly fluent. The active sense of living which we all enjoy, before reflection shatters our instinctive world for us, is self-luminous and suggests no paradoxes. Its difficulties are disappointments and uncertainties. They are not intellectual contradictions.

When the reflective intellect gets at work, however, it discovers incomprehensibilities in the flowing process. Distinguis.h.i.+ng its elements and parts, it gives them separate names, and what it thus disjoins it can not easily put together. Pyrrhonism accepts the irrationality and revels in its dialectic elaboration. Other philosophies try, some by ignoring, some by resisting, and some by turning the dialectic procedure against itself, negating its first negations, to restore the fluent sense of life again, and let redemption take the place of innocence. The perfection with which any philosophy may do this is the measure of its human success and of its importance in philosophic history. In [the last essay], 'A World of Pure Experience,'

I tried my own hand sketchily at the problem, resisting certain first steps of dialectics by insisting in a general way that the immediately experienced conjunctive relations are as real as anything else. If my sketch is not to appear too _naf_, I must come closer to details, and in the present essay I propose to do so.

I

'Pure experience' is the name which I gave to the immediate flux of life which furnishes the material to our later reflection with its conceptual categories. Only new-born babes, or men in semi-coma from sleep, drugs, illnesses, or blows, may be a.s.sumed to have an experience pure in the literal sense of a _that_ which is not yet any definite _what_, tho'

ready to be all sorts of whats; full both of oneness and of manyness, but in respects that don't appear; changing throughout, yet so confusedly that its phases interpenetrate and no points, either of distinction or of ident.i.ty, can be caught. Pure experience in this state is but another name for feeling or sensation. But the flux of it no sooner comes than it tends to fill itself with emphases, and these salient parts become identified and fixed and abstracted; so that experience now flows as if shot through with adjectives and nouns and prepositions and conjunctions. Its purity is only a relative term, meaning the proportional amount of unverbalized sensation which it still embodies.

Far back as we go, the flux, both as a whole and in its parts, is that of things conjunct and separated. The great continua of time, s.p.a.ce, and the self envelope everything, betwixt them, and flow together without interfering. The things that they envelope come as separate in some ways and as continuous in others. Some sensations coalesce with some ideas, and others are irreconcilable. Qualities compenetrate one s.p.a.ce, or exclude each other from it. They cling together persistently in groups that move as units, or else they separate. Their changes are abrupt or discontinuous; and their kinds resemble or differ; and, as they do so, they fall into either even or irregular series.

In all this the continuities and the discontinuities are absolutely co-ordinate matters of immediate feeling. The conjunctions are as primordial elements of 'fact' as are the distinctions and disjunctions.

In the same act by which I feel that this pa.s.sing minute is a new pulse of my life, I feel that the old life continues into it, and the feeling of continuance in no wise jars upon the simultaneous feeling of a novelty. They, too, compenetrate harmoniously. Prepositions, copulas, and conjunctions, 'is,' 'isn't,' 'then,' 'before,' 'in,' 'on,' 'beside,'

'between,' 'next,' 'like,' 'unlike,' 'as,' 'but,' flower out of the stream of pure experience, the stream of concretes or the sensational stream, as naturally as nouns and adjectives do, and they melt into it again as fluidly when we apply them to a new portion of the stream.

II

If now we ask why we must thus translate experience from a more concrete or pure into a more intellectualized form, filling it with ever more abounding conceptual distinctions, rationalism and naturalism give different replies.

The rationalistic answer is that the theoretic life is absolute and its interests imperative; that to understand is simply the duty of man; and that who questions this need not be argued with, for by the fact of arguing he gives away his case.

The naturalist answer is that the environment kills as well as sustains us, and that the tendency of raw experience to extinguish the experient himself is lessened just in the degree in which the elements in it that have a practical bearing upon life are a.n.a.lyzed out of the continuum and verbally fixed and coupled together, so that we may know what is in the wind for us and get ready to react in time. Had pure experience, the naturalist says, been always perfectly healthy, there would never have arisen the necessity of isolating or verbalizing any of its terms. We should just have experienced inarticulately and unintellectually enjoyed. This leaning on 'reaction' in the naturalist account implies that, whenever we intellectualize a relatively pure experience, we ought to do so for the sake of redescending to the purer or more concrete level again; and that if an intellect stays aloft among its abstract terms and generalized relations, and does not reinsert itself with its conclusions into some particular point of the immediate stream of life, it fails to finish out its function and leaves its normal race unrun.

