{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_33727/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_33727","id":"gutenberg_33727","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33727","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Philosophy","Pragmatism"],"text":"Produced by Adrian Mastronardi, Turgut Dincer and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n(This file was produced from images generously made\navailable by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  CREATIVE INTELLIGENCE\n\n  ESSAYS IN THE PRAGMATIC ATTITUDE\n\n  BY\n\n  JOHN DEWEY\n  ADDISON W. MOORE\n  HAROLD CHAPMAN BROWN\n  GEORGE H. MEAD\n  BOYD H. BODE\n  HENRY WALDGRAVE STUART\n  JAMES HAYDEN TUFTS\n  HORACE M. KALLEN\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n  NEW YORK\n  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY\n\n\n  COPYRIGHT, 1917,\n\n  BY\n\n  HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY\n\n  Published January, 1917\n\n\n  THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PRESS\n\n  RAHWAY, N. J.\n\n\n\n\nPREFATORY NOTE\n\n\nThe Essays which follow represent an attempt at intellectual\ncooeperation. No effort has been made, however, to attain unanimity of\nbelief nor to proffer a platform of \"planks\" on which there is\nagreement. The consensus represented lies primarily in outlook, in\nconviction of what is most likely to be fruitful in method of approach.\nAs the title page suggests, the volume presents a unity in attitude\nrather than a uniformity in results. Consequently each writer is\ndefinitively responsible only for his own essay. The reader will note\nthat the Essays endeavor to embody the common attitude in application to\nspecific fields of inquiry which have been historically associated with\nphilosophy rather than as a thing by itself. Beginning with philosophy\nitself, subsequent contributions discuss its application to logic, to\nmathematics, to physical science, to psychology, to ethics, to\neconomics, and then again to philosophy itself in conjunction with\nesthetics and religion. The reader will probably find that the\nsignificant points of agreement have to do with the ideas of the\ngenuineness of the future, of intelligence as the organ for determining\nthe quality of that future so far as it can come within human control,\nand of a courageously inventive individual as the bearer of a creatively\nemployed mind. While all the essays are new in the form in which they\nare now published, various contributors make their acknowledgments to\nthe editors of the _Philosophical Review_, the _Psychological Review_,\nand the _Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods_ for\nuse of material which first made its appearance in the pages of these\njournals.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                                  PAGE\n  THE NEED FOR A RECOVERY OF PHILOSOPHY                              3\n    John Dewey, Columbia University.\n\n  REFORMATION OF LOGIC                                              70\n    Addison W. Moore, University of Chicago.\n\n  INTELLIGENCE AND MATHEMATICS                                     118\n    Harold Chapman Brown, Leland Stanford, Jr., University.\n\n  SCIENTIFIC METHOD AND INDIVIDUAL THINKER                         176\n    George H. Mead, University of Chicago.\n\n  CONSCIOUSNESS AND PSYCHOLOGY                                     228\n    Boyd H. Bode, University of Illinois.\n\n  THE PHASES OF THE ECONOMIC INTEREST                              282\n    Henry Waldgrave Stuart, Leland Stanford, Jr., University.\n\n  THE MORAL LIFE AND THE CONSTRUCTION OF VALUES AND STANDARDS      354\n    James Hayden Tufts, University of Chicago.\n\n  VALUE AND EXISTENCE IN PHILOSOPHY, ART, AND RELIGION             409\n    Horace M. Kallen, University of Wisconsin.\n\n\n\n\nCREATIVE INTELLIGENCE\n\n\n\n\nTHE NEED FOR A RECOVERY OF PHILOSOPHY\n\nJOHN DEWEY\n\n\nIntellectual advance occurs in two ways. At times increase of knowledge\nis organized about old conceptions, while these are expanded, elaborated\nand refined, but not seriously revised, much less abandoned. At other\ntimes, the increase of knowledge demands qualitative rather than\nquantitative change; alteration, not addition. Men's minds grow cold to\ntheir former intellectual concerns; ideas that were burning fade;\ninterests that were urgent seem remote. Men face in another direction;\ntheir older perplexities are unreal; considerations passed over as\nnegligible loom up. Former problems may not have been solved, but they\nno longer press for solutions.\n\nPhilosophy is no exception to the rule. But it is unusually\nconservative--not, necessarily, in proffering solutions, but in clinging\nto problems. It has been so allied with theology and theological morals\nas representatives of men's chief interests, that radical alteration has\nbeen shocking. Men's activities took a decidedly new turn, for example,\nin the seventeenth century, and it seems as if philosophy, under the\nlead of thinkers like Bacon and Descartes, was to execute an about-face.\nBut, in spite of the ferment, it turned out that many of the older\nproblems were but translated from Latin into the vernacular or into the\nnew terminology furnished by science.\n\nThe association of philosophy with academic teaching has reinforced this\nintrinsic conservatism. Scholastic philosophy persisted in universities\nafter men's thoughts outside of the walls of colleges had moved in other\ndirections. In the last hundred years intellectual advances of science\nand politics have in like fashion been crystallized into material of\ninstruction and now resist further change. I would not say that the\nspirit of teaching is hostile to that of liberal inquiry, but a\nphilosophy which exists largely as something to be taught rather than\nwholly as something to be reflected upon is conducive to discussion of\nviews held by others rather than to immediate response. Philosophy when\ntaught inevitably magnifies the history of past thought, and leads\nprofessional philosophers to approach their subject-matter through its\nformulation in received systems. It tends, also, to emphasize points\nupon which men have divided into schools, for these lend themselves to\nretrospective definition and elaboration. Consequently, philosophical\ndiscussion is likely to be a dressing out of antithetical traditions,\nwhere criticism of one view is thought to afford proof of the truth of\nits opposite (as if formulation of views guaranteed logical exclusives).\nDirect preoccupation with contemporary difficulties is left to\nliterature and politics.\n\nIf changing conduct and expanding knowledge ever required a willingness\nto surrender not merely old solutions but old problems it is now. I do\nnot mean that we can turn abruptly away from all traditional issues.\nThis is impossible; it would be the undoing of the one who attempted it.\nIrrespective of the professionalizing of philosophy, the ideas\nphilosophers discuss are still those in which Western civilization has\nbeen bred. They are in the backs of the heads of educated people. But\nwhat serious-minded men not engaged in the professional business of\nphilosophy most want to know is what modifications and abandonments of\nintellectual inheritance are required by the newer industrial,\npolitical, and scientific movements. They want to know what these newer\nmovements mean when translated into general ideas. Unless professional\nphilosophy can mobilize itself sufficiently to assist in this\nclarification and redirection of men's thoughts, it is likely to get\nmore and more sidetracked from the main currents of contemporary life.\n\nThis essay may, then, be looked upon as an attempt to forward the\nemancipation of philosophy from too intimate and exclusive attachment to\ntraditional problems. It is not in intent a criticism of various\nsolutions that have been offered, but raises a question _as to the\ngenuineness, under the present conditions of science and social life, of\nthe problems_.\n\nThe limited object of my discussion will, doubtless, give an exaggerated\nimpression of my conviction as to the artificiality of much recent\nphilosophizing. Not that I have wilfully exaggerated in what I have\nsaid, but that the limitations of my purpose have led me not to say many\nthings pertinent to a broader purpose. A discussion less restricted\nwould strive to enforce the genuineness, in their own context, of\nquestions now discussed mainly because they have been discussed rather\nthan because contemporary conditions of life suggest them. It would also\nbe a grateful task to dwell upon the precious contributions made by\nphilosophic systems which as a whole are impossible. In the course of\nthe development of unreal premises and the discussion of artificial\nproblems, points of view have emerged which are indispensable\npossessions of culture. The horizon has been widened; ideas of great\nfecundity struck out; imagination quickened; a sense of the meaning of\nthings created. It may even be asked whether these accompaniments of\nclassic systems have not often been treated as a kind of guarantee of\nthe systems themselves. But while it is a sign of an illiberal mind to\nthrow away the fertile and ample ideas of a Spinoza, a Kant, or a Hegel,\nbecause their setting is not logically adequate, is surely a sign of an\nundisciplined one to treat their contributions to culture as\nconfirmations of premises with which they have no necessary connection.\n\n\nI\n\nA criticism of current philosophizing from the standpoint of the\ntraditional quality of its problems must begin somewhere, and the choice\nof a beginning is arbitrary. It has appeared to me that the notion of\nexperience implied in the questions most actively discussed gives a\nnatural point of departure. For, if I mistake not, it is just the\ninherited view of experience common to the empirical school and its\nopponents which keeps alive many discussions even of matters that on\ntheir face are quite remote from it, while it is also this view which is\nmost untenable in the light of existing science and social practice.\nAccordingly I set out with a brief statement of some of the chief\ncontrasts between the orthodox description of experience and that\ncongenial to present conditions.\n\n(i) In the orthodox view, experience is regarded primarily as a\nknowledge-affair. But to eyes not looking through ancient spectacles, it\nassuredly appears as an affair of the intercourse of a living being with\nits physical and social environment. (ii) According to tradition\nexperience is (at least primarily) a psychical thing, infected\nthroughout by \"subjectivity.\" What experience suggests about itself is a\ngenuinely objective world which enters into the actions and sufferings\nof men and undergoes modifications through their responses. (iii) So far\nas anything beyond a bare present is recognized by the established\ndoctrine, the past exclusively counts. Registration of what has taken\nplace, reference to precedent, is believed to be the essence of\nexperience. Empiricism is conceived of as tied up to what has been, or\nis, \"given.\" But experience in its vital form is experimental, an effort\nto change the given; it is characterized by projection, by reaching\nforward into the unknown; connexion with a future is its salient trait.\n(iv) The empirical tradition is committed to particularism. Connexions\nand continuities are supposed to be foreign to experience, to be\nby-products of dubious validity. An experience that is an undergoing of\nan environment and a striving for its control in new directions is\npregnant with connexions. (v) In the traditional notion experience and\nthought are antithetical terms. Inference, so far as it is other than a\nrevival of what has been given in the past, goes beyond experience;\nhence it is either invalid, or else a measure of desperation by which,\nusing experience as a springboard, we jump out to a world of stable\nthings and other selves. But experience, taken free of the restrictions\nimposed by the older concept, is full of inference. There is,\napparently, no conscious experience without inference; reflection is\nnative and constant.\n\nThese contrasts, with a consideration of the effect of substituting the\naccount of experience relevant to modern life for the inherited account,\nafford the subject-matter of the following discussion.\n\nSuppose we take seriously the contribution made to our idea of\nexperience by biology,--not that recent biological science discovered\nthe facts, but that it has so emphasized them that there is no longer an\nexcuse for ignoring them or treating them as negligible. Any account of\nexperience must now fit into the consideration that experiencing means\nliving; and that living goes on in and because of an environing medium,\nnot in a vacuum. Where there is experience, there is a living being.\nWhere there is life, there is a double connexion maintained with the\nenvironment. In part, environmental energies constitute organic\nfunctions; they enter into them. Life is not possible without such\ndirect support by the environment. But while all organic changes depend\nupon the natural energies of the environment for their origination and\noccurrence, the natural energies sometimes carry the organic functions\nprosperously forward, and sometimes act counter to their continuance.\nGrowth and decay, health and disease, are alike continuous with\nactivities of the natural surroundings. The difference lies in the\nbearing of what happens upon future life-activity. From the standpoint\nof this future reference environmental incidents fall into groups: those\nfavorable to life-activities, and those hostile.\n\nThe successful activities of the organism, those within which\nenvironmental assistance is incorporated, react upon the environment to\nbring about modifications favorable to their own future. The human being\nhas upon his hands the problem of responding to what is going on around\nhim so that these changes will take one turn rather than another,\nnamely, that required by its own further functioning. While backed in\npart by the environment, its life is anything but a peaceful exhalation\nof environment. It is obliged to struggle--that is to say, to employ the\ndirect support given by the environment in order indirectly to effect\nchanges that would not otherwise occur. In this sense, life goes on by\nmeans of controlling the environment. Its activities must change the\nchanges going on around it; they must neutralize hostile occurrences;\nthey must transform neutral events into cooeperative factors or into an\nefflorescence of new features.\n\nDialectic developments of the notion of self-preservation, of the\n_conatus essendi_, often ignore all the important facts of the actual\nprocess. They argue as if self-control, self-development, went on\ndirectly as a sort of unrolling push from within. But life endures only\nin virtue of the support of the environment. And since the environment\nis only incompletely enlisted in our behalf, self-preservation--or\nself-realization or whatever--is always indirect--always an affair of\nthe way in which our present activities affect the direction taken by\nindependent changes in the surroundings. Hindrances must be turned into\nmeans.\n\nWe are also given to playing loose with the conception of adjustment, as\nif that meant something fixed--a kind of accommodation once for all\n(ideally at least) of the organism _to_ an environment. But as life\nrequires the fitness of the environment to the organic functions,\nadjustment to the environment means not passive acceptance of the\nlatter, but acting so that the environing changes take a certain turn.\nThe \"higher\" the type of life, the more adjustment takes the form of an\nadjusting of the factors of the environment to one another in the\ninterest of life; the less the significance of living, the more it\nbecomes an adjustment to a given environment till at the lower end of\nthe scale the differences between living and the non-living disappear.\n\nThese statements are of an external kind. They are about the conditions\nof experience, rather than about experiencing itself. But assuredly\nexperience as it concretely takes place bears out the statements.\nExperience is primarily a process of undergoing: a process of standing\nsomething; of suffering and passion, of affection, in the literal sense\nof these words. The organism has to endure, to undergo, the\nconsequences of its own actions. Experience is no slipping along in a\npath fixed by inner consciousness. Private consciousness is an\nincidental outcome of experience of a vital objective sort; it is not\nits source. Undergoing, however, is never mere passivity. The most\npatient patient is more than a receptor. He is also an agent--a reactor,\none trying experiments, one concerned with undergoing in a way which may\ninfluence what is still to happen. Sheer endurance, side-stepping\nevasions, are, after all, ways of treating the environment with a view\nto what such treatment will accomplish. Even if we shut ourselves up in\nthe most clam-like fashion, we are doing something; our passivity is an\nactive attitude, not an extinction of response. Just as there is no\nassertive action, no aggressive attack upon things as they are, which is\nall action, so there is no undergoing which is not on our part also a\ngoing on and a going through.\n\nExperience, in other words, is a matter of _simultaneous_ doings and\nsufferings. Our undergoings are experiments in varying the course of\nevents; our active tryings are trials and tests of ourselves. This\nduplicity of experience shows itself in our happiness and misery, our\nsuccesses and failures. Triumphs are dangerous when dwelt upon or lived\noff from; successes use themselves up. Any achieved equilibrium of\nadjustment with the environment is precarious because we cannot evenly\nkeep pace with changes in the environment. These are so opposed in\ndirection that we must choose. We must take the risk of casting in our\nlot with one movement or the other. Nothing can eliminate all risk, all\nadventure; the one thing doomed to failure is to try to keep even with\nthe whole environment at once--that is to say, to maintain the happy\nmoment when all things go our way.\n\nThe obstacles which confront us are stimuli to variation, to novel\nresponse, and hence are occasions of progress. If a favor done us by the\nenvironment conceals a threat, so its disfavor is a potential means of\nhitherto unexperienced modes of success. To treat misery as anything but\nmisery, as for example a blessing in disguise or a necessary factor in\ngood, is disingenuous apologetics. But to say that the progress of the\nrace has been stimulated by ills undergone, and that men have been moved\nby what they suffer to search out new and better courses of action is to\nspeak veraciously.\n\nThe preoccupation of experience with things which are coming (are now\ncoming, not just to come) is obvious to any one whose interest in\nexperience is empirical. Since we live forward; since we live in a world\nwhere changes are going on whose issue means our weal or woe; since\nevery act of ours modifies these changes and hence is fraught with\npromise, or charged with hostile energies--what should experience be but\na future implicated in a present! Adjustment is no timeless state; it is\na continuing process. To say that a change takes time may be to say\nsomething about the event which is external and uninstructive. But\nadjustment of organism to environment takes time in the pregnant sense;\nevery step in the process is conditioned by reference to further\nchanges which it effects. What is going on in the environment is the\nconcern of the organism; not what is already \"there\" in accomplished and\nfinished form. In so far as the issue of what is going on may be\naffected by intervention of the organism, the moving event is a\nchallenge which stretches the agent-patient to meet what is coming.\nExperiencing exhibits things in their unterminated aspect moving toward\ndeterminate conclusions. The finished and done with is of import as\naffecting the future, not on its own account: in short, because it is\nnot, really, done with.\n\nAnticipation is therefore more primary than recollection; projection\nthan summoning of the past; the prospective than the retrospective.\nGiven a world like that in which we live, a world in which environing\nchanges are partly favorable and partly callously indifferent, and\nexperience is bound to be prospective in import; for any control\nattainable by the living creature depends upon what is done to alter the\nstate of things. Success and failure are the primary \"categories\" of\nlife; achieving of good and averting of ill are its supreme interests;\nhope and anxiety (which are not self-enclosed states of feeling, but\nactive attitudes of welcome and wariness) are dominant qualities of\nexperience. Imaginative forecast of the future is this forerunning\nquality of behavior rendered available for guidance in the present.\nDay-dreaming and castle-building and esthetic realization of what is not\npractically achieved are offshoots of this practical trait, or else\npractical intelligence is a chastened fantasy. It makes little\ndifference. Imaginative recovery of the bygone is indispensable to\nsuccessful invasion of the future, but its status is that of an\ninstrument. To ignore its import is the sign of an undisciplined agent;\nbut to isolate the past, dwelling upon it for its own sake and giving it\nthe eulogistic name of knowledge, is to substitute the reminiscence of\nold-age for effective intelligence. The movement of the agent-patient to\nmeet the future is partial and passionate; yet detached and impartial\nstudy of the past is the only alternative to luck in assuring success to\npassion.\n\n\nII\n\nThis description of experience would be but a rhapsodic celebration of\nthe commonplace were it not in marked contrast to orthodox philosophical\naccounts. The contrast indicates that traditional accounts have not been\nempirical, but have been deductions, from unnamed premises, of what\nexperience _must_ be. Historic empiricism has been empirical in a\ntechnical and controversial sense. It has said, Lord, Lord, Experience,\nExperience; but in practice it has served ideas _forced into_\nexperience, not _gathered from_ it.\n\nThe confusion and artificiality thereby introduced into philosophical\nthought is nowhere more evident than in the empirical treatment of\nrelations or dynamic continuities. The experience of a living being\nstruggling to hold its own and make its way in an environment, physical\nand social, partly facilitating and partly obstructing its actions, is\nof necessity a matter of ties and connexions, of bearings and uses. The\nvery point of experience, so to say, is that it doesn't occur in a\nvacuum; its agent-patient instead of being insulated and disconnected is\nbound up with the movement of things by most intimate and pervasive\nbonds. Only because the organism is in and of the world, and its\nactivities correlated with those of other things in multiple ways, is it\nsusceptible to undergoing things and capable of trying to reduce objects\nto means of securing its good fortune. That these connexions are of\ndiverse kinds is irresistibly proved by the fluctuations which occur in\nits career. Help and hindrance, stimulation and inhibition, success and\nfailure mean specifically different modes of correlation. Although the\nactions of things in the world are taking place in one continuous\nstretch of existence, there are all kinds of specific affinities,\nrepulsions, and relative indifferencies.\n\nDynamic connexions are qualitatively diverse, just as are the centers of\naction. _In this sense_, pluralism, not monism, is an established\nempirical fact. The attempt to establish monism from consideration of\nthe very nature of a relation is a mere piece of dialectics. Equally\ndialectical is the effort to establish by a consideration of the nature\nof relations an ontological Pluralism of Ultimates: _simple and\nindependent beings._ To attempt to get results from a consideration of\nthe \"external\" nature of relations is of a piece with the attempt to\ndeduce results from their \"internal\" character. Some things are\nrelatively insulated from the influence of other things; some things are\neasily invaded by others; some things are fiercely attracted to conjoin\ntheir activities with those of others. Experience exhibits every kind\nof connexion[1] from the most intimate to mere external juxtaposition.\n\nEmpirically, then, active bonds or continuities of all kinds, together\nwith static discontinuities, characterize existence. To deny this\nqualitative heterogeneity is to reduce the struggles and difficulties of\nlife, its comedies and tragedies to illusion: to the non-being of the\nGreeks or to its modern counterpart, the \"subjective.\" Experience is an\naffair of facilitations and checks, of being sustained and disrupted,\nbeing let alone, being helped and troubled, of good fortune and defeat\nin all the countless qualitative modes which these words pallidly\nsuggest. The existence of genuine connexions of all manner of\nheterogeneity cannot be doubted. Such words as conjoining, disjoining,\nresisting, modifying, saltatory, and ambulatory (to use James'\npicturesque term) only hint at their actual heterogeneity.\n\nAmong the revisions and surrenders of historic problems demanded by this\nfeature of empirical situations, those centering in the\nrationalistic-empirical controversy may be selected for attention. The\nimplications of this controversy are twofold: First, that connexions are\nas homogeneous in fact as in name; and, secondly, if genuine, are all\ndue to thought, or, if empirical, are arbitrary by-products of past\nparticulars. The stubborn particularism of orthodox empiricism is its\noutstanding trait; consequently the opposed rationalism found no\njustification of bearings, continuities, and ties save to refer them in\ngross to the work of a hyper-empirical Reason.\n\nOf course, not all empiricism prior to Hume and Kant was\nsensationalistic, pulverizing \"experience\" into isolated sensory\nqualities or simple ideas. It did not all follow Locke's lead in\nregarding the entire content of generalization as the \"workmanship of\nthe understanding.\" On the Continent, prior to Kant, philosophers were\ncontent to draw a line between empirical generalizations regarding\nmatters of fact and necessary universals applying to truths of reason.\nBut logical atomism was implicit even in this theory. Statements\nreferring to empirical fact were mere quantitative summaries of\nparticular instances. In the sensationalism which sprang from Hume (and\nwhich was left unquestioned by Kant as far as any strictly empirical\nelement was concerned) the implicit particularism was made explicit. But\nthe doctrine that sensations and ideas are so many separate existences\nwas not derived from observation nor from experiment. It was a logical\ndeduction from a prior unexamined concept of the nature of experience.\nFrom the same concept it followed that the appearance of stable objects\nand of general principles of connexion was but an appearance.[2]\n\nKantianism, then, naturally invoked universal bonds to restore\nobjectivity. But, in so doing, it accepted the particularism of\nexperience and proceeded to supplement it from non-empirical sources. A\nsensory manifold being all which is really empirical in experience, a\nreason which transcends experience must provide synthesis. The net\noutcome might have suggested a correct account of experience. For we\nhave only to forget the apparatus by which the net outcome is arrived\nat, to have before us the experience of the plain man--a diversity of\nceaseless changes connected in all kinds of ways, static and dynamic.\nThis conclusion would deal a deathblow to both empiricism and\nrationalism. For, making clear the non-empirical character of the\nalleged manifold of unconnected particulars, it would render unnecessary\nthe appeal to functions of the understanding in order to connect them.\nWith the downfall of the traditional notion of experience, the appeal to\nreason to supplement its defects becomes superfluous.\n\nThe tradition was, however, too strongly entrenched; especially as it\nfurnished the subject-matter of an alleged science of states of mind\nwhich were directly known in their very presence. The historic outcome\nwas a new crop of artificial puzzles about relations; it fastened upon\nphilosophy for a long time the quarrel about the _a priori_ and the _a\nposteriori_ as its chief issue. The controversy is to-day quiescent. Yet\nit is not at all uncommon to find thinkers modern in tone and intent\nwho regard any philosophy of experience as necessarily committed to\ndenial of the existence of genuinely general propositions, and who take\nempiricism to be inherently averse to the recognition of the importance\nof an organizing and constructive intelligence.\n\nThe quiescence alluded to is in part due, I think, to sheer weariness.\nBut it is also due to a change of standpoint introduced by biological\nconceptions; and particularly the discovery of biological continuity\nfrom the lower organisms to man. For a short period, Spencerians might\nconnect the doctrine of evolution with the old problem, and use the long\ntemporal accumulation of \"experiences\" to generate something which, for\nhuman experience, is _a priori_. But the tendency of the biological way\nof thinking is neither to confirm or negate the Spencerian doctrine, but\nto shift the issue. In the orthodox position _a posteriori_ and _a\npriori_ were affairs of knowledge. But it soon becomes obvious that\nwhile there is assuredly something _a priori_--that is to say, native,\nunlearned, original--in human experience, that something is _not_\nknowledge, but is activities made possible by means of established\nconnexions of neurones. This empirical fact does not solve the orthodox\nproblem; it dissolves it. It shows that the problem was misconceived,\nand solution sought by both parties in the wrong direction.\n\nOrganic instincts and organic retention, or habit-forming, are\nundeniable factors in actual experience. They are factors which effect\norganization and secure continuity. They are among the specific facts\nwhich a description of experience cognizant of the correlation of\norganic action with the action of other natural objects will include.\nBut while fortunately the contribution of biological science to a truly\nempirical description of experiencing has outlawed the discussion of the\n_a priori_ and _a posteriori_, the transforming effect of the same\ncontributions upon other issues has gone unnoticed, save as pragmatism\nhas made an effort to bring them to recognition.\n\n\nIII\n\nThe point seriously at issue in the notion of experience common to both\nsides in the older controversy thus turns out to be the place of thought\nor intelligence in experience. Does reason have a distinctive office? Is\nthere a characteristic order of relations contributed by it?\n\nExperience, to return to our positive conception, is primarily what is\nundergone in connexion with activities whose import lies in their\nobjective consequences--their bearing upon future experiences. Organic\nfunctions deal with things as things in course, in operation, in a state\nof affairs not yet given or completed. What is done with, what is just\n\"there,\" is of concern only in the potentialities which it may indicate.\nAs ended, as wholly given, it is of no account. But as a sign of what\nmay come, it becomes an indispensable factor in behavior dealing with\nchanges, the outcome of which is not yet determined.\n\nThe only power the organism possesses to control its own future depends\nupon the way its present responses modify changes which are taking place\nin its medium. A living being may be comparatively impotent, or\ncomparatively free. It is all a matter of the way in which its present\nreactions to things influence the future reactions of things upon it.\nWithout regard to its wish or intent every act it performs makes some\ndifference in the environment. The change may be trivial as respects its\nown career and fortune. But it may also be of incalculable importance;\nit may import harm, destruction, or it may procure well-being.\n\nIs it possible for a living being to increase its control of welfare and\nsuccess? Can it manage, in any degree, to assure its future? Or does the\namount of security depend wholly upon the accidents of the situation?\nCan it learn? Can it gain ability to assure its future in the present?\nThese questions center attention upon the significance of reflective\nintelligence in the process of experience. The extent of an agent's\ncapacity for inference, its power to use a given fact as a sign of\nsomething not yet given, measures the extent of its ability\nsystematically to enlarge its control of the future.\n\nA being which can use given and finished facts as signs of things to\ncome; which can take given things as evidences of absent things, can, in\nthat degree, forecast the future; it can form reasonable expectations.\nIt is capable of achieving ideas; it is possessed of intelligence. For\nuse of the given or finished to anticipate the consequence of processes\ngoing on is precisely what is meant by \"ideas,\" by \"intelligence.\"\n\nAs we have already noted, the environment is rarely all of a kind in its\nbearing upon organic welfare; its most whole-hearted support of\nlife-activities is precarious and temporary. Some environmental changes\nare auspicious; others are menacing. The secret of success--that is, of\nthe greatest attainable success--is for the organic response to cast in\nits lot with present auspicious changes to strengthen them and thus to\navert the consequences flowing from occurrences of ill-omen. Any\nreaction is a venture; it involves risk. We always build better or worse\nthan we can foretell. But the organism's fateful intervention in the\ncourse of events is blind, its choice is random, except as it can employ\nwhat happens to it as a basis of inferring what is likely to happen\nlater. In the degree in which it can read future results in present\non-goings, its responsive choice, its partiality to this condition or\nthat, become intelligent. Its bias grows reasonable. It can\ndeliberately, intentionally, participate in the direction of the course\nof affairs. Its foresight of different futures which result according as\nthis or that present factor predominates in the shaping of affairs\npermits it to partake intelligently instead of blindly and fatally in\nthe consequences its reactions give rise to. Participate it must, and to\nits own weal or woe. Inference, the use of what happens, to anticipate\nwhat will--or at least may--happen, makes the difference between\ndirected and undirected participation. And this capacity for inferring\nis precisely the same as that use of natural occurrences for the\ndiscovery and determination of consequences--the formation of new\ndynamic connexions--which constitutes knowledge.\n\nThe fact that thought is an intrinsic feature of experience is fatal to\nthe traditional empiricism which makes it an artificial by-product. But\nfor that same reason it is fatal to the historic rationalisms whose\njustification was the secondary and retrospective position assigned to\nthought by empirical philosophy. According to the particularism of the\nlatter, thought was inevitably only a bunching together of hard-and-fast\nseparate items; thinking was but the gathering together and tying of\nitems already completely given, or else an equally artificial untying--a\nmechanical adding and subtracting of the given. It was but a cumulative\nregistration, a consolidated merger; generality was a matter of bulk,\nnot of quality. Thinking was therefore treated as lacking constructive\npower; even its organizing capacity was but simulated, being in truth\nbut arbitrary pigeon-holing. Genuine projection of the novel,\ndeliberate variation and invention, are idle fictions in such a version\nof experience. If there ever was creation, it all took place at a remote\nperiod. Since then the world has only recited lessons.\n\nThe value of inventive construction is too precious to be disposed of in\nthis cavalier way. Its unceremonious denial afforded an opportunity to\nassert that in addition to experience the subject has a ready-made\nfaculty of thought or reason which transcends experience. Rationalism\nthus accepted the account of experience given by traditional empiricism,\nand introduced reason as extra-empirical. There are still thinkers who\nregard any empiricism as necessarily committed to a belief in a\ncut-and-dried reliance upon disconnected precedents, and who hold that\nall systematic organization of past experiences for new and constructive\npurposes is alien to strict empiricism.\n\nRationalism never explained, however, how a reason extraneous to\nexperience could enter into helpful relation with concrete experiences.\nBy definition, reason and experience were antithetical, so that the\nconcern of reason was not the fruitful expansion and guidance of the\ncourse of experience, but a realm of considerations too sublime to\ntouch, or be touched by, experience. Discreet rationalists confined\nthemselves to theology and allied branches of abtruse science, and to\nmathematics. Rationalism would have been a doctrine reserved for\nacademic specialists and abstract formalists had it not assumed the task\nof providing an apologetics for traditional morals and theology, thereby\ngetting into touch with actual human beliefs and concerns. It is\nnotorious that historic empiricism was strong in criticism and in\ndemolition of outworn beliefs, but weak for purposes of constructive\nsocial direction. But we frequently overlook the fact that whenever\nrationalism cut free from conservative apologetics, it was also simply\nan instrumentality for pointing out inconsistencies and absurdities in\nexisting beliefs--a sphere in which it was immensely useful, as the\nEnlightenment shows. Leibniz and Voltaire were contemporary rationalists\nin more senses than one.[3]\n\nThe recognition that reflection is a genuine factor within experience\nand an indispensable factor in that control of the world which secures a\nprosperous and significant expansion of experience undermines historic\nrationalism as assuredly as it abolishes the foundations of historic\nempiricism. The bearing of a correct idea of the place and office of\nreflection upon modern idealisms is less obvious, but no less certain.\n\nOne of the curiosities of orthodox empiricism is that its outstanding\nspeculative problem is the existence of an \"external world.\" For in\naccordance with the notion that experience is attached to a private\nsubject as its exclusive possession, a world like the one in which we\nappear to live must be \"external\" to experience instead of being its\nsubject-matter. I call it a curiosity, for if anything seems adequately\ngrounded empirically it is the existence of a world which resists the\ncharacteristic functions of the subject of experience; which goes its\nway, in some respects, independently of these functions, and which\nfrustrates our hopes and intentions. Ignorance which is fatal;\ndisappointment; the need of adjusting means and ends to the course of\nnature, would seem to be facts sufficiently characterizing empirical\nsituations as to render the existence of an external world indubitable.\n\nThat the description of experience was arrived at by forcing actual\nempirical facts into conformity with dialectic developments from a\nconcept of a knower outside of the real world of nature is testified to\nby the historic alliance of empiricism and idealism.[4] According to the\nmost logically consistent editions of orthodox empiricism, all that can\nbe experienced is the fleeting, the momentary, mental state. That alone\nis absolutely and indubitably present; therefore, it alone is\ncognitively certain. It alone is _knowledge_. The existence of the past\n(and of the future), of a decently stable world and of other\nselves--indeed, of one's own self--falls outside this datum of\nexperience. These can be arrived at only by inference which is\n\"ejective\"--a name given to an alleged type of inference that jumps from\nexperience, as from a springboard, to something beyond experience.\n\nI should not anticipate difficulty in showing that this doctrine is,\ndialectically, a mass of inconsistencies. Avowedly it is a doctrine of\ndesperation, and as such it is cited here to show the desperate straits\nto which ignoring empirical facts has reduced a doctrine of experience.\nMore positively instructive are the objective idealisms which have been\nthe offspring of the marriage between the \"reason\" of historic\nrationalism and the alleged immediate psychical stuff of historic\nempiricism. These idealisms have recognized the genuineness of\nconnexions and the impotency of \"feeling.\" They have then identified\nconnexions with logical or rational connexions, and thus treated \"the\nreal World\" as a synthesis of sentient consciousness by means of a\nrational self-consciousness introducing objectivity: stability and\nuniversality of reference.\n\nHere again, for present purposes, criticism is unnecessary. It suffices\nto point out that the value of this theory is bound up with the\ngenuineness of the problem of which it purports to be a solution. If the\nbasic concept is a fiction, there is no call for the solution. The more\nimportant point is to perceive how far the \"thought\" which figures in\nobjective idealism comes from meeting the empirical demands made upon\nactual thought. Idealism is much less formal than historic rationalism.\nIt treats thought, or reason, as constitutive of experience by means of\nuniting and constructive functions, not as just concerned with a realm\nof eternal truths apart from experience. On such a view thought\ncertainly loses its abstractness and remoteness. But, unfortunately, in\nthus gaining the whole world it loses its own self. A world already, in\nits intrinsic structure, dominated by thought is not a world in which,\nsave by contradiction of premises, thinking has anything to do.\n\nThat the doctrine logically results in making change unreal and error\nunaccountable are consequences of importance in the technique of\nprofessional philosophy; in the denial of empirical fact which they\nimply they seem to many a _reductio ad absurdum_ of the premises from\nwhich they proceed. But, after all, such consequences are of only\nprofessional import. What is serious, even sinister, is the implied\nsophistication regarding the place and office of reflection in the\nscheme of things. A doctrine which exalts thought in name while\nignoring its efficacy in fact (that is, its use in bettering life) is a\ndoctrine which cannot be entertained and taught without serious peril.\nThose who are not concerned with professional philosophy but who are\nsolicitous for intelligence as a factor in the amelioration of actual\nconditions can but look askance at any doctrine which holds that the\nentire scheme of things is already, if we but acquire the knack of\nlooking at it aright, fixedly and completely rational. It is a striking\nmanifestation of the extent in which philosophies have been compensatory\nin quality.[5] But the matter cannot be passed over as if it were simply\na question of not grudging a certain amount of consolation to one amid\nthe irretrievable evils of life. For as to these evils no one knows how\nmany are retrievable; and a philosophy which proclaims the ability of a\ndialectic theory of knowledge to reveal the world as already and\neternally a self-luminous rational whole, contaminates the scope and use\nof thought at its very spring. To substitute the otiose insight gained\nby manipulation of a formula for the slow cooeperative work of a humanity\nguided by reflective intelligence is more than a technical blunder of\nspeculative philosophers.\n\nA practical crisis may throw the relationship of ideas to life into an\nexaggerated Brocken-like spectral relief, where exaggeration renders\nperceptible features not ordinarily noted. The use of force to secure\nnarrow because exclusive aims is no novelty in human affairs. The\ndeploying of all the intelligence at command in order to increase the\neffectiveness of the force used is not so common, yet presents nothing\nintrinsically remarkable. The identification of force--military,\neconomic, and administrative--with moral necessity and moral culture is,\nhowever, a phenomenon not likely to exhibit itself on a wide scale\nexcept where intelligence has already been suborned by an idealism which\nidentifies \"the actual with the rational,\" and thus finds the measure of\nreason in the brute event determined by superior force. If we are to\nhave a philosophy which will intervene between attachment to rule of\nthumb muddling and devotion to a systematized subordination of\nintelligence to preexistent ends, it can be found only in a philosophy\nwhich finds the ultimate measure of intelligence in consideration of a\ndesirable future and in search for the means of bringing it\nprogressively into existence. When professed idealism turns out to be a\nnarrow pragmatism--narrow because taking for granted the finality of\nends determined by historic conditions--the time has arrived for a\npragmatism which shall be empirically idealistic, proclaiming the\nessential connexion of intelligence with the unachieved future--with\npossibilities involving a transfiguration.\n\n\nIV\n\nWhy has the description of experience been so remote from the facts of\nempirical situations? To answer this question throws light upon the\nsubmergence of recent philosophizing in epistemology--that is, in\ndiscussions of the nature, possibility, and limits of knowledge in\ngeneral, and in the attempt to reach conclusions regarding the ultimate\nnature of reality from the answers given to such questions.\n\nThe reply to the query regarding the currency of a non-empirical\ndoctrine of experience (even among professed empiricists) is that the\ntraditional account is derived from a conception once universally\nentertained regarding the subject or bearer or center of experience. The\ndescription of experience has been forced into conformity with this\nprior conception; it has been primarily a deduction from it, actual\nempirical facts being poured into the moulds of the deductions. The\ncharacteristic feature of this prior notion is the assumption that\nexperience centers in, or gathers about, or proceeds from a center or\nsubject which is outside the course of natural existence, and set over\nagainst it:--it being of no importance, for present purposes, whether\nthis antithetical subject is termed soul, or spirit, or mind, or ego, or\nconsciousness, or just knower or knowing subject.\n\nThere are plausible grounds for thinking that the currency of the idea\nin question lies in the form which men's religious preoccupations took\nfor many centuries. These were deliberately and systematically\nother-worldly. They centered about a Fall which was not an event in\nnature, but an aboriginal catastrophe that corrupted Nature; about a\nredemption made possible by supernatural means; about a life in another\nworld--essentially, not merely spatially, Other. The supreme drama of\ndestiny took place in a soul or spirit which, under the circumstances,\ncould not be conceived other than as non-natural--extra-natural, if not,\nstrictly speaking, supernatural. When Descartes and others broke away\nfrom medieval interests, they retained as commonplaces its intellectual\napparatus: Such as, knowledge is exercised by a power that is\nextra-natural and set over against the world to be known. Even if they\nhad wished to make a complete break, they had nothing to put as knower\nin the place of the soul. It may be doubted whether there was any\navailable empirical substitute until science worked out the fact that\nphysical changes are functional correlations of energies, and that man\nis continuous with other forms of life, and until social life had\ndeveloped an intellectually free and responsible individual as its\nagent.\n\nBut my main point is not dependent upon any particular theory as to the\nhistoric origin of the notion about the bearer of experience. The point\nis there on its own account. The essential thing is that the bearer was\nconceived as outside of the world; so that experience consisted in the\nbearer's being affected through a type of operations not found anywhere\nin the world, while knowledge consists in surveying the world, looking\nat it, getting the view of a spectator.\n\nThe theological problem of attaining knowledge of God as ultimate\nreality was transformed in effect into the philosophical problem of the\npossibility of attaining knowledge of reality. For how is one to get\nbeyond the limits of the subject and subjective occurrences? Familiarity\nbreeds credulity oftener than contempt. How can a problem be artificial\nwhen men have been busy discussing it almost for three hundred years?\nBut if the assumption that experience is something set over against the\nworld is contrary to fact, then the problem of how self or mind or\nsubjective experience or consciousness can reach knowledge of an\nexternal world is assuredly a meaningless problem. Whatever questions\nthere may be about knowledge, they will not be the kind of problems\nwhich have formed epistemology.\n\nThe problem of knowledge as conceived in the industry of epistemology is\nthe problem of knowledge _in general_--of the possibility, extent, and\nvalidity of knowledge in general. What does this \"in general\" mean? In\nordinary life there are problems a-plenty of knowledge in particular;\nevery conclusion we try to reach, theoretical or practical, affords such\na problem. But there is no problem of knowledge in general. I do not\nmean, of course, that general statements cannot be made about knowledge,\nor that the problem of attaining these general statements is not a\ngenuine one. On the contrary, specific instances of success and failure\nin inquiry exist, and are of such a character that one can discover the\nconditions conducing to success and failure. Statement of these\nconditions constitutes logic, and is capable of being an important aid\nin proper guidance of further attempts at knowing. But this logical\nproblem of knowledge is at the opposite pole from the epistemological.\nSpecific problems are about right conclusions to be reached--which\nmeans, in effect, right ways of going about the business of inquiry.\nThey imply a difference between knowledge and error consequent upon\nright and wrong methods of inquiry and testing; not a difference\nbetween experience and the world. The problem of knowledge _ueberhaupt_\nexists because it is assumed that there is a knower in general, who is\noutside of the world to be known, and who is defined in terms\nantithetical to the traits of the world. With analogous assumptions, we\ncould invent and discuss a problem of digestion in general. All that\nwould be required would be to conceive the stomach and food-material as\ninhabiting different worlds. Such an assumption would leave on our hands\nthe question of the possibility, extent, nature, and genuineness of any\ntransaction between stomach and food.\n\nBut because the stomach and food inhabit a continuous stretch of\nexistence, because digestion is but a correlation of diverse activities\nin one world, the problems of digestion are specific and plural: What\nare the particular correlations which constitute it? How does it proceed\nin different situations? What is favorable and what unfavorable to its\nbest performance?--and so on. Can one deny that if we were to take our\nclue from the present empirical situation, including the scientific\nnotion of evolution (biological continuity) and the existing arts of\ncontrol of nature, subject and object would be treated as occupying the\nsame natural world as unhesitatingly as we assume the natural\nconjunction of an animal and its food? Would it not follow that\nknowledge is one way in which natural energies cooeperate? Would there be\nany problem save discovery of the peculiar structure of this\ncooeperation, the conditions under which it occurs to best effect, and\nthe consequences which issue from its occurrence?\n\nIt is a commonplace that the chief divisions of modern philosophy,\nidealism in its different kinds, realisms of various brands, so-called\ncommon-sense dualism, agnosticism, relativism, phenomenalism, have grown\nup around the epistemological problem of the general relation of subject\nand object. Problems not openly epistemological, such as whether the\nrelation of changes in consciousness to physical changes is one of\ninteraction, parallelism, or automatism have the same origin. What\nbecomes of philosophy, consisting largely as it does of different\nanswers to these questions, in case the assumptions which generate the\nquestions have no empirical standing? Is it not time that philosophers\nturned from the attempt to determine the comparative merits of various\nreplies to the questions to a consideration of the claims of the\nquestions?\n\nWhen dominating religious ideas were built up about the idea that the\nself is a stranger and pilgrim in this world; when morals, falling in\nline, found true good only in inner states of a self inaccessible to\nanything but its own private introspection; when political theory\nassumed the finality of disconnected and mutually exclusive\npersonalities, the notion that the bearer of experience is antithetical\nto the world instead of being in and of it was congenial. It at least\nhad the warrant of other beliefs and aspirations. But the doctrine of\nbiological continuity or organic evolution has destroyed the scientific\nbasis of the conception. Morally, men are now concerned with the\namelioration of the conditions of the common lot in this world. Social\nsciences recognize that associated life is not a matter of physical\njuxtaposition, but of genuine intercourse--of community of experience in\na non-metaphorical sense of community. Why should we longer try to patch\nup and refine and stretch the old solutions till they seem to cover the\nchange of thought and practice? Why not recognize that the trouble is\nwith the problem?\n\nA belief in organic evolution which does not extend unreservedly to the\nway in which the subject of experience is thought of, and which does not\nstrive to bring the entire theory of experience and knowing into line\nwith biological and social facts, is hardly more than Pickwickian. There\nare many, for example, who hold that dreams, hallucinations, and errors\ncannot be accounted for at all except on the theory that a self (or\n\"consciousness\") exercises a modifying influence upon the \"real object.\"\nThe logical assumption is that consciousness is outside of the real\nobject; that it is something different in kind, and therefore has the\npower of changing \"reality\" into appearance, of introducing\n\"relativities\" into things as they are in themselves--in short, of\ninfecting real things with subjectivity. Such writers seem unaware of\nthe fact that this assumption makes consciousness supernatural in the\nliteral sense of the word; and that, to say the least, the conception\ncan be accepted by one who accepts the doctrine of biological continuity\nonly after every other way of dealing with the facts has been exhausted.\n\nRealists, of course (at least some of the Neo-realists), deny any such\nmiraculous intervention of consciousness. But they[6] admit the reality\nof the problem; denying only this particular solution, they try to find\nsome other way out, which will still preserve intact the notion of\nknowledge as a relationship of a general sort between subject and\nobject.\n\nNow dreams and hallucinations, errors, pleasures, and pains, possibly\n\"secondary\" qualities, do not occur save where there are organic centers\nof experience. They cluster about a subject. But to treat them as things\nwhich inhere exclusively in the subject; or as posing the problem of a\ndistortion of _the_ real object by a knower set over against the world,\nor as presenting facts to be explained primarily as cases of\ncontemplative knowledge, is to testify that one has still to learn the\nlesson of evolution in its application to the affairs in hand.\n\nIf biological development be accepted, the subject of experience is at\nleast an animal, continuous with other organic forms in a process of\nmore complex organization. An animal in turn is at least continuous with\nchemico-physical processes which, in living things, are so organized as\nreally to constitute the activities of life with all their defining\ntraits. And experience is not identical with brain action; it is the\nentire organic agent-patient in all its interaction with the\nenvironment, natural and social. The brain is primarily an organ of a\ncertain kind of behavior, not of knowing the world. And to repeat what\nhas already been said, experiencing is just certain modes of\ninteraction, of correlation, of natural objects among which the organism\nhappens, so to say, to be one. It follows with equal force that\nexperience means primarily not knowledge, but ways of doing and\nsuffering. Knowing must be described by discovering what particular\nmode--qualitatively unique--of doing and suffering it is. As it is, we\nfind experience assimilated to a non-empirical concept of knowledge,\nderived from an antecedent notion of a spectator outside of the\nworld.[7]\n\nIn short, the epistemological fashion of conceiving dreams, errors,\n\"relativities,\" etc., depends upon the isolation of mind from intimate\nparticipation with other changes in the same continuous nexus. Thus it\nis like contending that when a bottle bursts, the bottle is, in some\nself-contained miraculous way, exclusively responsible. Since it is the\nnature of a bottle to be whole so as to retain fluids, bursting is an\nabnormal event--comparable to an hallucination. Hence it cannot belong\nto the \"real\" bottle; the \"subjectivity\" of glass is the cause. It is\nobvious that since the breaking of glass is a case of specific\ncorrelation of natural energies, its accidental and abnormal character\nhas to do with _consequences_, not with causation. Accident is\ninterference with the consequences for which the bottle is intended. The\nbursting considered apart from its bearing on these consequences is on a\nplane with any other occurrence in the wide world. But from the\nstandpoint of a desired future, bursting is an anomaly, an interruption\nof the course of events.\n\nThe analogy with the occurrence of dreams, hallucinations, etc., seems\nto me exact. Dreams are not something outside of the regular course of\nevents; they are in and of it. They are not cognitive distortions of\nreal things; they are _more_ real things. There is nothing abnormal in\ntheir existence, any more than there is in the bursting of a bottle.[8]\nBut they may be abnormal, from the standpoint of their influence, of\ntheir operation as stimuli in calling out responses to modify the\nfuture. Dreams have often been taken as prognostics of what is to\nhappen; they have modified conduct. A hallucination may lead a man to\nconsult a doctor; such a consequence is right and proper. But the\nconsultation indicates that the subject regarded it as an indication of\nconsequences which he feared: as a symptom of a disturbed life. Or the\nhallucination may lead him to anticipate consequences which in fact flow\nonly from the possession of great wealth. Then the hallucination is a\ndisturbance of the normal course of events; the occurrence is wrongly\n_used_ with reference to eventualities.\n\nTo regard reference to use and to desired and intended consequences as\ninvolving a \"subjective\" factor is to miss the point, for this has\nregard to the future. The uses to which a bottle are put are not mental;\nthey do not consist of physical states; they are further correlations of\nnatural existences. Consequences in use are genuine natural events; but\nthey do not occur without the intervention of behavior involving\nanticipation of a future. The case is not otherwise with an\nhallucination. The differences it makes are in any case differences in\nthe course of the one continuous world. The important point is whether\nthey are good or bad differences. To use the hallucination as a sign of\norganic lesions that menace health means the beneficial result of seeing\na physician; to respond to it as a sign of consequences such as actually\nfollow only from being persecuted is to fall into error--to be abnormal.\nThe persecutors are \"unreal\"; that is, there are no things which act as\npersecutors act; but the hallucination exists. Given its conditions it\nis as natural as any other event, and poses only the same kind of\nproblem as is put by the occurrence of, say, a thunderstorm. The\n\"unreality\" of persecution is not, however, a subjective matter; it\nmeans that conditions do not exist for producing the _future_\nconsequences which are now anticipated and reacted to. Ability to\nanticipate future consequences and to respond to them as stimuli to\npresent behavior may well _define_ what is meant by a mind or by\n\"consciousness.\"[9] But this is only a way of saying just what kind of a\nreal or natural existence the subject is; it is not to fall back on a\npreconception about an unnatural subject in order to characterize the\noccurrence of error.\n\nAlthough the discussion may be already labored, let us take another\nexample--the occurrence of disease. By definition it is pathological,\nabnormal. At one time in human history this abnormality was taken to be\nsomething dwelling in the intrinsic nature of the event--in its\nexistence irrespective of future consequences. Disease was literally\nextra-natural and to be referred to demons, or to magic. No one to-day\nquestions its naturalness--its place in the order of natural events. Yet\nit is abnormal--for it operates to effect results different from those\nwhich follow from health. The difference is a genuine empirical\ndifference, not a mere mental distinction. From the standpoint of\nbearing on a subsequent course of events disease is unnatural, in spite\nof the naturalness of its occurrence and origin.\n\nThe habit of ignoring reference to the future is responsible for the\nassumption that to admit human participation in any form is to admit the\n\"subjective\" in a sense which alters the objective into the phenomenal.\nThere have been those who, like Spinoza, regarded health and disease,\ngood and ill, as equally real and equally unreal. However, only a few\nconsistent materialists have included truth along with error as merely\nphenomenal and subjective. But if one does not regard movement toward\npossible consequences as genuine, wholesale denial of existential\nvalidity to all these distinctions is the only logical course. To select\ntruth as objective and error as \"subjective\" is, on this basis, an\nunjustifiably partial procedure. Take everything as fixedly given, and\nboth truth and error are arbitrary insertions into fact. Admit the\ngenuineness of changes going on, and capacity for its direction through\norganic action based on foresight, and both truth and falsity are alike\nexistential. It is human to regard the course of events which is in line\nwith our own efforts as the _regular_ course of events, and\ninterruptions as abnormal, but this partiality of human desire is itself\na part of what actually takes place.\n\nIt is now proposed to take a particular case of the alleged\nepistemological predicament for discussion, since the entire ground\ncannot be covered. I think, however, the instance chosen is typical, so\nthat the conclusion reached may be generalized.\n\nThe instance is that of so-called relativity in perception. There are\nalmost endless instances; the stick bent in water; the whistle changing\npitch with change of distance from the ear; objects doubled when the eye\nis pushed; the destroyed star still visible, etc., etc. For our\nconsideration we may take the case of a spherical object that presents\nitself to one observer as a flat circle, to another as a somewhat\ndistorted elliptical surface. This situation gives empirical proof, so\nit is argued, of the difference between a real object and mere\nappearance. Since there is but one object, the existence of two\n_subjects_ is the sole differentiating factor. Hence the two\nappearances of the one real object is proof of the intervening\ndistorting action of the subject. And many of the Neo-realists who deny\nthe difference in question, admit the case to be one of knowledge and\naccordingly to constitute an epistemological problem. They have in\nconsequence developed wonderfully elaborate schemes of sundry kinds to\nmaintain \"epistemological monism\" intact.\n\nLet us try to keep close to empirical facts. In the first place the two\nunlike appearances of the one sphere are physically necessary because of\nthe laws of reaction of light. If the one sphere did _not_ assume these\ntwo appearances under given conditions, we should be confronted with a\nhopelessly irreconcilable discrepancy in the behavior of natural energy.\nThat the result is natural is evidenced by the fact that two cameras--or\nother arrangements of apparatus for reflecting light--yield precisely\nthe same results. Photographs are as genuinely physical existences as\nthe original sphere; and they exhibit the two geometrical forms.\n\nThe statement of these facts makes no impression upon the confirmed\nepistemologist; he merely retorts that as long as it is admitted that\nthe organism is the cause of a sphere being seen, from different points,\nas a circular and as an elliptical surface, the essence of his\ncontention--the modification of the real object by the subject--is\nadmitted. To the question why the same logic does not apply to\nphotographic records he makes, as far as I know, no reply at all.\n\nThe source of the difficulty is not hard to see. The objection assumes\nthat the alleged modifications of _the_ real object are cases of\n_knowing_ and hence attributable to the influence of a _knower_.\nStatements which set forth the doctrine will always be found to refer to\nthe organic factor, to the eye, as an observer or a percipient. Even\nwhen reference is made to a lens or a mirror, language is sometimes used\nwhich suggests that the writer's naivete is sufficiently gross to treat\nthese physical factors as if they were engaged in perceiving the sphere.\nBut as it is evident that the lens operates as a physical factor in\ncorrelation with other physical factors--notably light--so it ought to\nbe evident that the intervention of the optical apparatus of the eye is\na purely non-cognitive matter. The relation in question is not one\nbetween a sphere and a would-be knower of it, unfortunately condemned by\nthe nature of the knowing apparatus to alter the thing he would know; it\nis an affair of the dynamic interaction of two physical agents in\nproducing a third thing, an effect;--an affair of precisely the same\nkind as in any physical conjoint action, say the operation of hydrogen\nand oxygen in producing water. To regard the eye as primarily a knower,\nan observer, of things, is as crass as to assign that function to a\ncamera. But unless the eye (or optical apparatus, or brain, or organism)\nbe so regarded, there is absolutely no problem of observation or of\nknowledge in the case of the occurrence of elliptical and circular\nsurfaces. Knowledge does not enter into the affair at all till _after_\nthese forms of refracted light have been produced. About them there is\nnothing unreal. Light is really, physically, existentially, refracted\ninto these forms. If the same spherical form upon refracting light to\nphysical objects in two quite different positions produced the same\ngeometric forms, there would, indeed, be something to marvel at--as\nthere would be if wax produced the same results in contact\nsimultaneously with a cold body and with a warm one. Why talk about _the\nreal_ object in relation to _a knower_ when what is given is one real\nthing in dynamic connection with another real thing?\n\nThe way of dealing with the case will probably meet with a retort; at\nleast, it has done so before. It has been said that the account given\nabove and the account of traditional subjectivism differ only verbally.\nThe essential thing in both, so it is said, is the admission that an\nactivity of a self or subject or organism makes a difference in the real\nobject. Whether the subject makes this difference in the very process of\nknowing or makes it prior to the act of knowing is a minor matter; what\nis important is that the known thing has, by the time it is known, been\n\"subjectified.\"\n\nThe objection gives a convenient occasion for summarizing the main\npoints of the argument. On the one hand, the retort of the objector\ndepends upon talking about _the_ real object. Employ the term \"_a_ real\nobject,\" and the change produced by the activity characteristic of the\noptical apparatus is of just the same kind as that of the camera lens or\nthat of any other physical agency. Every event in the world marks a\ndifference made to one existence in active conjunction with some other\nexistence. And, as for the alleged subjectivity, if subjective is used\nmerely as an adjective to designate the specific activity of a\nparticular existence, comparable, say, to the term feral, applied to\ntiger, or metallic, applied to iron, then of course reference to\nsubjective is legitimate. But it is also tautological. It is like saying\nthat flesh eaters are carnivorous. But the term \"subjective\" is so\nconsecrated to other uses, usually implying invidious contrast with\nobjectivity (while subjective in the sense just suggested means specific\nmode _of_ objectivity), that it is difficult to maintain this innocent\nsense. Its use in any disparaging way in the situation before us--any\nsense implicating contrast with a real object--assumes that the organism\n_ought_ not to make any difference when it operates in conjunction with\nother things. Thus we run to earth that assumption that the subject is\nheterogeneous from every other natural existence; it is to be the one\notiose, inoperative thing in a moving world--our old assumption of the\nself as outside of things.[10]\n\nWhat and where is knowledge in the case we have been considering? Not,\nas we have already seen, in the production of forms of light having a\ncircular and elliptical surface. These forms are natural happenings.\nThey may enter into knowledge or they may not, according to\ncircumstances. Countless such refractive changes take place without\nbeing noted.[11] When they become subject-matter for knowledge, the\ninquiry they set on foot may take on an indefinite variety of forms. One\nmay be interested in ascertaining more about the structural\npeculiarities of the forms themselves; one may be interested in the\nmechanism of their production; one may find problems in projective\ngeometry, or in drawing and painting--all depending upon the specific\nmatter-of-fact context. The forms may be _objectives_ of knowledge--of\nreflective examination--or they may be means of knowing something else.\nIt may happen--under some circumstances it does happen--that the\nobjective of inquiry is the nature of the geometric form which, when\nrefracting light, gives rise to these other forms. In this case the\nsphere is the thing known, and in this case, the forms of light are\nsigns or evidence of the conclusion to be drawn. There is no more reason\nfor supposing that they _are_ (mis)knowledges of the sphere--that the\nsphere is necessarily and from the start what one is trying to\nknow--than for supposing that the position of the mercury in the\nthermometer tube is a cognitive distortion of atmospheric pressure. In\neach case (that of the mercury and that of, say, a circular surface) the\nprimary datum is a physical happening. In each case it may be used, upon\noccasion, as a sign or evidence of the nature of the causes which\nbrought it about. Given the position in question, the circular form\nwould be an intrinsically _unreliable_ evidence of the nature and\nposition of the spherical body only in case it, as the direct datum of\nperception, were _not_ what it is--a circular form.