Most rationalists nowadays will agree that naturalism gives a true enough account of the way in which our intellect arose at first, but they will deny these latter implications. The case, they will say, resembles that of s.e.xual love. Originating in the animal need of getting another generation born, this pa.s.sion has developed secondarily such imperious spiritual needs that, if you ask why another generation ought to be born at all, the answer is: 'Chiefly that love may go on.' Just so with our intellect: it originated as a practical means of serving life; but it has developed incidentally the function of understanding absolute truth; and life itself now seems to be given chiefly as a means by which that function may be prosecuted. But truth and the understanding of it lie among the abstracts and universals, so the intellect now carries on its higher business wholly in this region, without any need of redescending into pure experience again.

If the contrasted tendencies which I thus designate as naturalistic and rationalistic are not recognized by the reader, perhaps an example will make them more concrete. Mr. Bradley, for instance, is an ultra-rationalist. He admits that our intellect is primarily practical, but says that, for philosophers, the practical need is simply Truth.

Truth, moreover, must be a.s.sumed 'consistent.' Immediate experience has to be broken into subjects and qualities, terms and relations, to be understood as truth at all. Yet when so broken it is less consistent than ever. Taken raw, it is all un-distinguished. Intellectualized, it is all distinction without oneness. 'Such an arrangement may _work_, but the theoretic problem is not solved.' The question is '_how_ the diversity can exist in harmony with the oneness.' To go back to pure experience is unavailing. 'Mere feeling gives no answer to our riddle.'

Even if your intuition is a fact, it is not an _understanding_. 'It is a mere experience, and furnishes no consistent view.' The experience offered as facts or truths 'I find that my intellect rejects because they contradict themselves. They offer a complex of diversities conjoined in a way which it feels is not its way and which it can not repeat as its own.... For to be satisfied, my intellect must understand, and it can not understand by taking a congeries in the lump.'[44] So Mr.

Bradley, in the sole interests of 'understanding' (as he conceives that function), turns his back on finite experience forever. Truth must lie in the opposite direction, the direction of the Absolute; and this kind of rationalism and naturalism, or (as I will now call it) pragmatism, walk thenceforward upon opposite paths. For the one, those intellectual products are most true which, turning their face towards the Absolute, come nearest to symbolizing its ways of uniting the many and the one.

For the other, those are most true which most successfully dip back into the finite stream of feeling and grow most easily confluent with some particular wave or wavelet. Such confluence not only proves the intellectual operation to have been true (as an addition may 'prove'

that a subtraction is already rightly performed), but it const.i.tutes, according to pragmatism, all that we mean by calling it true. Only in so far as they lead us, successfully or unsuccessfully, back into sensible experience again, are our abstracts and universals true or false at all.[45]

III

In Section VI of [the last essay], I adopted in a general way the common-sense belief that one and the same world is cognized by our different minds; but I left undiscussed the dialectical arguments which maintain that this is logically absurd. The usual reason given for its being absurd is that it a.s.sumes one object (to wit, the world) to stand in two relations at once; to my mind, namely, and again to yours; whereas a term taken in a second relation can not logically be the same term which it was at first.

I have heard this reason urged so often in discussing with absolutists, and it would destroy my radical empiricism so utterly, if it were valid, that I am bound to give it an attentive ear, and seriously to search its strength.

For instance, let the matter in dispute be term _M_, a.s.serted to be on the one hand related to _L_, and on the other to _N_; and let the two cases of relation be symbolized by _L--M_ and _M--N_ respectively. When, now, I a.s.sume that the experience may immediately come and be given in the shape _L--M--N_, with no trace of doubling or internal fission in the _M_, I am told that this is all a popular delusion; that _L--M--N_ logically means two different experiences, _L--M_ and _M--N_, namely; and that although the Absolute may, and indeed must, from its superior point of view, read its own kind of unity into _M_'s two editions, yet as elements in finite experience the two _M_'s lie irretrievably asunder, and the world between them is broken and unbridged.

In arguing this dialectic thesis, one must avoid slipping from the logical into the physical point of view. It would be easy, in taking a concrete example to fix one's ideas by, to choose one in which the letter _M_ should stand for a collective noun of some sort, which noun, being related to _L_ by one of its parts and to _N_ by another, would inwardly be two things when it stood outwardly in both relations. Thus, one might say: 'David Hume, who weighed so many stone by his body, influences posterity by his doctrine.' The body and the doctrine are two things, between which our finite minds can discover no real sameness, though the same name covers both of them. And then, one might continue: 'Only an Absolute is capable of uniting such a non-ident.i.ty.' We must, I say, avoid this sort of example, for the dialectic insight, if true at all, must apply to terms and relations universally. It must be true of abstract units as well as of nouns collective; and if we prove it by concrete examples we must take the simplest, so as to avoid irrelevant material suggestions.