\n\nI confess that all this seems so obvious that the reader is entitled to\ninquire into the motive for reciting such plain facts. Were it not for\nthe persistence of the epistemological problem it would be an affront to\nthe reader's intelligence to dwell upon them. But as long as such facts\nas we have been discussing furnish the subject-matter with which\nphilosophizing is peculiarly concerned, these commonplaces must be urged\nand reiterated. They bear out two contentions which are important at the\njuncture, although they will lose special significance as soon as these\nare habitually recognized: Negatively, a prior and non-empirical notion\nof the self is the source of the prevailing belief that experience as\nsuch is primarily cognitional--a knowledge affair; positively,\n_knowledge is always a matter of the use that is made of experienced\nnatural events_, a use in which given things are treated as indications\nof what will be experienced under different conditions.\n\nLet us make one effort more to clear up these points. Suppose it is a\nquestion of knowledge of water. The thing to be known does not present\nitself primarily as a matter of knowledge-and-ignorance at all. It\noccurs as a stimulus to action and as the source of certain undergoings.\nIt is something to react to:--to drink, to wash with, to put out fire\nwith, and also something that reacts unexpectedly to our reactions,\nthat makes us undergo disease, suffocation, drowning. In this twofold\nway, water or anything else enters into experience. Such presence in\nexperience has of itself nothing to do with knowledge or consciousness;\nnothing that is in the sense of depending upon them, though it has\neverything to do with knowledge and consciousness in the sense that the\nlatter depends upon prior experience of this non-cognitive sort. Man's\nexperience is what it is because his response to things (even successful\nresponse) and the reactions of things to his life, are so radically\ndifferent from knowledge. The difficulties and tragedies of life, the\nstimuli to acquiring knowledge, lie in the radical disparity of\npresence-in-experience and presence-in-knowing. Yet the immense\nimportance of knowledge experience, the fact that turning\npresence-in-experience over into presence-in-a-knowledge-experience is\nthe sole mode of control of nature, has systematically hypnotized\nEuropean philosophy since the time of Socrates into thinking that all\nexperiencing is a mode of knowing, if not good knowledge, then a\nlow-grade or confused or implicit knowledge.\n\nWhen water is an adequate stimulus to action or when its reactions\noppress and overwhelm us, it remains outside the scope of knowledge.\nWhen, however, the bare presence of the thing (say, as optical stimulus)\nceases to operate directly as stimulus to response and begins to operate\nin connection with a forecast of the consequences it will effect when\nresponded to, it begins to acquire meaning--to be known, to be an\nobject. It is noted as something which is wet, fluid, satisfies thirst,\nallays uneasiness, etc. The conception that we begin with a known visual\nquality which is thereafter enlarged by adding on qualities apprehended\nby the other senses does not rest upon experience; it rests upon making\nexperience conform to the notion that every experience _must_ be a\ncognitive noting. As long as the visual stimulus operates as a stimulus\non its own account, there is no apprehension, no noting, of color or\nlight at all. To much the greater portion of sensory stimuli we react in\nprecisely this wholly non-cognitive way. In the attitude of suspended\nresponse in which consequences are anticipated, the direct stimulus\nbecomes a sign or index of something else--and thus matter of noting or\napprehension or acquaintance, or whatever term may be employed. This\ndifference (together, of course, with the consequences which go with it)\nis the difference which the natural event of knowing makes to the\nnatural event of direct organic stimulation. It is no change of a\nreality into an unreality, of an object into something subjective; it is\nno secret, illicit, or epistemological transformation; it is a genuine\nacquisition of new and distinctive features through entering into\nrelations with things with which it was not formerly connected--namely,\npossible and future things.\n\nBut, replies some one so obsessed with the epistemological point of view\nthat he assumes that the prior account is a rival epistemology in\ndisguise, all this involves no change in Reality, no difference made to\nReality. Water was all the time all the things it is ever found out to\nbe. Its real nature has not been altered by knowing it; any such\nalteration means a mis-knowing.\n\nIn reply let it be said,--once more and finally,--there is no assertion\nor implication about _the_ real object or _the_ real world or _the_\nreality. Such an assumption goes with that epistemological universe of\ndiscourse which has to be abandoned in an empirical universe of\ndiscourse. The change is of _a_ real object. An incident of the world\noperating as a physiologically direct stimulus is assuredly a reality.\nResponded to, it produces specific consequences in virtue of the\nresponse. Water is not drunk unless somebody drinks it; it does not\nquench thirst unless a thirsty person drinks it--and so on. Consequences\noccur whether one is aware of them or not; they are integral facts in\nexperience. But let one of these consequences be anticipated and let it,\nas anticipated, become an indispensable element in the stimulus, and\nthen there is a known object. It is not that knowing _produces_ a\nchange, but that it _is_ a change of the specific kind described. A\nserial process, the successive portions of which are as such incapable\nof simultaneous occurrence, is telescoped and condensed into an object,\na unified inter-reference of contemporaneous properties, most of which\nexpress potentialities rather than completed data.\n\nBecause of this change, an _object_ possesses truth or error (which the\nphysical occurrence as such never has); it is classifiable as fact or\nfantasy; it is of a sort or kind, expresses an essence or nature,\npossesses implications, etc., etc. That is to say, it is marked by\nspecifiable _logical_ traits not found in physical occurrences as such.\nBecause objective idealisms have seized upon these traits as\nconstituting the very essence of Reality is no reason for proclaiming\nthat they are ready-made features of physical happenings, and hence for\nmaintaining that knowing is nothing but an appearance of things on a\nstage for which \"consciousness\" supplies the footlights. For only the\nepistemological predicament leads to \"presentations\" being regarded as\ncognitions of things which were previously unpresented. In any empirical\nsituation of everyday life or of science, knowledge signifies something\nstated or inferred of another thing. Visible water is not a more less\nerroneous presentation of H_{2}O, but H_{2}O is a knowledge about the\nthing we see, drink, wash with, sail on, and use for power.\n\nA further point and the present phase of discussion terminates. Treating\nknowledge as a presentative relation between the knower and object makes\nit necessary to regard the mechanism of _presentation_ as constituting\nthe act of knowing. Since things may be presented in sense-perception,\nin recollection, in imagination and in conception, and since the\nmechanism in every one of these four styles of presentation is\nsensory-cerebral the problem of knowing becomes a mind-body problem.[12]\nThe psychological, or physiological, mechanism of presentation involved\nin seeing a chair, remembering what I ate yesterday for luncheon,\nimagining the moon the size of a cart wheel, conceiving a mathematical\ncontinuum is identified with the operation of knowing. The evil\nconsequences are twofold. The problem of the relation of mind and body\nhas become a part of the problem of the possibility of knowledge in\ngeneral, to the further complication of a matter already hopelessly\nconstrained. Meantime the actual process of knowing, namely, operations\nof controlled observation, inference, reasoning, and testing, the only\nprocess with _intellectual_ import, is dismissed as irrelevant to the\ntheory of knowing. The methods of knowing practised in daily life and\nscience are excluded from consideration in the philosophical theory of\nknowing. Hence the constructions of the latter become more and more\nelaborately artificial because there is no definite check upon them. It\nwould be easy to quote from epistemological writers statements to the\neffect that these processes (which supply the only empirically\nverifiable facts of knowing) are _merely_ inductive in character, or\neven that they are of purely psychological significance. It would be\ndifficult to find a more complete inversion of the facts than in the\nlatter statement, since presentation constitutes in fact the\npsychological affair. A confusion of logic with physiological physiology\nhas bred hybrid epistemology, with the amazing result that the technique\nof effective inquiry is rendered irrelevant to the theory of knowing,\nand those physical events involved in the occurrence of data for knowing\nare treated as if they constituted the act of knowing.\n\n\nV\n\nWhat are the bearings of our discussion upon the conception of the\npresent scope and office of philosophy? What do our conclusions indicate\nand demand with reference to philosophy itself? For the philosophy which\nreaches such conclusions regarding knowledge and mind must apply them,\nsincerely and whole-heartedly, to its idea of its own nature. For\nphilosophy claims to be one form or mode of knowing. If, then, the\nconclusion is reached that knowing is a way of employing empirical\noccurrences with respect to increasing power to direct the consequences\nwhich flow from things, the application of the conclusion must be made\nto philosophy itself. It, too, becomes not a contemplative survey of\nexistence nor an analysis of what is past and done with, but an outlook\nupon future possibilities with reference to attaining the better and\naverting the worse. Philosophy must take, with good grace, its own\nmedicine.\n\nIt is easier to state the negative results of the changed idea of\nphilosophy than the positive ones. The point that occurs to mind most\nreadily is that philosophy will have to surrender all pretension to be\npeculiarly concerned with ultimate reality, or with reality as a\ncomplete (i.e., completed) whole: with _the_ real object. The surrender\nis not easy of achievement. The philosophic tradition that comes to us\nfrom classic Greek thought and that was reinforced by Christian\nphilosophy in the Middle Ages discriminates philosophical knowing from\nother modes of knowing by means of an alleged peculiarly intimate\nconcern with supreme, ultimate, true reality. To deny this trait to\nphilosophy seems to many to be the suicide of philosophy; to be a\nsystematic adoption of skepticism or agnostic positivism.\n\nThe pervasiveness of the tradition is shown in the fact that so vitally\na contemporary thinker as Bergson, who finds a philosophic revolution\ninvolved in abandonment of the traditional identification of the truly\nreal with the fixed (an identification inherited from Greek thought),\ndoes not find it in his heart to abandon the counterpart identification\nof philosophy with search for the truly Real; and hence finds it\nnecessary to substitute an ultimate and absolute flux for an ultimate\nand absolute permanence. Thus his great empirical services in calling\nattention to the fundamental importance of considerations of time for\nproblems of life and mind get compromised with a mystic, non-empirical\n\"Intuition\"; and we find him preoccupied with solving, by means of his\nnew idea of ultimate reality, the traditional problems of\nrealities-in-themselves and phenomena, matter and mind, free-will and\ndeterminism, God and the world. Is not that another evidence of the\ninfluence of the classic idea about philosophy?\n\nEven the new realists are not content to take their realism as a plea\nfor approaching subject-matter directly instead of through the\nintervention of epistemological apparatus; they find it necessary first\nto determine the status of _the_ real object. Thus they too become\nentangled in the problem of the possibility of error, dreams,\nhallucinations, etc., in short, the problem of evil. For I take it that\nan uncorrupted realism would accept such things as real events, and find\nin them no other problems than those attending the consideration of any\nreal occurrence--namely, problems of structure, origin, and operation.\n\nIt is often said that pragmatism, unless it is content to be a\ncontribution to mere methodology, must develop a theory of Reality. But\nthe chief characteristic trait of the pragmatic notion of reality is\nprecisely that no theory of Reality in general, _ueberhaupt_, is possible\nor needed. It occupies the position of an emancipated empiricism or a\nthoroughgoing naive realism. It finds that \"reality\" is a _denotative_\nterm, a word used to designate indifferently everything that happens.\nLies, dreams, insanities, deceptions, myths, theories are all of them\njust the events which they specifically are. Pragmatism is content to\ntake its stand with science; for science finds all such events to be\nsubject-matter of description and inquiry--just like stars and fossils,\nmosquitoes and malaria, circulation and vision. It also takes its stand\nwith daily life, which finds that such things really have to be reckoned\nwith as they occur interwoven in the texture of events.\n\nThe only way in which the term reality can ever become more than a\nblanket denotative term is through recourse to specific events in all\ntheir diversity and thatness. Speaking summarily, I find that the\nretention by philosophy of the notion of a Reality feudally superior to\nthe events of everyday occurrence is the chief source of the increasing\nisolation of philosophy from common sense and science. For the latter\ndo not operate in any such region. As with them of old, philosophy in\ndealing with real difficulties finds itself still hampered by reference\nto realities more real, more ultimate, than those which directly happen.\n\nI have said that identifying the cause of philosophy with the notion of\nsuperior reality is the cause of an _increasing_ isolation from science\nand practical life. The phrase reminds us that there was a time when the\nenterprise of science and the moral interests of men both moved in a\nuniverse invidiously distinguished from that of ordinary occurrence.\nWhile all that happens is equally real--since it really\nhappens--happenings are not of equal worth. Their respective\nconsequences, their import, varies tremendously. Counterfeit money,\nalthough real (or rather _because_ real), is really different from valid\ncirculatory medium, just as disease is really different from health;\ndifferent in specific structure and so different in consequences. In\noccidental thought, the Greeks were the first to draw the distinction\nbetween the genuine and the spurious in a generalized fashion and to\nformulate and enforce its tremendous significance for the conduct of\nlife. But since they had at command no technique of experimental\nanalysis and no adequate technique of mathematical analysis, they were\ncompelled to treat the difference of the true and the false, the\ndependable and the deceptive, as signifying two kinds of existence, the\ntruly real and the apparently real.\n\nTwo points can hardly be asserted with too much emphasis. The Greeks\nwere wholly right in the feeling that questions of good and ill, as far\nas they fall within human control, are bound up with discrimination of\nthe genuine from the spurious, of \"being\" from what only pretends to be.\nBut because they lacked adequate instrumentalities for coping with this\ndifference in specific situations, they were forced to treat the\ndifference as a wholesale and rigid one. Science was concerned with\nvision of ultimate and true reality; opinion was concerned with getting\nalong with apparent realities. Each had its appropriate region\npermanently marked off. Matters of opinion could never become matters of\nscience; their intrinsic nature forbade. When the practice of science\nwent on under such conditions, science and philosophy were one and the\nsame thing. Both had to do with ultimate reality in its rigid and\ninsuperable difference from ordinary occurrences.\n\nWe have only to refer to the way in which medieval life wrought the\nphilosophy of an ultimate and supreme reality into the context of\npractical life to realize that for centuries political and moral\ninterests were bound up with the distinction between the absolutely real\nand the relatively real. The difference was no matter of a remote\ntechnical philosophy, but one which controlled life from the cradle to\nthe grave, from the grave to the endless life after death. By means of a\nvast institution, which in effect was state as well as church, the\nclaims of ultimate reality were enforced; means of access to it were\nprovided. Acknowledgment of The Reality brought security in this world\nand salvation in the next. It is not necessary to report the story of\nthe change which has since taken place. It is enough for our purposes\nto note that none of the modern philosophies of a superior reality, or\n_the_ real object, idealistic or realistic, holds that its insight makes\na difference like that between sin and holiness, eternal condemnation\nand eternal bliss. While in its own context the philosophy of ultimate\nreality entered into the vital concerns of men, it now tends to be an\ningenious dialectic exercised in professorial corners by a few who have\nretained ancient premises while rejecting their application to the\nconduct of life.\n\nThe increased isolation from science of any philosophy identified with\nthe problem of _the_ real is equally marked. For the growth of science\nhas consisted precisely in the invention of an equipment, a technique of\nappliances and procedures, which, accepting all occurrences as\nhomogeneously real, proceeds to distinguish the authenticated from the\nspurious, the true from the false, by specific modes of treatment in\nspecific situations. The procedures of the trained engineer, of the\ncompetent physician, of the laboratory expert, have turned out to be the\nonly ways of discriminating the counterfeit from the valid. And they\nhave revealed that the difference is not one of antecedent fixity of\nexistence, but one of mode of treatment and of the consequences thereon\nattendant. After mankind has learned to put its trust in specific\nprocedures in order to make its discriminations between the false and\nthe true, philosophy arrogates to itself the enforcement of the\ndistinction at its own cost.\n\nMore than once, this essay has intimated that the counterpart of the\nidea of invidiously real reality is the spectator notion of knowledge.\nIf the knower, however defined, is set over against the world to be\nknown, knowing consists in possessing a transcript, more or less\naccurate but otiose, of real things. Whether this transcript is\npresentative in character (as realists say) or whether it is by means of\nstates of consciousness which represent things (as subjectivists say),\nis a matter of great importance in its own context. But, in another\nregard, this difference is negligible in comparison with the point in\nwhich both agree. Knowing is viewing from outside. But if it be true\nthat the self or subject of experience is part and parcel of the course\nof events, it follows that the self _becomes_ a knower. It becomes a\nmind in virtue of a distinctive way of partaking in the course of\nevents. The significant distinction is no longer between the knower\n_and_ the world; it is between different ways of being in and of the\nmovement of things; between a brute physical way and a purposive,\nintelligent way.\n\nThere is no call to repeat in detail the statements which have been\nadvanced. Their net purport is that the directive presence of future\npossibilities in dealing with existent conditions is what is meant by\nknowing; that the self becomes a knower or mind when anticipation of\nfuture consequences operates as its stimulus. What we are now concerned\nwith is the effect of this conception upon the nature of philosophic\nknowing.\n\nAs far as I can judge, popular response to pragmatic philosophy was\nmoved by two quite different considerations. By some it was thought to\nprovide a new species of sanctions, a new mode of apologetics, for\ncertain religious ideas whose standing had been threatened. By others,\nit was welcomed because it was taken as a sign that philosophy was about\nto surrender its otiose and speculative remoteness; that philosophers\nwere beginning to recognize that philosophy is of account only if, like\neveryday knowing and like science, it affords guidance to action and\nthereby makes a difference in the event. It was welcomed as a sign that\nphilosophers were willing to have the worth of their philosophizing\nmeasured by responsible tests.\n\nI have not seen this point of view emphasized, or hardly recognized, by\nprofessional critics. The difference of attitude can probably be easily\nexplained. The epistemological universe of discourse is so highly\ntechnical that only those who have been trained in the history of\nthought think in terms of it. It did not occur, accordingly, to\nnon-technical readers to interpret the doctrine that the meaning and\nvalidity of thought are fixed by differences made in consequences and in\nsatisfactoriness, to mean consequences in personal feelings. Those who\nwere professionally trained, however, took the statement to mean that\nconsciousness or mind in the mere act of looking at things modifies\nthem. It understood the doctrine of test of validity by consequences to\nmean that apprehensions and conceptions are true if the modifications\naffected by them were of an emotionally desirable tone.\n\nPrior discussion should have made it reasonably clear that the source of\nthis misunderstanding lies in the neglect of temporal considerations.\nThe change made in things by the self in knowing is not immediate and,\nso to say, cross-sectional. It is longitudinal--in the redirection given\nto changes already going on. Its analogue is found in the changes which\ntake place in the development of, say, iron ore into a watch-spring, not\nin those of the miracle of transubstantiation. For the static,\ncross-sectional, non-temporal relation of subject and object, the\npragmatic hypothesis substitutes apprehension of a thing in terms of the\nresults in other things which it is tending to effect. For the unique\nepistemological relation, it substitutes a practical relation of a\nfamiliar type:--responsive behavior which changes in time the\nsubject-matter to which it applies. The unique thing about the\nresponsive behavior which constitutes knowing is the specific difference\nwhich marks it off from other modes of response, namely, the part played\nin it by anticipation and prediction. Knowing is the act, stimulated by\nthis foresight, of securing and averting consequences. The success of\nthe achievement measures the standing of the foresight by which response\nis directed. The popular impression that pragmatic philosophy means that\nphilosophy shall develop ideas relevant to the actual crises of life,\nideas influential in dealing with them and tested by the assistance they\nafford, is correct.\n\nReference to practical response suggests, however, another\nmisapprehension. Many critics have jumped at the obvious association of\nthe word pragmatic with practical. They have assumed that the intent is\nto limit all knowledge, philosophic included, to promoting \"action,\"\nunderstanding by action either just any bodily movement, or those bodily\nmovements which conduce to the preservation and grosser well-being of\nthe body. James' statement, that general conceptions must \"cash in\" has\nbeen taken (especially by European critics) to mean that the end and\nmeasure of intelligence lies in the narrow and coarse utilities which it\nproduces. Even an acute American thinker, after first criticizing\npragmatism as a kind of idealistic epistemology, goes on to treat it as\na doctrine which regards intelligence as a lubricating oil facilitating\nthe workings of the body.\n\nOne source of the misunderstanding is suggested by the fact that\n\"cashing in\" to James meant that a general idea must always be capable\nof verification in specific existential cases. The notion of \"cashing\nin\" says nothing about the breadth or depth of the specific\nconsequences. As an empirical doctrine, it could not say anything about\nthem in general; the specific cases must speak for themselves. If one\nconception is verified in terms of eating beefsteak, and another in\nterms of a favorable credit balance in the bank, that is not because of\nanything in the theory, but because of the specific nature of the\nconceptions in question, and because there exist particular events like\nhunger and trade. If there are also existences in which the most liberal\nesthetic ideas and the most generous moral conceptions can be verified\nby specific embodiment, assuredly so much the better. The fact that a\nstrictly empirical philosophy was taken by so many critics to imply an\n_a priori_ dogma about the kind of consequences capable of existence is\nevidence, I think, of the inability of many philosophers to think in\nconcretely empirical terms. Since the critics were themselves accustomed\nto get results by manipulating the concepts of \"consequences\" and of\n\"practice,\" they assumed that even a would-be empiricist must be doing\nthe same sort of thing. It will, I suppose, remain for a long time\nincredible to some that a philosopher should really intend to go to\nspecific experiences to determine of what scope and depth practice\nadmits, and what sort of consequences the world permits to come into\nbeing. Concepts are so clear; it takes so little time to develop their\nimplications; experiences are so confused, and it requires so much time\nand energy to lay hold of them. And yet these same critics charge\npragmatism with adopting subjective and emotional standards!\n\nAs a matter of fact, the pragmatic theory of intelligence means that the\nfunction of mind is to project new and more complex ends--to free\nexperience from routine and from caprice. Not the use of thought to\naccomplish purposes already given either in the mechanism of the body or\nin that of the existent state of society, but the use of intelligence to\nliberate and liberalize action, is the pragmatic lesson. Action\nrestricted to given and fixed ends may attain great technical\nefficiency; but efficiency is the only quality to which it can lay\nclaim. Such action is mechanical (or becomes so), no matter what the\nscope of the preformed end, be it the Will of God or _Kultur_. But the\ndoctrine that intelligence develops within the sphere of action for the\nsake of possibilities not yet given is the opposite of a doctrine of\nmechanical efficiency. Intelligence _as_ intelligence is inherently\nforward-looking; only by ignoring its primary function does it become a\nmere means for an end already given. The latter _is_ servile, even when\nthe end is labeled moral, religious, or esthetic. But action directed to\nends to which the agent has not previously been attached inevitably\ncarries with it a quickened and enlarged spirit. A pragmatic\nintelligence is a creative intelligence, not a routine mechanic.\n\nAll this may read like a defense of pragmatism by one concerned to make\nout for it the best case possible. Such is not, however, the intention.\nThe purpose is to indicate the extent to which intelligence frees action\nfrom a mechanically instrumental character. Intelligence is, indeed,\ninstrumental _through_ action to the determination of the qualities of\nfuture experience. But the very fact that the concern of intelligence is\nwith the future, with the as-yet-unrealized (and with the given and the\nestablished only as conditions of the realization of possibilities),\nmakes the action in which it takes effect generous and liberal; free of\nspirit. Just that action which extends and approves intelligence has an\nintrinsic value of its own in being instrumental:--the intrinsic value\nof being informed with intelligence in behalf of the enrichment of life.\nBy the same stroke, intelligence becomes truly liberal: knowing is a\nhuman undertaking, not an esthetic appreciation carried on by a refined\nclass or a capitalistic possession of a few learned specialists, whether\nmen of science or of philosophy.\n\nMore emphasis has been put upon what philosophy is not than upon what\nit may become. But it is not necessary, it is not even desirable, to set\nforth philosophy as a scheduled program. There are human difficulties of\nan urgent, deep-seated kind which may be clarified by trained\nreflection, and whose solution may be forwarded by the careful\ndevelopment of hypotheses. When it is understood that philosophic\nthinking is caught up in the actual course of events, having the office\nof guiding them towards a prosperous issue, problems will abundantly\npresent themselves. Philosophy will not solve these problems; philosophy\nis vision, imagination, reflection--and these functions, apart from\naction, modify nothing and hence resolve nothing. But in a complicated\nand perverse world, action which is not informed with vision,\nimagination, and reflection, is more likely to increase confusion and\nconflict than to straighten things out. It is not easy for generous and\nsustained reflection to become a guiding and illuminating method in\naction. Until it frees itself from identification with problems which\nare supposed to depend upon Reality as such, or its distinction from a\nworld of Appearance, or its relation to a Knower as such, the hands of\nphilosophy are tied. Having no chance to link its fortunes with a\nresponsible career by suggesting things to be tried, it cannot identify\nitself with questions which actually arise in the vicissitudes of life.\nPhilosophy recovers itself when it ceases to be a device for dealing\nwith the problems of philosophers and becomes a method, cultivated by\nphilosophers, for dealing with the problems of men.\n\nEmphasis must vary with the stress and special impact of the troubles\nwhich perplex men. Each age knows its own ills, and seeks its own\nremedies. One does not have to forecast a particular program to note\nthat the central need of any program at the present day is an adequate\nconception of the nature of intelligence and its place in action.\nPhilosophy cannot disavow responsibility for many misconceptions of the\nnature of intelligence which now hamper its efficacious operation. It\nhas at least a negative task imposed upon it. It must take away the\nburdens which it has laid upon the intelligence of the common man in\nstruggling with his difficulties. It must deny and eject that\nintelligence which is naught but a distant eye, registering in a remote\nand alien medium the spectacle of nature and life. To enforce the fact\nthat the emergence of imagination and thought is relative to the\nconnexion of the sufferings of men with their doings is of itself to\nilluminate those sufferings and to instruct those doings. To catch mind\nin its connexion with the entrance of the novel into the course of the\nworld is to be on the road to see that intelligence is itself the most\npromising of all novelties, the revelation of the meaning of that\ntransformation of past into future which is the reality of every\npresent. To reveal intelligence as the organ for the guidance of this\ntransformation, the sole director of its quality, is to make a\ndeclaration of present untold significance for action. To elaborate\nthese convictions of the connexion of intelligence with what men undergo\nbecause of their doings and with the emergence and direction of the\ncreative, the novel, in the world is of itself a program which will keep\nphilosophers busy until something more worth while is forced upon them.\nFor the elaboration has to be made through application to all the\ndisciplines which have an intimate connexion with human conduct:--to\nlogic, ethics, esthetics, economics, and the procedure of the sciences\nformal and natural.\n\nI also believe that there is a genuine sense in which the enforcement of\nthe pivotal position of intelligence in the world and thereby in control\nof human fortunes (so far as they are manageable) is the peculiar\nproblem in the problems of life which come home most closely to\nourselves--to ourselves living not merely in the early twentieth century\nbut in the United States. It is easy to be foolish about the connexion\nof thought with national life. But I do not see how any one can question\nthe distinctively national color of English, or French, or German\nphilosophies. And if of late the history of thought has come under the\ndomination of the German dogma of an inner evolution of ideas, it\nrequires but a little inquiry to convince oneself that that dogma itself\ntestifies to a particularly nationalistic need and origin. I believe\nthat philosophy in America will be lost between chewing a historic cud\nlong since reduced to woody fiber, or an apologetics for lost causes\n(lost to natural science), or a scholastic, schematic formalism, unless\nit can somehow bring to consciousness America's own needs and its own\nimplicit principle of successful action.\n\nThis need and principle, I am convinced, is the necessity of a\ndeliberate control of policies by the method of intelligence, an\nintelligence which is not the faculty of intellect honored in\ntext-books and neglected elsewhere, but which is the sum-total of\nimpulses, habits, emotions, records, and discoveries which forecast what\nis desirable and undesirable in future possibilities, and which contrive\ningeniously in behalf of imagined good. Our life has no background of\nsanctified categories upon which we may fall back; we rely upon\nprecedent as authority only to our own undoing--for with us there is\nsuch a continuously novel situation that final reliance upon precedent\nentails some class interest guiding us by the nose whither it will.\nBritish empiricism, with its appeal to what has been in the past, is,\nafter all, only a kind of _a priorism_. For it lays down a fixed rule\nfor future intelligence to follow; and only the immersion of philosophy\nin technical learning prevents our seeing that this is the essence of _a\npriorism_.\n\nWe pride ourselves upon being realistic, desiring a hardheaded\ncognizance of facts, and devoted to mastering the means of life. We\npride ourselves upon a practical idealism, a lively and easily moved\nfaith in possibilities as yet unrealized, in willingness to make\nsacrifice for their realization. Idealism easily becomes a sanction of\nwaste and carefulness, and realism a sanction of legal formalism in\nbehalf of things as they are--the rights of the possessor. We thus tend\nto combine a loose and ineffective optimism with assent to the doctrine\nof take who take can: a deification of power. All peoples at all times\nhave been narrowly realistic in practice and have then employed\nidealization to cover up in sentiment and theory their brutalities. But\nnever, perhaps, has the tendency been so dangerous and so tempting as\nwith ourselves. Faith in the power of intelligence to imagine a future\nwhich is the projection of the desirable in the present, and to invent\nthe instrumentalities of its realization, is our salvation. And it is a\nfaith which must be nurtured and made articulate: surely a sufficiently\nlarge task for our philosophy.\n\n\n\n\nREFORMATION OF LOGIC\n\nADDISON W. MOORE\n\n\nI\n\nIn a general survey of the development of logical theory one is struck\nby the similarity, not to say identity, of the indictments which\nreformers, since the days of Aristotle, have brought against it. The\nmost fundamental of these charges are: first, that the theory of logic\nhas left it formal and with little significance for the advancement of\nscience and the conduct of society; second, that it has great difficulty\nin avoiding the predicament of logical operations that are merely\nlabored reproductions of non-logical activities and therefore\ntautologous and trifling, or of logical operations that are so far\nremoved from immediate, non-logical experience that they are irrelevant;\nthird, that logical theory has had trouble in finding room in its own\nhousehold for both truth and error; each crowds out the other.\n\nThe identity of these indictments regardless of the general\nphilosophical faith, empiricism, or rationalism, realism, or idealism to\nwhich the reformer or the logic to be reformed has belonged, suggests\nthat whatever the differences in the doctrines of these various\nphilosophic traditions, they possess a common ground from which these\ncommon difficulties spring.\n\nIt is the conviction of a number who are at present attempting to rid\nlogic of these ancient disabilities that their common source is to be\nfound in a lack of continuity between the acts of intelligence (or to\navoid the dangers of hypostasis, intelligent acts) and other acts;\nbetween logical conduct and other conduct. So wide, indeed, is this\nbreach, that often little remains of the act of knowing but the name. It\nmay still be called an act, but it has no describable instruments nor\ntechnique of operation. It is an indefinable and often mystical\nperformance of which only the results can be stated. In recent logical\ndiscussion this techniqueless act of knowing has been properly enough\ntransformed into an indefinable \"external relation\" in which an entity\ncalled a knower stands to another entity called the known.\n\nFor many centuries this breach between the operations of intelligence\nand other operations has been closed by various metaphysical devices\nwith the result that logic has been a hybrid science,--half logic, half\nmetaphysics and epistemology. So great has been the momentum of the\nmetaphysical tradition that long after we have begun to discover the\nconnection between logical and non-logical operations its methods remain\nto plague us. Efforts to heal the breach without a direct appeal to\nmetaphysical agencies have been made by attempting a complete logicizing\nof all operations. But besides requiring additional metaphysics to\neffect it, the procedure is as fatal to continuity as is an impassable\ndisjunction. Continuity demands distinction as well as connection. It\nrequires the development, the _growth_ of old material and functions\ninto new forms.\n\nDriven by the difficulties of this complete logicization, which are as\nserious as those of isolation, logical theory was obliged to reinstate\nsome sort of distinction. This it did by resorting to the categories of\n\"explicit\" and \"implicit.\" All so-called non-logical operations were\nregarded as \"implicitly\" logical. And, paradoxically, logical operations\nhad for their task the transformation of the implicit into the explicit.\n\nAn adequate account of the origin and continuance of this isolation of\nthe conduct of intelligence from other conduct is too long a story to be\ntold here. Suffice it to recall that in the society in which the\ndistinction between immediate and reflective experience, between opinion\nand science, between percepts and universals was first made,\nintelligence was largely the possession of a special and privileged\nclass removed in great measure from hand-to-hand contact with nature and\nwith much of society. Because it did not fully participate in the\noperations of nature and society intelligence could not become fully\ndomesticated, i.e., fully naturalized and socialized in its world. It\nwas a charmed spectator of the cosmic and social drama. Doubtless when\nGreek intelligence discovered the distinction between immediate and\nreflective experience--possibly the most momentous discovery in\nhistory--\"the world,\" as Kant says of the speculations of Thales, \"must\nsuddenly have appeared in a new light.\" But not recognizing the full\nsignificance of this discovery, ideas, universals, became but a wondrous\nspectacle for the eye of reason. They brought, to be sure, blessed\nrelief from the bewildering and baffling flux of perception. But it was\nthe relief of sanctuary, not of victory.\n\nThat the brilliant speculations of Greek intelligence were barren\nbecause there was no technique for testing and applying them in detail\nis an old story. But it is merely a restatement, not a solution, of the\npertinent question. This is: why did not Greek intelligence develop such\na technique? The answer lies in the fact that the technique of\nintelligence is to be found precisely in the details of the operations\nof nature and of human conduct from which an aristocratic intelligence\nis always in large measure shut off. Intelligence cannot operate\nfruitfully in a vacuum. It must be incarnate. It must, as Hegel said,\nhave \"hands and feet.\" When we turn to the history of modern science the\none thing that stands out is that it was not until the point was reached\nwhere intelligence was ready (continuing the Hegelian figure) to thrust\nits hands into the vitals of nature and society that it began to acquire\na real control over its operations.\n\nIn default of such controlling technique there was nothing to be done\nwith this newly found instrument of intelligence--the universal--but to\nretain it as an object of contemplation and of worshipful adoration.\nThis involved, of course, its hypostasis as the metaphysical reality of\nsupreme importance. With this, the only difference between \"opinion\" and\n\"science\" became one of the kind of objects known. That universals were\nknown by reason and particulars by sense was of little more logical\nsignificance than that sounds are known by the ear and smells by the\nnose. Particulars and universals were equally given. If the latter\nrequired some abstraction this was regarded as merely auxiliary to the\nimmediate vision, as sniffing is to the perception of odor. That\nuniversals should or could be conceived as experimental, as hypotheses,\nwas, when translated into later theology, the sin against the Holy\nGhost.\n\nHowever, the fact that the particulars in the world of opinion were the\nstimuli to the \"recollection\" of universals and that the latter in turn\nwere the patterns, the forms, for the particulars, opened the way in\nactual practice for the exercise of a great deal of the controlling\nfunction of the universals. But the failure to recognize this control\nvalue of the universal as fundamental, made it necessary for the\nuniversal to exercise its function surreptitiously, in the disguise of a\npattern and in the clumsy garb of imitation and participation.\n\nWith perceptions, desires, and impulses relegated to the world of\nopinion and shadows, and with the newly discovered instrument of\nknowledge turned into an object, the knower was stripped of all his\nknowing apparatus and was left an empty, scuttled entity definable and\ndescribable only as \"a knower.\" The knower must know, even if he had\nnothing to know with. Hence the mystical almost indefinable character of\nthe knowing act or relation. I say \"almost indefinable\"; for as an act\nit had, of course, to have some sort of conceptualized form. And this\nform vision naturally furnished. \"Naturally,\" because intelligence was\nso largely contemplative, and vision so largely immediate, unanalyzed,\nand diaphanous. There was, to be sure, the concept of effluxes. But\nthis was a statement of the fact of vision in terms of its results, not\nof the process itself. Thus it was that the whole terminology of knowing\nwhich we still use was moulded and fixed upon a very crude conception of\none of the constituents of its process. There can be no doubt that this\nterminology has added much to the inertia against which the advance of\nlogical theory has worked. It would be interesting to see what would be\nthe effect upon logical theory of the substitution of an auditory or\nolfactory terminology for visual; or of a visual terminology revised to\nagree with modern scientific analysis of the _act_ of vision as\ndetermined by its connections with other functions.\n\nWith the act of knowing stripped of its technique and left a bare,\nunique, indescribable act or relation, the foundations for\nepistemological and metaphysical logic were laid. That Greek logic\nescaped the ravages of epistemology was due to the saving materialism in\nits metaphysical conception of mind and to the steadfastness of the\naristocratic regime. But when medieval theology and Cartesian\nmetaphysics had destroyed the last remnant of metaphysical connection\nbetween the knowing mind and nature, and when revolutions had torn the\nindividual from his social moorings, the stage for epistemological logic\nwas fully set. I do not mean to identify the epistemological situation\nwith the Cartesian disjunction. That disjunction was but the\nmetaphysical expression of the one which constitutes the real foundation\nof epistemology--the disjunction, namely, between the act of knowing and\nother acts.\n\nFrom this point logic has followed one of two general courses. It has\nsought continuity by attempting to reduce non-logical things and\noperations to terms of logical operations, i.e., to sensations or\nuniversals or both; or it has attempted to exclude entirely the act of\nknowing from logic and to transfer logical distinctions and operations,\nand even the attributes of truth and error to objects which,\nsignificantly enough, are still composed of these same hypostatized\nlogical processes. The first course results in an epistemological logic\nof some form of the idealistic tradition, rationalism, sensationalism,\nor transcendentalism, depending upon whether universals, or sensations,\nor a combination of both, is made fundamental in the constitution of the\nobject. The second course yields an epistemological logic of the\nrealistic type,--again, sensational or rationalistic (mathematical), or\na combination of the two--a sort of realistic transcendentalism. Each\ntype has essentially the same difficulties with the processes of\ninference, with the problem of change, with truth and error, and, on the\nethical side, with good and evil.\n\nWith the processes of knowing converted into objects, and with the act\nof knowing reduced to a unique and external relation between the\ndespoiled knower and the objects made from its own hypostatized\nprocesses, all knowing becomes in the end immediate. All attempts at an\ninference that is anything more than an elaborated and often confused\nrestatement of non-logical operations break down. The associational\ninference of empiricism, the subsumptive inference of rationalism, the\ntranscendental inference of objective idealism, the analytical\ninference of neo-realism--all alike face the dilemma of an inference\nthat is trifling or miraculous, tautologous or false. Where the knower\nand its object are so constituted that the only relation in which the\nlatter can stand to the former is that of presence or absence, and if to\nbe present is to be known, how, as Plato asked, can there be any false\nknowing?\n\nFor those who accept the foregoing general diagnosis the prescription is\nobvious. The present task of logical theory is the restoration of the\ncontinuity of the act and agent of knowing with other acts and agents.\nBut this is not to be done by merely furnishing the act of knowing with\na body and a nervous system. If the nervous system be regarded as only\nan onlooking, beholding nervous system, if no connection be made between\nthe logical operations of a nervous system and its other operations a\nnervous system has no logical advantage over a purely psychical mind.\n\nIt was to be expected that this movement toward restoration of\ncontinuity made in the name of \"instrumental\" or \"experimental\" logic\nwould be regarded, alike, by the logics of rationalism and empiricism,\nof idealism and of realism, as an attempt to rob intelligence of its own\nunique and proper character; to reduce it to a merely \"psychological\"\nand \"existential\" affair; to leave no place for genuine intellectual\ninterest and activity; and to make science a series of more or less\nrespectable adventures. The counter thesis is, that this restoration is\ntruly a restoration--not a despoliation of the character and rights of\nintelligence; that only such a restoration can preserve the unique\nfunction of intelligence, can prevent it from becoming merely\n\"existential,\" and can provide a distinct place for intellectual and\nscientific interest and activity. It does not, however, promise to\nremove the stigma of \"adventure\" from science. Every experiment is an\nadventure; and it is precisely the experimental character of scientific\nlogic that distinguishes it from scholasticism, medieval or modern.\n\n\nII\n\nFirst it is clear that a reform of logic based upon the restoration of\nknowing to its connections with other acts will begin with a chapter\ncontaining an account of these other operations and the general\ncharacter of this connection.[13] Logical theory has been truncated. It\nhas tried to begin and end in the middle, with the result that it has\nended in the air. Logic presents the curious anachronism of a science\nwhich attempts to deal with its subject-matter apart from what it comes\nfrom and what comes from it.\n\nThe objection that such a chapter on the conditions and genesis of the\noperations of knowing belongs to psychology, only shows how firmly fixed\nis the discontinuity we are trying to escape. As we have seen, the\noriginal motive for leaving this account of genesis to psychology was\nthat the act of knowing was supposed to originate in a purely psychical\nmind. Such an origin was of course embarrassing to logic, which aimed\nto be scientific. The old opposition between origin and validity was due\nto the kind of origin assumed and the kind of validity necessitated by\nthe origin. One may well be excused for evading the question of how\nideas, originated in a purely psychical mind, can, in Kant's phrase,\n\"have objective validity,\" by throwing out the question of origin\naltogether. Whatever difficulties remain for validity after this\nexpulsion could not be greater than those of the task of combining the\nobjective validity of ideas with their subjective origin.\n\nThe whole of this chapter on the connection between logical and\nnon-logical operations cannot be written here. But its central point\nwould be that these other acts with which the act of knowing must have\ncontinuity are just the operations of our unreflective conduct. Note\nthat it is \"unreflective,\" not \"unconscious,\" nor yet merely\n\"instinctive\" conduct. It is our perceptive, remembering, imagining,\ndesiring, loving, hating conduct. Note also that we do not say\n\"psychical\" or \"physical,\" nor \"psycho-physical\" conduct. These terms\nstand for certain distinctions in logical conduct,[14] and we are here\nconcerned with the character of non-logical conduct which is to be\ndistinguished from, and yet kept in closest continuity with, logical\nconduct.\n\nIf, here, the metaphysical logician should ask: \"Are you not in this\nassumption of a world of reflective and unreflective conduct and\naffection, and of a world of beings in interaction, begging a whole\nsystem of metaphysics?\" the reply is that if it is a metaphysics bad\nfor logic, it will keep turning up in the course of logical theory as a\nconstant source of trouble. On the other hand, if logic encounters grave\ndifficulties when it attempts to get on without it, its assumption, for\nthe purposes of logic, has all the justification possible.\n\nAgain it will be urged that this alleged non-logical conduct, in so far\nas it involves perception, memory, and anticipation, is already\ncognitive and logical; or if the act of knowing is to be entirely\nexcluded from logic, then, in so far as what is left involves objective\n\"terms and relations,\" it, also, is already logical. And it may be\nthought strange that a logic based upon the restoration of continuity\nbetween the act of knowing and other acts should here be insisting on\ndistinction and separation. The point is fundamental; and must be\ndisposed of before we go on. First, we must observe that the unity\nsecured by making all conscious conduct logical turns out, on\nexamination, to be more nominal than real. As we have already seen, this\nattempt at a complete logicizing of all conduct is forced at once to\nintroduce the distinction of \"explicit\" and \"implicit,\" of \"conscious\nand unconscious\" or \"subconscious\" logic. Some cynics have found that\nthis suggests dividing triangles into explicit and implicit triangles,\nor into triangles and sub-triangles.\n\nDoubtless the attempt to make all perceptions, memories, and\nanticipations, and even instincts and habits, into implicit or\nsubconscious inference is an awkward effort to restore the continuity of\nlogical and non-logical conduct. Its awkwardness consists in attempting\nto secure this continuity by the method of subsumptive identity, instead\nof finding it in a transitive continuity of function;--instead of seeing\nthat perception, memory, and anticipation _become_ logical processes\nwhen they are employed in a process of inquiry, whose purpose is to\nrelieve the difficulties into which these operations in their function\nas direct stimuli have fallen. Logical conduct is constituted by the\ncooeperation of these processes for the improvement of their further\noperation. To regard perception, memory, and imagination as implicit\nforms or as sub-species of logical operation is much like conceiving the\nmovements of our fingers and arms as implicit or imperfect species of\npainting, or swimming.\n\nMoreover, this doctrine of universal logicism teaches that when that\nwhich is perfect is come, imperfection shall be done away. This should\nmean that when painting becomes completely \"explicit\" and perfect,\nfingers and hands shall disappear. Perfect painting will be the pure\nessence of painting. And this interpretation is not strained; for this\nlogic expressly teaches that in the perfected real system all temporal\nelements are unessential to logical operations. They are, of course,\n_psychologically_ necessary for finite beings, who can never have\nperfectly logical experiences. But, from the standpoint of a completely\nlogicized experience, all finite, temporal processes are accidents, not\nessentials, of logical operations.\n\nThe fact that the processes of perception, memory, and anticipation are\ntransformed in their logical operation into sensations and universals,\nterms, and relations, and, as such, become the subject-matter of logical\ntheory, does not mean that they have lost their mediating character, and\nhave become merely objects of logical contemplation at large. Sensations\nor sense-data, and ideas, terms and relations, are the subject-matter of\nlogical theory for the reason that they sometimes succeed and sometimes\nfail in their logical operations. And it is the business of logical\ntheory to diagnose the conditions of this success and failure. If, in\nwriting, my pen becomes defective and is made an object of inquiry, it\ndoes not therefore lose all its character as a pen and become merely an\nobject at large. It is _as_ an instrument of writing that it is\ninvestigated. So, sense-data, universals, terms, and relations as\nsubject-matter of logic are investigated in their character _as_\nmediators of the ambiguities and conflicts, of non-logical experience.\n\nIf the operations of habit, instinct, perceptions, memory, and\nanticipation _become_ logical, when, instead of operating as direct\nstimuli, they are employed in a process of inquiry, we must next ask:\n(1) under what conditions do they pass over into this process of\ninquiry? (2) what modifications of operation do they undergo, what new\nforms do they take, and what new results do they produce in their\nlogical operations?\n\nIf the act of inquiry be not superimposed, it must arise out of some\nspecific condition in the course of non-logical conduct. Once more, if\nthe alarm be sounded at this proposal to find the origin of logical in\nnon-logical operations it must be summarily answered by asking if the\none who raises the cry finds it impossible to imagine that one who is\nnot hungry, or angry, or patriotic, or wise may become so. Non-logical\nconduct is not the abstract formal contradictory of logical conduct any\nmore than present satiety or foolishness is the contradictory of later\nhunger or wisdom, or than anger at one person contradicts cordiality to\nanother, or to the same person, later. The old bogie of the logical\nirrelevance of origin was due to the inability to conceive continuity\nexcept in the form of identity in which there was no place for the\nnotion of _growth_.\n\nThe conditions under which non-logical conduct _becomes_ logical are\nfamiliar to those who have followed the doctrines of experimental logic\nas expounded in the discussions of the past few years. The\ntransformation begins at the point where non-logical processes instead\nof operating as direct unambiguous stimuli and response become ambiguous\nwith consequent inhibition of conduct. But again this does not mean that\nat this juncture the non-logical processes quit the field and give place\nto a totally new faculty and process called reason. They stay on the\njob. But there is a change in the job, which now is to get rid of this\nambiguity. This modification of the task requires, of course,\ncorresponding modification and adaptation of these operations. They take\non the form of sensations and universals, terms and relations, data and\nhypotheses. This modification of function and form constitutes \"reason\"\nor, better, reasoning.\n\nHere some one will ask, \"Whence comes this ambiguity? How can a mere\nperception or memory as such be ambiguous? Must it not be ambiguous to,\nor for, something, or some one?\" The point is well taken. But it should\nnot be taken to imply that the ambiguity is for a merely onlooking,\nbeholding psychical mind--especially when the perception is itself\nregarded as an act of beholding. Nor are we any better off if we suppose\nthe beholding mind to be equipped with a faculty of reason in the form\nof the principle of \"contradiction.\" For this throws no light on the\norigin and meaning of ambiguity. And if we seek to make all perceptions\nas such ambiguous and contradictory, in order to make room for, and\njustify, the operations of reason, other difficulties at once beset us.\nWhen we attempt to remove this specific ambiguity of perceptive conduct\nwe shall be forced, before we are through, to appeal back to perception,\nwhich we have condemned as inherently contradictory, both for data and\nfor verification.\n\nHowever, the insistence that perception must be ambiguous to, or for,\nsomething beyond itself is well grounded. And this was recognized in the\nstatement that it is equivocal as a stimulus in conduct. There need be\nno mystery as to how such equivocation arises. That there is such a\nthing as a conduct at all means that there are certain beings who have\nacquired definite ways of responding to one another. It is important to\nobserve that these forms of interaction--instinct and habit, perception,\nmemory, etc.--are not to be located in either of the interacting beings\nbut are functions of both. The conception of these operations as the\nprivate functions of an organism is the forerunner of the\nepistemological predicament. It results in a conception of knowing as\nwholly the act of a knower apart from the known. This is the beginning\nof epistemology.\n\nBut to whatever extent interacting beings have acquired definite and\nspecific ways of behavior toward one another it is equally plain--the\ntheory of external relations notwithstanding--that in this process of\ninteraction these ways of behavior, of stimulus and response, undergo\nmodification. If the world consisted of two interacting beings, it is\nconceivable that the modifications of behavior might occur in such close\ncontinuity of relation to each of the interacting beings that the\nadjustment would be very continuous, and there might be little or no\nambiguity and conflict. But in a world where any two interacting beings\nhave innumerable interactions with innumerable other beings and in all\nthese interactions modifications are effected, it is to be expected that\nchanges in the behavior of each or both will occur, so marked that they\nare bound to result in breaks in the continuity of stimulus and\nresponse--even to the point of tragedy. However, the tragedy is seldom\nso great that the ambiguity extends to the whole field of conduct.\nExcept in extreme pathological cases (and in epistemology), complete\nskepticism and aboulia do not occur. Ambiguity always falls within a\nfield or direction of conduct, and though it may extend much further,\nand must extend some further than the point at which equivocation\noccurs, yet it is never ubiquitous. An ambiguity concerning the action\nof gravitation is no less specific than one regarding color or sound;\nindeed, the one may be found to involve the other.\n\nLogical conduct is, then, conduct which aims to remove ambiguity and\ninhibition in unreflective conduct. The instruments of its operation are\nforged from the processes of unreflective conduct by such modification\nand adaptation as is required to enable them to accomplish this end.\nSince these logical operations sometimes fail and sometimes succeed they\nbecome the subject-matter of logical theory. But the technique of this\nsecond involution of reflection is not supplied by some new and unique\nentity. It also is derived from modifications of previous operations of\nboth reflective and non-reflective conduct.\n\nWhile emphasizing the continuity between non-logical and logical\noperations, we must keep in mind that their distinction is of equal\nimportance. Confusion at this point is fatal. A case in point is the\nconfusion between non-logical and logical observation. The results of\nnon-logical observation, e.g., looking and listening, are direct stimuli\nto further conduct. But the purpose and result of _logical_ observation\nare to secure data, not as direct stimuli to immediate conduct but as\nstimuli to the construction or verification of hypotheses which are the\nresponses of the _logical_ operation of imagination to the data.\nHypotheses are anticipatory. But they differ from non-logical\nanticipation in that they are tentatively, experimentally, i.e.,\nlogically anticipatory. The non-logical operations of memory and\nanticipation lack just this tentative, experimental character. When we\nconfuse the logical and non-logical operations of these processes the\nresult is either that logical processes will merely repeat non-logical\noperations in which case we have inference that is tautologous and\ntrifling; or the non-logical will attempt to perform logical operations,\nand our inference is miraculous. If we seek to escape by an appeal to\nhabit, as in empiricism, or to an objective universal, as in idealism\nand neo-realism, we are merely disguising, not removing the miracle.\n\nIt may be thought that this confusion would be most likely to occur in a\ntheory which teaches that non-logical processes are carried over into\nlogical operations. But this overlooks the fact that the theory\nrecognizes at the same time that these non-logical operations undergo\nmodification and adaptation to the demands of the logical enterprise. On\nthe other hand, those who make all perceptions, memory, and\nanticipation, not to speak of habit and instinct, logical, have no basis\nfor the distinction between logical and non-logical results; while those\nwho refuse to give the operations of perception, memory, etc., any place\nin logic can make no connections between logical and non-logical\nconduct. Nor are they able to distinguish in a specific case truth from\nerror.\n\nIn all logics that fail to make this connection and distinction between\nlogical and non-logical operations there is no criterion for data. If\nultimate simplicity is demanded of the data, there is no standard for\nsimplicity except the _minimum sensibile_ or the _minimum intelligibile_\nwhich have recently been resurrected. On the other hand, where\nsimplicity is waived, as in the logic of objective idealism, there is\nstill no criterion of logical adequacy. But if we understand by\n_logical_ data not anything that happens to be given, but something\n_sought_ as material for an hypothesis, i.e., a proposed solution\n(proposition) of an ambiguous object of conduct and affection, then\nwhatever results of observation meet this requirement are logical data.\nAnd whenever data are found from which an hypothesis is constructed that\nsucceeds in abolishing the ambiguity, they are simple, adequate, and\ntrue data.\n\nNo scientist, not even the mathematician, in the specific investigations\nof his field, seeks for ultimate and irreducible data at large. And if\nhe found them he could not use them. It is only in his metaphysical\npersonality that he longs for such data. The data which the scientist in\nany specific inquiry seeks are the data which suggest a solution of the\nquestion in which the investigation starts. When these data are found\nthey are the \"irreducibles\" of that problem. But they are relative to\nthe question and answer of the investigation. Their simplicity consists\nin the fact that they are the data from which a conclusion can be made.\nThe term \"simple data\" is tautologous. That one is in need of data more\n\"simple\" means that one is in need of new data from which an hypothesis\ncan be formed.\n\nIt is true that the actual working elements with which the scientist\noperates are always complex in the sense that they are always something\nmore than elements in any specific investigation. They have other\nconnections and alliances. And this complexity is at once the despair\nand the hope of the scientist; his despair, because he cannot be sure\nwhen these other connections will interfere with the allegiance of his\nelements to his particular undertaking; his hope, because when these\nalliances are revealed they often make the elements more efficient or\nexhibit capacities which will make them elements in some other\nundertaking for which elements have not been found. A general resolves\nhis army into so many marching, eating, shooting units; but these\nelements are something more than marching, shooting units. They are\nhusbands and fathers, brothers and lovers, protestants and catholics,\nartists and artisans, etc. And the militarist can never be sure at what\npoint these other activities--I do not say merely external\nrelationships--may upset his calculations. If he could find units whose\nwhole and sole nature is to march and shoot, his problem would be, in\nsome respects, simpler, though in others more complex. As it is, he is\nconstantly required to ask how far these other functions will support\nand at what point they will rebel at the marching and shooting.\n\nSuch, in principle, is the situation in every scientific inquiry. When\nthe failure of the old elements occurs it is common to say that\n\"simpler\" elements are needed. And doubtless in his perplexity the\nscientist may long for elements which have no entangling alliances,\nwhose sole nature and character is to be elements. But what in fact he\nactually seeks in every specific investigation are elements whose nature\nand functions _will not interfere_ with their serving as units in the\nenterprise in hand. But from some other standpoint these new elements\nmay be vastly more complex than the old, as is the case with the modern\nas compared with the ancient atom. When the elements are secured which\noperate successfully, the non-interfering connections can be ignored and\nthe elements can be treated as if they did not have them,--as if they\nwere metaphysically simple. But there is no criterion for metaphysical\nsimplicity except operative simplicity. To be simple is to serve as an\nelement, and to serve as an element is to be simple.\n\nIt is scarcely necessary in view of the foregoing to add that the data\nof science are not \"sense-data,\" if by sense-data be meant data which\nare the result of the operations of sense organs alone. Data are as much\nor more the result of operations, first, of the motor system of the\nscientist's own organism, and second, of all of the machinery of his\nlaboratory which he calls to his aid. Whether named after the way they\nare obtained, or after the way they are used, data are quite as much\n\"motor\" as \"sense.\" Nor, on the other hand, are there any purely\nintellectual data--not even for the mathematician. Some mathematicians\nmay insist that their symbols and diagrams are merely stimuli to the\nplatonic operation of pure and given universals. But until mathematics\ncan get on without these symbols or any substitutes the intuitionist in\nmathematics will continue to have his say.\n\nWherever the discontinuity between logical operations and their acts\npersists, all the difficulties with data have their correlative\ndifficulties with hypotheses. In Mill's logic the account of the origin\nof hypotheses oscillates between the view that they are happy guesses\nof a mind composed of states of consciousness, and the view that they\nare \"found in the facts\" or are \"impressed on the mind by the facts.\"\nThe miracle of relevancy required in the first position drives the\ntheory to the second. And the tautologous, useless nature of the\nhypothesis in the second forces the theory back to the first view. In\nthis predicament, little wonder Mill finds that the easiest way out is\nto make hypotheses \"auxiliary\" and not indigenous to inference. But this\nexclusion of hypotheses as essential leaves his account of inference to\noscillate between the association of particulars of nominalism and\nscholastic formalism, from both of which Mill, with the dignified zeal\nof a prophet, set out to rescue logic.\n\nMill's rejection of hypotheses formed by a mind whose operations have no\ndiscoverable continuity with the operations of things, or by things\nwhose actions are independent of the operations of ideas, is forever\nsound. But his acceptance of the discontinuity between the acts of\nknowing and the operation of things, and the conclusion that these two\nconceptions of the origin and nature of hypotheses are the only\nalternatives, were the source of most of his difficulties.\n\n\nIII\n\nThe efforts of classic empiricism at the reform of logic have long been\nan easy mark for idealistic reformers. But it is interesting to observe\nthat the idealistic logic from the beginning finds itself in precisely\nthe same predicament regarding hypotheses;--they are trifling or false.\nAnd in the end they are made, as in Mill, \"accidents\" of inference.\n\nThe part played by Kant's sense-material and the categories is almost\nthe reverse of those of data and hypothesis in science. Sense material\nand the categories are the given elements from which objects are somehow\nmade; in scientific procedure data and hypothesis are derived through\nlogical observation and imagination from the content and operations of\nimmediate experience. In Kant's account of the process by which objects\nare constructed we are nowhere in sight of any experimental procedure.