Taken thus in all its generality, the absolutist contention seems to use as its major premise Hume's notion 'that all our distinct perceptions are distinct existences, and that the mind never perceives any real connexion among distinct existences.'[46] Undoubtedly, since we use two phrases in talking first about '_M_'s relation to _L_' and then about '_M_'s relation to _N_,' we must be having, or must have had, two distinct perceptions;--and the rest would then seem to follow duly. But the starting-point of the reasoning here seems to be the fact of the two _phrases_; and this suggests that the argument may be merely verbal. Can it be that the whole dialectic consists in attributing to the experience talked-about a const.i.tution similar to that of the language in which we describe it? Must we a.s.sert the objective double-ness of the _M_ merely because we have to name it twice over when we name its two relations?

Candidly, I can think of no other reason than this for the dialectic conclusion;[47] for, if we think, not of our words, but of any simple concrete matter which they may be held to signify, the experience itself belies the paradox a.s.serted. We use indeed two separate concepts in a.n.a.lyzing our object, but we know them all the while to be but subst.i.tutional, and that the _M_ in _L--M_ and the _M_ in _M--N mean_ (_i.e._, are capable of leading to and terminating in) one self-same piece, _M_, of sensible experience. This persistent ident.i.ty of certain units (or emphases, or points, or objects, or members--call them what you will) of the experience-continuum, is just one of those conjunctive features of it, on which I am obliged to insist so emphatically.[48] For samenesses are parts of experience's indefeasible structure. When I hear a bell-stroke and, as life flows on, its after image dies away, I still hark back to it as 'that same bell-stroke.' When I see a thing _M_, with _L_ to the left of it and _N_ to the right of it, I see it _as_ one _M_; and if you tell me I have had to 'take' it twice, I reply that if I 'took' it a thousand times I should still _see_ it as a unit.[49] Its unity is aboriginal, just as the multiplicity of my successive takings is aboriginal. It comes unbroken as _that M_, as a singular which I encounter; they come broken, as _those_ takings, as my plurality of operations. The unity and the separateness are strictly co-ordinate. I do not easily fathom why my opponents should find the separateness so much more easily understandable that they must needs infect the whole of finite experience with it, and relegate the unity (now taken as a bare postulate and no longer as a thing positively perceivable) to the region of the Absolute's mysteries. I do not easily fathom this, I say, for the said opponents are above mere verbal quibbling; yet all that I can catch in their talk is the subst.i.tution of what is true of certain words for what is true of what they signify. They stay with the words,--not returning to the stream of life whence all the meaning of them came, and which is always ready to reabsorb them.

IV

For aught this argument proves, then, we may continue to believe that one thing can be known by many knowers. But the denial of one thing in many relations is but one application of a still profounder dialectic difficulty. Man can't be good, said the sophists, for man is _man_ and _good_ is good; and Hegel[50] and Herbart in their day, more recently A.

Spir,[51] and most recently and elaborately of all, Mr. Bradley, informs us that a term can logically only be a punctiform unit, and that not one of the conjunctive relations between things, which experience seems to yield, is rationally possible.

Of course, if true, this cuts off radical empiricism without even a s.h.i.+lling. Radical empiricism takes conjunctive relations at their face value, holding them to be as real as the terms united by them.[52] The world it represents as a collection, some parts of which are conjunctively and others disjunctively related. Two parts, themselves disjoined, may nevertheless hang together by intermediaries with which they are severally connected, and the whole world eventually may hang together similarly, inasmuch as _some_ path of conjunctive transition by which to pa.s.s from one of its parts to another may always be discernible. Such determinately various hanging-together may be called _concatenated_ union, to distinguish it from the 'through-and-through'

type of union, 'each in all and all in each' (union of _total conflux_, as one might call it), which monistic systems hold to obtain when things are taken in their absolute reality. In a concatenated world a partial conflux often is experienced. Our concepts and our sensations are confluent; successive states of the same ego, and feelings of the same body are confluent. Where the experience is not of conflux, it may be of conterminousness (things with but one thing between); or of contiguousness (nothing between); or of likeness; or of nearness; or of simultaneousness; or of in-ness; or of on-ness; or of for-ness; or of simple with-ness; or even of mere and-ness, which last relation would make of however disjointed a world otherwise, at any rate for that occasion a universe 'of discourse.' Now Mr. Bradley tells us that none of these relations, as we actually experience them, can possibly be real.[53] My next duty, accordingly, must be to rescue radical empiricism from Mr. Bradley. Fortunately, as it seems to me, his general contention, that the very notion of relation is unthinkable clearly, has been successfully met by many critics.[54]

It is a burden to the flesh, and an injustice both to readers and to the previous writers, to repeat good arguments already printed. So, in noticing Mr. Bradley, I will confine myself to the interests of radical empiricism solely.