\nIndeed, the real act of knowing, the selection and application of the\ncategory to the sense matter, is, as Kant in the end had to confess,\n\"hidden away in the depths of the soul.\" Made in the presence of the\nelaborate machinery of knowing which Kant had constructed, this\nconfession is almost tragic; and the tragic aspect grows when we find\nthat the result of the \"hidden\" operation is merely a phenomenal object.\nThat this should be the case, however, is not strange. A phenomenal\nobject is the inevitable correlate of the \"hidden\" act of knowing\nwhether in a \"transcendental\" or in an \"empirical\" logic. In vain do we\ncall the act of knowing \"constructive\" and \"synthetic\" if its method of\nsynthesis is hidden. A transcendental unity whose method is indefinable\nhas no advantage over empirical association.\n\nIt was the dream of Kant as of Mill to replace the logics of\nsensationalism and rationalism with a \"logic of things\" and of \"truth.\"\nBut as Mill's things turned to states of consciousness, so Kant's are\nphenomenal. Their common fate proclaims their common failure--the\nfailure to reestablish continuity between the conduct of intelligence\nand other conduct.\n\nOne of the chief counts in Hegel's indictment of Kant's logic is that\n\"it had no influence on the methods of science.\"[15] Hegel's explanation\nis that Kant's categories have no genesis; they are not constructed in\nand as part of logical operations. As given, ready-made, their relevance\nis a miracle. But if categories be \"generated\" in the process of\nknowing, says Hegel, they are indigenous, and their fitness is\ninevitable. In such statements Hegel raises expectations that we are at\nlast to have a logic which squares with the procedure of science. But\nwhen we discover that instead of being \"generated\" out of all the\nmaterial involved in the scientific problem Hegel's categories are\nderived from each other, misgivings arise. And when we further learn\nthat this \"genesis\" is timeless, which means that, after all, the\ncategories stand related to each other in a closed, eternal system of\nimplication, we abandon hope of a scientific--i.e., experimental--logic.\n\nHegel also says it is the business of philosophy \"to substitute\ncategories or in more precise language adequate notions for the several\nmodes of feeling, perception, desire, and will.\" The word \"substitute\"\nreveals the point at issue. If \"to substitute\" means that philosophy is\na complete exchange of the modes of feeling, perception, desire, and\nwill for a world of categories or notions, then, saying nothing of the\nrange of values in such a world, the problem of the meaning of\n\"adequate\" is on our hands. What is the notion to be adequate to? But if\n\"to substitute\" means that the modes of feeling, perception, desire, and\nwill, when in a specific situation of ambiguity and inhibition, go over\ninto, take on, the modes of data and hypothesis in the effort to get rid\nof inhibiting conflict that is quite another matter. Here the \"notion,\"\nas the scientific hypothesis, has a criterion for its adequacy. But if\nthe notion usurps the place of feeling, perception, desire, and will, as\nmany find, in the end, it does in Hegel's logic, it thereby loses all\ntests for the adequacy of its function and character as a notion.\n\nIn the development of the logical doctrines of Kant and Hegel by Lotze,\nGreen, Sigwart, Bradley, Bosanquet, Royce, and others, there are indeed\ndifferences. But these differences only throw their common ground into\nbolder relief. This common ground is that, procedure by hypotheses, by\ninduction, is, in the language of Professor Bosanquet, \"a transient and\nexternal characteristic of inference.\"[16] And the ground of this\nverdict is essentially the same as Mill's, when he rejects hypotheses\n\"made by the mind,\" namely, that such hypotheses are too subjective in\ntheir origin and nature to have objective validity. \"Objective\" idealism\nis trying, like Mill, to escape the subjectivism of the purely\nindividual and \"psychical\" knower. But, being unable to reconstruct the\nfinite knower, and being too sophisticated to make what it regards as\nMill's naive appeal to \"hypotheses found in things,\" it transfers the\nreal process of inference to the \"objective universal,\" and the process\nof all thought, including inference, is now defined as \"_the\nreproduction, by a universal presented in a content, of contents\ndistinguished from the presented content which also are differences of\nthe same universal_.\"[17]\n\nIt need scarcely be said that in inference thus defined there is scant\nroom for hypotheses. There is nothing \"hypothetical,\" \"experimental,\" or\n\"tentative\" in this process of reproduction by the objective universal\nas such. As little is there any possibility of error. If there is\nanything hypothetical, or any possibility of error, in inference, it is\ndue to the temporal, finite human being in which, paradoxically enough,\nthis process of \"reproduction\" goes on and to whom, at times, is given\nan \"infinitesimal\" part in the operation, while at other times he is\nsaid merely to \"witness\" it. But the real inference does not \"proceed by\nhypotheses\"; it is only the finite mind in witnessing the real logical\nspectacle or in its \"infinitesimal\" contribution to it that lamely\nproceeds in this manner.\n\nHere, again, we have the same break in continuity between the finite,\nhuman act of knowing and the operations that constitute the real world.\nWhen the logic of the objective universal rejects imputations of\nharboring a despoiled psychical knower it has in mind, of course, the\nobjective universal as knower, not the finite, human act. But, if the\nparticipations of the latter are all accidents of inference, as they are\nsaid to be, its advantage over a purely psychical knower, or \"states of\nconsciousness,\" is difficult to see. The rejection of metaphysical\ndualism is of no consequence if the logical operations of the finite,\nhuman being are only \"accidents\" of the real logical process. As already\nremarked, the metaphysical disjunction is merely a schematism of the\nmore fundamental, logical disjunction.\n\nAs for tautology and miracle, the follower of Mill might well ask: how\nan association of particulars, whether mental states or things, could be\nmore tautologous than a universal reproducing its own differences? And\nif the transition from particular to particular is a miracle in which\nthe grace of God is disguised as \"habit,\" why is not habit as good a\ndisguise for Providence as universals? Moreover, by what miracle does\nthe one all-inclusive universal become _a_ universal? And since\nperception always presents a number of universals, what determines which\none shall perform the reproduction? Finally, since there are infinite\ndifferences of the universal that might be reproduced, what determines\njust which differences shall be reproduced? In this wise the controversy\nhas gone on ever since the challenge of the old rationalistic logic by\nthe nominalists launched the issue of empiricism and rationalism. All\nthe charges which each makes against the other are easily retorted upon\nitself. Each side is resistless in attack, but helpless in defense.\n\nIn a conception of inference in which both data and hypothesis are\nregarded as the tentative, experimental results of the processes of\nperception, memory, and constructive imagination engaged in the special\ntask of removing conflict, ambiguity, and inhibition, and in which these\nprocesses are not conceived as the functions of a private mind nor of an\nequally private brain and nervous system, but as functions of\ninteracting beings,--in such a conception there is no ground for anxiety\nconcerning the simplicity of data, nor the objectivity of hypotheses.\nSimplicity and objectivity do not have to be secured through elaborate\nand labored metaphysical construction. The data are simple and the\nhypothesis objective in so far as they accomplish the work\nwhere unto they are called--the removal of conflict, ambiguity, and\ninhibition in conduct and affection.\n\nIn the experimental conception of inference it is clear that the\nprinciples of formal logic must play their role wholly inside the course\nof logical operations. They do not apply to relations _between_ these\noperations and \"reality\"; nor to \"reality\" itself. Formal identity and\nnon-contradiction signify, in experimental logic, the complete\ncorrelativity of data and hypothesis. They mean that _in_ the logical\nprocedure data must not be shifted without a corresponding change in the\nhypothesis and conversely. The doctrine that \"theoretically\" there may\nbe any number of hypotheses for \"the same facts\" is, when these multiple\nhypotheses are anything more than different names or symbols, nothing\nless than the very essence of formal contradiction. It doubtless makes\nlittle difference whether a disease be attributed to big or little,\nblack or red, demons or whether the cause be represented by a, b, or c,\netc. But where data and hypotheses are such as are capable of\nverification, i.e., of mutually checking up each other, a change in one\nwithout a corresponding modification of the other is the principle of\nall formal fallacies.[18]\n\nWith this conception of the origin, nature, and functions of logical\noperations little remains to be said of their truth and falsity. If the\nwhole enterprise of logical operation, of the construction and\nverification of hypothesis, is in the interest of the removal of\nambiguity, and inhibition in conduct, the only relevant truth or falsity\nthey can possess must be determined by their success or failure in that\nundertaking. The acceptance of this view of truth and error, be it said\nagain, depends on holding steadfastly to the conception of the\noperations of knowing as _real acts_, which, though having a distinct\ncharacter and function, are yet in closest continuity with other acts of\nwhich indeed they are but modifications and adaptations in order to meet\nthe logical demand.\n\nHere, perhaps, is the place for a word on truth and satisfaction. The\nsatisfaction which marks the truth of logical operations--\"intellectual\nsatisfaction\"--is the satisfaction which attends the accomplishment of\ntheir task, viz., the removal of ambiguity in conduct, i.e., in our\ninteraction with other beings. It does not mean that this satisfaction\nis bound to be followed by wholly blissful consequences. All our\ntroubles are not over when the distress of ambiguity is removed. It may\nbe indeed that the verdict of the logical operation is that we must face\ncertain death. Very well, we must have felt it to be \"good to know the\nworst,\" or no inquiry would have been started. We should have deemed\nignorance bliss and sat with closed eyes waiting for fate to overtake us\ninstead of going forward to meet it and in some measure determine it.\nDeath anticipated and accepted is _realiter_ very different from death\nthat falls upon us unawares, however we may estimate that difference. If\nthis distinction in the _foci_ of satisfaction is kept clear it must do\naway with a large amount of the hedonistic interpretations of\nsatisfaction in which many critics have indulged.\n\nBut hereupon some one may exclaim, as did a colleague recently: \"Welcome\nto the ranks of the intellectualists!\" If so, the experimentalist is\nbound to reply that he is as willing, and as unwilling, to be welcomed\nto the ranks of intellectualism as to those of anti-intellectualism. He\nwonders, however, how long the welcome would last in either. Among the\nintellectualists the welcome would begin to cool as soon as it should be\ndiscovered that the ambiguity to which logical operations are the\nresponse is not regarded by the experimentalist as a purely intellectual\naffair. It is an ambiguity in conduct with all the attendant affectional\nvalues that may be at stake.[19] It is, to be sure, the fact of\nambiguity, and the effort to resolve it, that adds the intellectual,\nlogical character to conduct and to affectional values. But if the\nlogical interest attempts entirely to detach itself it will soon be\nwithout either subject-matter or criterion. And if it sets itself up as\nsupreme, we shall be forced to say that our quandaries of affection, our\nproblems of life and death are merely to furnish occasions and material\nfor logical operations.\n\nOn the other hand, the welcome of the anti-intellectualists is equally\nsure to wane when the experimentalist asserts that the doctrine that\nlogical operations mutilate the wholeness of immediate experience\noverlooks the palpable fact that it is precisely these immediate\nexperiences--the experiences of intuition and instinct--that get into\nconflict and inhibit and mutilate one another, and as a consequence are\nobliged to go into logical session to patch up the mutilation and\nprovide new and better methods of cooeperation.\n\nAt this point the weakness in Bergson's view of logical operations\nappears. Bergson, too, is impressed by the break in continuity between\nlogical operations and the rest of experience. But with Mr. Bradley he\nbelieves this breach to be essentially incurable, because the\nmutilations and disjunctions are due to and introduced by logical\noperations. Just why the latter are introduced remains in the end a\nmystery. Both, to be sure, believe that logical operations are valuable\nfor \"practical\" purposes,--for action. But, aside from the question of\n_how_ operations essentially mutilative can be valuable for action,\nimmediate intuitional experience being already in unity with Reality,\nwhy should there be any practical need for logical operations--least of\nall such as introduce disjunction and mutilation?\n\nThe admission of a demand for logical operations, whether charged to\nmatter, the devil, or any other metaphysical adversary, is, of course, a\nconfession that conflict and ambiguity are as fundamental in experience\nas unity and immediacy and that logical operations are therefore no less\nindigenous. The failure to see this implication is responsible for the\nparadox that in the logic of Creative Evolution the operations of\nintelligence are neither creative nor evolutional. They not only have no\nconstructive part but are positively destructive and devolutional.\n\nSince, moreover, these logical operations, like those of the objective\nuniversal, and like Mill's association of particulars, can only\nreproduce in fragmentary form what has already been done, it is\ndifficult to see how they can meet the demands of action. For here no\nmore than in Mill, or in the logic of idealism, is there any place for\nconstructive hypotheses or any technique by which they can become\neffective. Whatever \"Creative Evolution\" may be, there is no place in\nits logic for \"Creative Intelligence.\"\n\n\nIV\n\nThe prominence in current discussion of the logical reforms proposed by\nthe \"analytic logic\" of the neo-realistic movement and the enthusiastic\noptimism of its representatives over the prospective results of these\nreforms for logic, science, and practical life are the warrant for\ndevoting a special section to their discussion.\n\nThere are indeed some marked differences of opinion among the\nexpounders of the \"new logic\" concerning the results which it is\nexpected to achieve. Some find that it clears away incredible\naccumulations of metaphysical lumber; others rejoice that it is to\nrestore metaphysics, \"once the queen of the sciences, to her ancient\nthrone.\"\n\nBut whatever the difference among the representatives of analytical\nlogic all seem agreed at the outset on two fundamental reforms which the\n\"new logic\" makes. These are: first, that analytic logic gets rid\nentirely of the _act_ of knowing, the retention of which has been the\nbane of all other logics; second, in its discovery of \"terms and\nrelations,\" \"sense-data and universals\" as the simple elements not only\nof logic but of the world, it furnishes science at last with the simple\nneutral elements at large which it is supposed science so long has\nsought, and \"mourned because it found them not.\"\n\nTaking these in order, we are told that \"realism frees logic as a study\nof objective fact from all accounts of the states and operations of\nmind.\" ... \"Logic and mathematics are sciences which can be pursued\nquite independently of the study of knowing.\"[20] \"The new logic\nbelieves that it deals with no such entities as thoughts, ideas, or\nminds, but with entities that merely are.\"[20]\n\nThe motive for the banishment of the act of knowing from logic is that\nas an _act_ knowing is \"mental,\" \"psychological,\" and \"subjective.\"[21]\nAll other logics have indeed realized this subjective character of the\n_act_ of knowing, but have neither dared completely to discard it nor\nbeen able sufficiently to counteract its effects even with such agencies\nas the objective universal to prevent it from infecting logic with its\nsubjectivity. Because logic has tolerated and attempted to compromise\nwith this subjective act of knowing, say these reformers, it has been\nforced constantly into epistemology and has become a hybrid science. Had\nlogic possessed the courage long ago to throw overboard this subjective\nJonah it would have been spared the storms of epistemology and the reefs\nof metaphysics.\n\nAnalytic logic is the first attempt in the history of modern logical\ntheory at a deliberate, sophisticated exclusion of the act of knowing\nfrom logic. Other logics, to be sure, have tried to neutralize the\neffects of its presence, but none has had the temerity to cast it bodily\noverboard. The experiment, therefore, is highly interesting.\n\nWe should note at the outset that in regarding the act of knowing as\nincurably \"psychical\" and \"subjective\" analytic logic accepts a\nfundamental premise of the logics of rationalism, empiricism, and\nidealism which it seeks to reform. It is true that it is the bold\nproposal of analytic logic to keep logic out of the pit of epistemology\nby excluding the act of knowing from logic. Nevertheless analytic logic\nstill accepts the subjective character of this act; and if it excludes\nit from its logic it welcomes it in its psychology. This is a dangerous\nsituation. Can the analytic logician prevent all osmosis between his\nlogic and his psychology?[22] If not, and if the psychological act is\nsubjective, woe then to his logic. Had the new logic begun with a bold\nchallenge of the psychical character of the act of knowing, the prospect\nof a logic free from epistemology would have been much brighter.\n\nWith the desire to rid logic of the epistemological taint the\n\"experimental logic\" of the pragmatic movement has the strongest\nsympathy. But the proposal to effect this by the excision of the act of\nknowing appears to experimental logic to be a case of heroic but fatal\nsurgery. _Prima facie_ a logic with no act of knowing presents an\nuncanny appearance. What sort of logical operations are possible in such\na logic and of what kind of truth and falsity are they capable?\n\nBefore taking up these questions in detail it is worth while to note the\ncharacter of the entities that \"merely are\" with which analytic logic\nproposes exclusively to deal. In their general form they are \"terms\" and\n\"propositions,\" \"sense-data\" and universals. We are struck at once by\nthe fact that these entities bear the names of logical operations. They\nare, to be sure, disguised as entities and have been baptised in a\nhighly dilute solution of objectivity called \"subsistence.\" But this\ndoes not conceal their origin, nor does it obscure the fact that if it\nis possible for any entities that \"merely are\" to have logical character\nthose made from hypostatized processes of logical operations should be\nthe most promising. They might be expected to retain some vestiges of\nlogical character even after they have been torn from the process of\ninquiry and converted into \"entities that merely are.\" Also it is not\nsurprising that having stripped the act of knowing of its constituent\noperations analytic logic should feel that it can well dispense with the\nempty shell called \"mind\" and, as Professor Dewey says, \"wish it on\npsychology.\" But if the analytic logician be also a philosopher and\nperchance a lover of his fellow-man, it is hard to see how he can have a\ngood conscience over this disposition of the case.\n\nTurning now to the character of inference and of truth and falsity which\nare possible in a logic which excludes the operation of knowing and\ndeals only with \"entities that are,\" all the expounders seem to agree\nthat in such a logic inference must be purely deductive. All alleged\ninduction is either disguised deduction or a lucky guess. This raises\napprehension at the start concerning the value of analytic logic for\nother sciences. But let us observe what deduction in analytic logic is.\n\nWe begin at once with a distinction which involves the whole issue.[23]\nWe are asked to carefully distinguish \"logical\" deduction from\n\"psychological\" deduction. The latter is the vulgar meaning of the term,\nand is \"the thinker's name for his own act of conforming his thought\" to\nthe objective and independent processes that constitute the real logical\nprocess. This act of conforming the mind is a purely \"psychological\"\naffair. It has no logical function whatever. In what the \"conforming\"\nconsists is not clear. It seems to be merely the act of turning the\n\"psychological\" eye on the objective logical process. \"One beholds it\n(the logical process) as one beholds a star, a river, a character in a\nplay.... The novelist and the dramatist, like the mathematician and\nlogician, are onlookers at the logical spectacle.\"[24] On the other\nhand, the term \"conforming\" suggests a task, with the possibilities of\nsuccess and failure. Have we, then, two wholly independent possibilities\nof error--one merely \"psychological,\" the other \"logical\"? The same\npoint may be made even more obviously with reference to the term\n\"beholding.\" The term is used as if beholding were a perfectly simple\nact, having no problems and no possibilities of mistakes--as if there\ncould be no mis-beholding.[25]\n\nBut fixing our psychological eye on the \"logical spectacle,\" what does\nit behold? A universal generating an infinite series of identical\ninstances of itself--i.e., instances which differ only in \"logical\nposition.\" If in a world of entities that \"merely are\" the term\n\"generation\" causes perplexity, the tension is soon relieved; for this\nturns out to be a merely subsistential non-temporal generation which,\nlike Hegel's generation of the categories, in no way compromises a world\nof entities that \"merely are.\"\n\nSteering clear of the thicket of metaphysical problems that we here\nencounter, let us keep to the logical trail. First it is clear that\nlogical operations are of the same reproductive repetitive type that we\nhave found in the associational logic of empiricism, and in the logic of\nthe objective universal. Indeed, after objective idealism has conceded\nthat the finite mind merely \"witnesses\" or at most contributes only in\nan \"infinitesimal\" degree to the logical activity of the objective\nuniversal, what remains of the supposed gulf between absolute idealism\nand analytic realism?\n\nIt follows, of course, that there can be no place in analytic logic for\n\"procedure by hypotheses.\" However, it is to the credit of some analytic\nlogicians that they see this and frankly accept the situation instead of\nattempting to retain hypotheses by making them \"accidents\" or mere\n\"auxiliaries\" of inference. On the other hand, others find that the\nchief glory of analytic logic is precisely that it \"gives thought\nwings\"[26] for the free construction of hypotheses. In his lectures on\n\"Scientific Methods in Philosophy\" Mr. Russell calls some of the most\nelemental and sacred entities of analytic logic \"convenient fictions.\"\nThis retention of hypotheses at the cost of cogency is of course in\norder to avoid a break with science. Those who see that there is no\nplace in analytic logic for hypotheses are equally anxious to preserve\ntheir connections with science. Hence they boldly challenge the\n\"superstition\" that science has anything to do with hypotheses. Newton's\n\"_Hypotheses non fingo_\" should be the motto of every conscientious\nscientist who dares \"trust his own perceptions and disregard the ukase\nof idealism.\" \"The theory of mental construction is the child of\nidealism, now put out to service for the support of its parents.\"\n\"Theory is no longer regarded in science as an hypothesis added to the\nobserved facts,\" but a law which is \"found in the facts.\"[27] The\nidentity of this with Mill's doctrine of hypotheses as \"found in things\"\nis obvious.\n\nAs against the conception of hypotheses as \"free,\" \"winged,\"\nconstructions of a psychical, beholding, gossiping mind we may well take\nour stand with those who would exclude such hypotheses from science. And\nthis doubtless was the sort of mind and sort of hypotheses Newton meant\nwhen he said \"_Hypotheses non fingo_.\"[28] But had Newton's mind really\nbeen of the character which he, as a physicist, had learned from\nphilosophers to suppose it to be, and had he really waited to find his\nhypotheses ready-made in the facts, there never would have been any\ndispute about who discovered the calculus, and we should never have been\ninterested in what Newton said about hypotheses or anything else. What\nNewton did is a much better source of information on the part hypotheses\nplay in scientific method than what he said about them. The former\nspeaks for itself; the latter is the pious repetition of a metaphysical\ncreed made necessary by the very separation of mind from things\nexpressed in the statement quoted.\n\nLogically there is little to choose between hypotheses found ready-made\nin the facts and those which are the \"winged\" constructions of a purely\npsychical mind. Both are equally useless in logic and in science. One\nmakes logic and science \"trifling,\" the other makes them \"miraculous.\"\nBut if hypotheses be conceived not as the output of a cloistered\npsychical entity but as the joint product of all the beings and\noperations involved in the specific situation in which logical inquiry\noriginates, and more particularly in all those involved in the\noperations of the inquiry itself (including all the experimental\nmaterial and apparatus which the inquiry may require), we shall have\nsufficient continuity between hypotheses and things to do away with\nmiracle, and sufficient reconstruction to avoid inference that is\ntrifling.\n\nIt is, however, the second contribution of analytic logic that is the\nbasis of the enthusiasm over its prospective value for other sciences.\nThis is the discovery that terms and propositions, sense-data, and\nuniversals, are not only elements of logical operation but are the\nsimple, neutral elements at large which science is supposed to have been\nseeking. \"As the botanist analyzes the structures of the vegetable\norganism and finds chemical compounds of which they are built so the\nordinary chemist analyzes these compounds into their elements, but does\nnot analyze these. The physical chemist analyzes these elemental atoms,\nas now appears, into minuter components _which he in turn must leave to\nthe mathematicians and logicians further to analyze_.\"[29]\n\nAgain it is worth noting that this mutation of logical into ontological\nelements seems to differ only \"in position\" from the universal logicism\nof absolute idealism.\n\nWhat are these simple elements into which the mathematician and logician\nare to analyze the crude elements of the laboratory? And how are these\nelements to be put into operation in the laboratory? Let us picture an\nanalytic logician meeting a physical scientist at a moment when the\nlatter is distressed over the unmanageable complexity of his elements.\nWill the logician say to the scientist: \"Your difficulty is that you are\ntrusting too much to your mundane apparatus. The kingdom of truth cometh\nnot with such things. Forsake your microscopes, test tubes, refractors\nand resonators, and follow me, and you shall behold the truly simple\nelements of which you have dreamed.\"? And when the moment of revelation\narrives and the expectant scientist is solemnly told that the \"simple\nelements\" which he has sought so long are \"terms and propositions,\"\nsense-data and universals, is it surprising that he does not seem\nimpressed? Will he not ask: \"What am I to do with these in the specific\ndifficulties of my laboratory? Shall I say to the crude and complex\nelements of my laboratory operations: 'Be ye resolved into terms and\npropositions, sense-data and universals'; and will they forthwith obey\nthis incantation and fall apart so that I may locate and remove the\nhidden source of my difficulty? Are you not mocking me and deceiving\nyourself with the old ontological argument? Your 'simple' elements--are\nthey anything but the hypostatized process by which elements may be\nfound?\"[30]\n\nThe expounders as well as the critics of analytic logic have agreed that\nit reaches its most critical junction when it faces the problem of truth\nand error. There is no doubt that the logic of objective idealism, in\nother respects so similar to analytic logic, has at this point an\nadvantage; for it retains just enough of the finite operation of\nknowing--an \"infinitesimal\" part will answer--to furnish the culture\ngerms of error. But analytic logic having completely sterilized itself\nagainst this source of infection is in serious difficulty.\n\nHere again it is Professor Holt who has the courage to follow--or shall\nwe say \"behold\"?--his theory as it \"generates\" the doctrine that error\nis a given objective opposition of forces entirely independent of any\nsuch thing as a process of inquiry and all that such a process\npresupposes. \"All collisions between bodies, all inference between\nenergies, all process of warming and cooling, of starting and stopping,\nof combining and separating, all counterbalancings, as in cantilevers\nand gothic vaultings, are contradictory forces which can be stated only\nin propositions that manifestly contradict each other.\"[31] But the\nargument proves too much. For in the world of forces to which we have\nhere appealed there is no force which is not opposed by others and no\nparticle which is not the center of opposing forces. Hence error is\nubiquitous. In making error objective we have made all objectivity\nerroneous. We find ourselves obliged to say that the choir of\nWestminster Abbey, the Brooklyn bridge, the heads on our shoulders are\nall supported by logical errors!\n\nFollowing these illustrations of ontological contradictions there is\nindeed this interesting statement: \"Nature is so full of these mutually\nnegative processes that we are moved to admiration when a few forces\ncooeperate long enough to form what we call an organism.\"[32] The\nimplication is, apparently, that as an \"opposition\" of forces is error,\n\"cooeperation\" of forces is truth. But what is to distinguish\n\"opposition\" from \"cooeperation\"? In the illustration it is clear that\nopposing forces--error--do not interfere with cooeperative forces--truth.\nWhere should we find more counterbalancing, more starting and stopping,\nwarming and cooling, combining and separating than in an organism? And\nif these processes can be stated only in propositions that are\n\"manifestly contradictory,\" are we to understand that truth has errors\nfor its constituent elements? Such paradoxes have always delighted the\nsoul of absolute idealism. But, as we have seen, only the veil of an\ninfinitesimal finitude intervenes between the logic of the objective\nuniversal of absolute idealism and the objective logic of analytic\nrealism.\n\nIt is, of course, this predicament regarding objective truth and error\nthat has driven most analytic logicians to recall the exiled\npsychological, \"mental\" act of knowing. It had to be recalled to provide\nsome basis of distinction between truth and error, but, this act having\nalready been conceived as incurably \"subjective,\" the result is only an\nexchange of dilemmas. For the reinstatement of this act _ipso facto_\nreinstates the epistemological predicament to get rid of which it was\nfirst banished from logic.\n\nEarnest efforts to escape this outcome have been made by attaching the\nact of knowing to the nervous system, and this is a move in the right\ndirection. But so far the effort has been fruitless because no\nconnection has been made between the knowing function of the nervous\nsystem and its other functions. The result is that the cognitive\noperation of the nervous system, as of the \"psychical\" mind, is that of\na mere spectator; and the epistemological problem abides. An onlooking\nnervous system has no advantage over an \"onlooking\" mind. Onlooking,\nbeholding may indeed be a part of a genuine act of knowing. But in that\nact it is always a stimulus or response to other acts. It is one of\nthem;--never a mere spectator of them. It is when the act of knowing is\ncut off from its connection with other acts and finds itself adrift that\nit seeks metaphysical lodgings. And this it may find either in an empty\npsychical mind or in an equally empty body.[33]\n\nIf, in reinstating the act of knowing as a function of the nervous\nsystem, neo-realism had recognized the logical significance of the fact\nthat the nervous system of which knowing is a function is the same\nnervous system of which loving and hating, desiring and striving are\nfunctions and that the transition from these to the operations of\ninquiry and knowing is not a capricious jump but a transition motived by\nthe loving and hating, desiring and striving--if this had been\nrecognized the logic of neo-realism would have been spared its\nembarrassments over the distinction of truth and error. It would have\nseen that the passage from loving and hating, desiring and striving to\ninquiry and knowing is made in order to renew and reform specific\ndesires and strivings which, through conflict and consequent\nequivocation, have become fruitless and vain; and it must have seen that\nthe results of the inquiry are true or false as they succeed or fail in\nthis reformation and renewal.\n\nBut once more, it must steadily be kept in view that while the loving\nand hating, desiring and striving, which the logical operations are\nreforming and renewing, are functions of the nervous system, they are\nnot functions of the nervous system alone, else the door of subjectivism\nagain closes upon us. Loving and hating, desiring and striving have\ntheir \"objects.\" Hence any reformation of these functions involves no\nless a reformation of their objects. When therefore we say that truth\nand error are relevant to desires and strivings, this means relevant to\nthem as including their objects, not as entitized processes (such are\nthe pitfalls of language) inclosed in a nervous system or mind. With\nthis before us the relevance of truth and error to desires and strivings\ncan never be made the basis for the charge of subjectivism. The\nconception of desires as peculiarly individual and subjective is a\nsurvival of the very isolation which is the source of the difficulty\nwith truth and error. Hence the appeal to this isolation, made alike by\nidealism and realism, in charging instrumental logic with subjectivism\nis an elementary _petitio_.\n\nDoubtless it will be urged again that the act of knowing is motived\nby an independent desire and striving of its own. This is of course\nconsonant with the neo-realistic atomism, however inconsonant it may be\nwith the conception of implication which it employs. If we take a small\nenough, isolated segment of experience we can find meaning for this\nnotion, as we may for the idea that the earth is flat and that the sun\nmoves around the earth. But as consequences accrue we find as great\ndifficulties with the one as with the other. If the course of events did\nnot bring us to book, if we could get off with a mere definition of\ntruth and error we might go on piling up subsistential definitional\nlogics world without end. But sublime adventurers, logically\nunregenerate and uninitiated, will go on sailing westward to the\nconfusion and confounding of all definitional systems that leave them\nout of account.\n\nThe conclusion is plain. If logic is to have room in its household for\nboth truth and error, if it is to avoid the old predicament of knowledge\nthat is trifling or miraculous, tautologous or false, if it is to have\nno fear of the challenge of other sciences or of practical life, it must\nbe content to take for its subject-matter the operations of intelligence\nconceived as real acts on the same metaphysical plane and in strictest\ncontinuity with other acts. Such a logic will not fear the challenge of\nscience, for it is precisely this continuity that makes possible\nexperimentation, which is the fundamental characteristic of scientific\nprocedure. Science without experiment is indeed a strange apparition. It\nis a [Greek: logos] with no [Greek: legein], a science with no _scire_;\nand this spells dogmatism. How necessary such continuity is to\nexperimentation is apparent when we recall that there is no limit to the\nrange of operations of every sort which scientific experiment calls into\nplay; and that unless there be thoroughgoing continuity between the\nlogical demand of the experiment and all the materials and devices\nemployed in the process of the experiment, the operations of the latter\nin the experiment will be either miraculous or ruinous.\n\nFinally, if this continuity of the operations of intelligence with\nother operations be essential to science, its relation to \"practical\"\nlife is _ipso facto_ established. For science is \"practical\" life\naware of its problems and aware of the part that experimental--i.e.,\ncreative--intelligence plays in the solution of those problems.\n\n\n\n\nINTELLIGENCE AND MATHEMATICS\n\nHAROLD CHAPMAN BROWN\n\n\nHerbart is said to have given the deathblow to faculty psychology. Man\nno longer appears endowed with volition, passion, desire, and reason;\nand logic, deprived of its hereditary right to elucidate the operations\nof inherent intelligence, has the new problem of investigating forms of\nintelligence in the making. This is no inconsequential task. \"If man\noriginally possesses only capacities which after a given amount of\neducation will produce ideas and judgments\" (Thorndike, _Educational\nPsychology_, Vol. I, p. 198), and if these ideas and judgments are to be\nsubstituted for a mythical intelligence it follows that tracing their\ndevelopment and observing their functioning renders clearer our\nconception of their nature and value and brings us nearer that exact\nknowledge of what we are talking about in which the philosopher at least\naspires to equal the scientist, however much he may fall below his\nideal.\n\nFor contemporary thought concerning the mathematical sciences this\naltered point of view generates peculiarly pressing problems.\nMathematicians have weighed the old logic and found it wanting. They\nhave builded themselves a new logic more adequate to their ends. But\nthey have not whole-heartedly recognized the change that has come about\nin psychology; hence they have retained the faculty of intelligence\nknit into certain indefinables such as implication, relation, class,\nterm, and the like, and have transported the faculty from the human soul\nto a mysterious realm of subsistence whence it radiates its ghostly\nlight upon the realm of existence below. But while they reproach the old\nlogic, often bitterly, their new logic merely furnishes a more adequate\nshow-case in which already attained knowledge may be arranged to set off\nits charms for the observer in the same way that specimens in a museum\nare displayed before an admiring world. This statement is not a sweeping\ncondemnation, however, for such a setting forth is not useless. It\nresembles the classificatory stage of science which, although not itself\nin the highest sense creative, often leads to higher stages by bringing\nunder observation relations and facts that might otherwise have escaped\nnotice. And in the realm of pure mathematics, the new logic has\nundoubtedly contributed in this manner to such discoveries. Danger\nappears when the logician attains Cartesian intoxication with the beauty\nof logico-mathematical form and tries to infer from the form itself the\nreal nature of the formed material. The realm of subsistence too often\nhas armed Indefinables with metaphysical myths whose attack is valiant\nwhen the doors of reflection are opened. It may be possible, however, to\narrive at an understanding of mathematics without entering the kingdom\nof these warriors.\n\nIt is the essence of science to make prediction possible. The value of\nprediction lies in the fact that through this function man can control\nhis environment, or, at worst, fortify himself to meet its vagaries. To\nattain such predictions, however, the world need not be grasped in its\nfull concreteness. Hence arise processes of abstraction. While all other\nsymptoms remain unnoticed, the temperature and pulse may mark a disease,\nor a barometer-reading the weather. The physicist may work only in terms\nof quantity in a world which is equally truly qualitative. All that is\nnecessary is to select the elements which are most effective for\nprediction and control. Such selection gives the principle that\ndominates all abstractions. Progress is movement from the less abstract\nto the more abstract, but it is progress only because the more abstract\nis as genuinely an aspect of the concrete starting-point as anything is.\nMoreover, the outcome of progress of this sort cannot be definitely\nforeseen at the beginnings. The simple activities of primitive men have\nto be spontaneously performed before their value becomes evident. Only\nafterwards can they be cultivated for the sake of their value, and then\nonly can the self-conscious cultivation of a science begin. The process\nremains full not only of perplexities, but of surprises; men's\nactivities lead to goals far other than those which appear at the start.\nThese goals, however, never deny the method by which the start is made.\nDeveloped intelligence is nothing but skill in using a set of concepts\ngenerated in this manner. In this sense the histories of all human\nendeavors run parallel.\n\nWhere the empirical bases of a science are continually in the\nforeground, as in physics or chemistry, the foregoing formulation of\nprocedure is intelligible and acceptable to most men. Mathematics seem,\nhowever, to stand peculiarly apart. Many, with Descartes, have delighted\nin them \"on account of the certitude and evidence of their reasonings\"\nand recognized their contribution to the advancement of mechanical arts.\nBut since the days of Kant even this value has become a problem, and\nmany a young philosophic student has the question laid before him as to\nwhy it is that mathematics, \"a purely conceptual science,\" can tell us\nanything about the character of a world which is, apparently at least,\nfree from the idiosyncrasies of individual mind. It may be that\nmathematics began in empirical practice, such philosophers admit, but\nthey add that, somehow, in its later career, it has escaped its lowly\norigin. Now it moves in the higher circles of postulated relations and\narbitrarily defined entities to which its humble progenitors and\nrelatives are denied the entree. Parvenus, however, usually bear with\nthem the mark of history, and in the case of this one, at least, we may\nhope that the history will be sufficient to drag it from the\naffectations of its newly acquired set and reinstate it in its proper\nplace in the workaday world. For the sake of this hope, we shall take\nthe risk of being tedious by citing certain striking moments of\nmathematical progress; and then we shall try to interpret its genuine\nstatus in the world of working truths.\n\n\nI\n\nBEGINNINGS OF ARITHMETIC AND GEOMETRY\n\nThe most primitive mathematical activity of man is counting, but here\nhis first efforts are lost in the obscurity of the past. The lower\nraces, however, yield us evidence that is not without value. Although\nthe savage mind is not identical with the mind of primitive man, there\nis much in the activities of undeveloped races that can throw light upon\nthe behavior of peoples more advanced. We must be careful in our\ninferences, however. Among the Australians and South Americans there are\npeoples whose numerical systems go little, or not at all, beyond the\nfirst two or three numbers. \"It has been inferred from this,\" writes\nProfessor Boas (_Mind of Primitive Man_, pp. 152-53), \"that the people\nspeaking these languages are not capable of forming the concept of\nhigher numbers.... People like the South American Indians, ... or like\nthe Esquimo ... are presumably not in need of higher numerical\nexpressions, because there are not many objects that they have to count.\nOn the other hand, just as soon as these same people find themselves in\ncontact with civilization, and when they acquire standards of value that\nhave to be counted, they adopt with perfect ease higher numerals from\nother languages, and develop a more or less perfect system of\ncounting.... It must be borne in mind that counting does not become\nnecessary until objects are considered in such generalized form that\ntheir individualities are entirely lost sight of. For this reason it is\npossible that even a person who owns a herd of domesticated animals may\nknow them by name and by their characteristics, without even desiring to\ncount them.\"\n\nAnd there is one other false interpretation to be avoided. Man does not\nfeel the need of counting and then develop a system of numerals to meet\nthe need. Such an assumption is as ridiculous as to assume prehistoric\nman thinking to himself: \"I must speak,\" and then inventing voice\nculture and grammar to make speaking pleasant and possible. Rather, when\npowers of communication are once attained, presumably in their\nbeginnings also without forethought, man being still more animal than\nman, there were gradually dissociated communications of a kind\napproaching what numbers mean to us. But the number is not yet a symbol\napart from that of the things numbered. Picture writing, re-representing\nthe things meant, preceded developmentally any kind of symbolization\nrepresenting the number by mere one-one correspondence with\nnon-particularized symbols. It is plausible, although I have no\nanthropological authority for the statement, that the prevalence of\nfinger words as number symbols (cf. infra) is originally a consequence\nof the fact that our organization makes the hand the natural instrument\nof pointing.\n\nThe difficulty of passing from concrete representations to abstract\nsymbols has been keenly stated by Conant (_The Number Concept_, pp.\n72-73), although his terminology is that of an old psychology and the\nlimitations implied for the primitive mind are limitations of practice\nrather than of capacity as Mr. Conant seems to believe. \"An abstract\nconception is something quite foreign to the essentially primitive mind,\nas missionaries and explorers have found to their chagrin. The savage\ncan form no mental concept of what civilized man means by such a word as\n_soul_; nor would his idea of the abstract number 5 be much clearer.\nWhen he says _five_, he uses, in many cases at least, the same word that\nserves him when he wishes to say _hand_; and his mental concept when he\nsays _five_ is a hand. The concrete idea of a closed fist, of an open\nhand with outstretched fingers, is what is uppermost in his mind. He\nknows no more and cares no more about the pure number 5 than he does\nabout the law of conservation of energy. He sees in his mental picture\nonly the real, material image, and his only comprehension of the number\nis, \"these objects are as many as the fingers on my hand.\" Then, in the\nlapse of the long interval of centuries which intervene between lowest\nbarbarism and highest civilization, the abstract and concrete become\nslowly dissociated, the one from the other. First the actual hand\npicture fades away, and the number is recognized without the original\nassistance furnished by the derivation of the word. But the number is\nstill for a long time a certain number _of objects_, and not an\nindependent concept.\"\n\nAn excellent fur trader's story, reported to me by Mr. Dewey, suggests a\nfurther impulse to count besides that given by the need of keeping a\ntally, namely, the need of making one thing correspond to another in a\nbusiness transaction. The Indian laid down one skin and the trader two\ndollars; if he proposed to count several skins at once and pay for all\ntogether, the former replied \"too much cheatem.\" The result, however,\ndemanded a tally either by the fingers, a pebble, or a mark made in the\nsand, and as the magnitude of such transactions grows the need of a\nspecific number symbol becomes ever more acute.\n\nThe first obstacle, then, to overcome--and it has already been\nsuccessfully passed by many primitive peoples--is the need of fortuitous\nattainment of a numerical symbol, which is not the mere repeated symbol\nof the things numbered. Significantly, this symbol is usually derived\nfrom the hand, suggesting gestures of tallying, and not from the words\nof already developed language. Consequently, number words relate\nthemselves for the most part to the hand, and written number symbols,\nwhich are among the earliest writings of most peoples, tend to depict it\nas soon as they have passed beyond the stage mentioned above of merely\nrepeating the symbol of the things numbered. W. C. Eells, in writing of\nthe Number Systems of the North American Indians (_Am. Math. Mo._, Nov.,\n1913; pp. 263-72), finds clear linguistic evidence for a digital origin\nin about 40% of the languages examined. Of the non-digital instances, 1\nwas sometimes connected with the first personal pronoun, 2 with roots\nmeaning separation, 3, rarely, meaning more, or plural as distinguished\nfrom the dual, just as the Greek uses a plural as well as a dual in\nnouns and verbs, 4 is often the perfect, complete right. It is often a\nsacred number and the base of a quarternary system. Conant (_loc. cit._\np. 98) also gives a classification of the meanings of simple number\nwords for more advanced languages; and even in them the hand is\nconstantly in evidence, as in 5, the hand; 10, two hands, half a man,\nwhen fingers and toes are both considered, or a man, when the hands\nalone are considered; 20, one man, two feet. The other meanings hang\nupon the ideas of existence, piece, group, beginning, for 1; and\nrepetition, division, and collection for higher numerals.\n\nA peculiar difficulty lies in the fact that when once numbering has\nbecome a self-conscious effort, the collection of things to be numbered\nfrequently tends to exceed the number of names that have become\navailable. Sometimes the difficulty is met by using a second man when\nthe fingers and toes of the first are used up, sometimes by a method of\nrepetition with the record of the number of the repetition itself added\nto the numerical significance of the whole process. Hence arise the\nvarious systems of bases that occur in developed mathematics. But the\ninertia to be overcome in the recognition of the base idea is nowhere\nmore obvious than in the retention by the comparatively developed\nBabylonian system of a second base of 60 to supplement the decimal one\nfor smaller numbers. Among the American Indians (Eells, _loc. cit._) the\nsystem of bases used varies from the cumbersome binary scale, that\nexercised such a fascination over Leibniz (_Opera_, _III_, p. 346),\nthrough the rare ternary, and the more common quarternary to the\n\"natural\" quinary, decimal, and vigesimal systems derived from the\nuse of the fingers and toes in counting. The achievement of a number\nbase and number words, however, does not always open the way to\nfurther mathematical development. Only too often a complexity of\nexpression is involved that almost immediately cuts off further\nprogress. Thus the Youcos of the Amazon cannot get beyond the number\nthree, for the simplest expression for the idea in their language is\n\"pzettarrarorincoaroac\" (Conant, _loc. cit._, pp. 145, 83, 53). Such\nnames as \"99, tongo solo manani nun solo manani\" (i.e., 10, understood,\n5 plus 4 times, and 5 plus 4) of the Soussous of Sierra Leone; \"399,\ncaxtolli onnauh poalli ipan caxtolli onnaui\" (15 plus 4 times 20 plus 15\nplus 4) of the Aztec; \"29, wick a chimen ne nompah sam pah nep e chu\nwink a\" (Sioux), make it easy to understand the proverb of the Yorubas\nof Abeokuta, \"You may be very clever, but you can't tell 9 times 9.\"\n\nAlmost contemporaneously with the beginnings of counting various\nauxiliary devices were introduced to help out the difficult task. In\nplace of many men, notched sticks, knotted strings, pebbles, or finger\npantomime were used. In the best form, these devices resulted in the\nabacus; indeed, it was not until after the introduction of arabic\nnumerals and well into the Renaissance period that instrumental\narithmetic gave way to graphical in Europe (D. E. Smith, _Rara\nArithmetica_, under \"Counters\"). \"In eastern Europe,\" say Smith and\nMikami (_Japanese Mathematics_, pp. 18-19), \"it\"--the abacus--\"has never\nbeen replaced, for the tschotue is used everywhere in Russia to-day, and\nwhen one passes over into Persia the same type of abacus is common in\nall the bazaars. In China the swan-pan is universally used for the\npurposes of computation, and in Japan the soroban is as strongly\nentrenched as it was before the invasion of western ideas.\"\n\nGiven, then, the idea of counting, and a mechanical device to aid\ncomputation, it still remains necessary to obtain some notation in which\nto record results. At the early dawn of history the Egyptians seem to\nhave been already possessed of number signs (cf. Cantor, _Gesch. de.\nMath._, p. 44) and the Phoenicians either wrote out their number words\nor used a few simple signs, vertical, horizontal, and oblique lines, a\nprocess which the Arabians perpetuated up to the beginning of the\neleventh century (Fink, p. 15); the Greeks, as early as 600 B. C., used\nthe initial letters of words for numbers. But speaking generally,\nhistorical beginnings of European number signs are too obscure to\nfurnish us good material.\n\nOur Indians have few number symbols other than words, but when they\noccur (cf. Eells, _loc. cit._) they usually take the form of pictorial\npresentation of some counting device such as strokes, lines dotted to\nsuggest a knotted cord, etc. Indeed, the smaller Roman numerals were\nprobably but a pictorial representation of finger symbols. However, a\nbeautiful concrete instance is furnished us in the Japanese mathematics\n(cf. Smith and Mikami, Ch. III). The earliest instrument of reckoning in\nJapan seems to have been the rod, Ch'eou, adapted from the Chinese under\nthe name of Chikusaku (bamboo rods) about 600 A. D. At first relatively\nlarge (measuring rods?), they became reduced to about 12 cm., but from\ntheir tendency to roll were quickly replaced by the sangi (square\nprisms, about 7 mm. thick and 5 cm. long) and the number symbols were\nevidently derived from the use of these rods:\n\n                           _  __  ___  ____\n  |, ||, |||, ||||, |||||, |, ||, |||, ||||.\n\nFor the sake of clearness, tens, hundreds, etc., were expressed in the\neven place by horizontal instead of vertical lines and vice versa; thus\n1267 would be formed\n\n         __\n  - || | ||.\n       -\n\nThe rods were arranged on a sort of chessboard called the swan-pan. Much\nlater the lines were transferred to paper, and a circle used to denote\nthe vacant square. The use of squares, however, rendered it unnecessary\nto arrange the even places differently from the odd, so numbers like\n38057 came to be written\n\n  +-------+-------+-------+-------+------+\n  |       |  ___  |       |       |  __  |\n  |  |||  |  |||  |       | ||||| |  ||  |\n  |       |       |       |       |      |\n  +-------+-------+-------+-------+------+\n\ninstead of\n\n  +-------+-------+-------+-------+------+\n  |       |       |       |       |      |\n  |       |       |       |   -   |      |\n  |       |   |   |       |   -   |  __  |\n  |  |||  |   -   |       |   -   |  ||  |\n  |       |   -   |       |   -   |      |\n  |       |   -   |       |   -   |      |\n  |       |       |       |       |      |\n  +-------+-------+-------+-------+------+\n\nas in the earlier notation.\n\nSomewhere in the course of these early mathematical activities the\nprocess has changed from the more or less spontaneous operating that led\nprimitive man to the first enunciation of arithmetical ideas, and has\nbecome a self-conscious striving for the solution of problems. This\nchange had already taken place before the historical origins of\narithmetic are met. Thus, the treatise of Ahmes (2000 B. C.) contains\nthe curious problem: 7 persons each have 7 cats; each cat eats 7 mice;\neach mouse eats 7 ears of barley; from each ear 7 measures of corn may\ngrow; how much grain has been saved? Such problems are, however, half\nplay, as appears in a Leonardo of Pisa version some 3000 years later: 7\nold women go to Rome; each woman has 7 mules; each mule, 7 sacks; each\nsack contains 7 loaves; with each loaf are 7 knives; each knife is in 7\nsheaths. Similarly in Diophantus' epitaph (330 A. D.): \"Diophantus\npassed 1/6 of his life in childhood, 1/12 in youth, and 1/7 more as a\nbachelor; 5 years after his marriage, was born a son who died 4 years\nbefore his father at 1/2 his age.\" Often among peoples such puzzles were\na favorite social amusement. Thus Braymagupta (628 A. D.) reads, \"These\nproblems are proposed simply for pleasure; the wise man can invent a\nthousand others, or he can solve the problems of others by the rules\ngiven here. As the sun eclipses the stars by its brilliancy, so the man\nof knowledge will eclipse the fame of others in assemblies of the people\nif he proposes algebraic problems, and still more if he solves them\"\n(Cajori, _Hist. of Math._, p. 92).\n\nThe limitation of these early methods is that the notation merely\nrecords and does not aid computation. And this is true even of such a\nhighly developed system as was in use among the Romans. If the reader is\nunconvinced, let him attempt some such problem as the multiplication of\nCCCXVI by CCCCLXVIII, expressing it and carrying it through in Roman\nnumerals, and he will long for the abacus to assist his labors. It was\nthe positional arithmetic of the Arabians, of which the origins are\nobscure, that made possible the development of modern technique. Of this\ndiscovery, or rediscovery from the Hindoos, together with the zero\nsymbol, Cajori (_Hist. of Math._, p. 11) has said \"of all mathematical\ndiscoveries, no one has contributed more to the general progress of\nintelligence than this.\" The notation no longer merely records results,\nbut now assists in performing operations.\n\nThe origins of geometry are even more obscure than those of arithmetic.\nNot only is geometry as highly developed as arithmetic when it first\nappears in occidental civilization, but, in addition, the problems of\nprimitive peoples seem to have been such that they have developed no\ngeometrical formulae striking enough to be recorded by investigators, so\nfar as I have been able to discover. But just as the commercial life of\nthe Phoenicians early forced them self-consciously to develop\narithmetical calculation, so environmental conditions seem to have\nforced upon the Egyptians a need for geometrical considerations.\n\nIt is almost platitudinous to quote Herodotus' remark that the invention\nof geometry was necessary because of the floods of the Nile, which\nwashed away the boundaries and changed the contours of the fields. And\nas Proclus Diadochus adds (_Procli Diadochi, in primum Euclidis\nelementorum librum commentarii_--quoted Cantor, I, p. 125): \"It is not\nsurprising that the discovery of this as well as other sciences has\nsprung from need, because everything in the process of beginning\nproceeds from the incomplete to the complete. There takes place a\nsuitable transition from sensible perception to thoughtful consideration\nand rational knowledge. Just as with the Phoenicians, for the sake of\nbusiness and commerce, an exact knowledge of numbers had its beginning,\nso with the Egyptians, for the above-mentioned reasons, was geometry\ncontrived.\"\n\nThe earliest Egyptian mathematical writing that we know is that of Ahmes\n(2000 B. C.), but long before this the mural decorations of the temple\nwall involved many figures, the construction of which involved a certain\namount of working knowledge of such operations as may be performed with\nthe aid of a ruler and compass. The fact that these operations did not\nearlier lead to geometry, as ruler and compass work seems to have\ndone in Japan in the nineteenth century (Smith and Mikami, index,\n\"Geometry\"), is probably due to the stage at which the development of\nEgyptian intelligence had arrived, feebly advanced on the road to higher\nabstract thinking. It is everywhere characteristic of Egyptian genius\nthat little purely intellectual curiosity is shown. Even astronomical\nknowledge was limited to those determinations which had religious or\nmagically practical significance, and its arithmetic and geometry never\nescaped these bounds as with the more imaginative Pythagoreans, where\nmystical interpretation seems to have been a consequence of rather than\na stimulus to investigation. An old Egyptian treatise reads (Cantor, p.\n63): \"I hold the wooden pin (Nebi) and the handle of the mallet (semes),\nI hold the line in concurrence with the Goddess S[a.]fech. My glance\nfollows the course of the stars. When my eye comes to the constellation\nof the great bear and the time of the number of the hour determined by\nme is fulfilled, I place the corner of the temple.\" This incantation\nmethod could hardly advance intelligence; but the methods of practical\nmeasuring were more effective. Here the rather happy device of using\nknotted cords, carried about by the Harpedonapts, or cord stretchers,\nwas of some moment. Especially, the fact that the lengths 3, 4, and 5,\nbrought into triangular form, served for an interesting connection\nbetween arithmetic and the right triangle, was not a little gain, later\nmaking possible the discovery of the Pythagorean theorem, although in\nEgypt the theoretical properties of the triangle were never developed.\nThe triangle obviously must have been practically considered by the\ndecorators of the temple and its builders, but the cord stretchers\nrendered clear its arithmetical significance. However, Ahmes' \"Rules for\nattaining the knowledge of all dark things ... all secrets that are\ncontained in objects\" (Cantor, _loc. cit._, p. 22) contains merely a\nmixture of all sorts of mathematical information of a practical\nnature,--\"rules for making a round fruit house,\" \"rules for measuring\nfields,\" \"rules for making an ornament,\" etc., but hardly a word of\narithmetical and geometrical processes in themselves, unless it be\ncertain devices for writing fractions and the like.\n\n\nII\n\nTHE PROGRESS OF SELF-CONSCIOUS THEORY\n\nA characteristic of Greek social life is responsible both for the next\nphase of the development of mathematical thought and for the\nmisapprehension of its nature by so many moderns. \"When Archytas and\nMenaechmus employed mechanical instruments for solving certain\ngeometrical problems, 'Plato,' says Plutarch, 'inveighed against them\nwith great indignation and persistence as destroying and perverting all\nthe good that there is in geometry; for the method absconds from\nincorporeal and intellectual or sensible things, and besides employs\nagain such bodies as require much vulgar handicraft: in this way\nmechanics was dissimilated and expelled from geometry, and being for a\nlong time looked down upon by philosophy, became one of the arts of\nwar.' In fact, manual labor was looked down upon by the Greeks, and a\nsharp distinction was drawn between the slaves who performed bodily work\nand really observed nature, and the leisured upper classes who\nspeculated, and often only knew nature by hearsay. This explains much of\nthe naive dreamy and hazy character of ancient natural science. Only\nseldom did the impulse to make experiments for oneself break through;\nbut when it did, a great progress resulted, as was the case of Archytas\nand Archimedes. Archimedes, like Plato, held that it was undesirable for\na philosopher to seek to apply the results of science to any practical\nuse; but, whatever might have been his view of what ought to be in the\ncase, he did actually introduce a large number of new inventions\"\n(Jourdain, _The Nature of Mathematics_, pp. 18-19). Following the Greek\nlead, certain empirically minded modern thinkers construe geometry\nwholly from an intellectual point of view. History is read by them as\nestablishing indubitably the proposition that mathematics is a matter of\npurely intellectual operations. But by so construing it, they have, in\ngeometry, remembered solely the measuring and forgotten the land, and,\nin arithmetic, remembered the counting and forgotten the things\ncounted.\n\nArithmetic experienced little immediate gain from its new association\nwith geometry, which was destined to be of momentous import in its\nlatter history, beyond the discovery of irrationals (which, however,\nwere for centuries not accepted as numbers), and the establishment of\nthe problem of root-taking by its association with the square, and\ninterest in negative numbers.\n\nThe Greeks had only subtracted smaller numbers from larger, but the\nArabs began to generalize the process and had some acquaintance with\nnegative results, but it was difficult for them to see that these\nresults might really have significance. N. Chuquet, in the fifteenth\ncentury, seems to have been the first to interpret the negative numbers,\nbut he remained a long time without imitators. Michael Stifel, in the\nsixteenth century, still calls them \"Numeri absurdi\" as over against the\n\"Numeri veri.\" However, their geometrical interpretation was not\ndifficult, and they soon won their way into good standing. But the case\nof the imaginary is more striking. The need for it was first felt when\nit was seen that negative numbers have no square roots. Chuquet had\ndealt with second-degree equations involving the roots of negative\nnumbers in 1484, but says these numbers are \"impossible,\" and Descartes\n(_Geom._, 1637) first uses the word \"imaginary\" to denote them. Their\nintroduction is due to the Italian algebrists of the sixteenth century.\nThey knew that the real roots of certain algebraic equations of the\nthird degree are represented as results of operations effected upon\n\"impossible\" numbers of the form _a_ + _b_ sqrt{-1} (where _a_ and _b_ are\nreal numbers) without it being possible in general to find an algebraic\nexpression for the roots containing only real numbers. Cardan calculated\nwith these \"impossibles,\" using them to get real results\n[(5 + sqrt{-15}) (5 - sqrt{-15}) = 25 - (-15) = 40], but adds that it is a\n\"quantitas quae vere est sophistica\" and that the calculus itself \"adeo\nest subtilis ut est inutilis.\" In 1629, Girard announced the theorem\nthat every complete algebraic equation admits of as many roots, real or\nimaginary, as there are units in its degree, but Gauss first proved this\nin 1799, and finally, in his _Theory of Complex Quantity_, in 1831.\n\nGeometry, however, among the Greeks passed into a stage of abstraction\nin which lines, planes, etc., in the sense in which they are understood\nin our elementary texts, took the place of actually measured surfaces,\nand also took on the deductive form of presentation that has served as a\nmodel for all mathematical presentation since Euclid. Mensuration\nsmacked too much of the exchange, and before the time of Archimedes is\npractically wholly absent. Even such theorems as \"that the area of a\ntriangle equals half the product of its base and its altitude\" is\nforeign to Euclid (cf. Cajori, p. 39). Lines were merely directions, and\npoints limitations from which one worked. But there was still dependence\nupon the things that one measures. Euclid's elements, \"when examined in\nthe light of strict mathematical logic, ... has been pronounced by C. S.\nPeirce to be 'Riddled with fallacies'\" (Cajori, p. 37). Not logic, but\nobservation of the figures drawn, that is, concrete symbolization of\nthe processes indicated, saves Euclid from error.\n\nRoman practical geometry seems to have come from the Etruscans, but the\nRoman here is as little inventive as in his arithmetical ventures,\nalthough the latter were stimulated somewhat by problems of inheritance\nand interest reckoning. Indeed, before the entrance of Arabic learning\ninto Europe and the translation of Euclid from the Arabic in 1120, there\nis little or no advance over the Egyptian geometry of 600 B. C. Even the\nuniversities neglected mathematics. At Paris \"in 1336 a rule was\nintroduced that no student should take a degree without attending\nlectures on mathematics, and from a commentary on the first six books of\nEuclid, dated 1536, it appears that candidates for the degree of A. M.\nhad to give an oath that they had attended lectures on these books.\nExaminations, when held at all, probably did not extend beyond the first\nbook, as is shown by the nickname 'magister matheseos' applied to the\n_Theorem of Pythagoras_, the last in the first book.... At Oxford, in\nthe middle of the fifteenth century, the first two books of Euclid were\nread\" (Cajori, _loc. cit._, p. 136). But later geometry dropped out and\nnot till 1619 was a professorship of geometry instituted at Oxford.\nRoger Bacon speaks of Euclid's fifth proposition as \"elefuga,\" and it\nalso gets the name of \"pons asinorum\" from its point of transition to\nhigher learning. As late as the fourteenth century an English manuscript\nbegins \"Nowe sues here a Tretis of Geometri whereby you may knowe the\nhegte, depnes, and the brede of most what erthely thynges.\"\n\nThe first significant turning-point lies in the geometry of Descartes.\nViete (1540-1603) and others had already applied algebra to geometry,\nbut Descartes, by means of cooerdinate representation, established the\nidea of motion in geometry in a fashion destined to react most\nfruitfully on algebra, and through this, on arithmetic, as well as\nenormously to increase the scope of geometry. These discoveries are not,\nhowever, of first moment for our problem, for the ideas of mathematical\nentities remain throughout them the generalized processes that had\nappeared in Greece. It is worth noting, however, that in England\nmechanics has always been taught as an experimental science, while on\nthe Continent it has been expanded deductively, as a development of _a\npriori_ principles.\n\n\nIII\n\nCONTEMPORARY THOUGHT IN ARITHMETIC AND GEOMETRY\n\nTo develop the complete history of arithmetic and geometry would be a\ntask quite beyond the limits of this paper, and of the writer's\nknowledge. In arithmetic we were able to observe a stage in which\nspontaneous behavior led to the invention of number names and methods of\ncounting. Then, by certain speculative and \"play\" impulses, there arose\nelementary arithmetical problems which began to be of interest in\nthemselves. Geometry here also comes into consideration, and, in\nconnection with positional number symbols, begin those interactions\nbetween arithmetic and geometry that result in the forms of our\ncontemporary mathematics. The complex quantities represented by number\nsymbols are no longer merely the necessary results of analyzing\ncommercial relations or practical measurements, and geometry is no\nlonger directly based upon the intuitively given line, point, and plane.\nIf number relations are to be expressed in terms of empirical spatial\npositions, it is necessary to construct many imaginary surfaces, as is\ndone by Riemann in his theory of functions, a construction representing\nthe type of imagination which Poincare has called the intuitional in\ncontradistinction to the logical (_Value of Science_, Ch. I). And\ngeometry has not only been led to the construction of many non-Euclidian\nspaces, but has even, with Peano and his school, been freed from the\nbonds of any necessary spatial interpretation whatsoever.\n\nTo trace in concrete detail the attainment of modern refinements of\nnumber theory would likewise exhibit nothing new in the building up of\nmathematical intelligence. We should find, here, a process carried out\nwithout thought of the consequences, there, an analogy suggesting an\noperation that might lead us beyond a difficulty that had blocked\nprogress; here, a play interest leading to a combination of symbols out\nof which a new idea has sprung; there, a painstaking and methodical\neffort to overcome a difficulty recognized from the start. It is rather\nfor us now to ask what it is that has been attained by these means, to\ninquire finally what are those things called \"number\" and \"line\" in the\nbroad sense in which the terms are now used.\n\nIn so far as the cardinal number at least is concerned, the answer\ngenerally accepted by Dedekind, Peano, Russell, and such writers is\nthis: the number is a \"class of similar classes\" (Whitehead and Russell,\n_Prin. Math._, Vol. II, p. 4). To the interpretation of this answer, Mr.\nRussell, the most self-consciously philosophical of these\nmathematicians, has devoted his full dialectic skill. The definition has\nat least the merit of being free from certain arbitrary psychologizing\nthat has vitiated many earlier attempts at the problem. Mr. Russell\nclaims for it \"(1) that the formal properties which we expect cardinal\nnumbers to have result from it; (2) that unless we adopt this definition\nor some more complicated and practically equivalent definition, it is\nnecessary to regard the cardinal number of a class as indefinable\"\n(_loc. cit._, p. 4). That the definition's terms, however, are not\nwithout obscurity appears in Mr. Russell's struggles with the zigzag\ntheory, the no-class theory, etc., and finally in his taking refuge in\nthe theory of \"logical types\" (_loc. cit._, Vol. III, Part V. E.),\nwhereby the contradiction that subverted Frege and drove Mr. Russell\nfrom the standpoint of the _Principles of Mathematics_ is finally\novercome.\n\nThe second of Mr. Russell's claims for his definition adds nothing to\nthe first, for it merely asserts that unless we adopt some definition of\nthe cardinal number from which its formal properties result, number is\nundefined. Any such definition would be, _ipso facto_, a practical\nequivalent of the first. We need only consider whether or not the\nformal properties of numbers clearly follow from this definition.\n\nMr. Russell's own experience makes us hesitate. When he first adopted\nthis definition from Frege, he was led to make the inference that the\nclass of all possible classes might furnish a type for a greatest\ncardinal number. But this led to nothing but paradox and contradiction.\nThe obvious conclusion was that something was wrong with the concept of\nclass, and the obvious way out was to deny the possibility of any such\nall-inclusive class. Just why there should be such limitation, except\nthat it enables one to escape the contradiction, is not clear from Mr.\nRussell's analysis (cf. Brown, \"The Logic of Mr. Russell,\" _Journ. of\nPhil., Psych., and Sci. Meth._, Vol. VIII, No. 4, pp. 85-89).\nFurthermore, to pass to the theory of types on this ground is to give up\nthe value of the first claim for the definition (quoted above), since\nthe formal properties of numbers now merely follow from the definition\nbecause the terms of the definition are reinterpreted from the\nproperties of number, so that these properties will follow from it. The\ndefinition has become circular.\n\nThe real difficulty lies in the concept of the class. Dogmatic realism\nis prone to find here an entity for which, as it is obviously not a\nphysical thing, a home must be provided in some region of \"being.\" Hence\narises the realm of subsistence, as for Plato the world of facts\nduplicated itself in a world of ideas. But the subsistent realm of the\nmathematician is even more astounding than the ideal realm of Plato, for\nthe latter world is a prototype of the world of things, while the world\nof the mathematician is peopled by all sorts of entities that never were\non land or sea. The transfinite numbers of Cantor have, without doubt,\na definite mathematical meaning, but they have no known representatives\nin the world of things, nor in the imagination of man, and in spite of\nthe efforts of philosophers it may even be doubted whether an entity\ncorrelative to the mathematical infinite has ever been or can ever be\nspecified.\n\nMr. Russell now teaches that \"classes are merely symbolic\" (_Sci. Meth.\nin Phil._, p. 208), but this expression still needs elucidation. It\ndoes, to be sure, avoid the earlier difficulty of admitting \"new and\nmysterious metaphysical entities\" (_loc. cit._, p. 204), but the\n\"feeling of oddity\" that accompanies it seems not without significance.\nWhat can be meant by a merely symbolic class of similar classes\nthemselves merely symbolical? I do not know, unless it is that we are to\nthrow overboard the effort aimed at arbitrary and creative definition\nand proceed in simple inductive and interpretative fashion. With classes\nas entities abandoned, we are left, until we have passed to a new point\nof view as to arithmetical entities, in the position of the intelligent\nignoramus who defined a stock market operation as buying what you can't\nget with money you never had, and selling what you never owned for more\nthan it was ever worth.\n\nThe situation seems to be that we are now face to face with new\ngeneralizations. Just as number symbols arose to denote operations gone\nthrough in counting things when attention is diverted from the\nparticular characteristics of the things counted, and remained a symbol\nfor those operations with things, so now we are becoming self-conscious\nof the character of the operations we have been performing and are\ndeveloping new symbols to express possible operations with operations.\nThe infinity of the number series expresses the fact that it is possible\nto continue the enumerating process indefinitely, and when we are asked\nby certain mathematicians to practise ourselves in such thoughts as that\nfor infinite series a proper part can be the equal of the whole, where\nequality is defined through the establishment of one-one correspondence,\nwe are really merely informed that among the group of symbols used to\ndenote the concrete steps of an ever open counting process are groups of\nsymbols that can be used to indicate operations that are of the same\ntype as the given one in so far as the characteristic of being an open\nseries is concerned. If there were anywhere an infinity of things to\ncount, an unintelligible supposition, it would by no means be true that\nany selection of things from that series would be the equivalent of all\nthings in the series, except in so far as equivalence meant that they\ncould be arranged in the same type of series as that from which they\nwere drawn.\n\nSimilarly the mathematical conception of the continuum is nothing but a\nformulation of the manner in which the cuts of a line or the numbers of\na continuous series must be chosen so that there shall remain no\npossible cut or number of which the choice is not indicated.\nCorrespondence is reached between elements of such series when the\ncorresponding elements can be reached by an identical process. It seems\nto me, however, a mistake to _identify_ the number continuum with the\nlinear continuum, for the latter must include the irrational numbers,\nwhereas the irrational number can never represent a spatial position in\na series. For example, the sqrt{2} is by nature a decimal involving an\ninfinite, i.e., an ever increasing, number of digits to express it and,\nby virtue of the infinity of these digits, they can never be looked upon\nas all given. It is then truly a number, for it expresses a genuine\nnumerical operation, but it is not a position, for it cannot be a\ndeterminate magnitude but merely a quantity approaching a determinate\nmagnitude as closely as one may please. That is, without its complete\nexpression, which would be analogous to the self-contradictory task of\nfinding a greatest cardinal number, there can be no cut in the line\nwhich is symbolized by it. But the operations of translating algebraic\nexpressions into geometrical ones and vice versa (operations which are\nso important in physical investigations) are facilitated by the notion\nof a one to one correspondence between number and space.\n\nWhen we pass to the transfinite numbers, we have nothing in the Alephs\nbut the symbols of certain groupings of operations expressible in\nordinary number series. And the many forms of numbers are all simply the\nresult of recognizing value in naming definite groups of operations of a\nlower level, which may itself be a complication of processes indicated\nby the simple numerical signs. To create such symbols is by no means\nillegitimate and no paradox results in any forms as long as we remember\nthat our numbers are not things but are signs of operations that may be\nperformed directly upon things or upon other operations.\n\nFor example, let us consider such a symbol as sqrt{-5}. -5 signifies\nthe totality of a counting process carried on in an opposite sense from\nthat denoted by +5. To take the square root is to symbolize a number,\nthe totality of an operation, such that when the operation denoted by\nmultiplying it by itself is performed the result is 5. Consequently the\nsqrt{-5} is merely the symbol of these processes combined in such a\nway that the whole operation is to be considered as opposite in some\nsense to that denoted by sqrt{5}. Hence, an easy method for the\nrepresentation of such imaginaries is based on the principle of analytic\ngeometry and a system of co-ordinates.\n\nThe nature of this last generalization of mathematics is well shown by\nMr. Whitehead in his monumental _Universal Algebra_. The work begins\nwith the definition of a calculus as \"The art of manipulating\nsubstitutive signs according to fixed rules, and the deduction therefrom\nof true propositions\" (_loc. cit._, p. 4). The deduction itself is\nreally a manipulation according to rules, and the truth consists\nessentially in the results being actually derived from the premises\naccording to rule. Following Stout, substitutive signs are characterized\nthus: \"a word is an instrument for thinking about the meaning which it\nexpresses; a substitutive sign is a means of not thinking about the\nmeaning which it symbolizes.\" Mathematical symbols have, then, become\nsubstitutive signs. But this is only possible because they were at an\nearly stage of their history expressive signs, and the laws which\nconnected them were derived from the relations of the things for which\nthey stood. First it became possible to forget the things in their\nconcreteness, and now they have become mere terms for the relations that\nhad been generalized between them. Consequently, the things forgotten\nand the terms treated as mere elements of a relational complex, it is\npossible to state such relational complexes with the utmost freedom. But\nthis does not mean that mathematics can be created in a purely arbitrary\nfashion. The mark of its origin is upon it in the need of exhibiting\nsome existing situation through which the non-contradictory character of\nits postulates can be verified. The real advantage of the generalization\nis that of all generalizations in science, namely, that by looking away\nfrom practical applications (as appears in a historical survey) results\nare frequently obtained that would never have been attained if our labor\nhad been consciously limited merely to those problems where the\nadvantages of a solution were obvious. So the most fantastic forms of\nmathematics, which themselves seem to bear no relation to actual\nphenomena, just because the relations involved in them are the relations\nthat have been derived from dealing with an actual world, may contribute\nto the solutions of problems in other forms of calculus, or even to the\ncreation of new forms of mathematics. And these new forms may stand in a\nmore intimate connection with aspects of the real world than the\noriginal mathematics.\n\nIn 1836-39 there appeared in the _Gelehrte Schriften der Universitaet\nKasan_, Lobatchewsky's epoch-making \"New Elements of Geometry, with a\nComplete Theory of Parallels.\" After proving that \"if a straight line\nfalling on two other straight lines make the alternate angles equal to\none another, the two straight lines shall be parallel to one another,\"\nEuclid, finding himself unable to prove that in every other case they\nwere not parallel, assumed it in an axiom. But it had never seemed\nobvious. Lobatchewsky's system amounted merely to developing a geometry\non the basis of the contradictory axiom, that through a point outside a\nline an indefinite number of lines can be drawn, no one of which shall\ncut a given line in that plane. In 1832-33, similar results were\nattained by Johann Bolyai in an appendix to his father's \"_Tentamen\njuventutem studiosam in elementa matheseosos purae ... introducendi_\"\nentitled \"The Science of Absolute Space.\" In 1824 the dissertation of\nRiemann, under Gauss, introduced the idea of an _n_-ply extended\nmagnitude, or a study of _n_-dimensional manifolds and a new road was\nopened for mathematical intelligence.\n\nAt first this new knowledge suggested all sorts of metaphysical\nhypotheses. If it is possible to build geometries of _n_-dimensions or\ngeometries in which the axiom of parallels is no longer true, why may it\nnot be that the space in which we make our measurements and on which we\nbase our mechanics is some one of these \"non-Euclidian\" spaces? And\nindeed many experiments were conducted in search of some clue that this\nmight be the case. Such experiments in relation to \"curved spaces\"\nseemed particularly alluring, but all have turned out to be fruitless in\nresults. Failure leads to investigation of the causes of failure. If our\nspace had been some one of these spaces how would it have been possible\nfor us to know this fact? The traditional definition of a straight line\nhas never been satisfactory from a physical point of view. To define it\nas the shortest distance between two points is to introduce the idea of\ndistance, and the idea of distance itself has no meaning without the\nidea of straight line, and so the definition moves in a vicious circle.\nOn the metaphysical side, Lotze (_Metaphysik_, p. 249) and others (Merz,\n_History of European Thought in the Nineteenth Century_, Vol. II, p.\n716) criticized these attempts, on the whole justly, but the best\ninterpretation of the situation has been given by Poincare.\n\nTwo lines of thought now lead to a recasting of our conceptions of the\nfundamental notions of geometry. On the one hand, that very\ninvestigation of postulates that had led to the discovery of the\napparently strange non-Euclidian geometries was easily continued to an\ninvestigation of the simplest basis on which a geometry could be\nfounded. Then by reaction it was continued with similar methods in\ndealing with algebra, and other forms of analysis, with the result that\nconceptions of mathematical entities have gradually emerged that\nrepresent a new stage of abstraction in the evolution of mathematics,\nsoon to be discussed as the dominating conceptions in contemporary\nthought. On the other hand, there also developed the problem of the\nrelations of these geometrical worlds to one another, which has been\nprimarily significant in helping to clear up the relations of\nmathematics in its \"pure\" and \"applied\" forms.\n\nGeometry passed through a stage of abstraction like that examined in\nconnection with arithmetic. Beginning with the discovery of\nnon-Euclidian geometry, it has been becoming more and more evident that\na line need not be a name for an aspect of a physical object such as the\nridge-pole line of a house and the like, nor even for the more abstract\nmechanical characteristic of direction of movement;--although the\npersistency with which intuitionally minded geometers have sought to\nadapt such illustrations to their needs has somewhat obscured this fact.\nHowever, even a cursory examination of a modern treatise on geometry\nmakes clear what has taken place. For example, Professor Hilbert begins\nhis _Grundlagen der Geometrie_, not with definition of points, lines,\nand planes, but with the assumption of three different systems of things\n(Dinge) of which the first, called points, are denoted A, B, C, etc.,\nsecond, called straight lines (Gerade), are denoted a, b, c, etc., and\nthe third, called planes, are denoted by [Greek: alpha], [Greek: beta],\n[Greek: gamma], etc. The relations between these things then receive\n\"genaue und vollstaendige Beschreibung\" through the axioms of the\ngeometry. And the fact that these \"things\" are called points, lines, and\nplanes is not to give to them any of the connotations ordinarily\nassociated with these words further than are determined by the axiom\ngroups that follow. Indeed, other geometers are even more explicit on\nthis point. Thus for Peano (_I Principii di Geometria_, 1889) the line\nis a mere class of entities, the relations amongst which are no longer\nconcrete relations but types of relations. The plane is a class of\nclasses of entities, etc. And an almost unlimited number of examples,\nabout which the theorems of the geometry will express truths, can be\nexhibited, not one of which has any close resemblance to spatial facts\nin the ordinary sense.\n\nPhilosophers, it seems to me, have been slow to recognize the\nsignificance of the step involved in this last phase of mathematical\nthought. We have been so schooled in an arbitrary distinction between\nrelations and concepts, that while long familiar with general ideas of\nconcepts, we are not familiar with generalized ideas of relations. Yet\nthis is exactly what mathematics is everywhere presenting. A transition\nhas been made from relations to types of relations, so that instead of\nspeaking in terms of quantitative, spatial and temporal relations,\nmathematicians can now talk in terms of symmetrical, asymmetrical,\ntransitive, intransitive relational types and the like. These present,\nhowever, nothing but the empirical character that is common to such\nrelations as that of father and son; debtor and creditor; master and\nservant; a is to the left of b, b of c; c of d; a is older than b, b\nthan c, c than d, etc. Hence this is not abandonment of experience but a\ngeneralization of it, which results in a calculus potentially applicable\nnot only to it but also to other subject-matter of thought. Indeed, if\nit were not for the possibility of this generalization, the almost\nunlimited applicability of diagrams, so useful in the classroom, to\nillustrate everything from the nature of reality to the categorical\nimperative, as well as to the more technical usages of the psychological\nand social sciences, would not be understandable.\n\nIt would be a paradox, however, if starting out from processes of\ncounting and measuring, generalizations had been attained that no longer\nhad significance for counting or measuring, and the non-Euclidian\nhyper-dimensional geometries seem at first to present this paradox. But,\nas the outcome of our second line of thought proves, this is not the\ncase. The investigation of the relations of different geometrical\nsystems to each other has shown (cf. Brown, \"The Work of H. Poincare,\"\n_Journ. of Phil., Psy., and Sci. Meth._, Vol. XI, No. 9, p. 229) that\nthese different systems have a correspondence with one another so that\nfor any theorem stated in one of them there is a corresponding theorem\nthat can be stated in another. In other words, given any factual\nsituation that can be stated in Euclidian geometry, the aspect treated\nas a straight line in the Euclidian exposition will be treated as a\ncurve in the non-Euclidian, and a situation treated as three-dimensional\nby Euclid's methods can be treated as of any number of dimensions when\nthe proper fundamental element is chosen, and vice versa, although of\ncourse the element will not be the line or plane in our empirical usage\nof the term. This is what Poincare means by saying that our geometry is\na free choice, but not arbitrary (_The Value of Science_, Pt. III, Ch.\nX, Sec. 3), for there are many limitations imposed by fact upon the\nchoice, and usually there is some clear indication of convenience as to\nthe system chosen, based on the fundamental ideal of simplicity.\n\nIt is evident, then, that geometry and arithmetic have been drawing\ncloser together, and that to-day the distinction between them is\nsomewhat hard to maintain. The older arithmetic had limited itself\nlargely to the study of the relations involved in serial orders as\nsuggested by counting, whereas geometry had concerned itself primarily\nwith the relations of groups of such series to each other when the\nseries, or groups of series, are represented as lines or planes. But\npartly by interaction in analytic geometry, and partly in the\ngeneralization of their own methods, both have come to recognize the\nfundamental character of the relations involved in their thought, and\narithmetic, through the complex number and the algebraic unknown\nquantities, has come to consider more complex serial types, while\ngeometry has approached the analysis of its series through interaction\nwith number theory. For both, the content of their entities and the\nrelations involved have been brought to a minimum. And this is true even\nof such apparently essentially intuitional fields as projective\ngeometry, where entities can be substituted for directional lines and\nthe axioms be turned into relational postulates governing their\nconfigurations.\n\nNevertheless, geometry like arithmetic, has remained true to the need\nthat gave it initial impulse. As in the beginning it was only a method\nof dealing with a concrete situation, so in the end it is nothing but\nsuch a method, although, as in the case of arithmetic, from ever closer\ncontact with the situation in question, it has been led, by refinements\nthat thoughtful and continual contact bring, to dissect that situation\nand give heed to aspects of it which were undreamed of at the initial\nmoment. In a sense, then, there are no such things as mathematical\nentities, as scholastic realism would conceive them. And yet,\nmathematics is not dealing with unrealities, for it is everywhere\nconcerned with real rational types and systems where such types may be\nexemplified. Or we can say in a purely practical way that mathematical\nentities are constituted by their relations, but this phrase cannot here\nbe interpreted in the Hegelian ontological sense in which it has played\nso great and so pernicious a part in contemporary philosophy. Such\nmetaphysical interpretation and its consequences are the basis of\nparadoxical absolutisms, such as that arrived at by Professor Royce\n(_World and the Individual_, Vol. II, Supplementary Essay). The peculiar\ncharacter of abstract or pure mathematics seems to be that its own\noperations on a lower level constitute material which serves for the\nsubject-matter with which its later investigations deal. But mathematics\nis, after all, not fundamentally different from the other sciences. The\nconcepts of all sciences alike constitute a special language peculiarly\nadapted for dealing with certain experience adjustments, and the\ndifferences in the development of the different sciences merely express\ndifferent degrees of success with which such languages have been\nformulated with respect to making it possible to predict concerning not\nyet realized situations. Some sciences are still seeking their terms and\nfundamental concepts, others are formulating their first \"grammar,\" and\nmathematics, still inadequate, yearly gains both in vocabulary and\nflexibility.\n\nBut if we are to conceive mathematical entities as mere terminal points\nin a relational system, it is necessary that we should become clear as\nto just what is meant by relation, and what is the connection between\nrelations and quantities. Modern thought has shown a strong tendency to\ninsist, somewhat arbitrarily, on the \"internal\" or \"external\" character\nof relations. The former emphasis has been primarily associated with\nidealistic ontology, and has often brought with it complex dialectic\nquestions as to the identity of an individual thing in passing from one\nrelational situation to another. The latter insistence has meant\nprimarily that things do not change with changing relations to other\nthings. It has, however, often implied the independent existence, in\nsome curiously metaphysical state, of relations that are not relating\nanything, and is hardly less paradoxical than the older view. In the\nfield of physical phenomena, it seems to triumph, while the facts of\nsocial life, on the other hand, lend some countenance to the view of the\n\"internalists.\" Like many such discussions, the best way around them is\nto forget their arguments, and turn to a fresh and independent\ninvestigation of the facts in question.\n\n\nIV\n\nTHINGS, RELATIONS, AND QUANTITIES\n\nAs I write, the way is paved for me by Professor Cohen (_Journ. of\nPhil., Psy., and Sci. Meth._, Vol. XI, No. 23, Nov. 5, 1914, pp.\n623-24), who outlines a theory of relations closely allied to that which\nI have in mind. Professor Cohen writes: \"Like the distinction between\nprimary and secondary qualities, the distinction between qualities and\nrelations seems to me a shifting one because the 'nature' of a thing\nchanges as the thing shifts from one context to another.... To\nProfessors Montague and Lovejoy the 'thing' is like an old-fashioned\nlandowner and the qualities are its immemorial private possessions. A\nthing may enter into commercial relations with others, but these\nrelations are extrinsic. It never parts with its patrimony. To me, the\n'nature' of a thing seems not to be so private or fixed. It may consist\nentirely of bonds, stocks, franchises, and other ways in which public\ncredit or the right to certain transactions is represented.... At any\nrate, relations or transactions may be regarded as wider or more primary\nthan qualities or possessions. The latter may be defined as internal\nrelations, that is, relations _within_ the system that constitutes the\n'thing.' The nature of a thing contains an essence, i.e., a group of\ncharacteristics which, in any given system or context, remain invariant,\nso that if these are changed the things drop out of our system ... but\nthe same thing may present different essences in different contexts. As\na thing shifts from one context to another, it acquires new relations\nand drops old ones, and in all transformations there is a change or\nreadjustment of the line between the internal relations which constitute\nthe essence and the external relations which are outside the inner\ncircle....\"\n\nBefore continuing, however, I wish to make certain interpretations of\nthese statements for which, of course, Professor Cohen is not\nresponsible, and with which he would not be wholly in agreement. My\ngeneral attitude will be shown by the first comment. Concepts are only\nmeans of denoting fragments of experience directly or indirectly given.\nIf we then try to speak of a \"nature of a thing\" two interpretations of\nthis expression are possible. The \"thing\" as such is only a bit of\nreality which some motive, that without undue extension of the term can\nbe called practical, has led us to treat as more or less isolable from\nthe rest of reality. Its nature, then, may consist of either its\nrelations to other practically isolated realities or things, its actual\neffective value in its environment (and hence shift with the environment\nas Professor Cohen points out), or may consist of its essence, the\n\"relations within the system,\" considered from the point of view of the\npotentialities implied by these for various environments. In the first\nsense the nature may easily change with change in environment, but if it\nchanges in the second sense, as Professor Cohen remarks, it \"drops out\nof our system.\" This I should interpret as meaning that we no longer\nhave that thing, but some other thing selected from reality by a\ndifferent purpose and point of view. I should not say with Professor\nCohen that \"the same thing may present different essences in different\ncontexts.\" Every reality is more than one thing--man is an aggregate of\natoms, a living being, an animal, and a thinker, and all of these are\ndifferent things in essence, although having certain common\ncharacteristics. All attribution of \"thingship\" is abstraction, and all\nparticular things may be said to participate in higher, i.e., more\nabstract, levels of thingship. Hence the effort to retain a thingship\nthrough a changing of essence seems to me but the echo of the motive\nthat has so long deduced ontological monism from the logical fact that\nto conceive any two things is at least to throw them into a common\nuniverse of discourse. Consequently I should part company from Professor\nCohen on this one point (which is perhaps largely a matter of\ndefinition, though here not unimportant) and distinguish merely the\nnature of a thing as _actual_ and as _potential_. Of these the former\nalone changes with the environment, while the latter changes only as the\nthing ceases to be by passing into some other thing. In other words, if\nthe example does not do violence to Professor Cohen's thought, I can\nquite understand this paper as a stimulator of criticism, or as a means\nof kindling a fire. Professor Cohen would, I suspect, take this to mean\nthat the same thing--this paper--must be looked upon as having two\ndifferent essences in two different contexts, for \"the same thing may\npossess two different essences in different contexts,\" whereas I should\nprefer to interpret the situation as meaning that there are before me\nthree (and as many more as may be) different things having three\ndifferent essences: first, the paper as a physical object having a\nconsiderable number of definite properties; second, written words,\nwhich are undoubtedly in one sense mere structural modifications of the\nphysical object paper (i.e., coloring on it by ink, etc.), but whose\nreality for my purpose lies in the power of evoking ideas acquired by\nthings as symbols (things, indeed, but things whose essence lies in the\neffects they produce upon a reader rather than in their physical\ncharacter); and third, the chemical and combustion producing properties\nof the paper. Now it is simpler for me to consider the situation as one\nin which three things have a common point in thingship, i.e., an\nabstract element in common, than to think of \"_a_ thing\" shifting\ncontexts and thereby changing its essence.\n\nBut now my divergence from Professor Cohen becomes more marked. He\ncontinues with the following example (p. 622): \"Our neighbor M. is tall,\nmodest, cheerful, and we understand a banker. His tallness, modesty,\ncheerfulness, and the fact that he is a banker we usually regard as his\nqualities; the fact that he is our neighbor is a relation which he seems\nto bear to us. He may move his residence, cease to be our neighbor, and\nyet remain the same person with the same qualities. If, however, I\nbecome his tailor, his tallness becomes translated into certain\nrelations of measurement; if I become his social companion, his modesty\nmeans that he will stand in certain social relations with me, etc.\" In\nother words, we are illustrating the doctrine that \"qualities are\nreducible to relations\" (cf. p. 623). This doctrine I cannot quite\naccept without modification, for I cannot tell what it means. Without\nany presuppositions as to subjectivity or consciousness (cf. p. 623,\n(a).) there are in the world as I know it certain colored objects--let\nthe expression be taken naively to avoid idealistico-realistic\ndiscussion which is here irrelevant. Now it is as unintelligible to me\nthat the red flowers and green leaves of the geraniums before my windows\nshould be reducible to mere relations in any existential sense, as it\nwould be to ask for the square root of their odor, though of course it\nis quite intelligible that the physical theory and predictions\nconcerning green and red surfaces (or odors) should be stated in terms\nof atomic distances and ether vibrations of specific lengths. The\nscientific conception is, after all, nothing more than an indication of\nhow to take hold of things and manipulate them to get foreseen results,\nand its entities are real things only in the sense that they are the\npractically effective keynotes of the complex reality. Accordingly,\ninstead of reducing qualities to relations, it seems to me a much more\nintelligible view to consider relations as abstract ways of taking\nqualities in general, as qualities thought of in their function of\nbridging a gap or making a transition between two bits of reality that\nhave previously been taken as separate things. Indeed, it is just\nbecause things are not ontologically independent beings (but rather\nselections from genuinely concatenated existence) that relations become\nimportant as indications of the practical significance of qualitative\ncontinuities which have been neglected in the prior isolation of the\nthing. Thus, instead of an existential world that is \"a network of\nrelations whose intersections are called terms\" (p. 622), I find more\nintelligible a qualitatively heterogeneous reality that can be variously\npartitioned into things, and that can he abstractly replaced by systems\nof terms and relations that are adequate to symbolize their effective\nnature in particular respects. There is a tendency for certain\nattributes to maintain their concreteness (qualitativeness) in things,\nand for others to suggest the connection of things with other things,\nand so to emphasize a more abstract aspect of experience. Thus then\narises a temporary and practical distinction that tends to be taken as\nopposition between qualities and relations. As spatial and temporal\ncharacteristics possess their chief practical value in the connection of\nthings, so they, like Professor Cohen's neighbor-character, are\nordinarily assumed abstractly as mere relations, while shapes, colors,\netc., and Professor Cohen's \"modesty, tallness, cheerfulness,\" may be\nthought of more easily without emphasis on other things and so tend to\nbe accepted in their concreteness as qualities, but how slender is the\ndividing-line Professor Cohen's easy translation of these things into\nrelations makes clear.\n\nTaken purely intellectualistically, there would be first a fiction of\nseparation in what is really already continuous and then another fiction\nto bridge the gap thus made. This would, of course, be the falsification\nagainst which Bergson inveighs. But this interpretation is to\nmisunderstand the nature of abstraction. Abstraction does not substitute\nan unreal for a real, but selects from reality a genuine characteristic\nof it which is adequate for a particular purpose. Thus to conceive time\nas a succession of moments is not to falsify time, but to select from\nprocesses going on in time a characteristic of them through which\npredictions can be made, which may be verified and turned into an\ninstrument for the control of life or environment. A similar\nmisunderstanding of abstraction, coupled with a fuller appreciation than\nBergson evinces of the value of its results, has led to the\nneo-realistic insistence on turning abstractions into existent entities\nof which the real world is taken to be an organized composite aggregate.\n\nThe practice of turning qualities into merely conscious entities has\ndone much to obscure the status of scientific knowing, for it has left\nmere quantity as the only real character of the actual world. But once\ntake a realistic standpoint, and quantity is no more real than quality.\nFor primitive man, the qualitative aspect of reality is probably the\nfirst to which he gives heed, and it is only through efforts to get\nalong with the world in its qualitative character that its quantitative\nside is forced upon the attention. Then so-called \"exact\" science is\nborn, but it does not follow that qualities henceforth become\ninsignificant. They are still the basis of all relations, even of those\nthat are most directly construed as quantitative. Quality and quantity\nare only different aspects of the world which the status of our\npractical life leads us to take separately or abstractly. \"Thing\" is no\nless an abstraction, in which we disregard certain continuities with the\nrest of the world because we are so constituted that the demands of\nliving make it expedient to do so. Things once given, further\nabstractions become possible, among which are those leading to\nmathematical thinking, in which higher abstractions are made, guided\nalways by the \"generating problem\" (cf. Karl Schmidt, _Jour. of Phil.,\nPsy., and Sci. Meth._, Vol. X, No. 3, 1913, pp. 64-75).\n\n\nV\n\nTHE FUNCTION OF THEORY IN SCIENCE\n\nThe controlling factors for the progress of scientific thought are\ninventions that lead the scientist into closer contact with his data,\nand direct attention to complexities which would otherwise have escaped\nobservation. This end is best fulfilled by conceiving entities that\nunder some point of view are practically isolable from the context in\nwhich they occur. Only too often philosophic thought has confused this\npractical segregation with ontological separation, and so been obliged\nto introduce metaphysical and external relations to bring these entities\ntogether again in a real world, when in reality they have never been\nseparated from one another and hence not from the real world.\nFurthermore, the conceptual model, built on the lines of a calculus of\nmathematics, is often considered the truth _par excellence_ after the\nanalogy of a camera's portrait. Progress in science, however, shows that\nthese models have to be continually rebuilt. Each seems to lead to\nfurther knowledge that necessitates its reconstruction, so that truth\ntakes on an ideal value as an ultimate but unattained, if not\nunattainable, goal, while existing science becomes reduced to working\nhypotheses. From a positivistic point of view, however, the goal is not\nonly practically unattainable, but it is irrational, for there seems to\nbe every evidence that it expresses something contrary to the nature of\nthe real. Yet scientific theory is not wholly arbitrary. We cannot\nconstrue nature as constituted of any sorts of entities that may suit\nour whim. And this is because science itself recognizes that its\nentities are not really isolated, but are endowed with all sorts of\nproperties that serve to connect them with other entities. They are only\nsymbols of critical points of reality which, conceived in a certain way,\nmake the behavior of the whole intelligible. Indeed, the only\nsignificant sense in which they are true for the scientist is that they\nindicate real connections that might otherwise have been overlooked, and\nthis is only possible from the fact that reality has the characteristics\nthat they present and that, with their relations, they give an\napproximate presentation of what is actually presented just as a\nsuccessful portrait painter considers the individuality of the eyes,\nnose, mouth, etc., although he does not imply that a face is compounded\nof these separate features as a house is built of boards.\n\nThe atomic theory, for example, has undoubtedly been of the greatest\nservice to chemistry, and atoms undoubtedly denote a significant\nresting-place in the analysis of the physical world. Yet in the light of\nelectron theories, it is becoming more and more evident that atoms are\nnot ultimate particles, and are not even all alike (Becker, \"Isostasy\nand Radioactivity,\" _Sci._, Jan. 29, 1915) when they represent a single\nsubstance. Again, while there is as yet no evidence to suggest that the\nelectron must itself be considered as divisible (unless it be the\ndistinction between the positive and negative electron), there are\nsuggestions that electrons may themselves arise and pass away (cf.\nMoore, _Origin, and Nature of Life_, p. 39). \"A wisely positivistic\nmind,\" writes Enriques (_Problems of Science_, p. 34), \"can see in the\natomic hypothesis only a subjective representation,\"[34] and, we might\nadd, \"in any other hypothesis.\" He continues (pp. 34-36): \"robbing the\natom of the concrete attributes inherent in its image, we find ourselves\nregarding it as a mere symbol. The logical value of the atomic theory\ndepends, then, upon the establishment of a proper correspondence between\nthe symbols which it contains and the reality which we are trying to\nrepresent.\n\n\"Now, if we go back to the time when the atomic theory was accepted by\nmodern chemistry, we see that the plain atomic formulae contain only the\nrepresentation of the invariable relations in the combination of simple\nbodies, in weight and volume; these last being taken in relation to a\nwell-defined gaseous state.\n\n\"But, once introduced into science, the atomic phraseology suggested the\nextension of the meaning of the symbols, and the search in reality for\nfacts in correspondence with its more extended conception.\n\n\"The theory advances, urged on, as it were, by its metaphysical\nnature, or, if you wish, by the association of ideas which the concrete\nimage of the atom carries with it.\n\n\"Thus for the plain formulae we have substituted, in the chemistry of\ncarbon compounds, structural formulae, which come to represent, thanks to\nthe disposition or grouping of atoms in a molecule, structural relations\nof the second degree, that is to say, relations inherent in certain\nchemical transformations with respect to which some groups of elements\nhave in some way an invariant character. And here, because the image of\na simple molecule upon a plane does not suffice to explain, for example,\nthe facts of isomerism, we must resort to the stereo-chemical\nrepresentation of Van't Hoff.\n\n\"Must we further recall the kinetic theory of gases, the facts explained\nby the breaking up of molecules into ions, the hypothesis suggested, for\nexample, by Van der Waals by the view that an atom has an actual bulk?\nMust we point to a physical phenomenon of quite a different class, for\nexample, to the coloring of the thin film forming the soap-bubbles which\nW. Thomson has taken as the measure of the size of a molecule?\n\n\"Such a resume of results shows plainly that we cannot help the progress\nof science by blocking the path of theory and looking only at its\npositive aspects, that is to say, at the collection of facts that it\nexplains. The value of a theory lies rather in the hypothesis which it\ncan suggest, by means of the psychological representation of the\nsymbols.\n\n\"We shall not draw from all this the conclusion that the atomic\nhypothesis ought to correspond to the extremely subtle sensations of a\nbeing resembling a perfected man. We shall not even reason about the\npossibility of those imaginary sensations, in so far as they are\nconceived simply as an extension of our own. But we shall repeat, in\nregard to the atomic theory, what an illustrious master is said to have\nremarked as to the unity of matter: if on first examination a fact seems\npossible which contradicts the atomic view of things, there is a strong\nprobability that such a fact will be disproved by experience.\n\n\"Does not such a capacity for adaptation to facts, thus furnishing a\nmodel for them, perhaps denote the _positive_ reality of a theory?\"\n\nAnd the above principles are as true of mathematical concepts as of\nchemical. Everywhere it is \"capacity of adaptation to facts\" that is the\ncriterion of a branch of mathematics, except, of course, that in\nmathematics the facts are not always physical facts. Mathematics has\nsuccessfully accomplished a generalization whereby its own methods\nfurnish the material for higher generalizations. The imaginary number\nand the hyper-dimensional or non-Euclidian geometries may be absurd if\nmeasured by the standard of physical reality, but they nevertheless have\nsomething real about them in relation to certain mathematical processes\non a lower level. There is no philosophic paradox about modern\narithmetic or geometry, once it is recognized that they are merely\nabstractions of genuine features of simpler and more obviously practical\nmanipulations that are clearly derived from the dealing of a human\nbeing with genuine realities.\n\nIn the light of these considerations, I cannot help feeling that the\nfrequent attempts of mathematicians with a philosophical turn of mind,\nand philosophers who are dipping into mathematics, to derive geometrical\nentities from psychological considerations are quite mistaken, and are\nbut another example of those traditional presuppositions of psychology\nwhich, Professor Dewey has pointed out (_Jour. of Phil., Psy., and Sci.\nMeth._, XI, No. 19, p. 508), were \"bequeathed by seventeenth-century\nphilosophy to psychology, instead of originating within psychology\" ...\nthat \"were wished upon it by philosophy when it was as yet too immature\nto defend itself.\"\n\nHenri Poincare (_Science and Hypothesis_, Ch. IV, _The Value of\nScience_, Ch. IV) and Enriques (_Problems of Science_, Ch. IV, esp.\nB--_The Psychological Acquisition of Geometrical Concepts_) furnish two\nof the most familiar examples of this sort of philosophizing. Each\nisolates special senses, sight, touch, or motion, and tries to show how\na being merely equipped with one or the other of these senses might\narrive at geometrical conceptions which differ, of course, from space as\nrepresented by our familiar Euclidian geometry. Then comes the question\nof fusing these different sorts of experience into a single experience\nof which geometry may be an intelligible transcription. Enriques finds a\nparallel between the historical development and the psycho-genetic\ndevelopment of the postulates of geometry (_loc. cit._, p. 214 _seq._).\n\"The three groups of ideas that are connected with the concepts that\nserve as the basis for the theory of continuum (_Analysis situs_), of\nmetrical, and of projective geometry, may be connected, as to their\npsychological origin, with three groups of sensations: with the general\ntactile-muscular sensations, with those of special touch, and of sight,\nrespectively.\" Poincare even evokes ancestral experience to make good\nhis case (_Sci. and Hyp._, Ch. V, end). \"It has often been said that if\nindividual experience could not create geometry, the same is not true of\nancestral experience. But what does that mean? Is it meant that we could\nnot experimentally demonstrate Euclid's postulate, but that our\nancestors have been able to do it? Not in the least. It is meant that by\nnatural selection our mind has _adapted_ itself to the conditions of the\nexternal world, that it has adopted the geometry _most advantageous_ to\nthe species: or in other words, the _most convenient_.\"\n\nNow undoubtedly there may be a certain modicum of truth in these\nstatements. As implied by the last quotation from Poincare, the modern\nscientist can hardly doubt that the fact of the adaptation of our\nthinking to the world we live in is due to the fact that it is in that\nworld that we evolved. As is implied by both writers, if one could limit\nhuman contact with the world to a particular form of sense response,\nthought about that world would take place in different terms from what\nit now does and would presumably be less efficient. But these admissions\ndo not imply that any light is thrown upon the nature of mathematical\nentities by such abstractions. Russell (_Scientific Method in\nPhilosophy_) is in the curious position of raising arithmetic to a\npurely logical status, but playing with geometry and sensation after the\nmanner of Poincare, to whom he gives somewhat grudging praise on this\naccount.\n\nThe psychological methods upon which all such investigations are based\nare open to all sorts of criticisms. Chiefly, the conceptions on which\nthey are based, even if correct, are only abstractions. There is not the\nleast evidence for the existence of organisms with a single\ndifferentiated sense organ, nor the least evidence that there ever was\nsuch an organism. Indeed, according to modern accounts of the evolution\nof the nervous system (cf. G. H. Parker, _Pop. Sci. Month._, Feb., 1914)\ndifferent senses have arisen through a gradual differentiation of a more\ngeneral form of stimulus receptor, and consequently, the possibility of\nthe detachment of special senses is the latter end of the series and not\nthe first. But, however this may be, the mathematical concepts that we\nare studying have only been grasped by a highly developed organism, man,\nbut they had already begun to be grasped by him in an early stage of his\ncareer before he had analyzed his experience and connected it with\nspecific sense organs. It may of course be a pleasant exercise, if one\nlikes that sort of thing, to assume with most psychologists certain\nelementary sensations, and then examine the amount of information each\ncan give in the light of possible mathematical interpretations, but to\ndo so is not to show that a being so scantily endowed would ever have\nacquired a geometry of the type in question, or any geometry at all.\nInferences of the sort are in the same category with those from\nhypothetical children, that used to justify all theories of the\npedagogue and psychologist, or from the economic man, that still, I\nfear, play too great a part in the world of social science.\n\n\nVI\n\nMATHEMATICAL INTELLIGENCE\n\nThe real nature of intelligence as it appears in the development of\nmathematics is something quite other than that of sensory analysis.\nIntelligence is fundamentally skill, and although skill may be acquired\nin connection with some sort of sensory contact of an organism and\nenvironment, it is only determined by that contact in the sense that if\nthe sensory conditions were different the needs of the organism might be\ndifferent, and the kind and degree of skill it could attain would be\nother than under the conditions at first assumed. Whenever the\nbeginnings of mathematics appear with primitive people, we find a stage\nof development that calls for the exercise of skill in dealing with\ncertain practical situations. Hence we found early in our investigations\nthat it was impossible to affirm a weak intelligence from limited\nachievements in counting, just as it would be absurd to assume the\nfeeble intelligence of a philosopher from his inability to manipulate a\nboomerang. The instance merely suggests a kind of skill that he has\nnever been led to acquire.\n\nYet it is possible to distinguish intellectual skill, or better skills,\nfrom physical or athletic prowess. Primarily, it is directed at the\nformation and use of concepts, and the concept is only a symbol that can\nbe substituted for experiences. A well-built concept is a part of a\nsystem of concepts where relations have taken the place of real\nconnections in such a fashion that, forgetting the actuality, it is\npossible to present situations that have never occurred or at least are\nnot immediately given at the time and place of the presentation, and to\nsubstitute them for actual situations in such a fashion that these may\nbe expediently met, if or when such situations present themselves. An\nisolated concept, that is, one not a part of any system, is as mythical\nan entity as any savage ever dreamed. Indeed, it would add much to the\nclearness of our thinking if we could limit the use of \"intelligence\" to\nskill in constructing and using different systems of concepts, and speak\nconcretely of mathematical intelligence, philosophical intelligence,\neconomic intelligence, historic intelligence, and the like. The problem\nof creative intelligence is, after all, the problem of the acquisition\nof certain forms of skill, and while the general lines are the same for\nall knowledge (because the instruments are everywhere symbolic\npresentations, or concepts), in each field the situation studied makes\ndifferent types of difficulties to be overcome and suggest different\nmethods of attaining the object.\n\nIn mathematics, the formal impulse to reduce the content of fundamental\nconcepts to a minimum, and to stress merely relations has been most\nsuccessful. We saw its results in such geometries as Hilbert's and\nPeano's, where the empty name \"entity\" supplants the more concrete\n\"point,\" and the \"1\" of arithmetic has the same character. In the social\nsciences, however, such examples as the \"political\" and the \"economic\"\nman are signal failures, while, perhaps, the \"atom\" and the \"electron\"\napproach the ideal in physics and chemistry. In mathematics, all further\nconcepts can be defined by collections of these fundamental entities\nconstituted in certain specified ways. And it is worth noting that both\nfactually and logically a collection of entities so defined is not a\nmere aggregate, but possesses a differentiated character of its own\nwhich, although the resultant of its constitution, is not a property of\nany of its elements. A whole number is thus a collection of 1s, but the\nproperties of the whole number are something quite different from that\nof the elements through which it is constituted, just as an atom may be\ncomposed of electrons and yet, in valency, possess a property that is\nnot the direct analogue of any property possessed by electrons not so\norganized.\n\nNatural science, however, considers such building up of its fundamental\nentities into new entities as a process taking place in time rather than\nas consequent upon change of form of the whole rendering new analytic\nforms expedient. Hence it points to the occurrence of genuine novelties\nin the realm of objective reality. Mathematics, on the other hand,\nhas generalized its concepts beyond the facts implied in spatial and\ntemporal observations, so that while significant in both fields by\nvirtue of the nature of its abstractions, its novelties are the\nnovelties of new conceptual formations, a distinguishing of previously\nunnoted generalizations of relations existent in the realm of facts. But\nthe fact that time has thus passed beyond its empirical meaning in the\nmathematical realm is no ground for giving mathematics an elevated\nposition as a science of eternal realities, of subsistent beings, or the\nlike. The generalization of concepts to cover both spatial and temporal\nfacts does not create new entities for which a home must be provided in\nthe partition of realities. Metaphysicians should not be the \"needy\nknife grinders\" of M. Anatole France (cf. _Garden of Epicurus_, Ch. \"The\nLanguage of the Metaphysicians\"). Nevertheless, the success of\nabstraction for mathematical intelligence has been immense.\n\nNo significant thinking is wholly the work of an individual man. Ideas\nare a product of social cooeperation in which some have wrested crude\nconcepts from nature, others have refined them through usage, and still\nothers have built them into an effective system. The first steps were\nundoubtedly taken in an effort to communicate, and progress has been in\npart the progress of language. The original nature of man may have as a\npart those reactions which we call curiosity, but, as Auguste Comte long\nago pointed out (Levy-Bruhl, _A. Comte_, p. 67), these reactions are\namong the feeblest of our nature and without the pressure of practical\naffairs could hardly have advanced the race beyond barbarism. Science\nwas the plaything of the Greek, the consolation of the Middle Ages, and\nonly for the modern has it become an instrument in such fashion as to\nmark an epoch in the still dawning discovery of mind.\n\nMan is, after all, rational only because through his nervous system he\ncan hold his immediate responses in check and finally react as a being\nthat has had experiences and profited by them. Concepts are the medium\nthrough which these experiences are in effect preserved; they express\nnot merely a fact recorded but also the significance of a fact, not\nmerely a contact with the world but also an attitude toward the future.\nIt may be that the mere judgment of fact, a citation of resemblances\nand differences, is the basis of scientific knowledge, but before\nknowledge is worthy of the name, these facts have undergone an ideal\ntransformation controlled by the needs of successful prediction and\nmotivated by that self-conscious realization of the value of control\nwhich has raised man above the beasts of the field.\n\nThe realm of mathematics, which we have been examining, is but one\naspect of the growth of intelligence. But in theory, at least, it is\namong the most interesting, since in it are reached the highest\nabstractions of science, while its empirical beginnings are not lost.\nBut its processes and their significance are in no way different in\nessence from those of the other sciences. It marks one road of\nspecialization in the discovery of mind. And in these terms we may read\nall history. To quote Professor Woodbridge (_Columbia University\nQuarterly_, Dec., 1912, p. 10): \"We may see man rising from the ground,\nstartled by the first dim intimation that the things and forces about\nhim are convertible and controllable. Curiosity excites him, but he is\nsubdued by an untrained imagination. The things that frighten him, he\ntries to frighten in return. The things that bless him, he blesses. He\nwould scare the earth's shadow from the moon and sacrifice his dearest\nto a propitious sky. It avails not. But the little things teach him and\ndiscipline his imagination. He has kicked the stone that bruised him\nonly to be bruised again. So he converts the stone into a weapon and\nbegins the subjugation of the world, singing a song of triumph by the\nway. Such is his history in epitome--a blunder, a conversion, a\nconquest, and a song. That sequence he will repeat in greater things. He\nwill repeat it yet and rejoice where he now despairs, converting the\nchaos of his social, political, industrial, and emotional life into\nwholesome force. He will sing again. But the discovery of mind comes\nfirst, and then, the song.\"\n\n\n\n\nSCIENTIFIC METHOD AND INDIVIDUAL THINKER\n\nGEORGE H. MEAD\n\n\nThe scientist in the ancient world found his test of reality in the\nevidence of the presence of the essence of the object. This evidence\ncame by way of observation, even to the Platonist. Plato could treat\nthis evidence as the awaking of memories of the ideal essence of the\nobject seen in a world beyond the heavens during a former stage of the\nexistence of the soul. In the language of Theatetus it was the agreement\nof fluctuating sensual content with the thought-content imprinted in or\nviewed by the soul. In Aristotle it is again the agreement of the\norganized sensuous experience with the vision which the mind gets of the\nessence of the object through the perceptual experience of a number of\ninstances. That which gives the stamp of reality is the coincidence of\nthe percept with a rational content which must in some sense be in the\nmind to insure knowledge, as it must be in the cosmos to insure\nexistence, of the object. The relation of this test of reality to an\nanalytical method is evident. Our perceptual world is always more\ncrowded and confused than the ideal contents by which the reality of its\nmeaning is to be tested. The aim of the analysis varies with the\ncharacter of the science. In the case of Aristotle's theoretical\nsciences, such as mathematics and metaphysics, where one proceeds by\ndemonstration from the given existences, analysis isolates such elements\nas numbers, points, lines, surfaces, and solids, essences and essential\naccidents. Aristotle approaches nature, however, as he approaches the\nworks of human art. Indeed, he speaks of nature as the artificer par\nexcellence. In the study of nature, then, as in the study of the\npractical and productive arts, it is of the first importance that the\nobserver should have the idea--the final cause--as the means of\ndeciphering the nature of living forms. Here analysis proceeds to\nisolate characters which are already present in forms whose functions\nare assumed to be known. By analogy such identities as that of fish fins\nwith limbs of other vertebrates are assumed, and some very striking\nanticipations of modern biological conceptions and discoveries are\nreached. Aristotle recognizes that the theory of the nature of the form\nor essence must be supported by observation of the actual individual.\nWhat is lacking is any body of observation which has value apart from\nsome theory. He tests his theory by the observed individual which is\nalready an embodied theory, rather than by what we are wont to call the\nfacts. He refers to other observers to disagree with them. He does not\npresent their observations apart from their theories as material which\nhas existential value, independent for the time being of any hypothesis.\nAnd it is consistent with this attitude that he never presents the\nobservations of others in support of his own doctrine. His analysis\nwithin this field of biological observation does not bring him back to\nwhat, in modern science, are the data, but to general characters which\nmake up the definition of the form. His induction involves a gathering\nof individuals rather than of data. Thus analysis in the theoretical,\nthe natural, the practical, and the productive sciences, leads back to\nuniversals. This is quite consistent with Aristotle's metaphysical\nposition that since the matter of natural objects has reality through\nits realization in the form, whatever appears without such meaning can\nbe accounted for only as the expression of the resistance which matter\noffers to this realization. This is the field of a blind necessity, not\nthat of a constructive science.\n\nContinuous advance in science has been possible only when analysis of\nthe object of knowledge has supplied not elements of meanings as the\nobjects have been conceived but elements abstracted from those meanings.\nThat is, scientific advance implies a willingness to remain on terms of\ntolerant acceptance of the reality of what cannot be stated in the\naccepted doctrine of the time, but what must be stated in the form of\ncontradiction with these accepted doctrines. The domain of what is\nusually connoted by the term facts or data belongs to the field lying\nbetween the old doctrine and the new. This field is not inhabited by the\nAristotelian individual, for the individual is but the realization of\nthe form or universal essence. When the new theory has displaced the\nold, the new individual appears in the place of its predecessor, but\nduring the period within which the old theory is being dislodged and the\nnew is arising, a consciously growing science finds itself occupied with\nwhat is on the one hand the debris of the old and on the other the\nbuilding material of the new. Obviously, this must find its immediate\n_raison d'etre_ in something other than the meaning that is gone or the\nmeaning that is not yet here. It is true that the barest facts do not\nlack meaning, though a meaning which has been theirs in the past is\nlost. The meaning, however, that is still theirs is confessedly\ninadequate, otherwise there would be no scientific problem to be solved.\nThus, when older theories of the spread of infectious diseases lost\ntheir validity because of instances where these explanations could not\nbe applied, the diagnoses and accounts which could still be given of the\ncases of the sickness themselves were no explanation of the spread of\nthe infection. The facts of the spread of the infection could be brought\nneither under a doctrine of contagion which was shattered by actual\nevents nor under a doctrine of the germ theory of disease, which was as\nyet unborn. The logical import of the dependence of these facts upon\nobservation, and hence upon the individual experience of the scientist,\nI shall have occasion to discuss later; what I am referring to here is\nthat the conscious growth of science is accompanied by the appearance of\nthis sort of material.\n\nThere were two fields of ancient science, those of mathematics and of\nastronomy, within which very considerable advance was achieved, a fact\nwhich would seem therefore to offer exception to the statement just\nmade. The theory of the growth of mathematics is a disputed territory,\nbut whether mathematical discovery and invention take place by steps\nwhich can be identified with those which mark the advance in the\nexperimental sciences or not, the individual processes in which the\ndiscoveries and inventions have arisen are almost uniformly lost to view\nin the demonstration which presents the results. It would be improper to\nstate that no new data have arisen in the development of mathematics, in\nthe face of such innovations as the minus quantity, the irrational, the\nimaginary, the infinitesimal, or the transfinite number, and yet the\ninnovations appear as the recasting of the mathematical theories rather\nthan as new facts. It is of course true that these advances have\ndepended upon problems such as those which in the researches of Kepler\nand Galileo led to the early concepts of the infinitesimal procedure,\nand upon such undertakings as bringing the combined theories of geometry\nand algebra to bear upon the experiences of continuous change. For a\ncentury after the formulation of the infinitesimal method men were\noccupied in carrying the new tool of analysis into every field where its\nuse promised advance. The conceptions of the method were uncritical. Its\napplications were the center of attention. The next century undertook to\nbring order into the concepts, consistency into the doctrine, and rigor\ninto the reasoning. The dominating trend of this movement was logical\nrather than methodological. The development was in the interest of the\nfoundations of mathematics rather than in the use of mathematics as a\nmethod for solving scientific problems. Of course this has in no way\ninterfered with the freedom of application of mathematical technique to\nthe problems of physical science. On the contrary, it was on account of\nthe richness and variety of the contents which the use of mathematical\nmethods in the physical sciences imported into the doctrine that this\nlogical housecleaning became necessary in mathematics. The movement has\nbeen not only logical as distinguished from methodological but logical\nas distinguished from metaphysical as well. It has abandoned a Euclidean\nspace with its axioms as a metaphysical presupposition, and it has\nabandoned an Aristotelian subsumptive logic for which definition is a\nnecessary presupposition. It recognizes that everything cannot be\nproved, but it does not undertake to state what the axiomata shall be;\nand it also recognizes that not everything can be defined, and does not\nundertake to determine what shall be defined implicitly and what\nexplicitly. Its constants are logical constants, as the proposition, the\nclass and the relation. With these and their like and with relatively\nfew primitive ideas, which are represented by symbols, and used\naccording to certain given postulates, it becomes possible to bring the\nwhole body of mathematics within a single treatment. The development of\nthis pure mathematics, which comes to be a logic of the mathematical\nsciences, has been made possible by such a generalization of number\ntheory and theories of the elements of space and time that the rigor of\nmathematical reasoning is secured, while the physical scientist is left\nthe widest freedom in the choice and construction of concepts and\nimagery for his hypotheses. The only compulsion is a logical compulsion.\nThe metaphysical compulsion has disappeared from mathematics and the\nsciences whose techniques it provides.\n\nIt was just this compulsion which confined ancient science. Euclidian\ngeometry defined the limits of mathematics. Even mechanics was\ncultivated largely as a geometrical field. The metaphysical doctrine\naccording to which physical objects had their own places and their own\nmotions determined the limits within which astronomical speculations\ncould be carried on. Within these limits Greek mathematical genius\nachieved marvelous results. The achievements of any period will be\nlimited by two variables: the type of problem against which science\nformulates its methods, and the materials which analysis puts at the\nscientist's disposal in attacking the problems. The technical problems\nof the trisection of an angle and the duplication of a cube are\nillustrations of the problems which characterize a geometrical doctrine\nthat was finding its technique. There appears also the method of\nanalysis of the problem into simpler problems, the assumption of the\ntruth of the conclusion to be proved and the process of arguing from\nthis to a known truth. The more fundamental problem which appears first\nas the squaring of the circle, which becomes that of the determination\nof the relation of the circle to its diameter and development of the\nmethod of exhaustion, leads up to the sphere, the regular polyhedra, to\nconic sections and the beginnings of trigonometry. Number was not freed\nfrom the relations of geometrical magnitudes, though Archimedes could\nconceive of a number greater or smaller than any assignable magnitude.\nWith the method of exhaustion, with the conceptions of number found in\nwritings of Archimedes and others, with the beginnings of spherical\ngeometry and trigonometry, and with the slow growth of algebra finding\nits highest expression in that last flaring up of Greek mathematical\ncreation, the work of Diophantes; there were present all the conceptions\nwhich were necessary for attack upon the problems of velocities and\nchanging velocities, and the development of the method of analysis which\nhas been the revolutionary tool of Europe since the Renaissance. But the\nproblems of a relation between the time and space of a motion that\nshould change just as a motion, without reference to the essence of the\nobject in motion, were problems which did not, perhaps could not, arise\nto confront the Greek mind. In any case its mathematics was firmly\nembedded in a Euclidian space. Though there are indications of some\ndistrust, even in Greek times, of the parallel axiom, the suggestion\nthat mathematical reasoning could be made rigorous and comprehensive\nindependently of the specific content of axiom and definition was an\nimpossible one for the Greek, because such a suggestion could be made\nonly on the presupposition of a number theory and an algebra capable of\nstating a continuum in terms which are independent of the sensuous\nintuition of space and time and of the motion that takes place within\nspace and time. In the same fashion mechanics came back to fundamental\ngeneralizations of experience with reference to motions which served as\naxioms of mechanics, both celestial and terrestrial: the assumptions of\nthe natural motion of earthly substances to their own places in\nstraight lines, and of celestial bodies in circles and uniform\nvelocities, of an equilibrium where equal weights operate at equal\ndistances from the fulcrum.