V

The first duty of radical empiricism, taking given conjunctions at their face-value, is to cla.s.s some of them as more intimate and some as more external. When two terms are _similar_, their very natures enter into the relation. Being _what_ they are, no matter where or when, the likeness never can be denied, if a.s.serted. It continues predicable as long as the terms continue. Other relations, the _where_ and the _when_, for example, seem advent.i.tious. The sheet of paper may be 'off' or 'on'

the table, for example; and in either case the relation involves only the outside of its terms. Having an outside, both of them, they contribute by it to the relation. It is external: the term's inner nature is irrelevant to it. Any book, any table, may fall into the relation, which is created _pro hac vice_, not by their existence, but by their casual situation. It is just because so many of the conjunctions of experience seem so external that a philosophy of pure experience must tend to pluralism in its ontology. So far as things have s.p.a.ce-relations, for example, we are free to imagine them with different origins even. If they could get to _be_, and get into s.p.a.ce at all, then they may have done so separately. Once there, however, they are _additives_ to one another, and, with no prejudice to their natures, all sorts of s.p.a.ce-relations may supervene between them. The question of how things could come to be anyhow, is wholly different from the question what their relations, once the being accomplished, may consist in.

Mr. Bradley now affirms that such external relations as the s.p.a.ce-relations which we here talk of must hold of entirely different subjects from those of which the absence of such relations might a moment previously have been plausibly a.s.serted. Not only is the _situation_ different when the book is on the table, but the _book itself_ is different as a book, from what it was when it was off the table.[55] He admits that "such external relations seem possible and even existing.... That you do not alter what you compare or rearrange in s.p.a.ce seems to common sense quite obvious, and that on the other side there are as obvious difficulties does not occur to common sense at all.

And I will begin by pointing out these difficulties.... There is a relation in the result, and this relation, we hear, is to make no difference in its terms. But, if so, to what does it make a difference?

[_Doesn't it make a difference to us onlookers, at least?_] and what is the meaning and sense of qualifying the terms by it? [_Surely the meaning is to tell the truth about their relative position._[56]] If, in short, it is external to the terms, how can it possibly be true of them?

[_Is it the 'intimacy' suggested by the little word 'of,' here, which I have underscored, that is the root of Mr. Bradley's trouble?_] ... If the terms from their inner nature do not enter into the relation, then, so far as they are concerned, they seem related for no reason at all....

Things are spatially related, first in one way, and then become related in another way, and yet in no way themselves are altered; for the relations, it is said, are but external. But I reply that, if so, I can not _understand_ the leaving by the terms of one set of relations and their adoption of another fresh set. The process and its result to the terms, if they contribute nothing to it [_Surely they contribute to it all there is 'of' it!_] seem irrational throughout. [_If 'irrational'

here means simply 'non-rational,' or nondeductible from the essence of either term singly, it is no reproach; if it means 'contradicting' such essence, Mr. Bradley should show wherein and how._] But, if they contribute anything, they must surely be affected internally. [_Why so, if they contribute only their surface? In such relations as 'on' 'a foot away,' 'between,' 'next,' etc., only surfaces are in question._] ... If the terms contribute anything whatever, then the terms are affected [_inwardly altered?_] by the arrangement.... That for working purposes we treat, and do well to treat, some relations as external merely I do not deny, and that of course is not the question at issue here. That question is ... whether in the end and in principle a mere external relation [_i.e., a relation which can change without forcing its terms to change their nature simultaneously_] is possible and forced on us by the facts."[57]

Mr. Bradley next reverts to the antinomies of s.p.a.ce, which, according to him, prove it to be unreal, although it appears as so prolific a medium of external relations; and he then concludes that "Irrationality and externality can not be the last truth about things. Somewhere there must be a reason why this and that appear together. And this reason and reality must reside in the whole from which terms and relations are abstractions, a whole in which their internal connection must lie, and out of which from the background appear those fresh results which never could have come from the premises." And he adds that "Where the whole is different, the terms that qualify and contribute to it must so far be different.... They are altered so far only [_How far? farther than externally, yet not through and through?_] but still they are altered.... I must insist that in each case the terms are qualified by their whole [_Qualified how?--Do their external relations, situations, dates, etc., changed as these are in the new whole, fail to qualify them 'far' enough?_], and that in the second case there is a whole which differs both logically and psychologically from the first whole; and I urge that in contributing to the change the terms so far are altered."

Not merely the relations, then, but the terms are altered: _und zwar_ 'so far.' But just _how_ far is the whole problem; and 'through-and-through'