\n\nThe incommensurable of Pythagoras and the paradoxes of Zeno present the\n\"no thoroughfares\" of ancient mathematical thought. Neither the\ncontinuum of space nor of motion could be broken up into ultimate units,\nwhen incommensurable ratios existed which could not be expressed, and\nwhen motion refused to be divided into positions of space or time since\nthese are functions of motion. It was not until an algebraic theory of\nnumber led mathematicians to the use of expressions for the irrational,\nthe minus, and the imaginary numbers through the logical development of\ngeneralized expressions, that problems could be formulated in which\nthese irrational ratios and quantities were involved, though it is also\ntrue that the effort to deal with problems of this character was in no\nsmall degree responsible for the development of the algebra. Fixed\nmetaphysical assumptions in regard to number, space, time, motion, and\nthe nature of physical objects determined the limits within which\nscientific investigation could take place. Thus though the hypothesis of\nCopernicus and in all probability of Tycho Brahe were formulated by\nGreek astronomers, their physical doctrine was unable to use them\nbecause they were in flagrant contradiction with the definitions the\nancient world gave to earthly and celestial bodies and their natural\nmotions. The atomic doctrine with Democritus' thoroughgoing undertaking\nto substitute a quantitative for a qualitative conception of matter\nwith the location of the qualitative aspects of the world in the\nexperience of the soul appealed only to the Epicurean who used the\ntheory as an exorcism to drive out of the universe the spirits which\ndisturbed the calm of the philosopher.\n\nThere was only one field in which ancient science seemed to break away\nfrom the fixed assumptions of its metaphysics and from the definitions\nof natural objects which were the bases for their scientific inferences,\nthis was the field of astronomy in the period after Eudoxus. Up to and\nincluding the theories of Eudoxus, physical and mathematical astronomy\nwent hand in hand. Eudoxus' nests of spheres within spheres hung on\ndifferent axes revolving in different uniform periods was the last\nattempt of the mathematician philosopher to state the anomalies of the\nheavens, and to account for the stations, the retrogressions, and\nvarying velocities of planetary bodies by a theory resolving all\nphenomena of these bodies into motions of uniform velocities in perfect\ncircles, and also placing these phenomena within a physical theory\nconsistent with the prevailing conceptions of the science and philosophy\nof the time. As a physicist Aristotle felt the necessity of introducing\nfurther spheres between the nests of spheres assigned by Eudoxus to the\nplanetary bodies, spheres whose peculiar motions should correct the\ntendency of the different groups of spheres to pass their motions on to\neach other. Since the form of the orbits of heavenly bodies and their\nvelocities could not be considered to be the results of their masses and\nof their relative positions with reference to one another; since it was\nnot possible to calculate the velocities and orbits from the physical\ncharacters of the bodies, since in a word these physical characters did\nnot enter into the problem of calculating the positions of the bodies\nnor offer explanations for the anomalies which the mathematical\nastronomer had to explain, it was not strange that he disinterested\nhimself from the metaphysical celestial mechanics of his time and\nconcentrated his attention upon the geometrical hypotheses by means of\nwhich he could hope to resolve into uniform revolutions in circular\norbits the anomalous motions of the planetary bodies. The introduction\nof the epicycle with the deferent and the eccentric as working\nhypotheses to solve the anomalies of the heavens is to be comprehended\nlargely in view of the isolation of the mathematical as distinguished\nfrom the physical problem of astronomy. In no sense were these\nconceptions working hypotheses of a celestial mechanics. They were the\nonly means of an age whose mathematics was almost entirely geometrical\nfor accomplishing what a later generation could accomplish by an\nalgebraic theory of functions. As has been pointed out, the undertaking\nof the ancient mathematical astronomer to resolve the motions of\nplanetary bodies into circular, uniform, continuous, symmetrical\nmovements is comparable to the theorem of Fourier which allows the\nmathematician to replace any one periodic function by a sum of circular\nfunctions. In other words, the astronomy of the Alexandrian period is a\nsomewhat cumbrous development of the mathematical technique of the time\nto enable the astronomer to bring the anomalies of the planetary bodies,\nas they increased under observation, within the axioms of a metaphysical\nphysics. The genius exhibited in the development of the mathematical\ntechnique places the names of Apollonius of Perga, Hipparchus of Nicaea,\nand Ptolemy among the great mathematicians of the world, but they never\nfelt themselves free to attack by their hypotheses the fundamental\nassumptions of the ancient metaphysical doctrine of the universe. Thus\nit was said of Hipparchus by Adrastus, a philosopher of the first\ncentury A. D., in explaining his preference for the epicycle to the\neccentric as a means of analyzing the motions of the planetary bodies:\n\"He preferred and adopted the principle of the epicycle as more probable\nto his mind, because it ordered the system of the heavens with more\nsymmetry and with a more intimate dependence with reference to the\ncenter of the universe. Although he guarded himself from assuming the\nrole of the physicist in devoting himself to the investigations of the\nreal movements of the stars, and in undertaking to distinguish between\nthe motions which nature has adopted from those which the appearances\npresent to our eyes, he assumed that every planet revolved along an\nepicycle, the center of which describes a circumference concentric with\nthe earth.\" Even mathematical astronomy does not offer an exception to\nthe scientific method of the ancient world, that of bringing to\nconsciousness the concepts involved in their world of experience,\norganizing these concepts with reference to each, analyzing and\nrestating them within the limits of their essential accidents, and\nassimilating the concrete objects of experience to these typical forms\nas more or less complete realizations.\n\nAt the beginning of the process of Greek self-conscious reflection and\nanalysis, the mind ran riot among the concepts and their characters\nuntil the contradictions which arose from these unsystematized\nspeculations brought the Greek mind up to the problems of criticism and\nscientific method. Criticism led to the separation of the many from the\none, the imperfect copy from the perfect type, the sensuous and\npassionate from the rational and the intrinsically good, the impermanent\nparticular from the incorruptible universal. The line of demarcation ran\nbetween the lasting reality that answered to critical objective thought\nand the realm of perishing imperfect instances, of partially realized\nforms full of unmeaning differences due to distortion and imperfection,\nthe realm answering to a sensuous passionate unreflective experience. It\nwould be a quite inexcusable mistake to put all that falls on the wrong\nside of the line into a subjective experience, for these characters\nbelonged not alone to the experience, but also to the passing show, to\nthe world of imperfectly developed matter which belonged to the\nperceptual passionate experience. While it may not then be classed as\nsubjective, the Greeks of the Sophistic period felt that this phase of\nexistence was an experience which belongs to the man in his individual\nlife, that life in which he revolts from the conventions of society, in\nwhich he questions accepted doctrine, in which he differentiates himself\nfrom his fellows. Protagoras seems even to have undertaken to make this\nexperience of the individual, the stuff of the known world. It is\ndifficult adequately to assess Protagoras' undertaking. He seems to be\ninsisting both that the man's experience as his own must be the measure\nof reality as known and on the other hand that these experiences present\nnorms which offer a choice in conduct. If this is true Protagoras\nconceived of the individual's experience in its atypical and\nrevolutionary form as not only real but the possible source of fuller\nrealities than the world of convention. The undertaking failed both in\nphilosophic doctrine and in practical politics. It failed in both fields\nbecause the subjectivist, both in theory and practice, did not succeed\nin finding a place for the universal character of the object, its\nmeaning, in the mind of the individual and thus in finding in this\nexperience the hypothesis for the reconstruction of the real world. In\nthe ancient world the atypical individual, the revolutionist, the\nnon-conformist was a self-seeking adventurer or an anarchist, not an\ninnovator or reformer, and subjectivism in ancient philosophy remained a\nskeptical attitude which could destroy but could not build up.\n\nHippocrates and his school came nearer consciously using the experience\nof the individual as the actual material of the object of knowledge. In\nthe skeptical period in which they flourished they rejected on the one\nhand the magic of traditional medicine and on the other the empty\ntheorizing that had been called out among the physicians by the\nphilosophers. Their practical tasks held them to immediate experience.\nTheir functions in the gymnasia gave their medicine an interest in\nhealth as well as in disease, and directed their attention largely\ntoward diet, exercise, and climate in the treatment even of disease. In\nits study they have left the most admirable sets of observations,\nincluding even accounts of acknowledged errors and the results of\ndifferent treatments of cases, which ancient science can present. It was\nthe misfortune of their science that it dealt with a complicated\nsubject-matter dependent for its successful treatment upon the whole\nbody of physical, chemical, and biological disciplines as well as the\ndiscovery and invention of complicated techniques. They were forced\nafter all to adopt a hopelessly inadequate physiological theory--that of\nthe four humors--with the corresponding doctrine of health and disease\nas the proper and improper mixture of these fluids. Their marvelously\nfine observation of symptoms led only to the definition of types and a\nmedical practice which was capable of no consistent progress outside of\ncertain fields of surgery. Thus even Greek medicine was unable to\ndevelop a different type of scientific method except in so far as it\nkept alive an empiricism which played a not unimportant part in\npost-Aristotelian philosophy. Within the field of astronomy in\nexplaining the anomalies of the heavens involved in their metaphysical\nassumptions, they built up a marvelously perfect Euclidian geometry, for\nhere refined and exhaustive definition of all the elements was possible.\nThe problems involved in propositions to be proved appeared in the\nindividual experience of the geometrician, but this experience in space\nwas uniform with that of every one else and took on a universal not an\nindividual form. The test of the solution was given in a demonstration\nwhich holds for every one living in the same Euclidian space. When the\nmathematician found himself carried by his mathematical technique beyond\nthe assumptions of a metaphysical physics he abandoned the field of\nphysical astronomy and confined himself to the development of his\nmathematical expressions.\n\nIn other fields Greek science analyzed with varying success and critical\nskill only the conceptions found in the experience of their time and\nworld. Nor did Greek thought succeed in formulating any adequate method\nby which the ultimate concepts in any field of science were to be\ndetermined. It is in Aristotle's statement of induction and the process\nof definition that we appreciate most clearly the inadequacy of their\nmethod. This inadequacy lies fundamentally in Aristotle's conception of\nobservation which, as I have already noted, implies the recognition of\nan individual, that is, an object which is an embodied form or idea. The\nfunction of knowledge is to bring out this essence. The mind sees\nthrough the individuals the universal nature. The value of the\nobservation lies, then, not in the controlled perception of certain data\nas observed facts, but in the insight with which he recognizes the\nnature of the object. When this nature has been seen it is to be\nanalyzed into essential characters and thus formulated into the\ndefinition. In Aristotle's methodology there is no procedure by which\nthe mind can deliberately question the experience of the community and\nby a controlled method reconstruct its received world. Thus the natural\nsciences were as really fixed by the conceptions of the community as\nwere the exact sciences by the conceptions of a Euclidian geometry and\nthe mathematics which the Greeks formulated within it. The individual\nwithin whose peculiar experience arises a contradiction to the\nprevailing conceptions of the community and in whose creative\nintelligence appears the new hypothesis which makes possible a new\nheaven and a new earth could utilize his individual experience only in\ndestructive skepticism. Subjectivism served in ancient thought to\ninvalidate knowledge not to enlarge it.\n\nZeller has sketched a parallelism between the ideal state of Plato and\nthe social structure of the medieval world. The philosopher-king is\nrepresented by the Pope, below him answering to the warrior class in the\nPlatonic state stands the warrior class of the Holy Roman Empire, who in\ntheory enforce the dictates of the Roman curia, while at the bottom in\nboth communities stand the mass of the people bound to obedience to the\npowers above. There is, however, one profound difference between the\ntwo, and that is to be found in the relative positions of the ideal\nworlds that dominate each. Plato's ideal world beyond the heavens gives\nwhat reality it has to this through the participation by the world of\nbecoming in the ideas. Opinion dimly sensed the ideas in the evanescent\nobjects about it, and though Plato's memory theory of knowledge assumed\nthat the ideas had been seen in former existence and men could thus\nrecognize the copies here, the ideal world was not within the mind but\nwithout. In a real sense the Kingdom of Heaven was within men in the\nmedieval world, as was the Holy Roman Empire. They were ideal\ncommunities that ought to exist on earth, and it was due to the\ndepravity of men that they did not exist. From time to time men\nundertook in various upheavals to realize in some part these spiritual\nand political ideals which they carried within them. And men not only\ncarried within them the ideas of a New Jerusalem in which the interest\nof one was the interest of all and of an earthly state ordered by a\ndivine decree to fulfil this Christian ideal, but the determining causes\nof the present condition and the future realization depended also upon\nthe inner attitudes and experiences of the individuals themselves.\n\nWithout carrying the analogy here too far, this relation between the\nexperience of the individual and the world which may arise through the\nrealization of his ideas is the basis of the most profound distinction\nbetween the ancient world and the modern. Before the logic of this\nattitude could appear in science a long period of intellectual and\nsocial growth was necessary. The most essential part of this growth was\nthe slow but steady development of psychological doctrine which placed\nthe objective world in the experience of the individual. It is not of\ninterest here to bring out the modern epistemological problem that grew\nout of this, or to present this in the world of Leibnitzian monads that\nhad no windows or in the Berkeleyan subjective idealism. What is of\ninterest is to point out that this attitude established a functional\nrelationship between even the subjective experience of the individual\nand the object of knowledge. A skepticism based upon subjectivism might\nthereafter question the justification of the reference of experience\nbeyond itself; it could not question knowledge and its immediate object.\n\nKant formalizes the relation of what was subjective and what was\nobjective by identifying the former with the sensuous content of\nexperience and the latter with the application of the forms of\nsensibility and understanding to this content. The relationship was\nformal and dead. Kant recognized no functional relationship between the\nnature of the _Mannigfaltigkeit_ of sensuous experience and the forms\ninto which it was poured. The forms remained external to the content,\nbut the relationship was one which existed within experience, not\nwithout it, and within this experience could be found the necessity and\nuniversality which had been located in the world independent of\nexperience. The melting of these fixed Kantian categories came with the\nspring floods of the romantic idealism that followed Kant.\n\nThe starting-point of this idealism was Kantian. Within experience lay\nthe object of knowledge. The Idealist's principal undertaking was to\novercome the skepticism that attached to the object of knowledge because\nof its reference to what lies outside itself. If, as Kant had undertaken\nto prove, the reality which knowledge implies must reach beyond\nexperience, then, on the Kantian doctrine that knowledge lies within\nexperience, knowledge itself is infected with skepticism. Kant's\npractical bridge from the world of experience to the world of\nthings-in-themselves, which he walked by faith and not by sight, was\nfound in the postulates of the conduct of the self as a moral being, as\na personality. The romantic idealists advance by the same road, though\nas romanticists not critical philosophers, they fashioned the world of\nreality, that transcends experience, out of experience itself, by\ncentering the self in the absolute self and conceiving the whole\ninfinite universe as the experience of the absolute self. The\ninteresting phase of this development is that the form which experience\ntakes in becoming objective is found in the nature and thought of the\nindividual, and that this process of epistemological experience becomes\nthus a process of nature, if the objective is the natural. In Kant's\nterms our minds give laws to nature. But this nature constantly exhibits\nits dependence upon underlying noumena that must therefore transcend the\nlaws given by the understanding. The Romanticist insists that this other\nreality must be the same stuff as that of experience, that in experience\narise forms which transcend those which bound the experience in its\nearlier phase. If in experience the forms of the objective world are\nthemselves involved, the process of knowledge sets no limits to itself,\nwhich it may not, does not, by implication transcend. As further\nindication of the shift by which thought had passed into possession of\nthe world of things in themselves stands the antinomy which in Kantian\nexperience marks the limit of our knowledge while in post-Kantian\nidealism it becomes the antithesis that leads to the synthesis upon the\nhigher plane. Contradiction marks the phase at which the spirit becomes\ncreative, not simply giving an empty formal law to nature, but creating\nthe concrete universe in which content and form merge in true actuality.\nThe relation of the sensuous content to the conceptual form is not dead,\nas in Kant's doctrine. It is fused as perception into concept and\ncarries its immediacy and concreteness of detail into the concrete\nuniversal as the complete organization of stimulation and response pass\ninto the flexible habit. And yet in the Hegelian logic, the movement is\nalways away from the perceptual experience toward the higher realm of\nthe _Idee_. Thought is creative in the movement, but in its ultimate\nreality it transcends spatial and temporal experience, the experience\nwith which the natural and mathematical sciences deal. Thought is not a\nmeans of solving the problems of this world as they arise, but a great\nprocess of realization in which this world is forever transcended. Its\nabstract particularities of sensuous detail belong only to the finite\nexperience of the partial self. This world is, therefore, always\nincomplete in its reality and, in so far, always untrue. Truth and full\nreality belong not to the field of scientific investigation.\n\nIn its metaphysics Romantic Idealism, though it finds a place for\nscientific discovery and reconstruction, leaves these disdainfully\nbehind, as incomplete phases of the ultimate process of reality, as\ninfected with untruth and deceptive unwarranted claims. The world is\nstill too much with us. We recognize here three striking results of the\ndevelopment of reflective consciousness in the modern world:--first, it\nis assumed that the objective world of knowledge can be placed within\nthe experience of the individual without losing thereby its nature as an\nobject, that all characters of that object can be presented as belonging\nto that experience, whether adequately or not is another question; and\nsecond, it is assumed that the contradictions in its nature which are\nassociated with its inclusion in individual experience, its references\nbeyond itself when so included, may themselves be the starting-point of\na reconstruction which at least carries that object beyond the\nexperience within which these contradictions arose; and third, it is\nassumed that this growth takes place in a world of reality within which\nthe incomplete experience of the individual is an essential part of the\nprocess, in which it is not a mere fiction, destroying reality by its\nrepresentation, but is a growing-point in that reality itself.\n\nThese characters of philosophic interpretation, the inclusion of the\nobject of knowledge in the individual experience and the turning of the\nconflicts in that experience into the occasion for the creation of new\nobjects transcending these contradictions, are the characters in the\nconscious method, of modern science, which most profoundly distinguish\nit from the method of ancient science. This, of course, is tantamount to\nsaying that they are those which mark the experimental method in\nscience.\n\nThat phase of the method upon which I have touched already has been its\noccupation with the so-called data or facts as distinguished from\nAristotelian individuals.\n\nWhenever we reduce the objects of scientific investigation to facts and\nundertake to record them as such, they become events, happenings, whose\nhard factual character lies in the circumstance that they have taken\nplace, and this quite independently of any explanation of their taking\nplace. When they are explained they have ceased to be facts and have\nbecome instances of a law, that is, Aristotelian individuals, embodied\ntheories, and their actuality as events is lost in the necessity of\ntheir occurrence as expressions of the law; with this change their\nparticularity as events or happenings disappears. They are but the\nspecific values of the equation when constants are substituted for\nvariables. Before the equation is known or the law discovered they have\nno such ground of existence. Up to this point they find their ground for\nexistence in their mere occurrence, to which the law which is to explain\nthem must accommodate itself.\n\nThere are here suggested two points of view from which these facts may\nbe regarded. Considered with reference to a uniformity or law by which\nthey will be ordered and explained they are the phenomena with which the\npositivist deals; as existencies to be identified and localized before\nthey are placed within such a uniformity they fall within the domain of\nthe psychological philosopher who can at least place them in their\nrelation to the other events in the experience of the individual who\nobserves them. Considered as having a residual meaning apart from the\nlaw to which they have become exceptions, they can become the\nsubject-matter of the rationalist. It is important that we recognize\nthat neither the positivist nor the rationalist is able to identify the\nnature of the fact or datum to which they refer. I refer to such\nstubborn facts as those of the sporadic appearance of infectious\ndiseases before the germ theory of the disease was discovered. Here was\na fact which contradicted the doctrine of the spread of the infection by\ncontact. It appeared not as an instance of a law, but as an exception to\na law. As such, its nature is found in its having happened at a given\nplace and time. If the case had appeared in the midst of an epidemic,\nits nature as a case of the infectious disease would have been cared for\nin the accepted doctrine, and for its acceptance as an object of\nknowledge its location in space and time as an event would not have been\nrequired. Its geographical and historical traits would have followed\nfrom the theory of the infection, as we identify by our calculations the\nhappy fulfilment of Thales' prophecy. The happening of an instance of a\nlaw is accounted for by the law. Its happening may and in most instances\ndoes escape observation, while as an exception to an accepted law it\ncaptures attention. Its nature as an event is, then, found in its\nappearance in the experience of some individual, whose observation is\ncontrolled and recorded as his experience. Without its reference to this\nindividual's experience it could not appear as a fact for further\nscientific consideration.\n\nNow the attitude of the positivist toward this fact is that induced by\nits relation to the law which is _subsequently_ discovered. It has then\nfallen into place in a series, and his doctrine is that all laws are but\nuniformities of such events. He treats the fact when it is an exception\nto law as an instance of the new law and assumes that the exception to\nthe old law and the instance of the new are identical. And this is a\ngreat mistake,--the mistake made also by the neo-realist when he assumes\nthat the object of knowledge is the same within and without the mind,\nthat nothing happens to what is to be known when it by chance strays\ninto the realm of conscious cognition. Any as yet unexplained exception\nto an old theory can happen only in the experience of an individual, and\nthat which has its existence as an event in some one's biography is a\ndifferent thing from the future instance which is not beholden to any\none for its existence. Yet there are, as I indicated earlier, meanings\nin this exceptional event which, at least for the time, are unaffected\nby the exceptional character of the occurrence. For example, certain\nclinical symptoms by which an infectious disease is identified have\nremained unchanged in diagnosis since the days of Hippocrates. These\ncharacters remain as characters of the instance of the law of\ngerm-origin when this law has been discovered. This may lead us to say\nthat the exception which appears for the time being as a unique incident\nin a biography is identical with the instance of a germ-induced disease.\nIndeed, we are likely to go further and, in the assurance of the new\ndoctrine, state that former exceptions can (or with adequate\nacquaintance with the facts could) be proved to be necessarily an\ninstance of a disease carried by a germ. The positivist is therefore\nconfident that the field of scientific knowledge is made up of events\nwhich are instances of uniform series, although under conditions of\ninadequate information some of them appear as exceptions to the\nstatements of uniformities, in truth the latter being no uniformities at\nall.\n\nThat this is not a true statement of the nature of the exception and of\nthe instance, it is not difficult to show if we are willing to accept\nthe accounts which the scientists themselves give of their own\nobservation, the changing forms which the hypothesis assumes during the\neffort to reach a solution and the ultimate reconstruction which attends\nthe final tested solution. Wherever we are fortunate enough, as in the\nbiographies of men such as Darwin and Pasteur, to follow a number of the\nsteps by which they recognized problems and worked out tenable\nhypotheses for their solution, we find that the direction which is given\nto attention in the early stage of scientific investigation is toward\nconflicts between current theories and observed phenomena, and that\nsince the form which these observations take is determined by the\nopposition, it is determined by a statement which itself is later\nabandoned. We find that the scope and character of the observations\nchange at once when the investigator sets about gathering as much of the\nmaterial as he can secure, and changes constantly as he formulates\ntentative hypotheses for the solution of the problem, which, moreover,\ngenerally changes its form during the investigation. I am aware that\nthis change in the form of the data will be brushed aside by many as\nbelonging only to the attitude of mind of the investigator, while it is\nassumed that the \"facts\" themselves, however selected and organized in\nhis observation and thought, remain identical in their nature\nthroughout. Indeed, the scientist himself carries with him in the whole\nprocedure the confidence that the fact-structure of reality is\nunchanged, however varied are the forms of the observations which refer\nto the same entities.[35]\n\nThe analysis of the fact-structure of reality shows in the first place\nthat the scientist undertakes to form such an hypothesis that all the\ndata of observation will find their place in the objective world, and in\nthe second place to bring them into such a structure that future\nexperience will lead to anticipated results. He does not undertake to\npreserve facts in the form in which they existed in experience before\nthe problem arose nor to construct a world independent of experience or\nthat will not be subject itself to future reconstructions in experience.\nHe merely insists that future reconstructions will take into account\nthe old in re-adjusting it to the new. In such a process it is evident\nthat the change of the form in the data is not due to a subjective\nattitude of the investigator which can be abstracted from the facts.\nWhen Darwin, for instance, found that the marl dressings which farmers\nspread over their soil did not sink through the soil by the force of\ngravity as was supposed, but that the earthworm castings were thrown up\nabove these dressings at nearly the same rate at which they disappeared,\nhe did not correct a subjective attitude of mind. He created in\nexperience a humus which took the place of a former soil, and justified\nitself by fitting it into the whole process of disintegration of the\nearth's surface. It would be impossible to separate in the earlier\nexperiences certain facts and certain attitudes of mind entertained\nby men with reference to these facts. Certain objects have replaced\nother objects. It is only after the process of analysis, which arose\nout of the conflicting observations, has broken up the old object\nthat what was a part of the object, heavier-things-pushing-their\nway-through-soil-of-lighter-texture, can become a mere idea. Earlier it\nwas an object. Until it could be tested the earthworm as the cause of\nthe disappearance of the dressings was also Darwin's idea. It became\nfact. For science at least it is quite impossible to distinguish between\nwhat in an object must be fact and what may be idea. The distinction\nwhen it is made is dependent upon the form of the problem and is\nfunctional to its solution, not metaphysical. So little can a consistent\nline of cleavage between facts and ideas be indicated, that we can\nnever tell where in our world of observation the problem of science will\narise, or what will be regarded as structure of reality or what\nerroneous idea.\n\nThere is a strong temptation to lodge these supposititious\nfact-structures in a world of conceptual objects, molecules, atoms,\nelectrons, and the like. For these at least lie beyond the range of\nperception by their very definition. They seem to be in a realm of\nthings-in-themselves. Yet they also are found now in the field of\nfact and now in that of ideas. Furthermore, a study of their structure\nas they exist in the world of constructive science shows that\ntheir infra-sensible character is due simply to the nature of our\nsense-processes, not to a different metaphysical nature. They occupy\nspace, have measurable dimensions, mass, and are subject to the same\nlaws of motion as are sensible objects. We even bring them indirectly\ninto the field of vision and photograph their paths of motion.\n\nThe ultimate elements referred to above provide a consistent symbolism\nfor the finding and formulating of applied mathematical sciences, within\nwhich lies the whole field of physics, including Euclidian geometry as\nwell. However, they have succeeded in providing nothing more than a\nlanguage and logic pruned of the obstinate contradictions, inaccuracies,\nand unanalyzed sensuous stuff of earlier mathematical science. Such a\nrationalistic doctrine can never present in an unchanged form the\nobjects with which natural science deals in any of the stages of its\ninvestigation. It can deal only with ultimate elements and forms of\npropositions. It is compelled to fall back on a theory of analysis\nwhich reaches ultimate elements and an assumption of inference as an\nindefinable. Such an analysis is actually impossible either in the field\nof the conceptual objects into which physical science reduces physical\nobjects, or in the field of sensuous experience. Atoms can be reduced\ninto positive and negative electrical elements and these may, perhaps\ndo, imply a structure of ether that again invites further analysis and\nso on ad infinitum. None of the hypothetical constructs carry with\nthemselves the character of being ultimate elements unless they are\npurely metaphysical. If they are fashioned to meet the actual problems\nof scientific research they will admit of possible further analysis,\nbecause they must be located and defined in the continuity of space and\ntime. They cannot _be_ the points and instants of modern mathematical\ntheory. Nor can we reach ultimate elements in sensuous experience, for\nthis lies also within a continuum. Furthermore, our scientific analyses\nare dependent upon the form that our objects assume. There is no general\nanalysis which research in science has ever used. The assumption that\npsychology provides us with an analysis of experience which can be\ncarried to ultimate elements or facts, and which thereby provides the\nelements out of which the objects of our physical world must be\nconstructed, denies to psychology its rights as a natural science of\nwhich it is so jealous, turning it into a Berkeleyan metaphysics.\n\nThis most modern form of rationalism being unable to find ultimate\nelements in the field of actual science is compelled to take what it\ncan find there. Now the results of the analysis of the classical English\npsychological school give the impression of being what Mr. Russell calls\n\"hard facts,\" i.e., facts which cannot be broken up into others. They\nseem to be the data of experience. Moreover, the term hard is not so\nuncompromising as is the term element. A fact can be more or less hard,\nwhile an ultimate element cannot be more or less ultimate. Furthermore,\nthe entirely formal character of the logic enables it to deal with equal\nfacility with any content. One can operate with the more or less hard\nsense-data, putting them in to satisfy the seeming variables of the\npropositions, and reach conclusions which are formally correct. There is\nno necessity for scrutinizing the data under these circumstances, if one\ncan only assume that the data are those which science is actually using.\nThe difficulty is that no scientist ever analyzed his objects into such\nsense-data. They exist only in philosophical text-books. Even the\npsychologists recognize that these sensations are abstractions which are\nnot the elements out of which objects of sense are constructed. They are\nabstractions made from those objects whose ground for isolation is found\nin the peculiar problems of experimental psychology, such as those of\ncolor or tone perception. It would be impossible to make anything in\nterms of Berkeleyan sense-data and of symbolic logic out of any\nscientific discovery. Research defines its problem by isolating certain\nfacts which appear for the time being not as the sense-data of a\nsolipsistic mind, but as experiences of an individual in a highly\norganized society, facts which, because they are in conflict with\naccepted doctrines, must be described so that they can be experienced by\nothers under like conditions. The ground for the analysis which leads to\nsuch facts is found in the conflict between the accepted theory and the\nexperience of the individual scientist. The analysis is strictly _ad\nhoc_. As far as possible the exception is stated in terms of accepted\nmeanings. Only where the meaning is in contradiction with the experience\ndoes the fact appear as the happening to an individual and become a\nparagraph out of his biography. But as such an event, whose existence\nfor science depends upon the acceptance of the description of him to\nwhom it has happened, it must have all the setting of circumstantial\nevidence. Part of this circumstantial evidence is found in so-called\nscientific control, that is, the evidence that conditions were such that\nsimilar experiences could happen to others and could be described as\nthey are described in the account given. Other parts of this evidence\nwhich we call corroborative are found in the statements of others which\nbear out details of this peculiar event, though it is important to note\nthat these details have to be wrenched from their settings to give this\ncorroborative value. To be most conclusive they must have no intentional\nconnection with the experience of the scientist. In other words, those\nindividuals who corroborate the facts are made, in spite of themselves,\nexperiencers of the same facts. The perfection of this evidence is\nattained when the fact can happen to others and the observer simply\ndetails the conditions under which he made the observation, which can\nbe then so perfectly reproduced that others may repeat the exceptional\nexperience.\n\nThis process is not an analysis of a known world into ultimate elements\nand their relations. Such an analysis never isolates this particular\nexception which constitutes the scientific problems as an individual\nexperience. The extent to which the analysis is carried depends upon the\nexigencies of the problem. It is the indefinite variety of the problems\nwhich accounts for the indefinite variety of the facts. What constitutes\nthem facts in the sense in which we are using the term is their\n_exceptional_ nature; formally they appear as particular judgments,\nbeing denials of universal judgments, whether positive or negative. This\nexceptional nature robs the events of a reality which would have\nbelonged to them as instances of a universal law. It leaves them,\nhowever, with the rest of their meaning. But the value which they have\nlost is just that which was essential to give them their place in the\nworld as it has existed for thought. Banished from that universally\nvalid structure, their ground for existence is found in the experience\nof the puzzled observer. Such an observation was that of the moons of\nJupiter made possible by the primitive telescope of Galileo. For those\nwho lived in a Ptolemaic cosmos, these could have existence only as\nobservations of individuals. As moons they had distinct meaning,\ncircling Jupiter as our moon circles the earth, but being in\ncontradiction with the Ptolemaic order they could depend for their\nexistence only on the evidence of the senses, until a Copernican order\ncould give them a local habitation and a name. Then they were observed\nnot as the experiences of individuals but as instances of planetary\norder in a heliocentric system. It would be palpably absurd to refer to\nthem as mere sense-data, mere sensations. They are for the time being\ninexplicable experiences of certain individuals. They are inexplicable\nbecause they have a meaning which is at variance with the structure of\nthe whole world to which they belong. They are the phenomena termed\naccidental by Aristotle and rejected as full realities by him, but which\nhave become, in the habitat of individual experience, the headstone of\nthe structure of modern research of science.\n\nA rationalism which relegates implication to the indefinables cannot\npresent the process of modern science. Implication is exactly that\nprocess by which these events pass from their individual existence into\nthat of universal reality, and the scientist is at pains to define it as\nthe experimental method. It is true that a proposition implies\nimplication. But the proposition is the statement of the result of the\nprocess by which an object has arisen for knowledge and merely indicates\nthe structure of the object. In discovery, invention, and research the\nescape from the exceptional, from the data of early stages of\nobservation, is by way of an hypothesis; and every hypothesis so far as\nit is tenable and workable in its form is universal. No one would waste\nhis time with a hypothesis which confessedly was not applicable to all\ninstances of the problem. An hypothesis may be again and again\nabandoned, it may prove to be faulty and contradictory, but in so far as\nit is an instrument of research it is assumed to be universal and to\nperfect a system which has broken down at the point indicated by the\nproblem. Implication and more elaborated instances flow from the\nstructure of this hypothesis. The classical illustration which stands at\nthe door of modern experimental science is the hypothesis which Galileo\nformed of the rate of the velocity of a falling body. He conceived that\nthis was in proportion to the time elapsed during the fall and then\nelaborated the consequences of this hypothesis by working it into the\naccepted mathematical doctrines of the physical world, until it led to\nan anticipated result which would be actually secured and which would be\nso characteristic an instance of a falling body that it would answer to\nevery other instance as he had defined them. In this fashion he defined\nhis inference as the anticipation of a result because this result was a\npart of the world as he presented it amended by his hypothesis. It is\ntrue that back of the specific implication of this result lay a mass of\nother implications, many not even presented specifically in thought and\nmany others presented by symbols which generalized innumerable\ninstances. These implications are for the scientist more or less\nimplicit meanings, but they are meanings each of which may be brought\ninto question and tested in the same fashion if it should become an\nactual problem. Many of them which would not have occurred to Galileo as\npossible problems have been questioned since his day. What has remained\nafter this period of determined questioning of the foundations of\nmathematics and the structure of the world of physical science is a\nmethod of agreement with oneself and others, in (a) the identification\nof the object of thought, in (b) the accepted values of assent and\ndenial called truth and falsehood, and in (c) referring to meaning, in\nits relation to what is meant. In any case the achievement of symbolic\nlogic, with its indefinables and axioms has been to reduce this logic to\na statement of the most generalized form of possible consistent thought\nintercourse, with entire abstraction from the content of the object to\nwhich it refers. If, however, we abstract from its value in giving a\nconsistent theory of number, continuity, and infinity, this complete\nabstraction from the content has carried the conditions of thinking in\nagreement with self and others so far away from the actual problem of\nscience that symbolic logic has never been used as a research method. It\nhas indeed emphasized the fact that thinking deals with problems which\nhave reference to uses to which it can be put, not to a metaphysical\nworld lying beyond experience. Symbolic logic has to do with the world\nof discourse, not with the world of things.\n\nWhat Russell pushes to one side as a happy guess is the actual process\nof implication by which, for example, the minute form in the diseased\nhuman system is identified with unicellular life and the history of the\ndisease with the life history of this form. This identification implies\nreclassification of these forms and a treatment of the disease that\nanswers to their life history. Having made this identification we\nanticipate the result of this treatment, calling it an inference.\n\nImplication belongs to the reconstruction of the object. As long as no\nquestion has arisen, the object is what it means or means what it is. It\ndoes not imply any feature of itself. When through conflict with the\nexperience of the individual some feature of the object is divorced from\nsome meaning the relationship between these becomes a false implication.\nWhen a hypothetically reconstructed object finds us anticipating a\nresult which accords with the nature of such objects we assert an\nimplication of this meaning. To carry this relation of implication back\ninto objects which are subject to no criticism or question would of\ncourse resolve the world into elements connected by external relations,\nwith the added consequence that these elements can have no content,\nsince every content in the face of such an analysis must be subject to\nfurther analysis. We reach inevitably symbols such as X, Y, and Z, which\ncan symbolize nothing. Theoretically we can assume an implication\nbetween any elements of an object, but in this abstract assumption the\nsymbolic logician overlooks the fact that he is also assuming some\ncontent which is not analyzed and which is the ground of the\nimplication. In other words this logician confuses the scientific\nattitude of being ready to question anything with an attitude of being\nwilling to question everything at once. It is only in an unquestioned\nobjective world that the exceptional instance appears and it is only in\nsuch a world that an experimental science tests the implications of the\nhypothetically reconstructed object.\n\nThe guess is happy because it carries with it the consequences which\nfollow from its fitting into the world, and the guess, in other words\nthe hypothesis, takes on this happy form solely because of the material\nreconstruction which by its nature removes the unhappy contradiction and\npromises the successful carrying out of the conflicting attitudes in the\nnew objective world. There is no such thing as formal implication.\n\nWhere no reconstruction of the world is involved in our identification\nof objects that belong to it and where, therefore, no readjustment of\nconduct is demanded, such a logic symbolizes what takes place in our\ndirect recognition of objects and our response to them. Then \"X is a man\nimplies X is mortal for all values of X\" exactly symbolizes the attitude\ntoward a man subject to a disease supposedly mortal. But it fails to\nsymbolize the biological research which starting with inexplicable\nsporadic cases of an infectious disease carries over from the study of\nthe life history of infusoria a hypothetical reconstruction of the\nhistory of disease and then acts upon the result of this assumption.\nResearch-science presents a world whose form is always universal, but\nthis universal form is neither a metaphysical assumption nor a fixed\nform of the understanding. While the scientist may as a metaphysician\nassume the existence of realities which lie beyond a possible\nexperience, or be a Kantian or Neo-Kantian, neither of these attitudes\nis necessary for his research. He may be a positivist--a disciple of\nHume or of John Stuart Mill. He may be a pluralist who conceives, with\nWilliam James, that the order which we detect in parts of the universe\nis possibly one that is rising out of the chaos and which may never be\nas universal as our hypothesis demands. None of these attitudes has any\nbearing upon his scientific method. This simplifies his thinking,\nenables him to identify the object in which he is interested wherever he\nfinds it, and to abstract in the world as he conceives it those features\nwhich carry with them the occurrence he is endeavoring to place.\nEspecially it enables him to make his thought a part of the socially\naccepted and socially organized science to which his thought belongs. He\nis far too modest to demand that the world be as his inference demands.\n\nHe asks that his view of the world be cogent and convincing to all those\nwhose thinking has made his own possible, and be an acceptable premise\nfor the conduct of that society to which he belongs. The hypothesis has\nno universal and necessary characters except those that belong to the\nthought which preserves the same meanings to the same objects, the same\nrelations between the same relata, the same attributes of assent and\ndissent under the same conditions, the same results of the same\ncombinations of the same things. For scientific research the meanings,\nthe relations with the relata, the assent and dissent, the combinations\nand the things combined are all in the world of experience. Thinking in\nits abstractions and identifications and reconstructions undertakes to\npreserve the values that it finds, and the necessity of its thinking\nlies in its ability to so identify, preserve, and combine what it has\nisolated that the thought structure will have an identical import under\nlike conditions for the thinker with all other thinkers to whom these\ninstruments of research conduct are addressed. Whatever conclusions the\nscientist draws as necessary and universal results from his hypothesis\nfor a world independent of his thought are due, not to the cogency of\nhis logic, but to other considerations. For he knows if he reflects that\nanother problem may arise which will in its solution change the face of\nthe world built upon the present hypothesis. He will defend the\ninexorableness of his reasoning, but the premises may change. Even the\ncontents of tridimensional space and sensuous time are not essential to\nthe cogency of that reasoning nor can the unbroken web of the argument\nassure the content of the world as invariable. His universals, when\napplied to nature, are all hypothetical universals; hence the import of\nexperiment as the test of an hypothesis. Experience does not rule out\nthe possible cropping up of a new problem which may shift the values\nattained. Experience simply reveals that the new hypothesis fits into\nthe meanings of the world which are not shaken; it shows that, with the\nreconstruction which the hypothesis offers, it is possible for\nscientific conduct to proceed.\n\nBut if the universal character of the hypothesis and the tested theory\nbelong to the instrumental character of thought in so reconstructing a\nworld that has proved to be imperfect, and inadequate to conduct, the\nstuff of the world and of the new hypothesis are the same. At least this\nis true for the scientist who has no interest in an epistemological\nproblem that does not affect his scientific undertakings in one way nor\nanother. I have already pointed out that from the standpoint of logical\nand psychological analysis the things with which science deals can be\nneither ultimate elements nor sense-data; but that they must be phases\nand characters and parts of things in some whole, parts which can only\nbe isolated because of the conflict between an accepted meaning and some\nexperience. I have pointed out that an analysis is guided by the\npractical demands of a solution of this conflict; that even that which\nis individual in its most unique sense in the conflict and in attempts\nat its solution does not enter into the field of psychology--which has\nits own problems peculiar to its science. Certain psychological problems\nbelong to the problems of other sciences, as, for example, that of the\npersonal equation belongs to astronomy or that of color vision to the\ntheory of light. But they bulk small in these sciences. It cannot be\nsuccessfully maintained that a scientific observation of the most unique\nsort, one which is accepted for the time being simply as a happening in\nthis or that scientist's experience, is as such a psychological datum,\nfor the data in psychological text-books have reference to\n_psychological_ problems. Psychology deals with the consciousness of the\nindividual in its dependence upon the physiological organism and upon\nthose contents which detach themselves from the objects outside the\nindividual and which are identified with his inner experience. It deals\nwith the laws and processes and structures of this consciousness in all\nits experiences, not with _exceptional_ experiences. It is necessary to\nemphasize again that for science these particular experiences arise\nwithin a world which is in its logical structure organized and\nuniversal. They arise only through the conflict of the individual's\nexperience with such an accepted structure. For science individual\nexperience _presupposes_ the organized structure; hence it cannot\nprovide the material out of which the structure is built up. This is the\nerror of both the positivist and of the psychological philosopher, if\nscientific procedure gives us in any sense a picture of the situation.\n\nA sharp contrast appears between the accepted hypothesis with its\nuniversal form and the experiences which invalidate the earlier theory.\nThe reality of these experiences lies in their happening. They were\nunpredictable. They are not instances of a law. The later theory, the\none which explains these occurrences, changes their character and\nstatus, making them necessary results of the world as that is conceived\nunder this new doctrine. This new standpoint carries with it a backward\nview, which explains the erroneous doctrine, and accounts for the\nobservations which invalidated it. Every new theory must take up into\nitself earlier doctrines and rationalize the earlier exceptions. A\ngeneralization of this attitude places the scientist in the position of\nanticipating later reconstructions. He then must conceive of his world\nas subject to continuous reconstructions. A familiar interpretation of\nhis attitude is that the hypothesis is thus approaching nearer and\nnearer toward a reality which would never change if it could be\nattained, or, from the standpoint of the Hegelian toward a goal at\ninfinity. The Hegelian also undertakes to make this continuous process\nof reconstruction an organic phase in reality and to identify with\nnature the process of finding exceptions and of correcting them. The\nfundamental difference between this position and that of the scientist\nwho looks before and after is that the Hegelian undertakes to make the\nexception in its exceptional character a part of the reality which\ntranscends it, while the scientist usually relegates the exception to\nthe experience of individuals who were simply caught in an error which\nlater investigation removes.\n\nThe error remains as an historical incident explicable perhaps as a\nresult of the conditions under which it occurred, but in so far as it\nwas an error, not a part of reality. It is customary to speak of it as\nsubjective, though this implies that we are putting the man who was\nunwittingly in error into the position of the one who has corrected it.\nTo entertain that error in the face of its correction would be\nsubjective. A result of this interpretation is that the theories are\nabstracted from the world and regarded as something outside it. It is\nassumed that the theories are mental or subjective and change while the\nfacts remain unchanged. Even when it is assumed that theories and facts\nagree, men speak of a correspondence or parallelism between idea and the\nreality to which it refers. While this attitude seems to be that of\nscience toward the disproved theories which lie behind it, it is not its\nattitude to the theories which it accepts. These are not regarded as\nmerely parallel to realities, as abstracted from the structure of\nthings. These meanings go into the makeup of the world. It is true that\nthe scientist who looks before and after realizes that any specific\nmeaning which is now accepted may be questioned and discarded. If he\ncarries his refection far enough he sees that a complete elimination of\nall the meanings which might conceivably be so discredited would leave\nnothing but logical constants, a world with no facts in any sense. In\nthis position he may of course take an agnostic attitude and be\nsatisfied with the attitude of Hume or Mill or Russell. But if he does\nso, he will pass into the camp of the psychological philosophers and\nwill have left the position of the scientist. The scientist always deals\nwith an _actual_ problem, and even when he looks before and after he\ndoes so in so far as he is facing in inquiry some actual problem. No\nactual problem could conceivably take on the form of a conflict\ninvolving the whole world of meaning. The conflict always arises between\nan individual experience and certain laws, certain meanings while others\nare unaffected. These others form the necessary field without which no\nconflict can arise. They give the man of research his ([Greek: pou sto])\nupon which he can formulate his problem and undertake its solution. The\npossible calling in question of any content, whatever it may be, means\nalways that there is left a field of unquestioned reality. The attitude\nof the scientist never contemplates or could contemplate the possibility\nof a world in which there would be no reality by which to test his\nhypothetical solution of the problem that arises. Nor does this attitude\nwhen applied to past discarded theories necessarily carry with it the\nimplication that these older theories were subjective ideas in men's\nminds, while the reality lay beside and beyond them unmingled with\nideas. It always finds a standpoint from which these ideas in the\nearlier situation are still recognized as reliable, for there are no\nscientific data without meanings. There could be no history of science\non any other basis. No history of science goes back to ultimate elements\nor sense-data, or to any combination of bare data on one hand and\nlogical elements on the other. The world of the scientist is always\nthere as one in which reconstruction is taking place with continual\nshifting of problems, but as a real world within which the problems\narise. The errors of the past and present appear as untenable hypotheses\nwhich could not bear the test of experiment if the experience were\nsufficiently enlarged and interpreted. But they are not mere errors to\nbe thrown into the scrap heap. They become a part of a different phase\nof reality which a fuller history of the past records or a fuller\naccount of the present interprets, giving them thereby their proper\nplace in a real world.[36]\n\nThe completion of this program, however, awaits the solution of the\nscientific problem of the relation of the psychical and the physical\nwith the attendant problem of the meaning of the so-called origin of\nconsciousness in the history of the world. My own feeling is that these\nproblems must be attacked from the standpoint of the social nature of\nso-called consciousness. The clear indications of this I find in the\nreference of our logical constants to the structure of thought as a\nmeans of communication, in the explanation of errors in the history of\nscience by their social determination, and in the interpretation of the\ninner field of experience as the importation of social intercourse into\nthe conscious conduct of the individual. But whatever may be the\nsolution of these problems, it must carry with it such a treatment of\nthe experience of the individual that the latter will never be regarded\nmerely as a subjective state, however inadequate it may have proved\nitself as a scientific hypothesis. This seems to me to be involved in\nthe conception of psychology as a natural science and in any legitimate\ncarrying out of the Hegelian program of giving reality and creative\nimport to individual experience. The experience of the individual in its\nexceptional character is the growing-point of science, first of all in\nthe recognition of data upon which the older theories break, and second\nin the hypothesis which arises in the individual and is tested by the\nexperiment which reconstructs the world. A scientific history and a\nscientific psychology from which epistemology has been banished must\nplace these observations and hypotheses together with erroneous\nconceptions and mistaken observations _within_ the real world in such a\nfashion that their reference to the experience of the individual and to\nthe world to which he belongs will be comprehensible. As I have\nindicated, the scientific theory of the physical and conscious\nindividual in the world implied in this problem has still to be\nadequately developed. But there is implied in the conception of such a\ntheory such a location of the process of thought in the process of\nreality as will give it an import both in the meaning of things and in\nthe individual's thinking. We have the beginning of such a doctrine in\nthe conception of a functional value of consciousness in the conduct of\nliving forms, and the development of reflective thought out of such a\nconsciousness which puts it within the act and gives it the function of\npreparation where adjustment is necessary. Such a process creates the\nsituation with reference to which the form acts. In all adjustment or\nadaptation the result is that the form which is adjusted finds that by\nits adjustment it has created an environment. The ancients by their\nformulation of the Ptolemaic theory committed themselves to the world in\nwhich the fixed values of the heavenly over against the earthly\nobtained. Such a world was the interpretation of the experience involved\nin their physical and social attitudes. They could not accept the\nhypothesis of Aristarchus because it conflicted with the world which\nthey had created, with the values which were determining values for\nthem. The same was true of the hypothesis of Democritus. They could not,\nas they conceived the physical world, accept its purely quantitative\ncharacter. The conception of a disinterested truth which we have\ncherished since the Middle Ages is itself a value that has a social\nbasis as really as had the dogma of the church. The earliest statement\nof it was perhaps that of Francis Bacon. Freeing investigation from the\nchurch dogma and its attendant logic meant to him the freedom to find in\nnature what men needed and could use for the amelioration of their\nsocial and physical condition. The full implication of the doctrine has\nbeen recognized as that of freedom, freedom to effect not only values\nalready recognized, but freedom to attain as well such complete\nacquaintance with nature that new and unrecognized uses would be at our\ndisposal; that is, that progress should be one toward any possible use\nto which increased knowledge might lead. The cult of increasing\nknowledge, of continually reconstructing the world, took the place both\nof the ancient conception of adequately organizing the world as\npresented in thought, and of the medieval conception of a systematic\nformulation on the basis of the statement in church dogma of social\nvalues. This modern conception proceeds from the standpoint not of\nformulating values, but giving society at the moment the largest\npossible number of alternatives of conduct, i.e., undertaking to fix\nfrom moment to moment the widest possible field of conduct. The purposes\nof conduct are to be determined in the presence of a field of\nalternative possibilities of action. The ends of conduct are not to be\ndetermined in advance, but in view of the interests that fuller\nknowledge of conditions awaken. So there appears a conception of\ndetermining the field that shall be quite independent of given values. A\nreal world which consists not of an unchanged universe, but of a\nuniverse which may be continually readjusted according to the problems\narising in the consciousness of the individuals within society. The\nseemingly fixed character of such a world is found in the generally\nfixed conditions which underlie the type of problems which we find. We\ndetermine the important conditions incident to the working out of the\ngreat problems which face us. Our conception of a given universe is\nformed in the effort to mobilize all the material about us in relation\nto these problems--the structure of the self, the structure of matter,\nthe physical process of life, the laws of change and the interrelation\nof changes. With reference to these problems certain conditions appear\nfixed and become the statement of the world by which we must determine\nby experimental test the viability of our hypotheses. There arises then\nthe conception of a world which is unquestioned over against any\nparticular problem. While our science continually changes that world, at\nleast it must be always realized as there. On the other hand, these\nconceptions are after all relative to the ends of social conduct which\nmay be formulated in the presence of any freedom of action.\n\nWe postulate freedom of action as the condition of formulating the ends\ntoward which our conduct shall be directed. Ancient thought assured\nitself of its ends of conduct and allowed these to determine the world\nwhich tested its hypothesis. We insist such ends may not be formulated\nuntil we know the field of possible action. The formulation of the ends\nis essentially a social undertaking and seems to follow the statement of\nthe field of possible conduct, while in fact the statement of the\npossible field of conduct is actually dependent on the push toward\naction. A moving end which is continually reconstructing itself follows\nupon the continually enlarging field of opportunities of conduct.\n\nThe conception of a world of existence, then, is the result of the\ndetermination at the moment of the conditions of the solution of the\ngiven problems. These problems constitute the conditions of conduct, and\nthe ends of conduct can only be determined as we realize the\npossibilities which changing conditions carry with them. Our world of\nreality thus becomes independent of any special ends or purposes and we\nreach an entirely disinterested knowledge. And yet the value and import\nof this knowledge is found in our conduct and in our continually\nchanging conditions. Knowledge for its own sake is the slogan of\nfreedom, for it alone makes possible the continual reconstruction and\nenlargement of the ends of conduct.\n\nThe individual in his experiences is continually creating a world which\nbecomes real through his discovery. In so far as new conduct arises\nunder the conditions made possible by his experience and his hypothesis\nthe world, which may be made the test of reality, has been modified and\nenlarged.\n\nI have endeavored to present the world which is an implication of the\nscientific method of discovery with entire abstraction from any\nepistemological or metaphysical presuppositions or complications.\nScientific method is indifferent to a world of things-in-themselves, or\nto the previous condition of philosophic servitude of those to whom its\nteachings are addressed. It is a method not of knowing the unchangeable\nbut of determining the form of the world within which we live as it\nchanges from moment to moment. It undertakes to tell us what we may\nexpect to happen when we act in such or such a fashion. It has become a\nmatter of serious consideration for a philosophy which is interested in\na world of things-in-themselves, and the epistemological problem. For\nthe cherished structures of the metaphysical world, having ceased to\nhouse the values of mankind, provide good working materials in the\nhypothetical structures of science, on condition of surrendering their\nmetaphysical reality; and the epistemological problem, having seemingly\ndied of inanition, has been found to be at bottom a problem of method or\nlogic. My attempt has been to present what seems to me to be two capital\ninstances of these transformations. Science always has a world of\nreality by which to test its hypotheses, but this world is not a world\nindependent of scientific experience, but the immediate world\nsurrounding us within which we must act. Our next action may find these\nconditions seriously changed, and then science will formulate this world\nso that in view of this problem we may logically construct our next plan\nof action. The plan of action should be made self-consistent and\nuniversal in its form, not that we may thus approach nearer to a\nself-consistent and universal reality which is independent of our\nconduct, but because our plan of action needs to be intelligent and\ngenerally applicable. Again science advances by the experiences of\nindividuals, experiences which are different from the world in which\nthey have arisen and which refer to a world which is not yet in\nexistence, so far as scientific experience is concerned. But this\nrelation to the old and new is not that of a subjective world to an\nobjective universe, but is a process of logical reconstruction by which\nout of exceptions the new law arises to replace a structure that has\nbecome inadequate.\n\nIn both of these processes, that of determining the structure of\nexperience which will test by experiment the legitimacy of the new\nhypothesis, and that of formulating the problem and the hypothesis for\nits solution, the individual functions in his full particularity, and\nyet in organic relationship with the society that is responsible for\nhim. It is the import for scientific method of this relationship that\npromises most for the interpretation of the philosophic problems\ninvolved.\n\n\n\n\nCONSCIOUSNESS AND PSYCHOLOGY\n\nBOYD H. BODE\n\n\nIf it is true that misery loves company, those persons who feel\ndespondent over the present situation in philosophy may console\nthemselves with the reflection that things are not so bad as they might\nbe. Our friends, the psychologists, are afflicted even as we are. The\ndisagreements of experts as to both the subject-matter and the method of\npsychology are as fundamental as anything that philosophy can show. A\nspirit of revolt is abroad in the land, and psychology is once more on\ntrial. The compact which provided that psychology should be admitted to\nthe rank of a natural science, on condition that it surrender its\npretension to be the science of the soul and confine itself to the study\nof consciousness, is no longer considered binding. The suspicion is\ngrowing that consciousness is nothing more nor less than an attenuated\nform of the soul that it pretends to displace. Consequently the\npsychology without a soul to which we have just become accustomed is now\nattacked on behalf of a psychology without a consciousness, on the\nground that this latter standpoint alone can give assurance against\nentangling alliances between psychology and metaphysics.\n\nFrom the side of philosophy this situation is interesting, not only to\nsuch as may crave the comfort that springs from the spectacle of\ndistress, but also to those who take a more hopeful view of present-day\ntendencies. The question that is at issue is fundamentally the question\nof the nature of consciousness, which is quite as important to\nphilosophy as to psychology. On the one hand it is maintained that\npsychology has to do with consciousness and that its distinctive method\nis the method of introspection. On the other hand it is urged that\npsychology is nothing more nor less than a study of behavior, that it is\nnot a science at all, unless the existence of consciousness is denied or\nat least ignored, and that the method of introspection is a delusion and\na snare. The two standpoints are not always clearly formulated, nor can\nwe say that every system of psychology is true to type. It is, in fact,\nthe lack of clearness in the fundamental concepts that makes the status\nof psychology a matter of so much uncertainty.\n\nThe situation presents an apparent anomaly. Both parties profess to deal\nwith facts of observation, yet the claim of the introspectionist that he\nobserves facts of consciousness is met by the assertion of his rival\nthat there is no consciousness to be observed. How can this be, unless\nwe assume that introspection presupposes an esoteric principle, like the\nprinciple of grace in religion? It seems evident that we have to do here\nwith some deep-seated misconception regarding the facts that are\nsupposed to constitute the subject-matter for observation and\ndescription.\n\nA common procedure on the part of introspectionism is to assert the\nexistence of consciousness as something which is indeed indefinable, but\nwhich admits of observation and description. But this procedure is no\nlonger justified. In the first place, the assertion that consciousness\nexists is not the statement of a fact but the designation of a problem.\nWhat is the nature of the fact that we call consciousness? If the\ncommon-sense individual, who assents so readily to the proposition that\nwe all know consciousness, be asked to differentiate between\nconsciousness and the objects of consciousness, he is dazed and\nhelpless. And, secondly, the assertion of indefinability involves us in\na difficulty. The indefinability of consciousness has sometimes been\nlikened to that of space, but in this latter case we find no such\nconfusion between space and the objects in space. It is clear, however,\nthat if consciousness is not something distinguishable from objects,\nthere is no need to discuss consciousness, and if it is distinguishable,\nit must be distinguished before we are entitled to proceed with\nobservation and description. Definition is indispensable, at least to\nthe extent of circumscribing the facts that are to be investigated.\nMoreover, if consciousness cannot be defined, neither can it be\ndescribed. What is definition, after all, but a form of description? To\nassert, in effect, that consciousness is indefinable because it is\nindescribable, and that for this reason we must be content with\ndescription, is both a flagrant disregard of consistency and an\nunwarranted abuse of our good nature.\n\nThis difficulty leads on to another, for doubts, like lies, have a\nsingular propensity to breed more of their kind. If consciousness is\nsomething that everybody knows, why should it be necessary to look to\nthe psychologist for a description of it? if the study of consciousness\nbrings to light any new fact, that fact by definition is not a conscious\nfact at all, and consequently is not the kind of thing that we set out\nto describe. Consciousness, in short, cannot be analyzed; it cannot be\nresolved into elements or constituents. It is precisely what it is and\nnot some product of our after-thought that we are pleased to substitute\nfor it.\n\nThese familiar considerations do not, indeed, decide the issue between\nthe rival theories of psychology, but they serve to suggest that our\nintrospective psychology has been too easily satisfied in the conception\nof its specific problem or subject-matter. As a matter of fact, the work\nthat has been done in the name of psychology has been peculiarly barren\nof results, so far as a consciousness _an sich_ is concerned, although\nit has led to a wealth of material pertaining to adaptive behavior. Its\nsolid achievements lie in the domain, not of consciousness, but of\ninstinctive, habitual, and intelligent adaptation. It teaches us little\nthat has to do unequivocally with consciousness as distinct from things,\nbut it teaches us much concerning stimulus and response, attention and\nhabit, conflict and adjustment. The doctrine that psychology is a\nscience of behavior is justified at least to the extent that it\nemphasizes a factor, the importance of which introspectionism has\nconsistently refused to recognize. Whatever conclusion we may ultimately\nreach regarding the nature of consciousness, the whole drift of\npsychological and biological investigation seems to indicate that an\nadequate conception of consciousness and of the distinctive problem of\npsychology can be attained only on the basis of a painstaking reflection\non the facts of behavior.\n\n\nI\n\nIt is evident that the attempt to ascertain the nature of consciousness\nand of psychology from the standpoint of behavior is committed to the\nassumption that the behavior in question is of a distinctive kind. The\njustification of this assumption will enable us to formulate the\ndefinitions which we seek. Discussions of conscious behavior ordinarily\nemphasize the similarity between conscious and reflex behavior rather\nthan the difference. An attitude of expectancy, for example, is usually\nconceived as a sort of temporary reflex. Certain nervous connections are\norganized for the occasion, so that, when a given stimulus arrives, it\nwill induce its appropriate response. This situation is best\nexemplified, perhaps, in simple reaction-experiments, in which the\nsubject makes a certain predetermined response upon presentation of the\nstimulus. The process is supposed to be of the reflex type throughout,\nthe only difference being that ordinary reflexes are relatively\npermanent and unvarying, whereas a prearranged response to a stimulus\nhas to do with a reflex that is made to order so as to meet the\nexigencies of the moment.\n\nFor certain purposes such a description of conscious behavior is no\ndoubt sufficiently accurate. Our present concern, however, is with the\ndifferences between these temporary organizations and ordinary\nreflexes. In order to bring out these differences, let us introduce a\nslight complication into our reaction-experiment and suppose that the\nsubject is to make one of two alternative responses, according to the\nnature of the stimulus. His state of expectancy is accompanied by a\ncertain bodily \"set\" or preparedness for the coming event, although the\nprecise nature of the event is a matter of uncertainty. His nervous\nsystem is in readiness to respond this way or that, or rather, it has\nalready started to act in both of the alternative ways. If the subject\nis to respond with the right hand to one stimulus and with the left hand\nto the other, both hands are in a state of activity before the stimulus\nappears. The organization of the temporary reflex through the agency of\nthe cerebral cortex could not be achieved were it not for the fact that\nall the movements entering into the organization are nascently aroused\nbefore the spring is touched which permits the act to unroll itself in\norderly sequence.\n\nThe various successive movements, then, which make up our temporary\nreflex achieve their relationship to one another from the fact that they\nare started simultaneously, and this peculiarity constitutes a\ndistinctive feature. Apparently this feature is absent from true\nreflexes. An act of swallowing, performed unconsciously, may start the\ncomplicated processes of digestion, but it is merely the first act of a\nseries. There is no evidence that the movements of the stomach and of\nthe other organs concerned in digestion must be presupposed before the\nact of swallowing can take place. The swallowing may start the other\nprocesses, but we cannot say that these other processes react back upon\nthe first act and make it one of swallowing rather than something else.\nYet this \"back stroke\" is precisely what is necessary in our\nreaction-experiment, for it is by virtue of this fact that the\norganization of the temporary reflex becomes a possibility. The first\nresponse cannot take place until the last is provided for. Thus the\nimmediate act of looking has embodied in it the activity that is to\nfollow later. The looking is not simply with the eye, but with the hands\nthat are to complete the response. The optical response is a response\nwhich, in the language of Bergson, prefigures or sketches out the act of\na later moment. The nervous system is enabled to act as a unit, because\nthe movements that are to occur at a later time are represented in the\nfirst stage of the complete act. The first stage, accordingly, does not\noccur independently, but _as_ a preliminary to the second. With an\nimperfect organization of the entire response, it may happen that the\nsubsequent movements are not suppressed until their proper moment\narrives, but appear in advance of their scheduled time. In writing, for\nexample, we frequently omit words or add to a word the final letter of\nsome word that belongs to a subsequent part of the sentence. An error of\nthis sort could hardly occur so readily in the course of an act that\nbelongs to the type of the true reflex.\n\nLest the reader suspect that this is _a priori_ physiology, I may quote\nthe following from a prominent neurologist: \"No simple sensory impulse\ncan, under ordinary circumstances, reach the cerebral cortex without\nfirst being influenced by subcortical association centers, within which\ncomplex reflex combinations may be effected and various automatisms set\noff in accordance with their preformed structure. These subcortical\nsystems are to some extent modifiable by racial and individual\nexperience, but their reactions are chiefly of the determinate or\nstereotyped character, with a relatively limited range of possible\nreaction types for any given stimulus complex.\n\n\"It is shown by the lower vertebrates, which lack the cerebral cortex,\nthat these subcortical mechanisms are adequate for all of the ordinary\nsimple processes of life, including some degree of associative memory.\nBut here, when emergencies arise which involve situations too complex to\nbe resolved by these mechanisms, the animal will pay the inevitable\npenalty of failure--perhaps the loss of his dinner, or even of his life.\n\n\"In the higher mammals with well-developed cortex the automatisms and\nsimple associations are likewise performed mainly by the subcortical\napparatus, but the inadequacy of this apparatus in any particular\nsituation presents not the certainty of failure, but rather a dilemma.\nThe rapid preformed automatisms fail to give relief, or perhaps the\nsituation presents so many complex sensory excitations as to cause\nmutual interference and inhibition of all reaction. There is a stasis in\nthe subcortical centers. Meanwhile the higher neural resistance of the\ncortical pathways has been overcome by summation of stimuli and the\ncortex is excited to function. Here is a mechanism adapted, not for a\nlimited number of predetermined and immediate responses, but for a much\ngreater range of combination of the afferent impressions with each other\nand with memory vestiges of previous reactions and a much larger range\nof possible modes of response to any given set of afferent impressions.\nBy a process of trial and error, perhaps, the elements necessary to\neffect the adaptive response may be assembled and the problem solved.\n\n\"It is evident here that the physiological factors in the dilemma or\nproblem as this is presented to the cortex are by no means simple\nsensory impressions, but definitely organized systems of neural\ndischarge, each of which is a physiological resultant of the reflexes,\nautomatisms, impulses, and inhibitions characteristic of its appropriate\nsubcortical centers. The precise form which these subcortical\ncombinations will assume in response to any particular excitation is in\nlarge measure determined by the structural connections _inter se_....\n\n\"From the standpoint of the cerebral cortex considered as an essential\npart of the mechanism of higher conscious acts, every afferent stimulus,\nas we have seen, is to some extent affected by its passage through\nvarious subcortical association centers (i.e., it carries a quale of\ncentral origin). But this same afferent impulse in its passage through\nthe spinal cord and brain stem may, before reaching the cortex,\ndischarge collateral impulses into the lower centers of reflex\ncooerdination, from which incipient (or even actually consummated) motor\nresponses are discharged previous to the cortical reaction. These motor\ndischarges may, through the 'back stroke' action, in turn exert an\ninfluence upon the slower cortical reaction. Thus the lower reflex\nresponse may in a literal physiological sense act _into_ the cortical\nstimulus complex and become an integral part of it.\"[37]\n\nIt seems clear, then, that conscious behavior involves a certain\n_process_ of organization which constitutes a differential. The units\nentering into this process are \"definitely organized systems of neural\ndischarge,\" the antecedent organization of these several systems being\ndue either to the inherited or to the acquired structure of the nervous\nsystem. Given a certain amount of plasticity, the nervous system builds\nup specific forms of response for certain objects or situations, and\nthese forms of response subsequently become the material from which new\norganizations or new modes of response are constructed. The achievements\nof the past, accordingly, become stepping-stones to new achievement. The\nnew organization, moreover, is not determined by a mechanism\nantecedently provided, but has a peculiar flexibility, so as to meet the\ndemands of a new situation. That is, a new mode of procedure is adopted.\nInstead of being a purely mechanical reaction, the response that results\nfrom the situation is tentative or experimental in character, and \"by a\nprocess of trial and error, perhaps, the elements necessary to effect\nthe adaptive response may be assembled and the problem solved.\"\n\nWe may add at once that the reorganization which is required to\nconstitute conscious behavior varies a great deal in extent. In an act\nthat is more or less habitual, a comparatively slight modification of\nthe corresponding organized system of neural discharge will suffice to\nharmonize the conflicting elements, whereas on other occasions a more\nextensive modification is required. But in any case it appears that\nthere is a certain impropriety in describing conscious behavior in terms\nof a temporary reflex, since the study of this behavior is concerned\nwith the organization of the discordant elements, not as a result, but\nprimarily as a process. In a reflex act we may suppose that the stimulus\nwhich evokes the first stage in the response is like the first in a row\nof upstanding bricks, which in falling knocks down another. That is, the\nreflex arc is built up by agencies that are quite independent of the\nsubsequent act. The arc is all set up and ready for use by the time the\nreflex act appears upon the scene. In the case of conscious activity, on\nthe other hand, we find a very different state of affairs. The arc is\nnot first constructed and then used, but is constructed as the act\nproceeds; and this progressive organization is, in the end, what is\nmeant by conscious behavior. If the course of a reflex act may be\ncompared with traveling in a railroad train, the progress of a conscious\nact is more like that of a band of explorers, who hew their path and\nbuild their bridges as they go along. The direction of the act is not\ndetermined from without but from within; the end is internal to the\nprocess.\n\nThis process of organization and purposive direction is exemplified in\nevery act of attention. Is that noise, for example, a horse in the\nstreet, or is it the rain on the roof? What we find in such a situation\nis not a paralysis of activity, but a redirection. The incompatibility\nof responses is purely relative. There is indeed a mutual inhibition of\nthe responses for hoof-beats and rain respectively, in the sense that\nneither has undisputed possession of the field; but this very inhibition\nsets free the process of attention, in which the various responses\nparticipate and cooeperate. There is no static balancing of forces, but\nrather a process in which the conflict is simply a condition for an\nactivity of a different kind. If I am near a window facing the street,\nmy eye turns thither for a clue; if the appeal to vision be eliminated,\nthe eye becomes unseeing and cooeperates with the ear by excluding all\nthat is irrelevant to the matter in hand. In this process the nervous\nsystem functions as a unit, with reference to the task of determining\nthe source and character of the sound. This task or problem dominates\nthe situation. A voice in an adjoining room may break in, but only as\nsomething to be ignored and shut out; whereas a voice in the street may\nbecome all-absorbing as possibly indicating the driver of the\nhypothetical horse. That is, the reason why the conflict of responses\ndoes not end in a deadlock, but in a redirection, is that a certain\nselectiveness of response comes into play. Out of the mass of more or\nless inchoate activities a certain response is selected as a\nrallying-point for the rest, and this selection is of a purposive\ncharacter. The selection is determined by reference to the task in hand,\nwhich is to restore a certain harmony of response. Accordingly, that\nresponse is selected which gives promise of forwarding the business of\nthe moment. By virtue of this selective character, one of the\nconstituents of the total activity becomes exalted among its fellows and\nis entrusted with the function of determining further behavior.\n\nThe purpose of the discussion, up to this point, is to put forward this\nselective or teleological character as the fundamental and\ndifferentiating trait of conscious behavior; and our task, accordingly,\nis to give an account of the nature and _modus operandi_ of this\npurposive control. This control, it is evident, consists in giving\ndirection to behavior with reference to results that are still in the\nfuture. The basis for this anticipation of the future is furnished by\nthe nascent responses which foreshadow further activity, even while they\nare still under the thraldom of the inhibitions which hold them back.\nThese suppressed activities furnish a sort of diagram or sketch of\nfurther possible behavior, and the problem of consciousness is the\nproblem of making the result or outcome of these incipient responses\neffective in the control of behavior. Future results or consequences\nmust be converted into present stimuli; and the accomplishment of this\nconversion is the miracle of consciousness. To be conscious is to\nhave a future possible result of present behavior embodied as a present\nexistence functioning as a stimulus to further behavior. Thus the\nqualities of a perceptual experience may be interpreted, without\nexception, as anticipations of the results of activities which are\nas yet in an embryonic stage. The results of the activity that is\nas yet partly suppressed are already expressed or anticipated in the\nperception. The present experience may, as James says, \"shoot its\nperspective far before it, irradiating in advance the regions in\nwhich lie the thoughts as yet unborn.\"[38] A baseball player, for\nexample, who is all \"set\" to field a ball as a preliminary to a further\nplay, sees the ball, not simply as an approaching object, but as\nball-to-be-caught-and-then-thrown-to-first-base. Moreover, the ball,\nwhile still on the way, is a ball-that-may-bound-to-the-right-or-\nto-the-left. The corresponding movements of the player to the right or\nleft, and the act of throwing, although present only as inhibited or\nincipient acts, are nevertheless embodied in the visual experience.\nSimilarly my couch looks soft and inviting, because the optical\nstimulation suggests or prompts, not only the act of lying down, but\nalso the kind of relaxation that is made possible by a comfortable bed.\nSo likewise the tiger's jaws and claws look cruel and horrible, because\nin that perception are reflected the incipient movements of defense and\nrecoil which are going on in the body of the observer. Perception, like\nour air-castles, or like dreams in the Freudian theory, presents what is\nat best but a suggestion or program in the guise of accomplished fact.\n\nThis projection, however, of our submerged activities into our\nperceptions requires a more precise statement. According to the\nforegoing contention, the appearance, for example, of a razor's edge as\nsharp is the sensory correlate of an incipient response which, if it\nwere to attain full-blown perfection, would be the reaction to a cut.\nBy hypothesis, however, the response is inhibited, and it is this\ninhibition which calls forth the perception of the object. If the\nresponse encountered no obstruction, adaptation would be complete and\nperception would not occur. Since there is a blocking of the response,\nnature resorts to a special device in order to overcome the difficulty,\nand this device consists in furnishing the organism with a new type of\nstimulus. The razor as perceived does not actually cut just now, but it\nbodies forth the quality 'will cut,' i.e., the perceived attribute\nderives its character from what the object will, or may, do at a future\ntime. That is, a perceived object is a stimulus which controls or\ndirects the organism by results which have not yet occurred, but which\nwill, or may, occur in the future. The uniqueness of such a stimulus\nlies in the fact that a contingent result somehow becomes operative as a\npresent fact; the future is transferred into the present so as to become\neffective in the guidance of behavior.\n\nThis control by a future that is made present is what constitutes\nconsciousness. A living body may respond to an actual cut by a knife on\npurely mechanical or reflex principles; but to respond to a cut by\nanticipation, i.e., to behave with reference to a merely possible or\nfuture injury, is manifestly an exhibition of intelligence. Not that\nthere need be any conscious reference to the future as future in the\nact. Merely to see the object as \"sharp\" is sufficient to give\ndirection to conduct. But \"sharp\" is equivalent to \"will cut\"; the\nquality of sharpness is a translation of future possibility into terms\nof present fact, and as thus translated the future possibility becomes a\nfactor in the control of behavior. Perception, therefore, is a point\nwhere present and future coincide. What the object _will_ do is, in\nitself, just a contingency, an abstract possibility, but in perception\nthis possibility clothes itself in the garments of present, concrete\nfact and thus provides the organism with a different environment. The\nenvironment provides a new stimulus by undergoing a certain kind of\nchange, i.e., by exercising a peculiar function of control. This control\nis seeing, and the whole mystery of consciousness is just this rendering\nof future stimulations or results into terms of present existence.\nConsciousness, accordingly, is a name for a certain change that takes\nplace in the stimulus; or, more specifically, it is a name for the\ncontrol of conduct by future results or consequences.\n\nTo acquire such a stimulus and to become conscious are one and the same\nthing. As was indicated previously, the conscious stimulus is correlated\nwith the various inherited and acquired motor tendencies which have been\nset off and which are struggling for expression, and the uniqueness of\nthe stimulus lies in the fact that the adaptive value of these nascent\nmotor tendencies becomes operative as the determining principle in the\norganization of the response. The response, for example, to \"sharp\" or\n\"will cut\" is reminiscent of an earlier reaction in which the organism\nengaged in certain defensive movements as the result of an actual\ninjury. That is, the response to \"sharp\" is a nascent or incipient form\nof a response which at the time of its first occurrence was the\nexpression of a maladaptation. The response that is induced when an\nobject is seen as sharp would be biologically bad, if it were completed,\nand the fact that the object is seen as sharp means that this result is\nforeshadowed and operates as a stimulus to prevent such maladaptation.\nSimilarly the couch which meets my weary eye becomes a stimulus to\nrepose because the nascent activity which is aroused would be\nbiologically good if completed. In any case the character of the\nstimulus is determined by the adaptive value which the incipient\nactivity would have if it were carried out. Consciousness, accordingly,\nis just a future adaptation that has been set to work so as to bring\nabout its own realization. The future thus becomes operative in the\npresent, in much the same way as the prospects for next year's crop may\nbe converted by the farmer into ready money with which to secure the\ntools for its production.\n\nTo justify this conclusion by a detailed and extensive application of\nthis interpretation to every form of quality and relation would carry us\nbeyond the limits of the present undertaking. It is a view, however,\nwhich offers possibilities that have not as yet been properly\nrecognized. Certain considerations, besides those already discussed, may\nbe mentioned as giving it an antecedent plausibility. As regards simple\nsense-qualities, there is abundant reason for believing that Locke's\ndoctrine of \"simple ideas\" is a violent perversion of the facts. To\nassume that the last results of analysis are the first things in\nexperience is to give a fatal twist to psychology and to commit us to\nthe fruitless agonies of epistemology. The original \"blooming, buzzing\nconfusion\" with which experience starts becomes differentiated into\nspecific qualities only to the extent that certain typical and organized\nforms of response are built up within the body. Sense-qualities, in\nother words, are functionally not simple but extremely complex; they owe\ntheir distinctiveness or individuality to the fact that each of them\nembodies a specific set of cues or anticipations, with reference to\nfurther experiences. The difference between a quality like \"sharpness\"\nand a quality like \"red\" lies in the fact that the former is a\ntranslation of a relatively simple possibility, viz., \"will cut,\"\nwhereas the latter embodies a greater variety of anticipations. The\nperception of red, being the outcome of many comparisons and\nassociations, presupposes a complex physical response which contains\nmultitudinous tendencies to reinstate former responses; and the combined\neffect of these suppressed tendencies is the perception of a color which\noffers possibilities of control over behavior in such directions as\nreminiscences, idle associations, or perhaps scrutiny and investigation.\nA similar explanation evidently applies to abstract ideas, which neither\nadmit of reduction to \"revived sensations\" nor compel the adoption of a\npeculiarly \"spiritual\" or \"psychic\" existence in the form of\nunanalyzable meanings. Here again a complex mode of response must be\nassumed, having as its correlate an experience describable only in\nterms of its functioning, which is such as to enable the organism to act\nintelligently, i.e., with reference to future results, which are\nsufficiently embodied in the experience to secure appropriate behavior.\nAgain, this point of view offers a satisfactory solution for the\ntime-worn puzzle of relativity. If perception is just the translation of\nfuture possible stimulations into present fact, there is assuredly no\njustification for the notion that perception distorts the facts or that\ndiscrepancies among different perceptions prove their \"subjectivity.\"\nThere remains but one test by which the correctness or validity of\nperception may be judged, viz., whether the perceived object proves to\nbe the kind of stimulus which is reported or anticipated in the present\nexperience.\n\nSo far our discussion has emphasized the anticipatory character of the\nconscious stimulus. Future consequences come into the present as\n_conditions_ for further behavior. These anticipations are based,\nindeed, upon previous happenings, but they enter into the present\nsituation as conditions that must be taken into account. But to take\nthem into account means that the conscious situation is essentially\nincomplete and in process of transformation or reconstruction. This\npeculiar incompleteness or contingency stands out prominently when the\nsituation rises to the level of uncertainty and perplexity. To borrow\nthe classical illustration of the child and the candle, the child is in\na state of uncertainty because the neural activity of the moment\ncomprises two incompatible systems of discharge, the one being a\ngrasping and holding, the other a withdrawal and such further movements\nas may be induced by contact with fire. Hence the candle has the\nseductiveness of a prize, but at the same time carries the suggestion of\nburning the fingers. That is, the perceived object has a unique\ncharacter of uncertainty, which inheres in it as a present positive\nquality. We are here confronted with genuine contingency, such as is\nencountered nowhere else. Other modes of behavior may be uncertain in\nthe sense that the incoming stimulation finds no fixed line of discharge\nlaid down for itself within the organism. In seeking to convert itself\ninto response it may either sweep away the obstructions in its path or\nwork itself out along lines of less resistance, in ways that no man can\nforetell. There may be moments of equilibrium, moments when it remains\nto be seen where the dam will break and the current rush through. Such\nuncertainty, however, is the uncertainty of the bystander who attempts\nto forecast what will happen next. It is not the uncertainty that\nfigures as an integral part of conscious behavior.\n\nThis inherent uncertainty means that conscious behavior, as contrasted\nwith the mechanical character of the reflexes, is essentially\nexperimental. The uncertainty exists precisely because an effort is\nunder way to clear up the uncertainty. The resort to eye or ear or to\nreflective thinking is suggested by the corresponding nascent responses\nand is an endeavor to secure something which is still to seek, but\nwhich, when found, will meet the requirements of the situation.\nTranslating this process into terms of stimulus and response, we may\nsay that the conscious stimulus of the moment induces the investigation\nor scrutiny which presently results in the arrival of a stimulus that is\nadequate to the situation. The stimulus, in other words, provides for\nits own successor; or we may say that the process as a whole is a\nself-directing, self-determining activity. Stimulus and response are not\nsuccessive stages or moments, but rather simultaneous functions or\nphases of the total process. Within this process the given situation is\nthe stimulus because it is that aspect or function which guides the\nsubsequent course of the activity, while the bodily movements are the\nresponse because they already embody the activity that is to follow. The\nsignificant circumstance here is that stimulus and response resist the\ntemporal separation that we find in a purely reflex act; stimulus and\nresponse are bound together as correlated functions in a unitary,\nself-directing process, so that these twain are one flesh.\n\nSituations of uncertainty and expectancy, as exemplified by the familiar\nchild-candle incident, are of interest, because they emphasize both the\nanticipatory character of experience and the peculiar reconstruction of\nthe stimulus. These situations, however, differ merely in degree, not in\nkind, from other experiences; their merit is that in them the\ndistinctive character of conscious life is writ large. To say that they\nare conscious situations is to say that they are so constituted that the\npossibilities of a subsequent moment are embodied in them as a positive\nquality. In them the present moment embodies a future that is\ncontingent. And similarly the response has neither the predetermined\norganization of the reflex nor the aimless character of a response that\nissues in a set of random movements. It is, so to speak, of a\ngeneralized character, like the paleontological specimens that\nforeshadow in their structure the advent of both fish and reptile. This\nform of organization, however, while exemplified most strikingly in\nsituations of uncertainty, pertains to all conscious behavior. In\nuttering a sentence, for example, we know in advance what we are going\nto say, yet the sentence shapes itself into definite form only as we\nproceed; or perhaps we get \"stuck,\" and by hemming and hawing bear\nwitness that a struggle for a certain kind of organization is going on.\nThe same word in different contexts is a different word in each\ninstance, by virtue of the coloring that it takes on from what is to\nfollow after. And this is equally true of our most casual experiences.\nThe auditory or visual object that we happen to notice and immediately\nafterwards ignore is apprehended with reference to the possibility of\nwarranting further attention, or else it presents itself as an intruder\nthat is to be excluded in order that we may go on with the concern of\nthe moment. All experience is a kind of intelligence, a control of\npresent behavior with reference to future adjustment. To be in\nexperience at all is to have the future operate in the present.\n\nThis reference to the future may be in the nature of an end or goal that\ncontrols a series of activities or it may be of a momentary and casual\nkind. In any case the character of the stimulus changes with the\nprogress of the act. The book on the table must become successively\nbook-to-be-reached-for, book-to-be-picked-up, and book-to-be-opened,\nunless the process is to drop back to the type of reflex. This\ndevelopment of the stimulus gives genuine continuity, since every moment\nin the process comes as a fulfilment of its predecessor and as a\ntransition-point to its successor. In a purely mechanical act response\nfollows stimulus like the successive strokes of a clock. It is a\ntouch-and-go affair; the stimulus presses the button and then subsides,\nwhile the neural organization does the rest. In conscious behavior, on\nthe other hand, stimulus and response keep step with each other. A mere\nsuccession of stimuli would reduce conscious behavior to a series of\nexplosive jerks, on the principle of the gasoline engine. To be\nconscious at all is to duplicate in principle the agility of the\ntight-rope performer, who continuously establishes new co-ordinations\naccording to the exigencies of the moment and with constant reference to\nthe controlling consideration of keeping right side up. The sensory\nstimulus provides continuously for its own rehabilitation or appropriate\ntransformation, and in a similar way the neural organization is never a\nfinished thing, but is in constant process of readjustment to meet the\ndemands of an adaptation that still lies in the future.\n\nIt is this relationship of present response to the response of the next\nmoment that constitutes the distinctive trait of conscious behavior. The\nrelatively unorganized responses of the present moment, in becoming\nreflected in the experienced object, reveal their outcome or meaning\nbefore they have become overt, and thus provide the conditions of\nintelligent action. In other words, future consequences become\ntransformed into a stimulus for further behavior. We are confronted here\nwith a distinctive mode of operation, which must be properly recognized,\nif we are to give a consistent and intelligent account of conscious\nbehavior. On the other hand, if we refuse to recognize the advent here\nof a new category, intelligence becomes an anomaly and mystery deepens\ninto contradiction. Since intelligence or consciousness must be provided\nfor somehow, we are forced back upon either interactionism or else\nepiphenomenalism, more or less disguised under a euphonious name, such\nas psycho-physical parallelism or the double-aspect theory. That is, the\nrelation of stimulus and response is either reduced to plain cause and\neffect or else is rejected altogether and supplanted by a bare\nconcomitance of the physical and mental series. In either case conscious\nbehavior is reduced to the type of reflex action, the only issue between\nthe two doctrines being the question whether or not it is necessary or\npermissible to interpolate mental links in the causal chain.\n\nAccording to the doctrine of parallelism, conscious behavior is nothing\nmore than a complicated form of reflex, which goes on without any\ninterference on the part of mind or intelligence. Intelligence adds\nnothing to the situation except itself; it carries no implications or\nnew significance with regard to conduct. The psychic correlate is\npermitted to tag along, but the explanations of response remain the same\nin kind as they were before they reached the level of consciousness.\n\"Mere complexity should not becloud the issue. Every brain process, like\nevery reflex activity, is presumably the result of physico-chemical\nprocesses. The assumption of a mysterious intuition or 'psychic force'\nadds nothing to the mechanistic explanation, even when the latter is\nmost fragmentary. The interactionists go out of their way unnecessarily\nin assuming a special activity of consciousness to account for the\ndislocation of reactions from sensations. The nervous organization\nsuffices to explain it. Distant-stimuli and central stimuli co-operate\nto bring about anticipatory reactions; foresight is but the conscious\nside of this process. The phenomenon is _both_ physical and mental.\"[39]\n\nThe passage just quoted is fairly typical. Since the mental is an aspect\nor concomitant of the physical it is clearly entitled to an occasional\nhonorable mention, but the fact remains that the explanation of behavior\nis to be given wholly in terms of neural organization. The mental is\nquite literally an \"also ran.\" To say that a physico-chemical process is\nalso mental is of no particular significance as long as it is implied\nthat the end or goal of the process plays no part in shaping the course\nof events. The mental simply gives dignity to the occasion, like the\nsedan chair with no bottom, in which the Irishman's admirers, according\nto James's story, ran him along to the place of banquet and which\nprompted the hero to remark: \"Faith, if it wasn't for the honor of the\nthing, I might as well have come on foot.\"\n\nIt is this empty show of respect which the interactionists seek to\navoid when they make the mental a distinct link in the causal sequence.\nThe physical first causes the mental, and the mental in turn brings\nabout a change in the physical. In this way a certain importance is\nindeed secured to mental facts, but it appears that, so far as purposive\naction is concerned, we are no better off than we were before. The\nmental is simply another kind of cause; it has as little option\nregarding its physical effect as the physical cause has with regard to\nits mental effect. Non-mechanical behavior is again ruled out, or else a\nvain attempt is made to secure a place for it through the introduction\nof an independent psychic agency.\n\nIt is true, indeed, that we are under no antecedent obligation to\nmaintain the existence of an activity that is not entirely reducible to\nthe type of everyday cause and effect. But neither does scientific zeal\nand incorruptibility require us to do violence to the facts in order to\nsecure this uniformity of type. Not to speak at all of the difficulties\ninherent in this dualism, it seems undeniable that some facts\npersistently refuse to conform to the type of mechanism, unless they are\npreviously clubbed into submission. Foresight and the sense of\nobligation, for example, must learn to regard themselves as nothing more\nthan an interesting indication of the way in which the neural machinery\nis operating before they will fit into the scheme. And similarly the\nprogress of an argument is no way controlled or directed by the end in\nview, or by considerations of logical coherence, but by the impact of\ncausation. Ideas lose their power to guide conduct by prevision of the\nfuture, and truth and error consequently lose their significance, save\nperhaps as manifestations of cerebral operations. Since reasoning\ninvolves association, it must be reducible to bare association; the\nsequence of the process is just sequence and nothing more. A description\nof this kind is on a par with the celebrated opinion that violin music\nis just a case of scraping horse-hair on catgut. Everything that is\ndistinctive in the facts is left out of account, and we are forced to\nthe conclusion that no conclusion has any logical significance or value.\n\nIn the end these difficulties, and in fact most of our philosophic ills,\nmay be traced back to the prejudice that experience or knowing is a\nprocess in which the objects concerned do not participate and have no\nshare. This assumption commits us at once to various corollaries and\nthus breeds a set of abstractions that pass themselves off as entities\nand add themselves to the world of our experience as demonstrable facts.\nIn philosophy, as in the financial world, there is a constant temptation\nto do business on a basis of fictitious capitalization. Our abstract\nphysico-chemical processes, with their correlates, such as passive,\nindependent objects, souls, minds, or absolutes, do not represent actual\nworking capital, but watered stock, and their inevitable tendency is to\nconvert the legitimate business of philosophy into a campaign of\nexploitation, which is none the less exploitation because it is\nfrequently done in the interests of what are supposed to be the\nspiritual values of man. A careful inventory of our assets brings to\nlight no such entities as those which have been placed to our credit.\nWe do not find body and object _and_ consciousness, but only body and\nobject. We do not find objects that remain indifferent to the\nexperiential process, but rather objects that exhibit a flexibility and\nmobility which defy all description. We do not find a self-sufficient\nenvironment or absolute _to_ which intelligence must needs adjust\nitself, but an environment that is at odds with itself and struggling in\nthe throes of a reconstruction. The process of intelligence is something\nthat goes on, not in our minds, but in things; it is not photographic,\nbut creative. From the simplest perception to the most ideal aspiration\nor the wildest hallucination, our human experience is reality engaged in\nthe guidance or control of behavior. Things undergo a change in becoming\nexperienced, but the change consists in a doing, in the assumption of a\ncertain task or duty. The experiential object hence varies with the\nresponse; the situation and the motor activity fit together like the\nsections of a broken bowl.\n\nThe bearing of this standpoint on the interpretation of psychology is\nreadily apparent. If it be granted that consciousness is just a name for\nbehavior that is guided by the results of acts not yet performed but\nreflected beforehand in the objects of experience, it follows that this\nbehavior is the peculiar subject-matter of psychology. It is only by\nreference to behavior that a distinctive field can be marked off for\npsychological enterprise. When we say that the flame is hot, the stone\nhard, and the ice cold and slippery, we are describing objects and\nnothing more. These qualities are, indeed, anticipations of future\npossibilities, but this means simply that the objects are described in\nterms of their properties or capacities as stimuli of the organism. Such\nan account leaves out of consideration certain changes which things\nundergo when they exercise the function of controlling or directing\nchanges in the adjustment of the body. A quality, such as \"sharp\" or\n\"hot,\" is not mental or constituted by consciousness, but the function\nof the quality in giving direction to behavior through certain changes\nwhich it undergoes is consciousness. The changes that take place in\nthings as a result of association, attention, or memory, are changes\nthat have no significance, save with regard to their function as stimuli\nto new adjustments. Psychology, therefore, is properly a study of the\nconditions which determine the change or development of stimuli; more\nspecifically it is a study of the conditions which govern such processes\nas those by which problems are solved, lessons are memorized, habits and\nattitudes are built up, and decisions are reached. To call such study\n\"applied\" psychology is to misunderstand the proper scope and purpose of\nthe subject. Psychology frequently has occasion to draw extensively upon\nphysics and physiology, but it has its own problem and its own method of\nprocedure.\n\nThat this view of conscious behavior should involve an extensive\nreinterpretation of familiar facts is altogether natural and inevitable.\nIf consciousness is a form of control, the question, for example, what\nis \"in\" consciousness and what is not must be interpreted with reference\nto this function of control. In a sense we perceive many things to\nwhich we are not paying attention, such as the light in the room or the\nfamiliar chairs and bookcases. These are perceived \"marginally,\" as we\nsay, in the sense that the presence of these objects affects the total\nadjustment of the moment in such a way that the experience _would_\nbecome a clue to these objects if they were withdrawn. And similarly we\nmay speak of marginal sensations of strain or movement, to indicate\npossible clues to certain bodily activities which are factors in the\nprocess. These marginal perceptions or images are not actual existences,\nbut are symbols and nothing more. The significance of these symbols is\nthat they point to certain conditions by which the experiences in\nquestion are determined. Thus the question whether a given experience\ninvolves certain \"sensations\" is just a question whether certain bodily\nor extra-bodily conditions are involved in the experience. If this\nreference to conditions is ignored and experience is explained in terms\nof sensory material that blends and fuses and otherwise disposes itself,\nthe explanation is no longer science but sleight-of-hand. Psychology has\nno proper concern with such mythical constituents of consciousness; its\nbusiness is with things as related to conduct, which is to say that\npsychology is a science of behavior.\n\n\nII\n\nAccording to the standpoint set forth in the preceding discussion, the\nkey to a consistent and fruitful interpretation of consciousness and\npsychology lies in behavior. If we turn now to the psychology of\nintrospection, which has been dominant so many years, we find a\nstandpoint and mode of procedure which, on the surface at least, is of a\nradically different kind. It behooves us, therefore, to consider this\nstandpoint in some detail in order to justify the attempt to reinterpret\nand \"evaluate\" it in the light of our own doctrine.\n\nThe point of departure for introspective psychology is to be found, so\nit seems, not in the facts of behavior, but in the distinction between\nfocal and marginal experience. It is on this distinction that the\nintrospective psychologist bases the attempt to give a psychological\nanalysis and description of the contents of experience. To analyze and\ndescribe the facts of consciousness is to bring the marginal\nconstituents of experience into the white light of attention. Analysis\nand description are possible just because experience is so largely a\nwelter of elements that disguise their identity and character. In some\nway these unrecognized and unidentified elements are constituents of the\ntotal experience. To borrow the language of a writer quoted by James,\n\"However deeply we may suppose the attention to be engaged by any\nthought, any considerable alteration of the surrounding phenomena would\nstill be perceived; the most abstruse demonstration in this room would\nnot prevent a listener, however absorbed, from noticing the sudden\nextinction of the lights.\"[40] Or, as James remarks: \"It is just like\nthe overtones in music. Different instruments give the 'same note,'\nnamely, various upper harmonics of it which differ from one instrument\nto another. They are not separately heard by the ear; they blend with\nthe fundamental note and suffuse it, and alter it.\"[41] Let the\nattention be directed to these overtones, however, and they at once\ndetach themselves from their surroundings and step forth into the light\nof day. Even so the ticking of the clock may pass unnoticed in the sense\nthat it is an undiscriminated element in the background of our\nconsciousness; but if the ticking comes to a sudden stop, the feeling of\na void in our consciousness proclaims the fact that something has gone\nout from it.\n\nThe observation and description of the facts of consciousness, then, is\nbased directly on the fact that experience, as the psychologist deals\nwith it, possesses a focus and margin. Nature as conceived by the\nphysical sciences presents no such distinction. The facts are what they\nare, and their character as focal or marginal, as clear or obscure,\ndepends altogether upon their relation to an intelligence. Or we may say\nthat if the facts of experience were always focal and never marginal, it\nwould never occur to us to speak of consciousness as we do at present.\nAs long as we confine ourselves to a given color, shape or temperature,\nas experienced focally, we are not dealing with consciousness, but with\nobjects. An analysis of such facts that does not bring in the marginal\nis not an analysis of consciousness, but an analysis of physical\nreality. Even if we consider non-physical objects, such as mathematical\nor economic concepts, we find that our analysis is not psychological\nas long as the marginal is left out. The consideration of the margin,\nhowever, brings us into the presence of facts which are of a distinctive\nkind and which warrant a new science. Let the margin be eliminated and\npsychology disappears at the same time.\n\nThe psychological doctrine of focus and margin, then, is a matter of\nfundamental importance. On the interpretation of this doctrine depend\nour systems of psychology and of philosophy. What, then, is meant by\nfocus and margin? If we turn to our psychologies, we seem to be\nconfronted once more with something that everybody knows and nobody can\ndefine. But since we have to do with a distinction, the obligation to\ndifferentiate cannot be wholly ignored. Consciousness is sometimes\nlikened to a visual field and sometimes to the waves of the sea. Like\nthe visual field it has a foreground and a background, a near and a\nremote, a center and a margin or periphery. The contents of\nconsciousness are vivid or clear in the center of this field and fade\naway into vagueness or obscureness in proportion to their approach to\nthe periphery. Or, to take the other comparison, the focus may be\nrepresented by the crest of a wave and the margin by what we may call\nits base. This illustration has the advantage that it indicates the\ndifference between higher and lower degrees of concentration. As\nconcentration increases, the crest of the wave rises higher and its\nwidth decreases, while the reverse is true where the concentration of\nattention is less intense. All consciousness possesses the distinction\nof focus and margin in some degree; however much we may be absorbed in\nan object or topic, there is always an indirect mental vision that\ninforms us of other facts, which for the time being are in the\nbackground of our consciousness.\n\nFor purposes of description a metaphor is at best a clumsy device. It\nhas a tendency to substitute itself for the thing to be described and\nthus to conceal its limitations and inaccuracies. The present case is no\nexception. I am forced to think that the visual field in particular is a\nthoroughly vicious metaphor when employed to body forth the distinction\nof focus and margin. Whatever this distinction may in the end turn out\nto be, it is not such as this comparison would lead one to suppose.\nObjects seen in indirect vision appear obscure and blurred precisely\nbecause they are in the focus of consciousness. We get pretty much the\nsame sort of obscureness or blur on a printed page when we look at it in\nindirect vision as we do when we look at it from a distance that is just\ntoo great to make out the words or characters. What the illustration\nshows is that things look different according as the circumstances under\nwhich we see them are different, but what bearing this has on marginal\nconsciousness is not at all obvious to an unsophisticated intelligence.\n\nWhen we speak of a focus and margin in consciousness, we are presumably\ndealing with conscious fact. Now this illustration of the visual field\ndoes not represent conscious fact. Ordinary perception carries with it\nno sense of obscureness at all, and when it does we have exactly the\nsame kind of situation as when an object is too distant or in some other\nway inaccessible to satisfactory perception. That is, the object\nperceived is in the 'focus' and not in the margin. The obscureness of\nobjects when seen with the margin of the retina has no more to do with\nthe margin of consciousness than the obscureness caused by an attack of\ndizziness or by a morning fog.\n\nIt will be said, perhaps, that consciousness may be unclear even though\nthere be no sense of unclearness, that there is such a thing as\nintrinsic clearness, quite apart from obstacles and problems. In other\nwords, the same sensation is capable of realizing various degrees of\nclearness. It is not at all obvious, however, why the different\nexperiences that are concerned in such a comparison should be called the\nsame sensation. As long as we abstract from objective reference, each\nsensation is just what it is and there is no opportunity to make\ncomparisons on the basis of clearness. A sensation as such--if we are\nbound to speak of sensations--can by no possibility be an obscure\nsensation, for the trait that we call obscureness or vagueness\nconstitutes the intrinsic being of that sensation. If we permit\nourselves to speak of clearness at all, we should rather say that it\npossesses a maximum of clearness, since it has managed to express or\npresent its whole nature with not one trait or feature lacking. What\nmore could be demanded, in the way of clearness, of any conscious fact\nthan that it should body forth every detail that it possesses?\n\nIf sensations or states of consciousness possess degrees of clearness,\nit seems to follow that we may scrutinize them for the purpose of\ndiscovering characteristics that were present though scarcely\nperceived, in much the same way that the polishing of old furniture\nbrings out the grain in the wood. But such a parallel, I submit, is\nplain nonsense. The supposition that consciousness is something that in\ndue time and with good fortune may attain consciousness is too absurd\nfor discussion, even though it is a supposition that plays a\nconsiderable role in present-day psychology.\n\nThe purpose of the discussion, up to this point, has not been to deny\nthe validity of the distinction between focus and margin, but to insist\nupon the necessity of reconsidering the meaning of this distinction, if\nwe are to attain to a workable definition of consciousness and a\nfruitful or even intelligible conception of the problem of psychology. I\nhave endeavored to show, in the first place, that the doctrine of focus\nand margin involves the _raison d'etre_ of psychology. Apart from this\ndoctrine we have no task or problem that psychology can claim as its\ndistinctive possession. The analysis of what is in the focus of\nconsciousness is adequately provided for in the other sciences; it is\nonly with the introduction of what is called the margin that an\nenterprise of a different kind becomes necessary. But, secondly, this\ndistinction of focus and margin cannot be drawn on the basis of the\nexperienced contrast between clearness and obscureness. The very fact\nthat anything is experienced as obscure means that it is an object of\nattention, or, in other words, that it is in the focus of consciousness\nand not in the margin. The comparison of focus and margin with direct\nand indirect vision is misleading, because it suggests that experiences\nare marginal in proportion as they are felt as obscure. And, thirdly, if\nwe undertake to distinguish between focus and margin on the basis of a\ndifference in clearness or vividness of which no note is taken at the\ntime, we encounter the difficulty that experience or consciousness,\ntaken abstractly, does not admit of such variations in degree, and so\nthis criterion likewise goes by the board.\n\nThe situation is indeed peculiar. That there is a realm of psychological\nfact is universally conceded. As a consequence of this conviction a\ngreat body of fact and of doctrine has been built up. It would be folly\nto deny either the distinctiveness or the significance of this\nachievement. And yet James's description of psychology as \"a string of\nraw facts; a little gossip and wrangle about opinions; a little\nclassification and generalization on the mere descriptive level; a\nstrong prejudice that we _have_ states of mind and that our brain\nconditions them,\"[42] is not wholly untrue even today. It is even\npossible for a present-day critic to outdo James and maintain that the\nlegitimacy of psychology as a separate inquiry is a matter of faith\nrather than of sight. The 'raw facts' of which James speaks resolve\nthemselves into physical and physiological material on the one hand and\nmetaphysical dogmas on the other; the gossip and wrangle are largely\nover fictitious problems; the classifications and generalizations as a\nrule involve trespassing on other fields; the prejudice that we have\nstates of mind has less standing-ground today than it had twenty years\nago. In other words, there is still plausible ground for James's\npessimistic comment: \"This is no science, it is only the hope of a\nscience.\" A situation such as this carries with it the insistent\nsuggestion that the trouble lies, not primarily in the nature of the\nsubject-matter, but in our conception of the problem. \"The matter of a\nscience,\" as James says, \"is with us.\" And if the distinction of focus\nand margin constitutes the starting-point and justification for a\nscience of psychology, a better understanding of this distinction will\nmean a more adequate appreciation of the problem with which psychology\nhas to deal.\n\nAs a starting-point for a reconsideration of focus and margin, we may\ntake those experiences in which the distinction of clearness and\nobscureness is presented as an experienced fact. Let us then turn once\nmore to the familiar illustration of the visual field. \"When we look at\na printed page, there is always some one portion of it, perhaps a word,\nwhich we see more clearly than we do the rest; and out beyond the margin\nof the page we are still conscious of objects which we see only in a\nvery imperfect way.\"[43] That is, we appreciate the distinction between\nwhat lies in the center of our visual field and what is more remote,\njust because in this experiment we are trying to see what lies beyond\nthe center without turning our eyes in that direction. We set ourselves\nthe task of seeing what is on the page, and at the same time we\ninterpose an artificial obstacle. Hence the sense of effort, and the\ncontrast between what is clear and what is obscure. The present\nexperience is obscure, not inherently, but only with reference to a\ncertain problem or question. It is inadequate as an anticipation of\nfurther experience. The contrast between clear and obscure is created by\nour attempt to overcome the difficulty, and is therefore absent from\nordinary, unobstructed visual perception.\n\nThe situation described in the following familiar quotation from James\nis an illustration of the same thing: \"Suppose we try to recall a\nforgotten name. The state of our consciousness is peculiar. There is a\ngap therein; but no mere gap. It is a gap that is intensely active. A\nsort of wraith of the name is in it, beckoning us in a given direction,\nmaking us at moments tingle with the sense of our closeness, and then\nletting us sink back without the longed-for term.\"[44]\n\n'I met this man on the train, and later at the reception; but what is\nhis name?' The struggle rends our consciousness in twain. The occasions\nof our meeting, his appearance, his conversation, are solid fact, yet\nall suffused with the pervasive, evanscent \"wraith\" that tantalizes us\nwith glimpses which half reveal and half conceal the name we seek to\ngrasp.\n\nTo account for such experiences simply in terms of half-submerged\n\"sensations\" and \"images\" is to do violence to all the requirements for\nclear thinking. If we rule out explanations of this kind, we are\nevidently forced to the conclusion that these experiences are obscure,\nnot in themselves or in the abstract, but with reference to the function\nof putting us in possession of the name to which they are inadequate\nclues. It is the subsequent, satisfactory experience of the name which\nfurnishes our standard for clearness; in other words, the implications\nof obscureness are of a functional, and not of a static or structural,\nkind. The marginal character of an experience is simply a reference to\nits function as a clue or cue to some further experience, i.e., a\nreference to its character as a changing stimulus. Or we may say that\nthe distinction between focus and margin is just another aspect of the\ndistinction between the conditions for further activity and the\nincompleteness which leads to further adjustment. The transfer of the\nfuture into the present gives us a fact, here and now, and in this\nrespect the experience is entirely focal in character, and as such it is\nsubject-matter for the various sciences. Whatever the nature of the\nexperience, it is just what it is, and not something else. With respect\nto the further experience, however, which it conditions or for which it\nprepares the way, the present experience is entirely marginal, i.e., in\nits character as a changing stimulus it is subject-matter for\npsychology. The distinction of focus and margin, then, is based\nultimately upon the function of experience in the control of behavior.\nThe given situation is a present fact and is in functional change; or,\nin terms of our present discussion, it has both a focus and a margin. As\npresent fact it is a reality which requires recognition in the form of\nadjustment; as in functional change it provides opportunity for bringing\nthe adjustment to fruition. That is, the experience both sets a task or\nmakes a demand and it points the way. The distinction is a distinction\nof function, not of static existence, and it is this distinction which\nis represented by the contrast of focus and margin.\n\nIf we compare this interpretation of focus and margin with that of\ntraditional psychology, we find that the latter construes the relation\nof the present to the future experience wholly in static terms, the\nfunctional relation being left out of account. The later experience is\nread back into its predecessor in the form of dim or marginal images,\nwhich need but show themselves more completely to make the two\nidentical. If these sensations were intended only as symbols of a\nfunctional relationship, it would perhaps be scarcely worth while to\nenter a protest against them. But when the functional relationship is\nquite overlooked, the explanation that is given becomes exceedingly\ndubious. The ticking of the clock, for example, that is present, though\nunnoticed, the overtones of the note that suffuse the whole without\ndiverting attention to their individual qualities,--in what precise way\nare facts of this kind concerned in the description of the experience\nwhich they modify? A study of the clock or of the overtones can hardly\npass as an analysis of consciousness; it is too obviously an affair of\nphysics. Such a study becomes merely an excuse for repeating the\nanalyses of physics and reading them off in terms of sensations and\nimages. Moreover, the transfer of all this material to consciousness\nlooks suspiciously like a transaction in mental chemistry. Where, then,\nis psychology to gain a foothold? What is the meaning of these uncanny\nsensations and images, which nobody experiences, unless it be their\ncharacter as symbols of adjustment? They have no legitimate status, and\npsychology, by consequence, has no legitimate problem, except in so far\nas they represent those possible acts of adaptation which are the sole\nand proper concern of psychology.\n\nIt remains to point out briefly the bearing of these results on what is\ncalled \"the method of introspection.\" We are sometimes assured that\nintrospection has discarded the belief in a separate mental stuff or\nsubject-matter, but there is ground for the suspicion that such\nprotestations are made in the same spirit that we affirm our belief in\nthe Ten Commandments or the Golden Rule, with no thought of being taken\nseriously. At all events, without a literal \"looking within\" it seems to\nbecome exceedingly difficult to differentiate introspection from\nordinary observation as practised in the other sciences. The reason for\nthis difficulty is that there is nothing left in introspection by which\nit can be differentiated. The term introspection properly designates,\nnot a method but a problem; the problem, namely, of interpreting given\nfacts with reference to their function in the control of behavior. If\npsychology is to justify its claim to the status of a science, it is in\nduty bound to secure for itself both an objective criterion for the\nadjudication of disputes which otherwise are of necessity interminable,\nand a subject-matter that is not simply a heritage of metaphysical\nprejudice, but a realm of fact that is attested by everyday observation\nand experience.\n\n\nIII\n\nWithin recent years the doctrine that psychology is a science of\nbehavior has acquired a certain prominence. It is presupposed, of\ncourse, that the behavior with which psychology is concerned is of a\ndistinctive sort; but the differentia is unfortunately the very thing\nthat the \"behaviorist\" has hitherto left out of account. In his revolt\nagainst introspectionism, which has been accustomed to give to its\nsubject-matter a subjectivistic and \"psychic\" interpretation, he goes to\nthe other extreme and relies on behavior pure and simple. Being without\na serviceable differentia, he is unable to mark off the field of\npsychology from contiguous territory. The selection of certain problems\nwithin the general range of behavior, with no recognition of any\ndistinctive trait to guide and justify the selection, is hardly enough\nto warrant a new science. Even an arbitrary principle of selection is\nbetter than none, and it would, therefore, be quite as reasonable to\nsubdivide the field of botany in the interests of a new science, and\ngroup together for separate botanical study those flowers which have\nenabled poets to give symbolic expression to the beauty of women.\n\nThat the principle of selection is, in the end, the ability to modify\nbehavior through the anticipation of possible consequences, appears from\nthe fact that the category of stimulus and response is otherwise found\nto be unworkable. It is true that in the simpler forms of behavior\nstimulus and response may be correlated without practical difficulty.\nBut when we deal with what has been called \"delayed overt response,\"\nthe matter becomes more complicated and the theoretical difficulty\nbecomes more prominent. The behaviorist would not seriously undertake to\nrecord everything that happens between stimulus and response. He\nproceeds selectively, taking the relation of stimulus and response as\nhis clue. He is properly interested in the movements which result from\nthe application of the stimulus only in so far as they constitute\nresponse. Otherwise his study is not a study of behavior, but a study of\nmovements. But when does a movement constitute a response? Do we label\nas stimulus the spoken word which results in overt action a week later,\nor the visual perception which sets a complicated and long-drawn-out\nproblem, for no other reason than that it appears somewhere as an\nantecedent in the causal chain of events? If so, there is no obvious\nreason why the event which occurred just before or immediately after the\n_soi-disant_ stimulus should not be regarded as the true stimulus.\nUnless a satisfactory reason is forthcoming, it would seem better to\nsubstitute cause and effect for stimulus and response and to drop the\nterm behavior from our vocabulary. Psychology then becomes a study of\ncertain causal relationships, but is still without a principle for the\nselection of those causal events which are supposed to constitute its\npeculiar subject-matter.\n\nEven if we manage to become reconciled to this situation, however, our\ntroubles are not yet at an end. There still remains the difficulty in\ncertain cases of showing that the event which is selected as stimulus or\ncause bears any significant relationship to the event which figures in\nour scheme as the response. The stimulus is supposed to have a causal\nconnection with the response, but how are we to know that this is the\nfact? How are we to know that the engineer who solves a problem for me\nat my request might not have done so anyway? No behaviorist can possibly\nshow that the air waves set in motion by my vocalization were an\nindispensable stimulus. We doubtless believe that the spoken word was in\nfact the spark which lit the fuse and finally exploded the mine, but\nthis belief involves a complication of causes which it is wholly beyond\nour power to control or to verify.\n\nIt is true, of course, that we are able, as a matter of fact, to\ncorrelate stimulus and response. I know that it was the spoken word\nwhich caused the commission to be executed, for the expert reminds me of\nthe fact and presents a bill. But neither of us makes any pretense that\nhis belief is derived from a scrutiny of the causal sequence. Memory\nfurnishes us with a shortcut to the result. While our present acts are\ndoubtless connected with the past through causation, we do not regard\nthem as simply the effects of antecedent causes. They are rather\nresponses to present stimuli. The expert presents his bill, being moved\nthereto by a stimulus which may be indicated by saying that it is the\nspoken-word-constituting-a-commission-now-completed-and-entitling-me-\nto-compensation. That is, the stimulus cannot be pushed back and\nanchored at a fixed point in the past, but is a present factor at the\nmoment of response and is operative by virtue of its anticipation of\nfuture events.\n\nIf, then, psychology is to be regarded as a study of behavior, it is\nplainly necessary to reinterpret the category of behavior. For example,\na purely mechanical response to a light-stimulus may properly be viewed\nas response to the ether-vibration or wave-length upon which it follows\nin temporal sequence. But if this stimulation results in what is\ncommonly called consciousness, a different kind of response ensues. The\nlight-stimulus becomes a cause or occasion for the act of looking. But\nwhy look, unless it be to secure a new stimulus for further response? We\nstop to look, precisely because the first stimulus does not run smoothly\noff the reel. The response will not go forward, but is halted and\nexpends itself in the effort to secure a further stimulus. This is the\nmoment of attention, in which the stimulus undergoes a process of\ntransformation, concomitantly with the process of reorganization in the\nmotor responses, and in the direction of ends or results that are\nforeshadowed in it. This change in the stimulus takes place under\ncertain specifiable conditions, and the study of these conditions is a\nstudy of such processes as perceiving, attending, remembering, and\ndeliberating, which are distinctively psychological in their nature.\nProcesses of this kind, if taken as changes in stimuli, find an\nobjective criterion in the adaptive behavior for the sake of which they\noccur, and they provide psychology with a distinctive task and\nsubject-matter.\n\nAs against the introspectionist, then, the behaviorist is justified in\nhis contention that psychological procedure must be objective and\nexperimental in character. The danger to which he has exposed himself\nis the failure to differentiate his problem from that of physiology and\nphysics. It is only by a proper recognition of both the objective and\nthe distinctive character of conscious behavior that psychology can free\nitself of the reproach which is heaped upon it by members of its own\nhousehold and take the place that rightfully belongs to it in the\ncommunity of the sciences.\n\n\nIV\n\nAccording to the preceding exposition, the current psychological\ndoctrine of focus and margin is an attempt to reduce the changes in the\nstimulus to terms of static entities denominated sensations and images.\nBy abstracting from change we convert the new stimulus that is already\non the way into inert sensory material, which lends itself to purely\nanalytic treatment. In this way the suggested hardness of the rock\nbecomes a \"centrally aroused sensation\" of a stubbed toe, the heat of\nthe candle becomes an image of a burn, etc. As was said before, the\nsensations are not existences, but representatives or symbols of our\nnascent activities; they are the static equivalents of this\nforeshadowing or reference to the future. The explanation of experience\nthat we find in James and Bergson approximates this view so closely in\none respect and departs from it so widely in another as to warrant a\nbrief discussion.\n\nA prominent characteristic of the doctrine advocated by James and\nBergson is the emphasis given to the foreshadowings or anticipations of\nthe future. Experiences of conflict, such as the struggle to recall a\nname, take on their peculiar coloring, so these writers contend, from\ntheir relationship to a beyond, to something which is yet to be. If we\nare to understand experience as it really is, we must guard against the\nbesetting temptation to translate everything into spatial equivalents.\nThis forward reference is usually read off as a distinction and contrast\nbetween simultaneously existing components. Some constituent is first\nset apart as the nucleus or focus and is then enveloped with an elusive,\nintangible wraith of meaning, which is called the margin. We have been\ntaught to think of the focus as made up of sensory material of some sort\nand silhouetted against a background lit up by the fitful,\ninconsequential heat-lightning of meaning. But this is a perversion of\nthe facts. When we are engaged in a problem it is precisely these\nunformed meanings that are of interest and importance. They are in the\nfocus of consciousness, in so far as we can speak of a focus at all.\nThey absorb our attention and direct our energies. They inform us of a\nmargin, not by refusing to compete for our attention with more important\nor more interesting facts, but by bodying forth the _unfinished_\ncharacter of the situation. Hence this beckoning, this tingling with the\nsense of closeness, this sinking back when our efforts meet with defeat.\nFocus and margin, in short, have to do with movement, with transition,\nand not with a static field. These situations are felt as inherently\nunstable and in process of reconstruction. There is a peculiar sense of\nactivity, of \"something doing,\" of a future knocking on the door of the\npresent. What is thus on its way to the present we can designate only in\nterms of the object as it is after it has arrived. To call it marginal\nis to immerse the object in this temporal flux, which embodies perfectly\nthe characteristics of Bergsonian duration.\n\nBut this is only a first step. If we turn now to those experiences from\nwhich this inner diremption of fact and meaning is absent, we find a\nprocess that is essentially the same in kind. They likewise constitute a\ntemporal flow, even though there be no sense of duration or of change as\nsuch. The different moments of these experiences are not mechanically\njuxtaposed, but blend together in much the same way as when the process\nis experienced as a process. In principle we have the same transition,\nthe same becoming, the same growth from less to more, the same activity\nof continuous reconstruction. Conscious life, we find, is a continuous\nadjustment; each of its moments is a \"transitive state.\" The more evenly\nflowing experiences are likewise endowed with a focus and margin, not in\nthe form of static elements, but as a dynamic relationship of what is\nwith what is to be.\n\nSuch an interpretation of experience, moreover, opens the way for a\nproper valuation of the psychologist's procedure. The concept of\nsensation is methodology pure and simple. Granted that focus and margin\nare such as was indicated a moment ago, how are they to be described,\nunless we resort to some _Hilfsbegriff_ such as sensations? James's\ndescription of the effort to recall a forgotten name is not description\nat all in a scientific sense, since the \"wraith of the name\" that we are\ntrying to recover is of too unearthly a fabric to be weighed and\nmeasured by accepted scientific standards. It makes us \"tingle,\" it lets\nus \"sink back,\" but such portrayal is literature rather than science.\nOur first step must be to resolve our material into components. These\ncomponents we identify with genuine elements if we can, with pious\nfictions if we must; but until this is done there can be no exact\ndescription. There can be no precision in our statement of the facts and\nno formulation of the laws that govern their changes.\n\nThis view undeniably has a certain plausibility. As long as the results\nare attained which the psychologist sets out to reach, we need not be\nhypersensitive on the score of methods. In the field of natural science,\nat all events, this Jesuitical principle is not incompatible with\nrespectability. If it be true, however, that sensation is but a tool or\nartifact, a means to an end, what is the end that is to be attained by\nthis device? It is at this point that we come to the parting of the\nways. According to the view previously elaborated, the anticipations of\nthe future have to do with the results of our possible acts, and\nsensations are simply symbols for the various elements in our complex\nmotor responses. In the case of Bergson and James, however, the clue\nthat is furnished by response is discarded. The reference to the future,\nbeing dissociated from behavior, is taken as evidence of an abstract or\nmetaphysical duration, so that experience is somehow other than it\nseems; and sensation is regarded as the translation of duration into\nthe language of space. Associationism is justified in its belief that\nreality is different from its appearance in our experience, but is\ncriticized for attempting to interpret the real in terms of space rather\nthan time. In both cases the lead of the subject-matter is abandoned in\nfavor of an explanation that is derived from a fourth-dimensional plane\nof existence.\n\nThe suspicion that these two positions have a deep-seated affinity is\nstrengthened if we call to mind that the concept of sensation was\noriginated, not in the interests of methodology, but as the expression\nof a historic preconception that mistook fiction for fact. The\nfundamental error back of it was the preposterous notion that\nconsciousness consists of subconscious or unconscious constituents,\nwhich by their mechanical or chemical combinations make our experience\nwhat it is. The question which it raises and which has afflicted us even\nto the present day is not primarily the question of fact, but the\nquestion of intelligibility, as the controversy over mindstuff\nabundantly attests. Whether we regard experience as made up of sensory\nmaterial, however, or as constituted in a Bergsonian fashion, is a\nmatter of detail; the primary question is whether a distinction between\nconsciousness as it appears and as it \"really\" is has any meaning. In so\nfar as this distinction is maintained, we are beating the thin air of\nmythology, despite our reinterpretations and justifications. True\nconversion does not consist in a renaming of old gods, but demands a\nhumble and a contrite heart. To call sensation an artifact, a\nmethodological device, without a surrender of the metaphysical\nassumption that lies back of Associationism is not to correct the evil,\nbut is more likely to be treated as an indulgence for sins that are yet\nto be committed.\n\nThis fundamental identity is presumably the reason for certain other\nsimilarities, which would perhaps not be readily anticipated. Both\ndoctrines undertake to tell us what is going on behind the scenes, what\nconsciousness or experience \"really\" is. The descriptions present an\nastonishing difference of vocabulary, but if we take care not to be\nmisled by superficial differences, we find an equally astonishing\nagreement as to content. From the one side consciousness is explained as\na juxtaposition of elements; from the other as an interpenetration of\nelements so complete that the parts can be neither isolated nor\ndistinguished from the whole. On the one hand we find a multiplicity\nwithout unity, on the other a unity without multiplicity. In the one\naccount the temporal unit is a sensation devoid of internal temporal\ndiversity; in the other duration as such is a unity in which past,\npresent, and future blend into an undifferentiated whole. The one\nposition gathers its facts by a mystifying process called introspection;\nthe other obtains its results from a mystical faculty of intuition. The\ndifference in language remains, but both accounts lead us away into a\ntwilight region where words substitute themselves for facts.\n\nAs was suggested a moment ago, the contrast between ordinary experience\nand something else of which it is the appearance is the result of the\nfailure to give proper recognition to the facts of behavior. If we\nconnect the forward reference of experience with the operations of our\nnascent activities, we have no need of a pure duration or of bridging\nthe gulf between reality and its appearances. In the same way, if we\nconstrue sensations as just symbols of our responses, we rid ourselves\nof problems that are insoluble because they are unintelligible. Such\nproblems constitute metaphysics in the bad sense of the word, whether\nthey show themselves in the domain of science or of philosophy. To\ndescribe experience by reference to such a real is to explain what we\nknow in terms of what we do not know. The question what is real is\nabsolutely sterile. Our descriptions and explanations must remain on the\nsame plane as the experiences with which they deal, and not seek after a\nreal of a different order. If we are to have an explanation of\nconsciousness at all, the explanation must not take us back to\nhypothetical sensations that are almost but not quite experienced, nor\nto a duration in which all distinctions are swallowed up, but must be\nrendered in terms of other facts that dwell in the light of common day.\n\nBy way of conclusion I venture to urge once more that a proper\nconsideration of the facts of behavior will furnish us with a key that\nwill unlock many a door. The conception of stimulus and response gives\nus a differentia for experience and also enables us to distinguish\nwithin experience between consciousness and object. If, however, we\ndisregard behavior, we are bound to lose our way. The distinction\nbetween the experienced and the unexperienced is either wiped out or\nelse is permitted to convert itself into a distinction between\nappearance and reality that leads nowhere and explains nothing. The\nsignificance of truth as the successful guidance of behavior, in\naccordance with the program laid down in the organization of stimulus\nand response, is lost to sight and recourse is had to a\nfourth-dimensional truth or reality for the miracle of breathing life\ninto the dead bones of our philosophic abstractions. The study of\nbehavior constitutes a mode of approach that holds out the hope of\ndeliverance from questions that should never have been asked. We are on\na different and, let us hope, a higher level when we cease to ask how\nconsciousness can lay hold of passive objects, or how knowledge\n_ueberhaupt_ is possible, and concern ourselves rather with the wondrous\nactivity whereby this plastic dance of circumstance that we call the\nuniverse transcends the domain of mechanism and embodies itself in the\nvalues of conscious life.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PHASES OF THE ECONOMIC INTEREST\n\nHENRY WALDGRAVE STUART\n\n\nSec. 1. In the logic of Instrumentalism, truth has been identified with\nusefulness and the good with the satisfactory. Classifying critics have\nseen in this the damaging mark of Utilitarianism, certain of them\ndeeming \"Amerikanismus\" an even shrewder and more specific diagnosis.\nThe association of these terms together and the aptness of either to\nexpress what the critics have in mind are matters of small interest. It\nis of more importance to discover, behind the reproach implied, the\nassumptions which may have made the reproach seem pertinent. One cannot,\nof course, suppose it to express a sheer general aversion to the useful\nor an ascetic abhorrence of all satisfaction on principle. Puritanism,\naestheticism, and pedantry should be last resorts in any search for an\ninterpretative clue.\n\nThe distrust of Utilitarianism need be ascribed to none of these. It\ncomes instead from a conception of the true Utilitarian as a dull and\ndogmatic being with no interests beyond the range of his own uninquiring\nvision, no aspiration beyond the complacent survey of his own\nperfections and no standards beyond the inventory of his own _bourgeois_\ntastes and prejudices. The type is indeed not yet extinct in our day:\nbut is it plausible to charge a \"new\" philosophy with conspiring to\nperpetuate it? Is Instrumentalism only philistinism called by a more\ndescriptive name? It professes at least to be a logic of hypothesis and\nexperiment, whereas for the perfect philistine there are no ultimate\nproblems and hence no logic but the logic of self-evidence. When\nInstrumentalism speaks of needs and interests in its analysis of truth\nand goodness does it then mean the needs and interests that define the\nindividual in what is sometimes invidiously termed a \"biological\"\nsense--interests that control him before his conduct becomes in any way\na problem for himself? Quite as a matter of course, just this has been\nthe assumption. The satisfactoriness of prompt and cogent classification\nhas had a hand in the vindication of truth's supremacy over\nsatisfaction. In the view of instrumentalism this ready interpretation\nof its meaning is nothing less than the thinking of the unthinkable and\nthe bodying-forth of what is not. The man who has solved a problem\nsimply _is_ not the man he was before--if his problem was a genuine one\nand it was he who solved it. He cannot measure and judge the outcome by\nhis earlier demands for the very good reason that the outcome of real\ndeliberation empties these earlier demands of their interest and\nauthority for him.\n\nCan the conception thus suggested of personal growth through exercise of\ncreative or constructive intelligence be in any measure verified by a\ngeneral survey of the economic side of life? Has it any important\nbearings upon any parts of economic theory? These are the questions to\nwhich this essay is addressed.\n\n\nI\n\nSec. 2. How have the real or fancied needs of the average person of today\ncome to be what they are? For all sorts and conditions of men, the ways\nand means of living have, during the past century or two--even during\nthe past decade or two--undergone revolutionary changes. It is true that\nmany of these changes have been relatively superficial, touching only\ncertain externalities and entering in no important way into life's\nunderlying and dominant motives. Others, no doubt, may fairly be held to\nconfuse and disperse the energies of men, instead of making for\nwholeness, sanity and development of human interest and power. And\ncritics of industrial and social progress who have felt the need for\nreservations of this sort fall easily into a certain mood of historic\nhomesickness for the supposed \"simplicity\" of an earlier age. But our\ninterest, in this discussion, is in the genesis, the actual process of\nbecoming, of our present \"standards of living,\" not their value as rated\nby any critical (or uncritical) standard. And accordingly we shall take\nit for a fact that on the whole the average person of today is\nreasonably, perhaps unreasonably, well satisfied with his telephone, his\ntypewriter, and his motor-car; with his swift and easy journeyings over\nland and sea; with his increasingly scientific medical attendance and\npublic sanitation; with his virtually free supplies of literature and\ninformation, new and old, and with his electric light or his midnight\noil (triple distilled) to aid in the perusal. More than this, he is so\nwell satisfied with all these modern inventions that, historical or\naesthetical or other \"holidays\" apart, he would never for a moment\ndispense with any one of them as a matter of free choice. Grossly\nmaterial and humbly instrumental though they are, these things and their\nlike constitute the framework sustaining the whole system of spiritual\nfunctions that make up the life we live today, as a society and as\nindividuals. And our present problem simply is the way in which they\nwere first received by those who were to use them, and passed into their\npresent common acceptance. To put the matter in general terms, how is it\nthat novel means of action or enjoyment, despite their novelty, are able\nto command fair scrutiny and hearing and can contrive to make their way,\noften very speedily, into a position of importance for industry and\nlife?\n\nThere is an easy and not unnatural way of thinking of this process as we\nsee it going on about us that may keep us long unmindful of even the\npossibility of such a question. In every field of action, we habitually\nlook back upon accomplished changes from some present well-secured\nvantage-point, and as we trace the steps by which they have come to pass\nit is almost inevitable that we should first see the sequence as an\napproach, direct or devious but always sure, to the stage on which we\nhappen to have taken our stand. It seems clear to us that what we have\nattained is better than aught that has gone before--if it were not\ndistinctly satisfactory on its own merits we should not now be taking it\nas the standpoint for a survey. But once it is so taken, our recognition\nof its appreciable and satisfying superiority passes over insensibly\ninto metaphysics. What we now find good we find ourselves perceiving to\nhave been all the while predestined in the eternal scheme of things! We\npause in retrospect like the wayfarer who has reached the turning of a\nmountain road or the man of middle age who for the first time feels that\nhis professional position is assured. This, we say, justifies the effort\nit has cost, _this_ at last is really living! And the next step in\nretrospective reconstruction follows easily; this was my true goal from\nthe first, the dim and inexpressible hope of which would not let me\npause and kept me until now dissatisfied. The end was present in the\nbeginning, provoking the first groping efforts and affording\nprogressively the test and measure by which their results were found\never wanting.\n\nThis retrospective logic may explain the presence and perennial charm of\nthose panoramic pages in our encyclopaedias purporting to show forth the\ngradual perfecting of great instrumentalities upon which our modern life\ndepends. We survey the \"evolution\" of printing, for example, from the\nwooden blocks of the Chinese or of Laurens Coster down to the Hoe press,\nthe stereotype plate, and the linotype machine. Or we see the forms of\nwritten record from pictured papyrus, cuneiform brick, and manuscript\nscroll down to the printed book and the typewritten page; the means of\ncarriage by land from the ox-cart of the patriarchs to the stage-coach,\nthe Cannonball Limited, the motor-truck, and the twelve-cylinder\ntouring-car. And as one contemplates these cheerfully colored exhibits\nthere is in each case an almost irresistible suggestion of a constant\nand compelling need of \"universal man\" seeking in more and more\nmarvellously ingenious ways an adequate expression and satisfaction.\nThis need seems never to have lapsed or changed its nature. All along\nboth driving power and direction, it has been the one fixed factor in a\nlong process in which all else has been fluctuating, contingent, and\nimperfect--all else except the nature of the materials and the\nprinciples of mechanics, which, too, are seen in the end to have been\nmutely conspiring toward the result. Essential human nature, it seems\nclear, does not and happily cannot change. Spiritual progress, in this\nultimate optimism, means simply clearer vision, completer knowledge, and\na less petulant and self-assertive habit of insistence upon the details\nof particular purposes as individual \"impulse\" and \"idiosyncrasy\" define\nthem. We fortunate beings of today have available, in the various\ndepartments of our life, certain instrumentalities, and to these our\ninterests attach. These interests of ours in their proportional strength\n(so the argument runs) express our native and generic constitution in so\nfar as this constitution has been able as yet to achieve outward\nexpression and embodiment. And accordingly, in interpreting the long\nhistory of technological evolution, we take what we conceive ourselves\nnow to be as normative and essential. We project back into the lives of\nprimitive man, of our own racial ancestors, or of our grandfathers, the\nhabits and requirements which we acknowledge in ourselves today and we\nconceive the men of the past to have been driven forward on the ways of\nprogress by the identical discontent that would presumably beset\nourselves if we were to be suddenly carried back to their scale and\nmanner of existence.\n\nSec. 3. Whatever else may be thought of it, there is at least this to be\nsaid for the cult of historic homesickness to which reference has just\nbeen made: it happens to be at one with modern ethnology and history in\nsuggesting that earlier cultures were on the whole not less content and\nself-satisfied in their condition than our own. It is primitive man, not\nthe modern, who is slow to move and is satisfied, as a matter of course,\nwith the manner of life in which he fancies his people to have lived\nfrom time immemorial. Change in early social groups is tragic when it is\nnot insensible. It comes through conquest and enslavement by outsiders\nor through stress of the dread of these, or by gradual adaptation of\ncustom to failing environmental resources or to increasing wealth.\nAssent to change is in general grudging or tacit at best and is commonly\nveiled by some more or less transparent fiction.\n\nAnd our suspicion of fallacy lurking somewhere in the type of\nretrospective Idealism we have been considering is strengthened when we\ncome to look a little closely to details. To take a commonplace\nexample--can it be held that the difference between using a typewriter\nand \"writing by hand\" is purely and simply a matter of degree--that the\nmachine serves the same purpose and accomplishes the same _kind_ of\nresult as the pen, but simply does the work more easily, rapidly, and\nneatly? Undoubtedly some such impression may easily be gathered from an\nexternal survey of the ways that men have used at different times for\nputting their ideas on record. But it ignores important aspects of the\ncase. For one thing, the modern invention effects a saving of the\nwriter's time which can be used in further investigation or in more\ncareful revision or in some way wholly unrelated to literary work, and\nif the machine makes any part of the writer's task less irksome, or the\ntask as a whole less engrossing, the whole matter of literary effort\nbecomes less forbidding and its place and influence as a social or a\npersonal function may for better or for worse be altered. The difference\nbrought to pass transcends mere technical facility--it ramifies into a\nmanifold of differences affecting the entire qualitative character and\nmeaning of the literary function. And only by an arbitrary\nsophistication of the facts can this complexity of new outcome be\nthought of as implicit and dynamic in the earlier stage.\n\nIn the same way precisely, the motor-car, as every one knows, has\n\"vanquished distance\" and has \"revolutionized suburban life.\" In England\nit is said to have made acute the issue of plural voting. In America it\nis hailed by the optimistic as the solution of the vexed problem of\nurban concentration and the decline of agriculture. Even as a means of\nrecreation it is said by the initiated to transform the whole meaning of\none's physical environment, exploiting new values in sky and air and the\ngreen earth, which pass the utmost possibilities of family \"carry-all\"\nor coach and four. Or consider the ocean steamship and its influence:\ntoday we travel freely over the world, for all manner of reasons,\nsufficient or otherwise. A hundred years ago distant journeyings by sea\nor land were arduous and full of peril, undertaken only by the most\nadventurous or the most curious or for urgent need. Now commodities of\nevery sort can be transported to virtually every quarter of the\nglobe--rails and locomotives, cement and structural steel, machinery of\nall kinds from the motor and the dynamo to the printing press and the\ncinematograph, in a word whatever is necessary to recreate the waste\nplaces of the earth and to make life in these regions humanly liveable.\nThe sheer scale and magnitude of such operations lifts them above the\nlevel of the international trade of five hundred or even a hundred years\nago. And their far-reaching results of every sort in the lives of\nnations and of individuals the world over can in no intelligible sense\nbe understood as mere homogeneous multiples of what trade meant before\nour age of steam, iron, and electricity. Finally, we may think of modern\ndevelopments in printing as compared, for example, with the state of the\ncraft in the days when the New England Primer served to induct juvenile\nAmerica into the pleasant paths of \"art and literature.\" And it is clear\nthat the mechanical art that makes books and reading both widely\ninviting and easily possible of enjoyment today is not merely a more\nperfect substitute for the quill and ink-horn of the mediaeval scribe or\neven for the printing press of Caxton or of Benjamin Franklin. The\nenormously and variously heightened \"efficiency\" of the mechanical\ninstrumentalities nowadays available has for good and for evil carried\nforward the whole function of printing and publication into relations\nand effects which are qualitatively new and beyond the possible\nconception of the earlier inventors and readers.\n\nSec. 4. The real evolution in such cases of the coming of a new commodity\nor a new instrument into common and established use is an evolution of a\nmore radical, more distinctly epigenetic type than the pictured stories\nof the encyclopaedia-maker serve to suggest. At each forward step the\nnovelty makes possible not merely satisfactions more adequate as\nmeasured by existing requirements or more economical in terms of cost,\nbut new satisfactions also for which no demand or desire before existed\nor could possibly exist--satisfactions which, once become habitual, make\nthe contentment of former times in the lack of them hard to understand\nor credit. And indeed the story is perhaps never quite one-sided; the\ngain we reckon is perhaps never absolutely unmixed. There may be,\nperhaps must in principle be, not only gain but loss. The books we read\nhave lost something of the charm of the illuminated manuscript; our\ncompositors and linotypers, it may be, have forgotten something of the\npiety and devotion of the mediaeval scribe and copyist. So everywhere in\nindustry the machine depreciates and pushes out the skilled artisan and\ncraftsman, summoning into his place the hired operative whose business\nis to feed and serve instead of to conceive and execute. For cheapness\nand abundance, for convenience of repair and replacement we everywhere\nsacrifice something of artistic quality in the instrumentalities of life\nand action and something of freedom and self-expression in the\nprocesses of manufacture. Thus again, to change the venue, there are\nthose who miss in democratic government or in an ethical type of\nreligion the poignant and exalting spiritual quality of devotion to a\npersonal sovereign or a personal God. Whatever one's judgment may be in\nparticular cases, there can be no reason for disputing that in\nepigenetic or creative evolution there is, in a sense, loss as well as\ngain. There is no more reason for supposing that all that was wholesome\nor ennobling or beautiful in an earlier function _must_ somehow have its\nspecific compensation in kind infallibly present in the new than for\nsupposing that all that is desirable in the new must surely have been\npresent discernibly or indiscernibly in the old.\n\nIf we are on the whole satisfied with the new on its intrinsic merits as\na present complex fact, we have therein sufficient ground for saying\nthat it marks a stage in progress. This, in fact, is what such a\nproposition means. And the old then appears more or less widely\ndiscontinuous with the new--not merely that it shows, in units of\nmeasure, less of the acceptable quality or qualities which the _new_\nfact or situation is found to possess, but that it belongs for us to a\nqualitatively different level and order of existence. How, we wonder,\ncould our ancestors have found life tolerable in their undrained and\nimperfectly heated dwellings, without the telephone, the morning's news\nof the world by cable, and the phonograph? How, again, could feudal\nhomage and fealty have ever been the foundation of social order in\ncountries where today every elector is wont to think and to act in his\npublic relations no longer as a subject but as a citizen. And how, in\nstill a different sphere, could the father or the mother of a happy\nfamily of children ever have found the freedom and irresponsibility of\nbachelorhood endurable? Shall we say that in changes like these we have\nto do simply with the quantitative increase of some quality, present in\nsmall measure in the earlier stages and in larger measure in the later?\nOr shall we evade the issue with the general admission that _of course_,\nas every schoolboy knows, there are in this world many differences of\ndegree that somehow \"amount to differences of kind\"? As a matter of fact\nwhat has happened in every case like these is an actual change of\nstandard, a new construction in the growing system of one's norms of\nvalue and behavior. Provisionally, though hopefully, a step has been\ntaken--a real event in personal and in social history has been given\nplace and date. From some source beyond the scope and nature of the\nearlier function a suggestion or an impulsion has come by which the\nagent has endeavored to move forward. The change wrought is a\ntranscendence of the earlier level of experience and valuation, not a\nwidening and clarification of vision on that level. And the standards\nwhich govern on the new level serve not so much to condemn the old as to\nseal its consignment to disuse and oblivion. Least of all can a judgment\nor appraisal of the old from the standpoint of the new be taken for a\ntranscript of the motives which led to the transition.\n\nWe must confine ourselves more closely, however, to the sphere of\nmaterial goods and their uses. And in this sphere objection to the view\nproposed will run in some such terms as the following: Take our\nancestors, for example, and their household arrangements to which\ninvidious reference has been made: why should we suppose that their\nseeming contentment was anything more (or less) than a dignified\ncomposure in which we might well imitate them--an attitude in no way\nprecluding a definite sense of specific discomforts and embarrassments\nand a distinct determination to be rid of them as soon as might be? And,\nin fact, if they were satisfied with what they had why did they receive\nthe new when it was offered? If, on the other hand, they were not\nsatisfied, how is the fact intelligible except upon the assumption that\nthey had distinct and definite wants not yet supplied, and were wishing\n(but patiently) for conveniences and comforts of a sort not yet\nexistent. And this latter hypothesis, it will be urged, is precisely\nwhat the foregoing argument has sought to discredit as an account of the\nmoving springs in the evolution of consumption.\n\nSec. 5. Any adequate discussion of the central issue thus presented would\nfall into two parts. In the first place, before a consumption good can\ncome into general acceptance and currency it must have been in some way\ndiscovered, suggested or invented, and the psychology of invention is\nundoubtedly a matter of very great complexity and difficulty. But for\nthe purposes of the present inquiry all this may be passed over. The\nother branch of a full discussion of our problem has to do with the\nreception of the newly invented commodity or process into wider and\nwider use--and this again is a social phenomenon not less complex than\nthe other. It is this phenomenon of increasing extension and vogue, of\nwidening propagation from person to person, that is directly of present\nconcern for us--and in particular the individual person's attitude\ntoward the new thing and the nature of the interest he takes in it.\n\nIt has recently been argued by a learned and acute investigator of\neconomic origins that \"invention is the mother of necessity,\" and not\nthe child.[45] Such a complete reversal of all our ordinary thought\nabout the matter seems at first sheer paradox. What, one may ask, can\never suggest an invention and what can give it welcome and currency but\nan existing need--which, if it happens to be for the time being latent\nand unconscious, needs only the presentation of its appropriate means of\nsatisfaction to \"arouse\" and \"awaken\" it fully into action? But this\nparadox as to invention is at all events not more paradoxical than the\nview as to the reception of new commodities and the rise of new desires\nthat has been above suggested. What it appears to imply is in principle\nidentical with what has seemed, from our consideration of the other\naspect of the general situation, to be the simple empirical fact;\nneither the existence of the new commodity nor our interest in it when\nit is presented admits of explanation as an effect on each particular\noccasion of a preexisting unsatisfied desire for it. What both sides of\nthe problem bring to view is a certain original bent or constitutive\ncharacter of human nature--a predisposition, an _elan vital_ perhaps,\nwhich we must recognize as nothing less than perfectly general and\ncomprehensive--finding expression in inventive effort and likewise in\nthe readiness with which the individual meets a new commodity halfway\nand gives it opportunity to become for him, if it can, a new necessity\nand the source of a new type of satisfaction.\n\nFrom the point of view of \"logic,\" as William James might have said,\nsuch a version of psychological fact may seem essentially\nself-contradictory. Unless, it may be argued, a novelty when presented\nexcites some manner of desire for itself in the beholder, the beholder\nwill make no effort towards it and thus take no step away from his\nexisting system of life to a new system in which a new desire and a new\ncommodity shall have a place. So much would seem clear enough but the\nquestion immediately follows: How can a thing that is new arouse desire?\nIn so far as it is new it must _ex vi termini_ be unknown and wanting\ndefinition in terms of remembered past experiences; and how can a thing\nunknown make that connection with the present character of the\nindividual which must be deemed necessary to the arousal of desire in\nhim? A new thing would seem, then, from this point of view, to be able\nto arouse desire only in so far as it is able to conceal or subordinate\nits aspects of novelty and appear as known and well-accredited--either\nthis or there must be in the individual some definite instinctive\nmechanism ready to be set in action by the thing's presentment. And on\nneither of these suppositions can having to do with the new thing\neffect any fundamental or radical difference in the individual--it can\nserve at most only to \"bring out\" what was already \"there\" in him in a\n\"latent\" or \"implicit\" status. Whatever new developments of power or\ndesire may be attained and organized into the individual's character\nthrough his commerce with the novelty must be new in only a superficial\nsense--they will be new only as occurrences, only as the striking of the\nhour by the clock and the resulting abrasion of the bell and hammer are\nnew events. But the clock was made to strike; it is the nature of metal\nto wear away and likewise these changes in the individual are in deeper\ntruth not new at all but only a disclosure of the agent's character, a\nfurther fulfilment along preestablished and unalterable lines which all\nalong was making headway in the agent's earlier quests and efforts and\nattainments.\n\nThere is a sense, no doubt, in which some such version of the facts as\nthis is unanswerable, but controversial advantage is paid for, here as\nelsewhere in the logic of absolute idealism, at the cost of tangible\nmeaning and practical importance. Just what does the contention come to?\nLet us say, for example, that one has learned to use a typewriter. What\nhas happened is like an illiterate person's learning to read and write.\nCorrespondence with one's friends begins to take on new meaning and to\nacquire new value; one begins to find a new pleasure and stimulation\ntaking the place of the ineffectual drivings of an uneasy conscience.\nAll this, let us say, has come from the moderate outlay for a superior\nmechanical instrument. And now let it be granted that it would not have\ncome if the fortunate individual had not been \"what he was.\" If it has\ncome it is because the individual and the rest of the world were \"of\nsuch a sort\" that the revival and new growth of interest _could_ take\nits rise with the provision of the new instrumentality. But what,\nprecisely, does such a statement mean? What sort of verification does it\nadmit of? What fruitful insight into the concrete facts of the case does\nit convey? Of _what_ sort, prior to the event, does it show the\nindividual to have been?\n\nThe truth is, of course, that he was of _no_ sort, then and there and\nwith reference to the purchase--he was of no sort decisively. He was\nneither purchaser nor rejector. He was neither a convinced \"typist\" nor\npiously confirmed in his predilection for writing \"by hand.\" He was\nneither wholly weary of his correspondence nor fully cognizant of the\nimportance of intercourse with his friends for his soul's good. He may\nhave been dissatisfied and rebellious or he may have been comfortably\npersuaded that letter-writing, though an irksome labor, was even at that\nsufficiently worth while. The most that can be said is simply that he\nmust have been willing and desirous to try the experiment for the sake\nof any good, imaginable or beyond present imagination, that might come\nof it. But being of \"such a sort\" as this could not prejudge the\nissue--although, undoubtedly, in willingness to raise an issue there\nlies always the possibility of change. All the plausibility of the dogma\nwe are here considering comes from its hasty inclusion of this general\nattitude of constructively experimental inquiry and effort, this\nessential character of creative intelligence, as _one among_ the\nconcrete interests which constitute and define our particular problems\nin their inception. To say _ex post facto_ that the individual must have\nbeen \"of such a sort\" as to do what he has in fact done is a purely\nverbal comment which, whatever may be its uses, can assuredly be of no\nuse whatever in suggesting either solution or method for the next\nsituation to arise. It may be comfortably reassuring afterwards, but it\nis an empty oracle beforehand.\n\nSec. 6. If then \"logic\" is unable to express the nature of our forward\nlooking interest in the unexperienced and unpredictable, perhaps the\nempirical fact will speak for itself. We call things new; we recognize\ntheir novelty and their novelty excites our interest. But just as we are\nsometimes told that we can only _know_ the new in terms of its\nresemblances to what we have known before, so it may be held that in the\nend we can _desire_ it only on the like condition. Are we, then, to\nconclude that the seeming novelty of things new is an illusion, or shall\nwe hold, on the contrary, that novelty need not be explained away and\nthat a spontaneous constructive interest stands more or less constantly\nready in us to go out to meet it and possess it?\n\nUnquestionably, let us say the latter. Any new commodity will, of\ncourse, resemble in part or in a general way some old one. It is said\nthat bath-tubs are sometimes used in \"model tenements\" as coal-bins. Old\nuses persist unchanged in the presence of new possibilities. But in\ngeneral new possibilities invite interest and effort because our\nexperimental and constructive bent contrives on the whole to make head\nagainst habituation and routine. We recognize the new as new. And if it\nbe contended that novelty in its own right cannot be a ground of\ninterest, that novelty must first get restatement as the old with\ncertain \"accidents\" externally adhering, the answer is that the\n\"accidents\" interest us nevertheless. They may prove their right to\nstand as the very essence of some new \"kind\" that one may wish to let\ntake form and character for him. Instead of the chips and shavings, they\nare in fact the raw material of the logical process. For if we can know\nthe new _as new_, if we can know the \"accident\" _as accidental_ in a\ncommodity before us, the fact betrays an incipient interest in the\nquality or aspect that its novelty or contingency at least does not\nthwart. And is this quite all? Will it be disputed that a _relation_ of\na quality or feature to ourselves which we can know, name, and\nrecognize--like \"novelty\"--must be known, as anything else is known,\nthrough an interest of which it is the appropriate terminus?[46]\n\nAnd there is no difficulty in pointing to instances in which the\ncharacter of novelty seems fundamental. Consider, for example, the\ninterest one feels in spending a day with a friend or in making a new\nacquaintance or, say, in entering on the cares of parenthood. Or again,\ntake the impulse toward research, artistic creation, or artistic study\nand appreciation. Or again, take the interest in topography and\nexploration. That there is in such phenomena as these a certain\nessentially and irreducibly forward look, a certain residual freedom of\nour interest and effort from dependence on the detail of prior\nexperience down to date, probably few persons without ulterior\nphilosophical prepossessions will dispute. If we call these phenomena\ninstinctive we are using the term in a far more loose and general sense\nthan it seems to have in the best usage of animal psychology. If we call\nthem attitudes or dispositions, such a term has at least the negative\nmerit of setting them apart from the class of instinctive acts, but it\nmay carry with it a connotation of fixity and unconsciousness that\nafter all surrenders the essential distinction. It will suffice to look\nat a single one of these instances.\n\nIn friendship, for example, there is undoubtedly strongly operative a\ndesire for the mere recurrence, in our further friendly intercourse, of\ncertain values that have become habitual and familiar. We may have long\nknown and become attached to a friend's tones of voice, peculiarities of\nmanner and external appearance, turns of speech and thought and the\nlike, which we miss in absence and which give us pleasure when we meet\nthe friend again. But if the friendship is not one of \"pleasure\" or\n\"utility\" simply, but of \"virtue\"[47] as well, there is also present on\nboth sides a constructive or progressive or creative interest. And this\ninterest, stated on its self-regarding and introspective side, is more\nthan a desire for the mere grateful recurrence of the old looks and\nwords \"recoined at the old mint.\" It is an interest looking into the\n\"undone vast,\" an interest in an indefinite prolongation, an infinite\nseries, of joint experiences the end of which cannot and need not be\nforeseen and the nature of which neither can nor need be forecasted. And\nthere is the same characteristic in all the other instances mentioned in\nthis connection. It is not a desire for recurrent satisfactions of a\ndeterminate type, but an interest in the active development of\nunexperienced and indeterminate possibilities. If finally the question\nbe pressed, how there can be an interest of this seemingly\nself-contradictory type in human nature, the answer can only be that we\nmust take the facts as we find them. Is such a conception inherently\nmore difficult than the view that all ramifications and developments of\nhuman interest are concretely predetermined and implicit _a priori_? To\nignore or deny palpable fact because it eludes the reach of a current\ntype of conceptual analysis is to part company with both science and\nphilosophy. We are in fact here dealing with the essential mark and\ntrait of what is called self-conscious process. If there are ultimates\nand indefinables in this world of ours, self-consciousness may as fairly\nclaim the dignity or avow the discredit as any other of the list.\n\nSec. 7. Does our interest in economic goods on occasion exhibit the trait\nof which we are here speaking? Precisely this is our present contention.\nAnd yet it seems not too much to say that virtually all economic theory,\nwhether the classical or the present dominant type that has drawn its\nterminology and working concepts from the ostensible psychology of the\nAustrian School, is founded upon the contradictory assumption. The\neconomic interest, our desire and esteem for solid and matter-of-fact\nthings like market commodities and standardized market services, has\nbeen conceived as nothing visionary and speculative, as no peering into\nthe infinite or outreaching of an inexpressible discontent, but an\nintelligent, clear-eyed grasping and holding of known satisfactions for\nmeasured and acknowledged desires. Art and religion, friendship and\nlove, sport and adventure, morality and legislation, these all may be\nfields for the free play and constructive experimentation of human\nfaculty, but in our economic efforts and relations we are supposed to\ntread the solid ground of fact. Business is business. Waste not, want\nnot. First a living, then (perhaps) a \"good life.\"[48] And we are\nassured one need not recoil from the hard logic of such maxims, for they\ndo not dispute the existence of spacious (and well-shaded) suburban\nregions fringing the busy areas of industry and commerce.\n\nSuch is the assumption. We have said that it precludes the admission of\nspeculation as an economic factor. Speculation for economic theory is a\npurely commercial phenomenon, a hazarding of capital on the supposition\nthat desires will be found ready and waiting for the commodity\nproduced--with a sufficient offering of purchasing power to afford a\nprofit. And the \"creation of demand,\" where this is part of the program\nof speculative enterprise, means the arousal of a \"dormant\" or implicit\ndesire, in the sense above discussed--there is nothing, at all events,\nin other parts of current theory to indicate a different conception. The\neconomist will probably contend that what the process of the creation of\ndemand may _be_ is not his but the psychologist's affair; that his\nprofessional concern is only whether or not the economic demand, as an\nobjective market fact, be actually forthcoming. But what we here contend\nfor as a fact of economic experience is a speculation that is in the\nnature of personal adventure and not simply an \"adventuring of stock.\"\n\nSec. 8. For what is the nature of the economic \"experience\" or situation,\nconsidered as a certain type of juncture in the life of an individual?\nIt may be shortly described as the process of determining how much of\none's time, strength, or external resources of any sort shall be\nexpended for whatever one is thinking of doing or acquiring. Two general\nmotives enter here to govern the estimate and each may show the routine\nor the innovative phase. In any work there is possible, first, more or\nless of the workman's interest--an interest not merely in a conventional\nstandard of excellence in the finished result but also in betterment of\nthe standard and in a corresponding heightened excellence of technique\nand spirit in the execution.[49] These interests, without reference to\nthe useful result and \"for their own sake\" (i.e., for the workman's\nsake, in ways not specifiable in advance), may command a share of one's\navailable time, strength, and resources. In the second place, any work\nor effort or offer to give in exchange has a nameable result of some\nkind in view--a crop of wheat, a coat, a musical rendition, or the\neducation of a child. Why are such things \"produced\" or sought for?\nVerbally and platitudinously one may answer: For the sake of the\n\"satisfactions\" they are expected to afford. But such an answer ignores\nthe contrast of attitudes that both workmanship and productive or\nacquisitive effort in the ordinary sense display. As the workman may\nconform to his standard or may be ambitious to surpass it, so the\nintending consumer may be counting on known satisfactions or hoping for\nsatisfactions of a kind that he has never known before. Both sorts of\neffort may be of either the routine or the innovative type. In neither\nworkmanship nor acquisition can one fix upon routine as the \"normal\"\ntype, hoping to derive or to explain away the inevitable residue of\n\"outstanding cases.\" For as a matter of fact the outstanding cases prove\nto be our only clue to a knowledge of how routine is made.[50]\n\nThe above formula will apply, with the appropriate changes of emphasis,\nto buyers and sellers in an organized market, as well as to the parties\nto a simple transaction of barter. Two main empirical characteristics of\nthe economic situation are suggested in putting the statement in just\nthese terms. In the first place, the primary problem in such a situation\nis that of \"exchange valuation,\" the fixation of a \"subjective\" (or\nbetter, a \"personal\") price ratio between what the agent wishes to\nacquire and whatever it is that he offers in exchange. The agent thus is\nengaged in determining what shall be the relative importance for himself\nof _two_ commodities or exchangeable goods. And in the second place\nthese goods get their values determined together and in relation to each\nother, never singly and with a view to _subsequent_ comparison. These\nvalues when they have been determined will be measured in terms of\nmarginal utility in accordance with familiar principles, but the\nmarginal utilities that are to express the attained and accepted ratio\nat which exchange eventually takes place are not known quantities at all\nin the inception of the process of comparison. If these dogmatic\nstatements seem to issue in hopeless paradox or worse, then let us not\nfear to face the paradox and fix its lines with all possible\ndistinctness. Can a man decide to offer so much of one commodity for so\nmuch of another unless he _first_ has settled what each is worth to him\nin some intelligible terms or other? And is not this latter in point of\nfact the real decision--at all events clearly more than half the battle?\nDoes not the exchange ratio to which one can agree \"leap to the eyes,\"\nin fact, as soon as the absolute values in the case have been once\nisolated and given numerical expression?\n\nIn a single word we here join issue. For the comparison in such a case\nis _constructive comparison_, not a mechanical measuring of fixed\nmagnitudes, as the above objection tacitly assumes. And constructive\ncomparison is essentially a transitive or inductive operation whereby\nthe agent moves from one level to another, altering his standard of\nliving in some more or less important way, embarking upon a new\ninterest, entering upon the formation of a new habit or upon a new\naccession of power or effectiveness--making or seeking to make, in\nshort, some transformation in his environment and in himself that shall\ngive his life as an entire system a changed tenor and perspective. The\nterm \"constructive comparison\" is thus intended, among other things, to\nsuggest that the process is in the nature of adventure, not calculation,\nand, on the other hand, that though adventurous it is not sheer hazard\nuncontrolled. And the motive dominant throughout the process--the\neconomic motive in its constructive phase--is neither more nor less than\na supposition, on the agent's part, that there may be forthcoming for\nhim in the given case in hand just such an \"epigenetic\" development of\nnew significance and value as we have found actual history to disclose\nas a normal result of economic innovation. It is the gist of hedonism,\nin economic theory as in its other expressions, that inevitably the\nagent's interests and motives are restricted in every case to the\nprecise range and scope of his existing tendencies and desires; he can\nbe provoked to act only by the hope of just those particular future\npleasures or means of pleasure which the present constitution of his\nnature enables him to enjoy. Idealism assumes that the emergent new\ninterest of the present was wrapped up or \"implied,\" in some sense, in\nthe interests of the remote and immediate past--interests of which the\nagent at the time could of course be but \"imperfectly\" aware. Such\ndifferences as one can discern between the two interpretations seem\nsmall indeed--like many others to which idealism has been wont to point\nin disparagement of the hedonistic world view. For in both philosophies\nthe agent is without initiative and effect; he is in principle but the\nconvergence of impersonal motive powers which it is, in the one view,\nabsurdly futile, in the other misguidedly presumptuous, to try to alter\nor control.\n\nSec. 9. A commodity sought or encountered may then be of interest to us for\nreasons of the following three general sorts. In the first place it may\nsimply be the normal and appropriate object of some established desire\nof ours. We may be seeking the commodity because this desire has first\nbecome active, or encountering the commodity in the market may have\nsuddenly awakened the desire. Illustration seems superfluous; tobacco\nfor the habitual smoker, clothing of most sorts for the ordinary person,\nregular supplies of the household staples--these will suffice. This is\nthe province within which a hedonistic account of the economic motive\nholds good with a cogency that anti-hedonistic criticism has not been\nable to dissolve. Our outlays for such things as these may as a rule be\nheld in their due and proper relation to each other--at all events in\ntheir established or \"normal\" relation--simply by recalling at critical\ntimes our relative marginal likes and dislikes for them. That these\nlikes and dislikes are not self-explanatory, that they are concrete\nexpectations and not abstract affective elements, does not seem greatly\nto matter where the issue lies between maintaining or renouncing an\nexisting schedule of consumption. And in this same classification belong\nalso industrial and commercial expenditures of a similarly routine sort.\nEven where the scale of operations is being enlarged, expenditures for\nmachines, fuel, raw materials, and labor may have been so carefully\nplanned in advance with reference to the desired increase of output or\npecuniary profit that no special problem of motivation attaches\ndirectly to them. And these outlays are so important in industry and\ncommerce that the impression comes easily to prevail that all business\nundertaking, and then all consumption of finished goods, fall under the\nsimple hedonistic type.\n\nBut if we keep to the plane of final consumption, there appears a second\nsort of situation. Our interest in the commodity before us may be due to\na suggestion of some sort that prompts us to take a step beyond the\nlimits that our present formed desires mark out. The suggestion may be\ngiven by adroit advertising, by fashion, by the habits of another class\nto which one may aspire or by a person to whom one may look as guide,\nphilosopher, and friend. An authority of one sort or another invites or\nconstrains us to take the merits of the article on trust. Actual trial\nand use may show, not so much that it can minister to a latent desire as\nthat we have been able through its use to form a habit that constitutes\na settled need.\n\nAnd, finally, in the third place, there is a more spontaneous and\nintrinsically personal type of interest which is very largely\nindependent of suggestion or authority. A thing of beauty, a new author,\na new acquaintance, a new sport or game, a new convenience or mechanical\ndevice may challenge one's curiosity and powers of appreciation, may\nseem to offer a new facility in action or some unimagined release from\nlabor or restriction. The adventure of marriage and parenthood, the\nintimate attraction of great music, the mystery of an unknown language\nor a forbidden country, the disdainful aloofness of a mountain peak\ndominating a landscape are conspicuous instances inviting a more\nspontaneous type of constructive interest that finds abundant expression\nalso in the more commonplace situations and emergencies of everyday\nlife. It is sheer play upon words to speak in such cases of a pleasure\nof adventurousness, a pleasure of discovery, a pleasure of conquest and\nmastery, assigning this as the motive in order to bring these interests\nto the type that fits addiction to one's particular old coat or\neasy-chair. The specific \"pleasure\" alleged could not exist were the\ntendency not active beforehand. While the same is true in a sense for\nhabitual concrete pleasures in relation to their corresponding habits,\nthe irreducible difference in constructive interest as a type lies in\nthe _transition_ which this type of interest purposes and effects from\none level of concrete or substantive desire and pleasure to another.\nHere one consciously looks to a result that he cannot foresee or\nforetell; in the other type his interest as interest goes straight to\nits mark, sustained by a confident forecast.[51]\n\nSec. 10. But constructive interests, whether provoked by suggestion or of\nthe more freely imaginative type, may, as has been said, be held to lie\noutside the scope of economic theory. How a desire for a certain thing\nhas come to get expression may seem quite immaterial--economically\nspeaking. Economics has no concern with human folly as such or human\nimitativeness, or human aspiration high or low or any other of the\nmultitude of motives that have to do with secular changes in the\n\"standard of living\" and in the ideals of life at large. It has no\nconcern with anything that lies behind the fact that I am in the market\nwith my mind made up to buy or sell a thing at a certain price. And the\nanswer to this contention must be that it first reverses and then\ndistorts the true perspective of our economic experience. Let it be\nadmitted freely--indeed, let it be insisted on--that the definition of a\nscience must be determined by the pragmatic test. If an economist elects\nto concern himself with the problems of what has been called the \"loose\nmechanics of trade\" there can be no question of his right to do so or of\nthe importance of the services he may render thereby, both to theory and\nto practice. But on the other hand economic theory cannot be therefore,\nonce and for all, made a matter of accounting--to the effacement of all\nproblems and aspects of problems of which the accountant has no\nprofessional cognizance. Just this, apparently, is what it means to\nlevel down all types of interest to the hedonistic, leaving aside as\n\"extra-economic\" those that too palpably resist the operation. It is\nacknowledged that freshly suggested modes of consumption and ends of\neffort require expenditure and sacrifice no less than the habitual, that\nthe exploration of Tibet or of the Polar Seas affects the market for\nsupplies not less certainly than the scheduled voyages of oceanic\nliners. Moreover, behind these scheduled voyages there are all the\nvaried motives that induce people to travel and the desires that lead to\nthe shipment of goods. Shall it be said that all of these motives and\ndesires must be traceable back to settled habits of behavior and\nconsumption? And if this cannot be maintained is it not hazardous to\nassume that such general problems of economic theory as the\ndetermination of market values or of the shares in distribution require\nno recognition of the other empirical types of interest? These types, if\nthey are genuine, are surely important; they may well prove to be, in\nmany ways, fundamentally important. For a commodity that has become\nhabitual must once have been new and untried.\n\nSec. 11. The economic demands which make up the budget of a particular\nperson at a particular time are clearly interdependent. A man's income\nor the greater part of it is usually distributed among various channels\nof expenditure in a certain fairly constant way. In proportion to the\ndefiniteness of this distribution and the resoluteness with which it is\nmaintained does the impression gain strength that the man is carrying\nout a consistent plan of some sort. Such a regular plan of expenditure\nmay be drawn out into a schedule, setting forth the amounts required at\na certain price for the unit of each kind. And such a schedule is an\nexpression in detail, in terms of ways and means, of the type of life\none has elected to lead. For virtually any income above the level of\nbare physical subsistence, there will be an indefinite number of\nalternative budgets possible. A little less may be spent for household\nconveniences and adornments and a little more for food. Some recreations\nmay be sacrificed for an occasional book or magazine. One may build a\nhouse or purchase a motor-car instead of going abroad. And whichever\nchoice is made, related expenditures must be made in consequence for\nwhich, on the assumption of a definite amount of income, compensation\nmust be made by curtailment of outlay at other points. What seems clear\nin general is that one's total budget is relative to the general plan\nand manner of life one deems for him the best possible and that this\nplan, more or less definitely formulated, more or less steadily\noperative, is what really determines how far expenditure shall go in\nthis direction and in that. The budget as a whole will define for the\nindividual an equilibrium among his various recognized wants; if the\nwork of calculating it has been carefully done there will be for the\ntime being no tendency to change in any item.\n\nIf, then, we choose to say in such a case that the individual carries\nhis expenditure along each line to the precise point at which the last\nor marginal utility enjoyed is precisely equal to the marginal utility\non every other line, it seems not difficult to grasp what such a\nstatement means. Quite harmlessly, all that it can mean is that the\nindividual has planned precisely what he has planned and is not sorry\nfor it, and for the time being does not think he can improve upon it. As\nthere is one earth drawing toward its center each billiard ball of the\ndozen in equilibrium in a bowl, so there is behind the budget of the\nindividual one complex personal conception of a way of life that fixes\nmore or less certainly and clearly the kinds and intensities of his\nwants and assigns to each its share of purchasing power. That the units\nor elements in equilibrium hold their positions with reference to each\nother for reasons capable of separate statement for each unit seems a\nsupposition no less impossible in the one case than in the other. To\nthink of each kind of want in the individual's nature as holding\nseparately in fee simple and clamoring for full and separate\n\"satisfaction\" in its separate kind, is the characteristic illusion of a\npurely formal type of analysis. The permanence of a budget and its\ncarrying out no doubt require the due and precise realization of each\nplotted marginal utility--to go further than this along any one line\nwould inevitably mean getting not so far along certain others, and thus\na distorted and disappointing total attainment in the end. But to say\nthat one actually plans and controls his expenditures along various\nlines by the ultimate aim of attaining equivalent terminal utilities on\neach is quite another story. It is much like saying that the square\ninches of canvas assigned in a picture to sky and sea and crannied wall\nare arranged upon the principle of identical and equal effects for\nartist or beholder from the last inches painted of each kind. The\nformula of the equality of marginal effects is no constructive\nprinciple; it is only a concise if indeed somewhat grotesque way of\nphrasing the essential fact that no change of the qualitative whole is\ngoing to be made, because no imperfection in it as a whole is felt.[52]\n\nSec. 12. We come, then, to the problem of the individual's encounter with a\nnew commodity. In general, a purchase in such a case must amount to more\nor less of a departure from the scheme of life in force and a transition\nover to a different one. And a new commodity (in the sense in which the\nterm has been used above) is apt to be initially more tempting than an\naddition along some line of expenditure already represented in the\nbudget. The latter, supposing there has been no change of price and no\nincrease of income, is usually a mere irregularity, an insurgent\ndeparture from some one specification of a total plan without\npreliminary compensating adjustment or appropriate change at other\npoints. The erratic outlay, if considerable, will result in sheer\ndisorder and extravagance--indefensible and self-condemned on the\nprinciples of the individual's own economy. But with a new commodity the\ncase stands differently. It is more interesting to consider a really new\nproposal than to reopen a case once closed when no evidence distinctly\nnew is offered. A sheer \"temptation\" or an isolated impulse toward new\noutlay along a line already measured in one's scheme has the force of\nhabit and a presumption of un-wisdom to overcome. If the case is one not\nof temptation but of \"being urged\" one is apt to answer, \"No, I can make\nno use of any more of _that_.\" But a new commodity has the charm of its\nnovelty, a charm consisting in the promise, in positive fashion, of new\nqualitative values about which a new entire schedule will have to be\norganized. Partly its strength of appeal lies in its radicalism; it\ngains ready attention not only by its promise but by its boldness.\n\"Preparedness\" gains a more ready acclaim than better schools or the\nextirpation of disease. The automobile and the \"moving picture\" probably\nhave a vogue today far surpassing any use of earlier \"equivalents\" that\na mere general augmentation of incomes could have brought about. Indeed,\nthe economic danger of the middle classes in present-day society lies\nnot in mere occasional excess at certain points but in heedless\ncommitment to a showy and thinned-out scheme of life in which the\nelements are ill-chosen and ill-proportioned and from which, as a whole,\nabiding satisfaction cannot be drawn. It is where real and thoroughgoing\nchange in the manner of life is hopeless that irregular intemperance of\nvarious sorts appears to bulk relatively largest as an economic evil.\n\nShall we not say, however, that the superior attraction of the new in\ncompetition with established lines of expenditure only indicates the\ngreater \"satiation\" of the wants the latter represent and the\ncomparative freshness of the wants the novelty will satisfy? On the\ncontrary the latter wants are in the full sense not yet existent, the\nnew satisfactions are untried and unmeasured; the older wants have the\nadvantage of position, and if satiated today, will reassert themselves\nwith a predictable strength tomorrow. The new wants, it is true, if they\nare acquired, will be part of a new system, but the present fact remains\nthat their full meaning cannot be known in advance of trial and the\nfurther outlines of the new scheme of uses and values cannot be drawn up\nuntil this meaning has been learned. If, then, the new commodity is\ntaken, it is not because the promised satisfaction and the sum of known\nutilities to be sacrificed are found equal, nor again because the new\ncommodity will fit neatly into a place in the existing schedule that can\nbe vacated for it. This latter is the case of substitution. Such an\ninterpretation of the facts is retrospective only; it is a formal\ndeclaration that the exchange has been deemed on the whole worth while,\nbut the reasons for this outcome such a formula is powerless to suggest.\n\nIn general the new commodity and the habits it engenders could not\nremain without effect upon a system into which they might be\nmechanically introduced. Certain items in the schedule, associated in\nuse with those dispensed with for the new, must be rendered obsolete by\nthe change. The new interests called into play will draw to themselves\nand to their further development attention which may be in large measure\ndiverted from the interests of older standing. And in the new system all\ninterests remaining over from the old will accordingly stand in a new\nlight and their objects will be valued, will be held important, for\nreasons that will need fresh statement.[53]\n\nIn similar fashion it might be argued that the commodities or uses which\none sacrifices for the sake of a new venture are inevitably more than a\nsimple deduction that curtails one's schedule in a certain kind and\namount. Such a deduction or excision must leave the remaining lines of\nthe original complex hanging at loose ends. The catching-up of these\nand their cooerdination with the new interest must in any event amount,\nas has been contended, to a thoroughgoing reorganization. What must\nreally happen then, in the event of action, is in principle nothing less\nthan the disappearance of the whole from which the sacrificed uses are\ndissevered. These latter, therefore, stand in the process of decision as\na symbol for the existing personal economy as a whole. The old order and\nthe new confront each other as an accepted view of fact and a plausible\nhypothesis everywhere confront each other and the issue for the\nindividual is the practical issue of making the transition to a new\nworking level. To declare that the salient elements of the confronting\ncomplexes are quantitatively equivalent is only to announce in symbolic\nterms that the transition has been effected, the die cast.[54]\n\nSec. 13. The statement thus given has been purposely made, for many\ntransactions of the sort referred to, something of an over-statement. If\nI contemplate purchasing a typewriter or a book on an unfamiliar but\ninviting subject it may well seem somewhat extravagant to describe the\nsituation as an opposition between two schemes of life. Is the issue so\nmomentous; is the act so revolutionary? But the purpose of our\nover-statement was simply to make clear the type of situation without\nregard to the magnitudes involved. No novelty that carries one in any\nrespect beyond the range of existing habits can be wholly without its\ncollateral effects nor can its proximate and proper significance be\nmeasured in advance. This is in principle as true of a relatively slight\ninnovation as of a considerable one. And our present conscious\nexaggeration departs less widely from the truth than the alternative\nusual preoccupation of economic theory with the logic of routine desire\nand demand. For the phenomena of routine and habit are thereby made a\nstandard by which all others, if indeed recognized as real at all, must\nbe judged \"exceptional.\" And, as we shall see, to do this introduces\ndifficulty into certain parts of substantive economic theory.\n\nAgain, objection may attach to the view that equivalence of the \"salient\nmembers\" of the opposing systems is only another name for the\ncomprehensive fact of the novelty's acceptance. For if we hesitate in\nsuch a case, is this not because we judge the price too high? What can\nthis signify but that the service or satisfaction we expect from the\nnovelty falls short of sufficing to convince us? And unless we are\ndealing with measured quantities, how can we come to this conclusion?\nMoreover, if the novel commodity is divided into units we may take a\nsmaller quantity when the price demanded is \"high\" than if the price\nwere lower. And does this not suggest predetermined value-magnitudes as\ndata? But if one takes thus a smaller amount, as the argument contends,\nit is because there is a presumption of being able to make some\nimportant total use of it and there is no general reason apparent for\nsupposing that this will be merely a fractional part of a larger but\nlike significance that might be hoped for from a larger quantity. And on\nthe other hand, the prospect simply may not tempt at all; the smaller\nquantity may be deemed an improbable support for a really promising\ntotal program and the present program will hold its ground, not\nseriously shaken. The total demand of a market for a given commodity is\nno doubt in some sort a mathematical function of the price. The lower\nthe price the greater in some ratio will be the number of persons who\nwill buy and in general the greater the number of units taken by those\nwho are already buyers. But that such a proposition admits of\nstatistical proof from the observation of a series of price changes in a\nmarket affords no presumption concerning the nature of the reasons that\nmove any individual person to his action. The theoretical temptation is\nstrong, here as elsewhere, in passing from the study of markets to the\npersonal economy of the individual forthwith to find this also a\ntrafficking in unit-quantities and marginal satisfactions to which the\nconcepts and notation of market analysis will readily apply.\n\nIt remains to consider certain implications of this view of economic\ndesire and demand.\n\n\nII\n\nSec. 14. It is evident that the issue finally at stake in any economic\nproblem of constructive comparison, is an ethical issue. Two immediate\nalternatives are before one--to expend a sum of money in some new and\ninteresting way, or to keep it devoted to the uses of one's established\nplan. Upon the choice, one recognizes, hinge consequences of larger and\nmore comprehensive importance than the mere present enjoyment or\nnon-enjoyment of the new commodity.[55] And these \"more important\"\nconsequences _are_ important because there appears to lie in them the\npossibility of a type of personal character divergent from the present\ntype and from any present point of view incommensurable with it.[56] The\nethical urgency of such a problem will impress one in the measure in\nwhich one can see that such an issue really does depend upon his present\naction and irretrievably depends. And we are able now to see what that\neconomic quality is that attaches to ethical problems at a certain stage\nof their development and calls for a supplementary type of treatment.\n\nLet us first consider certain types of juncture in conduct that will be\nrecognized at once as ethical and in which any economic aspect is\nrelatively inconspicuous. Temperance or intemperance, truth or\nfalsehood, idleness or industry, honesty or fraud, social justice or\nclass-interest--these will serve. What makes such problems as these\nethical is their demand for creative intelligence. In each, alternative\ntypes of character or manners of life stand initially opposed. If the\nconcrete issue is really problematical, if there is no rule that one can\nfollow in the case with full assurance, constructive comparison, whether\ncovertly or openly, must come into play. How long, then, will a problem\nof temperance or intemperance, idleness or industry, preserve its\nobviously ethical character without admixture? Just so long, apparently,\nas the modes of conduct that come into view as possible solutions are\nconsidered and valued with regard to their _directly physiological and\npsychological_ consequences alone. Any given sort of conduct, that is\nto say, makes inevitably for the formation of certain habits of mind or\nmuscle, weakening, or precluding the formation of, certain others.\nAttention is engrossed that is thereby not available elsewhere, time and\nstrength are expended, discriminations are dulled and sharpened,\nsympathies and sensitivities are narrowed and broadened, every trait and\nbent of character is directly or indirectly affected in some way by\nevery resolve concluded and every action embarked upon. If one moves a\ncertain way along a certain line he can never return to the\nstarting-point and set out unchanged along any other. If one does one\nthing one cannot do another. And when the sufficient reasons for this\nmutual exclusion lie in the structure and organization of the human mind\nand body our deliberation as between the two alternatives, our\nconstructive comparison of them remains upon the ethical plane.\n\nIf one does one thing one cannot do another. If we substitute the\nwell-worn saying \"one cannot eat his cake and have it\" we indicate the\neconomic plane of constructive comparison with all needful clearness.\n\nThis is in fact the situation that has been already under discussion at\nsuch length above and the economic quality of which we are just now in\nquest arises from neither more nor less than the fact of our dependence\nin the working out of our personal problems upon limited external\nresources. The eventual solution sought under these circumstances\nremains ethical as before. But to reach it, it is necessary to bring\ninto consideration not only such other interests and ends as the\npsycho-physical structure of human nature and the laws of\ncharacter-development show to be involved, but a still wider range of\ninterests less intimately or \"internally\" related to the focal interest\nof the occasion but imperatively requiring to be heard. If my\nacquisition of a phonograph turns upon the direct psychological bearing\nof the new interest upon my other interests, its probable effects\nwhether good or bad upon my musical tastes and the diplomatic\ncomplications with my neighbors in which the possession of the\ninstrument may involve me, the problem of its purchase remains clearly\nin the ethical phase. But when I count the cost in terms of sacrifices\nwhich the purchase price makes necessary, from literature down to food\nand fuel, and must draw this whole range of fact also into the\nadjustment if I can, the economic phase is reached. In principle two\nentire and very concrete schemes of life now stand opposed. Just _what_\nconcrete sacrifices I shall make I do not know--this, in fact, is one\nway of stating my problem. Nor, conversely, do I know just what I shall\nbe able to make the phonograph worth to me. It is my task to come to a\nconclusion in the case that shall be explicit and clear enough to enable\nme to judge in _the event_ whether my expectation has been realized and\nI have acted wisely or unwisely. Thus a problem is economic when the\nfact of the limitation of my external resources must be eventually and\nfrankly faced. The characteristic quality of a problem grown economic is\na certain vexatiousness and seeming irrationality in the ill-assorted\narray of nevertheless indisputable interests, prosaic and ideal, that\nhave to be reduced to order.\n\nIt is perhaps this characteristic emotional quality of economic problems\nthat has insensibly inclined economists to favor a simpler and more\nclear-cut analysis. As for ethical problems--they have been left to\n\"conscience\" or to the jurisdiction of a \"greatest happiness\" principle\nin which the ordinary individual or legislator has somehow come to take\nan interest. That they arise and become urgent in us of course does\nhuman nature unimpeachable credit and economics must by all means wait\nrespectfully upon their settlement. So much is conceded. But economics\nis economics, when all is said and done. What we mean by the economic\ninterest is an interest in the direct and several satisfactions that a\nman can get from the several things he shrewdly finds it worth his while\nto pay for. And shrewdness means nicety of calculation, accuracy of\nmeasurement in the determination of tangible loss and gain. Here, then,\nis no field for ethics but a field of fact. Thus ethics on her side must\nalso wait until the case is fully ready for her praise or blame. Such is\nthe _modus vivendi_. But its simplicity is oversimple and unreal. It\npictures the \"economic man\" as bound in the chains of a perfunctory\ndeference that he would throw off if he could. For the theory of\nconstructive comparison or creative intelligence, on the other hand,\ninstead of a seeker and recipient of \"psychic income\" and a calculator\nof gain and loss, he is a personal agent maintaining continuity of\naction in a life of discontinuously changing levels of interest and\nexperience. His measure of attainment lies not in an accelerating rate\nof \"psychic income,\" but in an increasing sense of personal\neffectiveness and an increasing readiness and confidence before new\njunctures.\n\nThe possession and use of commodities are, then, not in themselves and\ndirectly economic facts at all. As material things commodities serve\ncertain purposes and effect certain results. They are means to ends and\ntheir serving so is a matter of technology. But do I seriously want\ntheir services? This is a matter of my ethical point of view. Do I want\nthem at the price demanded or at what price and how many? This is the\neconomic question and it obviously is a question wholly ethical in\nimport--more broadly and inclusively ethical, in fact, than the ethical\nquestion in its earlier and more humanly inviting form. And what we have\nnow to see is the fact that no consideration that has a bearing upon the\nproblem in its ethical phase can lose its importance and relevance in\nthe subsequent phase.\n\nThere can be no restriction of the economic interest, for example, to\negoism. If on general principles I would really rather use goods\nproduced in safe and cleanly factories or produced by \"union labor,\"\nthere is no possible reason why this should not incline me to pay the\nhigher prices that such goods may cost and make the needful readjustment\nin my budget. Is there reason why my valuation of these goods should\n_not_ thus be the decisive act that takes me out of one relation to\nindustrial workers and sets me in another--can anything else, indeed,\nquite so distinctly do this? For economic valuation is only the fixation\nof a purchase price, or an exchange relation in terms of price and\nquantity, upon which two schemes of life, two differing perspectives of\nsocial contact and relationship converge--the scheme of life from which\nI am departing and the one upon which I have resolved to make my hazard.\nIt is this election, this transition, that the purchase price\nexpresses--drawing all the strands of interest and action into a knot so\nthat a single grasp may seize them. The only essential egoism in the\ncase lies in the \"subjectivism\" of the fact that inevitably the\nemergency and the act are mine and not another's. This is the\n\"egocentric predicament\" in its ethical aspect. And the egocentric\npredicament proves Hobbes and La Rochefoucauld as little as it proves\nBerkeley or Karl Pearson. No social interest, no objective interest of\nany sort, is shown ungenuine by my remembering in season that if I\ncannot fill my coal-bin I shall freeze.[57]\n\nSec. 15. This logical and psychological continuity of the ethical and\neconomic problems suggests certain general considerations of some\npractical interest. In the first place as to \"egoism.\" I am, let us say,\nan employer. If I am interested in procuring just \"labor,\" in the sense\nof foot-pounds of energy, then undoubtedly labor performed under safe\nand healthful conditions is worth no more to me than other labor\n(provided it does not prove more efficient). But is this attitude of\ninterest in just foot-pounds of energy the attitude _par excellence_ or\nsolely entitled to be called economic? And just this may be asserted for\nthe reason that an exclusive interest in just _labor_ is the only\ninterest in the case that men of business, or at least many of them, can\nentertain without going speedily to the wall. If, then, I do _in fact_\npay more than I must in wages or if I expend more than a bare minimum\nfor conveniences and safety-guards this is not because of the valuation\nI put upon _labor_, but only because I take pleasure in the contentment\nand well-being of others. And this is not \"business\" but \"uplift\"--or\nelse a subtle form of emotional self-indulgence. Suppose, however, that\nby legislation similar working conditions have been made mandatory for\nthe entire industry and suppose that the community approves the law,\neven to the extent of cheerfully paying so much of the additional cost\nthereby imposed as may be shifted upon them.\n\nShall we say that this is an ethical intrusion into the sphere of\neconomics or shall we say that the former economic demand for labor \"as\nsuch\" has given place to an economic demand for labor better\ncircumstanced or better paid? The community at all events is paying the\nincrease of price or a part of the increase. It seems arbitrary to\ninsist that the old price is still the _economic_ price of the commodity\nand the increase only the price of a quiet conscience. The notion of a\nstrictly economic demand for labor pure and simple seems in fact a\nconcept of accounting. To meet the community's demand for the commodity\na number of producers were required. The least capable of these could\nmake both ends meet at the prevailing price only by ignoring all but the\nseverely impersonal aspects of the process. Taking these costs as a\nbase, other more capable or more fortunate producers may have been able\nto make additional expenditures of the sort in question, charging these\nperhaps to \"welfare\" account. The law then intervenes, making labor in\neffect more expensive for all by requiring the superior conveniences or\nby compelling employers' insurance against accidents to workmen or by\nenforcing outright a higher minimum wage. The old basic labor cost\nbecomes thus obsolete. And without prejudging as to the expediency of\nsuch legislation in particular industrial or business situations may we\nnot protest against _a priori_ and wholesale condemnation of such\nlegislation as merely irresponsibly \"ethical\" and \"unscientific\"? Is it\nnot, rather, economically experimental and constructive, amounting in\nsubstance to a simple insistence that henceforth the hiring and paying\nof labor shall express a wider range of social interests--shall\nsignalize a more clearly self-validating level of comprehension, on the\npart of employers and consumers, of the social significance of industry\nthan the old? And may we not protest also, as a matter of sheer logic,\nagainst carrying over a _producer's_ distinction of accounting between\n\"labor\" cost and \"welfare\" cost into the _consumer's_ valuation of the\narticle? How and to what end shall a distinction be drawn between _his_\n\"esteem\" for the trimmed and isolated article and _his_ esteem for the\nmen who made it--which, taken together, dispose him to pay a certain\nundivided price for it?\n\nFor the egoism of men is no fixed and unalterable fact. Taking it as a\npostulate, a mathematical theory of market phenomena may be erected upon\nit, but such a postulate is purely formal, taking no note of the reasons\nwhich at any given time lie behind the individuals' \"demand\" or \"supply\nschedules.\" It amounts simply to an assumption that these schedules will\nnot change during the lapse of time contemplated in the problem in hand.\nAnd it therefore cannot serve as the basis for a social science. As an\nactual social phenomenon egoism is merely a disclosure of a certain\npresent narrowness and inertness in the nature of the individual which\nmay or may not be definitive for him. It is precisely on a par with\nanemia, dyspepsia or fatigue, or any other like unhappy fact of personal\nbiography.\n\nSec. 16. There is another suggestion of ethical and economic continuity\nthat may be briefly indicated. If our view of this relation is correct,\na problem, by becoming economic, may lose something in dramatic interest\nand grandiosity but gains in precision and complexity. In the economic\nphase an issue becomes sensibly crucial. It is in this phase that are\nchiefly developed those qualities of clear-headedness, temperateness of\nthought and action, and well-founded self-reliance that are the\nfoundation of all genuine personal morality and social effectiveness.\nAnd one may question therefore the ethical consequences of such measures\nas old age, sickness, and industrial accident insurance or insurance\nagainst unemployment. In proportion as these measures are effective they\namount to a constant virtual addition to the individual's income from\nyear to year without corresponding effort and forethought on his part.\nThey may accordingly be condemned as systematic pauperization--the\n\"endowment of the unfit.\" There is evidently a fundamental problem here\nat issue, apart from all administrative difficulties. Clearly this type\nof criticism assumes a permanent incapacity in \"human nature\" or in most\nactual beings therewith endowed, to recognize as seriously important\nother interests than those upon which hinge physical life and death. The\nordinary man, it is believed, is held back from moral Quixotism as from\nmaterial extravagance by the fear of starvation alone; and it is assumed\nthat there are no other interests in the \"normal\" man that can or ever\nwill be so wholesomely effective to these ends. And two remarks in\nanswer appear not without a measure of pertinence. First, if what is\nalleged be true (and there is evidence in Malthus' _Essay_ and elsewhere\nto support it) it seems less a proof of original sin and\n\"inperfectibility\" than a reproach to a social order whose collective\ntenor and institutions leave the mass untouched and unawakened above the\nlevel of animal reproduction and whose inequalities of opportunity\nprevent awakened life from growing strong. And second, the democratic\nsociety of the future, if it exempts the individual in part or wholly\nfrom the dread of premature physical extinction must leave him on higher\nlevels of interest similarly dependent for success or failure upon his\nultimate personal discretion. And is it inconceivable that on higher\nlevels there should ever genuinely be such a persisting type of issue\nfor the multitude of men?[58]\n\nSec. 17. We have held constructive comparison in its economic phase to be a\nreciprocal evaluating of the \"salient members\" of two budgets. The\nrespective budgets in such a case express in the outcome (1) the plane\nof life to which one is to move and (2) the plane one is forsaking. It\nwas the salient member of the former that presented the problem at the\noutset. In the course of the process its associates were _gathered\nabout_ it in their due proportions and perspective. The salient member\nof the latter (i.e., whatever the purchase is to oblige one to do\nwithout), it was the business of constructive comparison to _single out_\nfrom among its associates and designate for sacrifice. In any case at\nall departing from the type of substitution pure and simple, the\ncommodities sacrificed will come to have a certain \"value in exchange\"\nthat clearly is a new fact, a new judgment, in experience. This value in\nexchange, this \"subjective\" or \"personal\" exchange value, may fittingly\nbe termed a \"value for transition.\" The transition once made, the\nexchange once concluded, I shall deem the motor-car, for example, that I\nhave _not_ bought to replace one used-up, to be worth less than the\npiano I _have_ bought instead. This indeed (in no disparaging sense) is\na tautology. But does this lesser relative value equal or exceed or fall\nshort of the value the car would have had if no question of a piano had\nbeen raised at all and I had bought it in replacement of the old one as\na matter of course? How can one say? The question seems unmeaning, for\nthe levels of value referred to are different and discontinuous and the\nmagnitudes belong to different orders. In a word, because a \"value for\ntransition\" marks a resolve and succinctly describes an act, it cannot\nbe broken in two and expressed as an equating of two magnitudes\nindependently definable apart from the relation. The motor-car _had_ its\nvalue as a member of the old system--the piano _has_ its value as a\nmember of the new. \"The piano is worth more than the car\"; \"the car is\nworth less than the piano\"--these are the prospective and retrospective\nviews across a gulf that separates two \"specious presents,\" not\njudgments of static inequality in terms of a common measure.\n\nIs value, then, absolute or relative? Is value or price the prior\nnotion? Was the classical English economics superficial in its\npredilection for the relative conception of value? Or is the reigning\nAustrian economics profound in its reliance upon marginal utility? By\nway of answer let us ask--What in our world can be more absolute a fact\nthan a man's transition from one level of experience and action to\nanother? Can the flight of time be stayed or turned backward? And if not\ncan the acts by whose intrinsic uniqueness and successiveness time\nbecomes filled for me and by which I feel time's sensible passage as\nswift or slow, lose their individuality? But it is not by a mere empiric\ntemporalism alone that the sufficient absoluteness of the present act is\nattested. My transition from phase to phase of \"finitude\" is a thing so\nabsolute that Idealism itself has deemed an Absolute indispensable to\nassure its safe and sane achievement. And with all Idealism's distrust\nof immediate experience for every evidential use, the Idealist does not\nscruple to cite the \"higher obviousness\" of personal effort, attainment,\nand fruition as the best of evidence for his most momentous truth of\nall.[59] And accordingly (in sharp descent) we need not hesitate to\nregard value in exchange as a primary fact in its own right, standing in\nno need of resolution into marginal pseudo-absolutes. A price agreed to\nand paid marks a real transition to another level. There are both\nmarginal valuation and _Werthaltung_ on this level, but they are\nsubordinate incidents to this level's mapping and the conservation of\nits resources. On this level every marginal utility is relative, as we\nhave seen, to every other through their common relation to the complex\nplan of organization as a whole.[60]\n\nSec. 18. In conclusion one more question closely related to the foregoing\nmay be briefly touched upon. We have held that the individual's attitude\ntoward a commodity is in the first instance one of putting a\nprice-estimate upon it and only secondarily that of holding it in a\nprovisionally settled marginal esteem. If this principle of the\npriority of price-estimation or exchange value is true, it seems evident\nthat there can be no line of demarcation drawn (except for doubtfully\nexpedient pedagogical purposes) between (1) \"Subjective valuations\" with\nwhich individuals are conceived to come to a market and (2) a mechanical\nequilibration of demand and supply which it is the distinctive and sole\nfunction of market concourse to effect. In such a view the market\nprocess in strict logic must be timeless as it is spaceless; a\nsuperposition of the two curves is effected and they are seen to cross\nin a common point which their shapes geometrically predetermine.\nDiscussion, in any proper sense, can be no inherent part of a market\nprocess thus conceived. Once in the market, buyers and sellers can only\ndeclare their \"subjective exchange valuations\" of the commodity and\nawait the outcome with a dispassionate certainty that whoever may gain\nby exchanging at the price to be determined, those who cannot exchange\nwill at all events not lose. But considered as a typical likeness of men\nwho have seen a thing they want and are seeking to possess it, this\npicture of mingled hope and resignation is not convincing. Most actual\noffering of goods for sale that one observes suggests less the\ndispassionate manner of the physiologist or psychologist taking the\nmeasure of his subject's reactions, sensibilities, and preferences than\nthe more masterful procedure of the physician or the hypnotist who seeks\nto uproot or modify or reconstruct them. This is the process known in\neconomic writing since Adam Smith as \"the higgling and bargaining of the\nmarket.\"\n\nIn fact, the individual's ante-market valuation, when there temporarily\nis one, is an exchange valuation of the constructive or experimental and\ntherefore (in any significant sense of the word) perfectly objective\ntype, and the market process into which this enters is only a perfectly\nhomogeneous temporal continuation of it that carries the individual\nforward to decisive action. There is no more reason for a separation\nhere than for sundering the ante-experimental sketching out of an\nhypothesis in any branch of research from the work of putting the\nhypothesis to experimental test. The results of experiment may serve in\na marked way in both sorts of process to elucidate or reconstruct the\nhypothesis.\n\nThe \"higgling and bargaining of the market\" has been accorded but scant\nattention by economists. It has apparently been regarded as a kind of\nirrelevance--a comedy part, at best, in the serious drama of industry\nand trade, never for a moment hindering the significant movement and\noutcome of the major action. As if to excuse the incompetence of this\ntreatment (or as another phase of it) theory has tended to lay stress\nupon, and mildly to deplore, certain of the less amiable and engaging\naspects of the process. The very term indeed as used by Adam Smith,\nimported a certain aesthetic disesteem, albeit tempered with indulgent\napprobation on other grounds. In Boehm-Bawerk's more modern account this\napprobation has given place to a neutral tolerance. A certain buyer, he\nsays (in his discussion of simple \"isolated\" exchange), will give as\nmuch as thirty pounds for a horse; the horse's owner will take as\nlittle as ten pounds--these are predetermined and fixed valuations\nbrought to the exchange negotiations and nothing that happens in the\ngame of wits is conceived to modify them. The price will then be fixed\nsomewhere between these limits. But how? \"Here ...\" we read, \"is room\nfor any amount of 'higgling.' According as in the conduct of the\ntransaction the buyer or the seller shows the greater dexterity,\ncunning, obstinacy, power-of-persuasion, or such like, will the price be\nforced either to its lower or to its upper limit.\"[61] But the higgling\ncannot touch the underlying attitudes. Even \"power of persuasion\" is\nonly one part of \"skill in bargaining,\" with all the rest and like all\nthe rest; if it were more than this there would be for Boehm-Bawerk no\ntheoretically grounded price limits to define the range of accidental\nsettlement and the whole explanation, as a theory of price, would reduce\nto nullity.[62]\n\nWith this, then, appears to fall away all ground for a one-sided, or\neven a sharply two-sided, conception of the process of fixation of\nmarket-values. A \"marginal utility\" theory and a \"cost of production\"\ntheory of market price alike assume that the factor chosen as the\nultimate determinant is a fixed fact defined by conditions which the\nactual spatial and temporal meeting-together of buyers and sellers in\nthe market cannot affect. In this logical sense, the chosen determinant\nis in each case an ante-market or extra-market fact and the same is true\nof the blades of Marshall's famous pair of scissors.\n\nThe price of a certain article let us say is $5. According to the\ncurrent type of analysis this is the price because, intending buyers'\nand sellers' valuations of the article being just what they are, it is\nat this figure that the largest number of exchanges can occur. Were the\nprice higher there would be more persons willing to sell than to buy;\nwere it lower there would be more persons willing to buy than to sell.\nAt $5 no buyer or seller who means what he says about his valuation when\nhe enters the market goes away disappointed or dissatisfied. With this\nprice established all sellers whose costs of production prevent their\nconforming to it must drop out of the market; so must all buyers whose\ndesire for the article does not warrant their paying so much. More\nfundamentally then, Why is $5 the price? Is it because intending buyers\nand the marginal buyer in particular do not desire the article more\nstrongly? Or is it because conditions of production, all things\nconsidered, do not permit a lower marginal unit cost? The argument might\nseem hopeless. But the advantage is claimed for the principle of demand.\nWithout demand arising out of desires expressive of wants there would\nsimply _be_ no value, no production, and no price. Demand evokes\nproduction and sanctions cost. But cost expended can give no value to a\nproduct that no one wants.\n\nDoes it follow, however, that the cost of a commodity in which on its\ngeneral merits I have come to take a hypothetical interest can in no\nwise affect my actual price-offer for it? Can it contribute nothing to\nthe preciser definition of my interest which is eventually to be\nexpressed in a price offer? If the answer is \"No, for how can this\nexternal fact affect the strength of your desire for the object?\"--then\nthe reason given begs the question at issue. _Is_ my interest in the\nobject an interest in the object alone? And _is_ the cost of the object\na fact for me external and indifferent? It is, at all events, not\nuncommon to be assured that an article \"cannot be produced for less,\"\nthat one or another of its elements of cost is higher than would be\nnatural to suppose. Not always scientifically accurate, such assurances\nexpress an evident confidence that they will not be without effect upon\na hesitant but fair-minded purchaser. And in other ways as well, the\nposition of sellers in the market is not so defenseless as a strict\nutility theory of price conceives--apart from the standpoint of an\nabstract \"normality\" that can never contrive to get itself realized in\nempirical fact.[63] It is true that, in general, one tends to purchase\nan article of a given familiar kind where its price, all things\nconsidered, is lowest. In consequence the less \"capable\" producers or\nsellers must go to the wall. But the fact seems mainly \"regulative\" and\nof subordinate importance. Is it equally certain that as between\nbranches of expenditure, such as clothing, food, and shelter, children,\nbooks, and \"social\" intercourse, the shares of income we expend upon\nthem or the marginal prices we are content to pay express the original\nstrength of separate and unmodified extra-market interests? On the\ncontrary we have paid in the past what we have had to pay, what we have\ndeemed just and reasonable, what we have been willing experimentally to\nhazard upon the possibility of the outlay's proving to have been worth\nwhile. In these twilight-zones of indetermination, cost as well as\nother factors of supply have had their opportunity. Shall we\nnevertheless insist that our \"demands\" are _ideally_ fixed, even though\nin fallible human fact they are more or less indistinct, yielding and\nmodifiable? On the contrary they are \"in principle and for the most\npart\" indeterminate and expectant of suggested experimental shaping from\nthe supply side of the market. It is less in theory than in fact that\nthey have a salutary tendency (none too dependable) toward rigidity.\n\n\nCONCLUSION\n\nSec. 19. The argument may now be summarily reviewed.\n\nI. How are we to understand the acquisition, by an individual, of what\nare called new economic needs and interests? Except by a fairly obvious\nfallacy of retrospection we cannot regard this phenomenon as a mere\narousal of so-called latent or implicit desires. New products and new\nmeans of production afford \"satisfactions\" and bring about objective\nresults which are unimaginable and therefore unpredictable, in any\ndescriptive fashion, in advance. In a realistic or empirical view of the\nmatter, these constitute genuinely new developments of personality and\nof social function, not mere unfoldings of a preformed logical or vital\nsystem. \"Human nature\" is modifiable and economic choice and action are\nfactors in this indivisible process (Sec.Sec. 2-4). Now \"logically\" it would\nseem clear that unless a new commodity is an object of desire it will\nnot be made or paid for. On the other hand, with equal \"logic,\" a _new_\ncommodity, it would seem, _cannot_ be an object of desire because all\ndesire must be for what we already know. We seem confronted with a\ncomplete _impasse_ (Sec. 5). But the _impasse_ is conceptual only. We have\nsimply to acknowledge the patent fact of our recognition of the new as\nnovel and our interest in the new in its outstanding character of\nnovelty. We need only express and interpret this fact, instead of\nfancying ourselves bound to explain it away. It is an interest not less\ngenuine and significant in economic experience than elsewhere (Sec.Sec. 6, 7).\nIts importance lies in the fact that it obliges us to regard what is\ncalled economic choice not as a balancing of utilities, marginal or\notherwise, but as a process of \"constructive comparison.\" The new\ncommodity and its purchase price are in reality symbols for\nalternatively possible systems of life and action. Can the old be\nrelinquished for the new? Before this question is answered each system\nmay be criticized and interpreted from the standpoint of the other, each\nmay be supplemented by suggestion, by dictate of tradition and by\nimpulsive prompting, by inference, and by conjecture. Finally in\nexperimental fashion an election must be made. The system as accepted\nmay or may not be, in terms, identical with one of the initial\nalternatives; it can never be identical in full meaning and perspective\nwith either one. And in the end we have not chosen the new because its\nvalue, as seen beforehand, measured more than the value of the old, but\nwe now declare the old, seen in retrospect, to have been worth less (Sec.Sec.\n8-12). There are apparently no valid objections to this view to be\ndrawn from the current logical type of marginal-utility analysis (Sec. 13).\n\nII. Because so-called economic \"choice\" is in reality \"constructive\ncomparison\" it must be regarded as essentially ethical in import. Ethics\nand economic theory, instead of dealing with separate problems of\nconduct, deal with distinguishable but inseparable stages belonging to\nthe complete analysis of most, if not all, problems (Sec. 14). This view\nsuggests, (_a_) that no reasons in experience or in logic exist for\nidentifying the economic interest with an attitude of exclusive or\nparticularistic egoism (Sec. 15), and (_b_) that social reformers are\njustified in their assumption of a certain \"perfectibility\" in human\nnature--a constructive responsiveness instead of an insensate and\nstubborn inertia (Sec. 16). Again, in the process of constructive\ncomparison in its economic phase, Price or Exchange Value is, in\napparent accord with the English classical tradition, the fundamental\nworking conception. Value as \"absolute\" is essentially a subordinate and\n\"conservative\" conception, belonging to a status of system and routine,\nand is \"absolute\" in a purely functional sense (Sec. 17). And finally\nconstructive comparison, with price or exchange value as its dominant\nconception, is clearly nothing if not a market process. In the nature of\nthe case, then, there can be no such ante-market definiteness and\nrigidity of demand schedules as a strictly marginal-utility theory of\nmarket prices logically must require (Sec. 18).\n\nSec. 20. In at least two respects the argument falls short of what might be\ndesired. No account is given of the actual procedure of constructive\ncomparison and nothing like a complete survey of the leading ideas and\nproblems of economic theory is undertaken by way of verification. But to\nhave supplied the former in any satisfactory way would have required an\nunduly extended discussion of the more general, or ethical, phases of\nconstructive comparison. The other deficiency is less regrettable, since\nthe task in question is one that could only be hopefully undertaken and\nconvincingly carried through by a professional economist.\n\nFor the present purpose, it is perhaps enough to have found in our\neconomic experience and behavior the same interest in novelty that is so\nmanifest in other departments of life, and the same attainment of new\nself-validating levels of power and interest, through the acquisition\nand exploitation of the novel. In our economic experience, no more than\nelsewhere, is satisfaction an ultimate and self-explanatory term.\nSatisfaction carries with it always a reference to the level of power\nand interest that makes it possible and on which it must be measured. To\nseek satisfaction for its own sake or to hinge one's interest in science\nor art upon their ability to serve the palpable needs of the present\nmoment--these, together, make up the meaning of what is called\nUtilitarianism. And Utilitarianism in this sense (which is far less what\nMill meant by the term than a tradition he could never, with all his\nstriving, quite get free of), this type of Utilitarianism spells\nroutine. It is the surrender of initiative and control, in the quest for\nends in life, for a philistine pleased acceptance of the ends that\nNature, assisted by the advertisement-writers, sets before us. But this\ntype of Utilitarianism is less frequent in actual occurrence than its\nvogue in popular literature and elsewhere may appear to indicate. As a\nmatter of fact, we more often look to satisfaction, not as an end of\neffort or a condition to be preserved, but as the evidence that an\nexperimental venture has been justified in its event. And this is a\nwidely different matter, for in this there is no inherent implication of\na habit-bound or egoistic narrowness of interest in the conceiving or\nthe launching of the venture.\n\nThe economic interest, as a function of intelligence, finds its proper\nexpression in a valuation set upon one thing in terms of another--a\nvaluation that is either a step in a settled plan of spending and\nconsumption or marks the passing of an old plan and our embarkation on a\nnew. From such a view it must follow that the economic betterment of an\nindividual or a society can consist neither in the accumulation of\nmaterial wealth alone nor in a more diversified technical knowledge and\nskill. For the individual or for a collectivist state there must be\nadded to these things alertness and imagination in the personal quest\nand discovery of values and a broad and critical intelligence in making\nthe actual trial of them. Without a commensurate gain in these qualities\nit will avail little to make technical training and industrial\nopportunity more free or even to make the rewards of effort more\nequitable and secure. But it has been one of the purposes of this\ndiscussion to suggest that just this growth in outlook and intelligence\nmay in the long run be counted on--not indeed as a direct and simple\nconsequence of increasing material abundance but as an expression of an\ninherent creativeness in man that responds to discipline and education\nand will not fail to recognize the opportunity it seeks.\n\nReal economic progress is ethical in aim and outcome. We cannot think of\nthe economic interest as restricted in its exercise to a certain sphere\nor level of effort--such as \"the ordinary business of life\" or the\ngaining of a \"livelihood\" or the satisfaction of our so-called\n\"material\" wants, or the pursuit of an enlightened, or an unenlightened,\nself-regard. Economics has no special relation to \"material\" or even to\ncommonplace ends. Its materialism lies not in its aim and tendency but\nin its problem and method. It has no bias toward a lower order of\nmundane values. It only takes note of the ways and degrees of dependence\nupon mundane resources and conditions that values of every order must\nacknowledge. It reminds us that morality and culture, if they are\ngenuine, must know not only what they intend but what they cost. They\nmust understand not only the direct but the indirect and accidental\nbearing of their purposes upon all of our interests, private and social,\nthat they are likely to affect. The detachment of the economic interest\nfrom any particular level or class of values is only the obverse aspect\nof the special kind of concern it has with values of every sort. The\nvery generality of the economic interest, and the abstractness of the\nideas by which it maintains routine or safeguards change in our\nexperience, are what make it unmistakably ethical. Without specific ends\nof its own, it affords no ground for dogmatism or apologetics. And this\nindicates as the appropriate task of economic theory not the arrest and\nthwarting but the steadying and shaping of social change.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MORAL LIFE AND THE CONSTRUCTION OF VALUES AND STANDARDS[64]\n\nJAMES HAYDEN TUFTS\n\n\nWriting about ethics has tended to take one of two directions. On the\none hand we have description of conduct in terms of psychology, or\nanthropology. On the other a study of the concepts right and wrong, good\nand bad, duty and freedom. If we follow the first line we may attempt to\nexplain conduct psychologically by showing the simple ideas or feelings\nand the causal connections or laws of habit and association out of which\nactions arise. Or anthropologically we may show the successive stages of\ncustom and taboo, or the family, religious, political, legal, and social\ninstitutions from which morality has emerged. But we meet at once a\ndifficulty if we ask what is the bearing of this description and\nanalysis. Will it aid me in the practical judgment \"What shall I do?\" In\nphysics there is no corresponding difficulty. To analyze gravity enables\nus to compute an orbit, or aim a gun; to analyze electric action is to\nhave the basis for lighting streets and carrying messages. It assumes\nthe uniformity of nature and takes no responsibility as to whether we\nshall aim guns or whether our messages shall be of war or of peace.\nWhereas in ethics it is claimed that the elements are so changed by\ntheir combination--that the _process_ is so essential a factor--that no\nprediction is certain. And it is also claimed that the ends themselves\nare perhaps to be changed as well as the means. Stated otherwise,\nsuppose that mankind has passed through various stages, can mere\nobservation of these tell me what next? Perhaps I don't care to repeat\nthe past; how can I plan for a better future? Or grant that I may\ndiscover instinct and emotion, habit and association in my thinking and\nwilling, how will this guide me to direct my thinking and willing to\nright ends?\n\nThe second method has tended to examine concepts. Good is an eternal,\nchangeless pattern; it is to be discovered by a vision; or right and\ngood are but other terms for nature's or reason's universal laws which\nare timeless and wholly unaffected by human desires or passions; moral\nnature is soul, and soul is created not built up of elements,--such were\nsome of the older absolutisms. Right and good are unique concepts not to\nbe resolved or explained in terms of anything else,--this is a more\nmodern thesis which on the face of it may appear to discourage analysis.\nThe ethical world is a world of \"eternal values.\" Philosophy \"by taking\npart in empirical questions sinks both itself and them.\" These doctrines\nbring high claims, but are they more valuable for human guidance than\nthe empirical method?[65]\n\n\"The knowledge that is superhuman only is ridiculous in man.\" No man can\never find his way home with the pure circle unless he has also the art\nof the impure. It is the conviction of this paper that in ethics, as in\nknowledge, thoughts without contents are empty; percepts without\nconcepts are blind. Description of what has been--empiricism--is futile\nin itself to project and criticize. Intuitions and deductions a priori\nare empty. The \"thoughts\" of ethics are of course the terms right, good,\nought, worth, and their kin. The \"percepts\" are the instincts and\nemotions, the desires and aspirations, the conditions of time and place,\nof nature, and institutions.\n\nYet it is misleading to say that in studying the history of morals we\nare merely empiricists, and can hope to find no criterion. This would be\nthe case if we were studying non-moral beings. But moral beings have to\nsome degree guided life by judgments and not merely followed impulse or\nhabit. Early judgments as to taboos, customs, and conduct may be crude\nand in need of correction; they are none the less judgments. Over and\nover we find them reshaped to meet change from hunting to agriculture,\nfrom want to plenty, from war to peace, from small to large groupings.\nMuch more clearly when we consider civilized peoples, the interaction\nbetween reflection and impulse becomes patent. To study this interaction\ncan be regarded as futile for the future only if we discredit all past\nmoral achievement.\n\nThose writers who have based their ethics upon concepts have frequently\nexpressed the conviction that the security of morality depends upon the\nquestion whether good and right are absolute and eternal essences\nindependent of human opinion or volition. A different source of\nstandards which to some offers more promise for the future is the fact\nof the moral life _as_ a constant process of forming and reshaping\nideals and of bringing these to bear upon conditions of existence. To\nconstruct a right and good is at least a process tending to\nresponsibility, if this construction is to be for the real world in\nwhich we must live and not merely for a world of fancy or caprice. It is\nnot the aim of this paper to give a comprehensive outline of ethical\nmethod. Four factors in the moral life will be pointed out and this\nanalysis will be used to emphasize especially certain social and\nconstructive aspects of our concepts of right and good.\n\n\nI\n\nThe four factors which it is proposed to emphasize are these:\n\n(1) Life as a biological process involving relation to nature, with all\nthat this signifies in the equipment of instincts, emotions, and\nselective activity by which life maintains itself.\n\n(2) Interrelation with other human beings, including on the one hand\nassociating, grouping, mating, communicating, cooeperating, commanding,\nobeying, worshiping, adjudicating, and on the psychological side the\nvarious instincts, emotions, susceptibilities to personal stimulation\nand appropriate responses in language and behavior which underlie or are\nevoked by the life in common.\n\n(3) Intelligence and reason, through which experience is interrelated,\nviewed as a whole, enlarged in imagination.\n\n(4) The process of judgment and choice, in which different elements are\nbrought together, considered in one conscious universe, evaluated or\nmeasured, thereby giving rise reciprocally to a self on the one hand and\nto approved or chosen objects on the other.\n\n\n(1) Life. Life is at least the raw material of all values, even if it is\nnot in itself entitled to be called good without qualification. For in\nthe process of nourishing and protecting itself, the plant or animal\nselects and in the case of higher animals, manipulates; it adapts itself\nto nature and adapts nature to itself; it shows reciprocal relation of\nmeans to end, of whole to part. It foreshadows the conscious processes\nin so many ways that men have always been trying to read back some\ndegree of consciousness. And life in the animal, at least, is regarded\nas having experiences of pleasure and pain, and emotions of fear, anger,\nshame, and sex, which are an inseparable aspect of values. If it is not\nthe supreme or only good, if men freely sacrifice it for other ends, it\nis none the less an inevitable factor. Pessimistic theories indeed have\ncontended that life is evil and have sought to place good in a will-less\nNirvana. Yet such theories make limited appeal. Their protest is\nultimately not against life as life but against life as painful. And\ntheir refutation is rather to be intrusted to the constructive\npossibilities of freer life than to an analysis of concepts.\n\nAnother class of theories which omit life from the good is that which\nholds to abstractly ontological concepts of good as an eternal essence\nor form. It must be remembered, however, that the idea of good was not\nmerely a fixed essence. It was also for Plato the self-moving and the\ncause of all motion. And further, Plato evidently believed that life,\nthe very nature of the soul, was itself in the class of supreme values\nalong with God and the good. The prize of immortality was [Greek: kalon]\nand the hope great. And with Aristotle and his followers the good of\ncontemplation no less truly than the good of action had elements of\nvalue derived from the vital process. Such a mystic as Spinoza, who\nfinds good in the understanding values this because in it man is\n\"active,\" and would unite himself with the All because in God is Power\nand Freedom. The Hebrew prophet found a word capable of evoking great\nethical values when he urged his countrymen to \"choose life,\" and\nChristian teaching found in the conception of \"eternal life\" an ideal of\nprofound appeal. It is not surprising that with his biological interests\nSpencer should have set up life of greatest length and breadth as a\ngoal.\n\nThe struggle of the present war emphasizes tremendously two aspects of\nthis factor of life. National life is an ideal which gets its emotional\nbacking largely from the imagery of our physical life. For any one of\nthe small nations involved to give up its national life--whatever the\npossibilities of better organized industry or more comfortable material\nconditions--seems to it a desperate alternative. Self-defense is\nregarded by the various powers at war as a complete justification not\nmerely for armed resistance or attack but for ruthless acts. And if we\nare tempted to say that the war involves a prodigal waste of individual\nlife on a scale never known before, we are at the same time compelled to\nrecognize that never before has the bare destruction of life aroused\nsuch horror.\n\nFor never before has peace set its forces so determinedly to protect\nlife. The span of human life has been lengthened: the wastefulness of\naccident and disease has been magnified. The dumb acquiescence with\nwhich former generations accepted the death of infants and children and\nthose in the prime of life has given way to active and increasingly\nsuccessful efforts to preserve. The enormous increase in scientific\nstudy of biology, including eugenics, reflects not only an advance of\nscience but a trend in morality. It is scarcely conceivable that it\nshould grow less in absolute importance, whatever crises may temporarily\ncause its depreciation relatively to other values.\n\nOne exception to the growing appreciation calls for notice--the interest\nin immortality appears to be less rather than greater. The strong belief\nin life beyond the grave which since the days of ancient Egypt has\nprevailed in the main stream of Western culture seems not only to be\naffected by the scientific temper of the day, but also to be subject to\na shift in interest. This may be in part a reaction from\nother-worldliness. In part it may be due to loss of fervor for a\ntheological picture of a future heaven of a rather monotonous sort and\nmay signify not so much loss of interest in life as desire for a more\nvital kind of continuance. It is not true that all that a man hath will\nhe give for his life, yet it is true that no valuing process is\nintelligible that leaves out life with its impulses, emotions, and\ndesires as the first factor to be reckoned with.\n\n(2) The second factor is the life in common, with its system of\nrelations, and its corresponding instincts, emotions, and desires.\n\nSo much has been written in recent years on the social nature of man\nthat it seems unnecessary to elaborate the obvious. Protest has even\nbeen raised against the exaggeration of the social. But I believe that\nin certain points at least we have not yet penetrated to the heart of\nthe social factor, and its significance for morals.\n\nSo far as the moral aspect is concerned I know nothing more significant\nthan the attitude of the Common Law as set forth by Professor Pound.[66]\nThis has sought to base its system of duties on relations. The relation\nwhich was prominent in the Middle Ages was that of landlord and tenant;\nother relations are those of principal and agent, of trustee, etc. An\nolder relation was that of kinship. The kin was held for the wergeld;\nthe goel must avenge his next of kin; the father must provide for\nprospective parents-in-law; the child must serve the parents. Duty was\nthe legal term for the relation. In all this there is no romanticism, no\nexaggeration of the social; there is a fair statement of the facts which\nmen have recognized and acted upon the world over and in all times.\nIndividualistic times or peoples have modified certain phases. The\nRoman law sought to ground many of its duties in the contract, the will\nof the parties. But covenants by no means exhaust duties. And according\nto Professor Pound the whole course of English and American law today is\nbelying the generalization of Sir Henry Maine, that the evolution of law\nis a progress from status to contract. We are shaping law of insurance,\nof public service companies, not by contract but by the relation of\ninsurer and insured, of public utility and patron.\n\nPsychologically, the correlate of the system of relations is the set of\ninstincts and emotions, of capacity for stimulation and response, which\npresuppose society for their exercise and in turn make society possible.\nThere can be no question as to the reality and strength of these in both\nanimals and men. The bear will fight for her young more savagely than\nfor her life. The human mother's thoughts center far more intensely upon\nher offspring than upon her own person. The man who is cut dead by all\nhis acquaintance suffers more than he would from hunger or physical\nfear. The passion of sex frequently overmasters every instinct of\nindividual prudence. The majority of men face poverty and live in want;\nrelatively few prefer physical comfort to family ties. Aristotle's\n[Greek: philia] is the oftenest quoted recognition of the emotional\nbasis of common life, but a statement of Kant's earlier years is\nparticularly happy. \"The point to which the lines of direction of our\nimpulses converge is thus not only in ourselves, but there are besides\npowers moving us in the will of others outside of ourselves. Hence arise\nthe moral impulses which often carry us away to the discomfiture of\nselfishness, the strong law of duty, and the weaker of benevolence. Both\nof these wring from us many a sacrifice, and although selfish\ninclinations now and then preponderate over both, these still never fail\nto assert their reality in human nature. Thus we recognize that in our\nmost secret motives, we are dependent upon the rule of the general\nwill.\"[67]\n\nThe \"law of duty,\" and I believe we may add, the conception of right, do\narise objectively in the social relations as the common law assumes and\nsubjectively in the social instincts, emotions, and the more intimate\nsocial consciousness which had not been worked out in the time of Kant\nas it has been by recent authors. This point will receive further\ntreatment later, but I desire to point out in anticipation that if right\nand duty have their origin in this social factor there is at least a\npresumption against their being subordinate ethically to the conception\nof good as we find them in certain writers. If they have independent\norigin and are the outgrowth of a special aspect of life it is at least\nprobable that they are not to be subordinated to the good unless the\nvery notion of good is itself reciprocally modified by right in a way\nthat is not usually recognized in teleological systems.\n\n(3) Intelligence and reason imply (_a_) considering the proposed act or\nthe actually performed act as a whole and in its relations. Especially\nthey mean considering consequences. In order to foresee consequences\nthere is required not only empirical observation of past experience,\nnot only deduction from already formulated concepts--as when we say that\ninjustice will cause hard feelings and revolt--but that rarer quality\nwhich in the presence of a situation discerns a meaning not obvious,\nsuggests an idea, \"injustice,\" to interpret the situation. Situations\nare neither already labeled \"unjust,\" nor are they obviously unjust to\nthe ordinary mind. Analysis into elements and rearrangement of the\nelements into a new synthesis are required. This is eminently a\nsynthetic or \"creative\" activity. Further it is evident that the\nactivity of intelligence in considering consequences implies not only\nwhat we call reasoning in the narrower sense but imagination and\nfeeling. For the consequences of an act which are of importance\nethically are consequences which are not merely to be described but are\nto be imagined so vividly as to be felt, whether they are consequences\nthat affect ourselves or affect others.\n\n(_b_) But it would be a very narrow intelligence that should attempt to\nconsider only consequences of a single proposed act without considering\nalso other possible acts and their consequences. The second important\ncharacteristic of intelligence is that it considers either other means\nof reaching a given end, or other ends, and by working out the\nconsequences of these also has the basis for deliberation and choice.\nThe method of \"multiple working hypotheses,\" urged as highly important\nin scientific investigation, is no less essential in the moral field. To\nbring several ends into the field of consideration is the characteristic\nof the intelligent, or as we often say, the open-minded man. Such\nconsideration as this widens the capacity of the agent and marks him\noff from the creature of habit, of prejudice, or of instinct.\n\n(_c_) Intelligence implies considering in two senses all persons\ninvolved, that is, it means taking into account not only how an act will\naffect others but also how others look at it. It is scarcely necessary\nto say that this activity of intelligence cannot be cut off from its\nroots in social intercourse. It is by the processes of give and take, of\nstimulus and response, in a social medium that this possibility of\nlooking at things from a different angle is secured. And once more this\ndifferent angle is not gained by what in the strict sense could be\ncalled a purely intellectual operation, although it has come to be so\nwell recognized as the necessary equipment for dealing successfully with\nconditions that we commonly characterize the person as stupid who does\nnot take account of what others think and feel and how they will react\nto a projected line of conduct. This social element in intelligence is\nto a considerable degree implied in the term \"reasonable,\" which\nsignifies not merely that a man is logical in his processes but also\nthat he is ready to listen to what others say and to look at things from\ntheir point of view whether he finally accepts it or not.\n\nThe broad grounds on which it is better to use the word intelligence\nthan the word reason in the analysis with which we are concerned are\ntwo. (1) It is not a question-begging term which tends to commit us at\nthe outset to a specific doctrine as to the source of our judgments. (2)\nThe activity of intelligence which is now most significant for ethical\nprogress is not suggested by the term reason, for unless we arbitrarily\nsmuggle in under the term practical reason the whole activity of the\nmoral consciousness without inquiry as to the propriety of the name we\nshall be likely to omit the constructive and creative efforts to promote\nmorality by positive supplying of enlarged education, new sources of\ninterest, and more open fields for development, by replacing haunting\nfears of misery with positive hopes, and by suggesting new imagery, new\nambitions in the place of sodden indifference or sensuality. The term\nreason as used by the Stoics and by Kant meant control of the passions\nby some \"law\"--some authority cosmic or logical. It prepared for the\ninevitable; it forbade the private point of view. But as thus presenting\na negative aspect the law was long ago characterized by a profound moral\ngenius as \"weak.\" It has its value as a schoolmaster, but it is not in\nitself capable of supplying the new life which dissolves the old\nsentiment, breaks up the settled evil habit, and supplies both larger\nends and effective motives.\n\nIf we state human progress in objective fashion we may say that although\nmen today are still as in earlier times engaged in getting a living, in\nmating, in rearing of offspring, in fighting and adventure, in play, and\nin art, they are also engaged in science and invention, interested in\nthe news of other human activities all over the world; they are\nadjusting differences by judicial processes, cooeperating to promote\ngeneral welfare, enjoying refined and more permanent friendships and\naffections, and viewing life in its tragedy and comedy with enhanced\nemotion and broader sympathy. Leaving out of consideration the work of\nthe religious or artistic genius as not in question here, the great\nobjective agencies in bringing about these changes have been on the one\nhand the growth of invention, scientific method, and education, and on\nthe other the increase in human intercourse and communication. Reason\nplays its part in both of these in freeing the mind from wasteful\nsuperstitious methods and in analyzing situations and testing\nhypotheses, but the term is inadequate to do justice to that creative\nelement in the formation of hypotheses which finds the new, and it tends\nto leave out of account the social point of view involved in the\nwidening of the area of human intercourse. More will be said upon this\npoint in connection with the discussion of rationalism.\n\n(4) The process of judgment and choice. The elements are not the sum.\nThe moral consciousness is not just the urge of life, plus the social\nrelations, plus intelligence. The _process_ of moral deliberation,\nevaluation, judgment, and choice is itself essential. In this process\nare born the concepts and standards good and right, and likewise the\nmoral self which utters the judgment. It is in this twofold respect\nsynthetic, creative. It is as an interpretation of this process that the\nconcept of freedom arises. Four aspects of the process may be noted.\n\n(_a_) The process involves holding possibilities of action, or objects\nfor valuation, or ends for choice, in consciousness and measuring them\none against another in a simultaneous field--or in a field of\nalternating objects, any of which can be continually recalled. One\npossibility after another may be tried out in anticipation and its\nrelations successively considered, but the comparison is essential to\nthe complete moral consciousness.\n\n(_b_) The process yields a universe of valued _objects_ as distinguished\nfrom a subjective consciousness of desires and feelings. We say, \"This\nis right,\" \"That is good.\" Every \"is\" in such judgments may be denied by\nan \"is not\" and we hold one alternative to be true, the other false. As\nthe market or the stock exchange or board of trade fixes values by a\nmeeting of buyers and sellers and settles the price of wheat accurately\nenough to enable farmers to decide how much land to seed for the next\nseason, so the world of men and women who must live together and\ncooeperate, or fight and perish, forces upon consciousness the necessity\nof adjustment. The preliminary approaches are usually hesitant and\nsubjective--like the offers or bids in the market--e.g., \"I should like\nto go to college; I believe that is a good thing\"; \"My parents need my\nhelp; it does not seem right to leave them.\" The judgments finally\nemerge. \"A college education is good;\" \"It is wrong to leave my\nparents\"--both seemingly objective yet conflicting, and unless I can\nsecure both I must seemingly forego actual objective good, or commit\nactual wrong.\n\n(_c_) The process may be described also as one of \"universalizing\" the\njudging consciousness. For it is a counterpart of the objective\nimplication of a judgment that it is not an affirmation as to any\nindividual's opinion. This negative characterization of the judgment is\ncommonly converted into the positive doctrine that any one who is\nunprejudiced and equally well informed would make the same judgment.\nStrictly speaking the judgment itself represents in its completed form\nthe elimination of the private attitude rather than the express\ninclusion of other judges. But in the making of the judgment it is\nprobable that this elimination of the private is reached by a mental\nreference to other persons and their attitudes, if not by an actual\nconversation with another. It is dubious whether an individual that had\nnever communicated with another would get the distinction between a\nprivate subjective attitude and the \"general\" or objective.\n\nMoreover, one form of the moral judgment: \"This is right,\" speaks the\nlanguage of law--of the collective judgment, or of the judge who hears\nboth sides but is neither. This generalizing or universalizing is\nfrequently supposed to be the characteristic activity of \"reason.\" I\nbelieve that a comparison with the kindred value judgments in economics\nsupports the doctrine that in judgments as to the good as well as in\nthose as to right, there is no product of any simple faculty, but rather\na synthetic process in which the social factor is prominent. A\ncompelling motive toward an objective and universal judgment is found in\nthe practical conditions of moral judgments. Unless men agree on such\nfundamental things as killing, stealing, and sex relations they cannot\nget on together. Not that when I say, \"Killing is wrong,\" I mean to\naffirm \"I agree with you in objecting to it\"; but that the necessity (a)\nof acting as if I either do or do not approve it, and (b) of either\nmaking my attitude agree with yours, or yours agree with mine, or of\nfighting it out with you or with the whole force of organized society,\ncompels me to put my attitude into objective terms, to meet you and\nsociety on a common platform. This is a _synthesis_, an achievement. To\nattribute the synthesis to any faculty of \"practical reason,\" adds\nnothing to our information, but tends rather to obscure the facts.\n\n(_d_) The process is thus a reciprocal process of valuing objects and of\nconstructing and reconstructing a self. The object as first imaged or\nanticipated undergoes enlargement and change as it is put into relations\nto other objects and as the consequences of adoption or rejection are\ntried in anticipation. The self by reflecting and by enlarging its scope\nis similarly enlarged. It is the _resulting_ self which is the final\nvaluer. The values of most objects are at first fixed for us by instinct\nor they are suggested by the ethos and mores of our groups--family,\nsociety, national religions, and \"reign under the appearance of habitual\nself-suggested tendencies.\" The self is constituted accordingly.\nCollisions with other selves, conflicts between group valuations and\nstandards and individual impulses or desires, failure of old standards\nas applied to new situations, bring about a more conscious definition of\npurposes. The agent identifies himself with these purposes, and values\nobjects with reference to them. In this process of revaluing and\ndefining, of comparing and anticipation, freedom is found if anywhere.\nFor if the process is a real one the elements do not remain unaffected\nby their relation to each other and to the whole. The act is not\ndetermined by any single antecedent or by the sum of antecedents. It is\ndetermined by the process. The self is not made wholly by heredity, or\nenvironment. _It is itself creating for each of its elements a new\nenvironment_, viz., the process of reflection and choice. And if man can\nchange the heredity of pigeons and race horses by suitable selection, if\nevery scientific experiment is a varying of conditions, it is at least\nplausible that man can guide his own acts by intelligence, and revise\nhis values by criticism.\n\nThe self is itself creating for each of its elements a new\nenvironment--this is a fact which if kept in mind will enable us to see\nthe abstractness and fallacies not merely of libertarianism and\ndeterminism, but of subjectivism and objectivism. Subjective or \"inward\"\ntheories have sought standards in the self; but in regarding the self as\nan entity independent of such a process as we have described they have\nexposed themselves to the criticism of providing only private, variable,\naccidental, unauthoritative sources of standards--instincts, or\nemotions, or intuitions. The self of the full moral consciousness,\nhowever,--the only one which can claim acceptance or authority--is born\nonly in the process of considering real conditions, of weighing and\nchoosing between alternatives of action in a real world of nature and\npersons. Its judgments are more than subjective. Objectivism in its\nabsolutist and abstract forms assumes a standard--nature, essence,\nlaw--independent of process. Such a standard is easily shown to be free\nfrom anything individual, private, or changing. It is universal,\nconsistent, and eternal, in fact it has many good mathematical\ncharacteristics, but unfortunately it is not moral. As mathematical,\nlogical, biological, or what not, it offers no standard that appeals to\nthe moral nature as authoritative or that can help us to find our way\nhome.\n\n\nII\n\nIf we are dissatisfied with custom and habit and seek to take philosophy\nfor the guide of life we have two possibilities: (1) we may look for the\ngood, and treat right and duty as subordinate concepts which indicate\nthe way to the good, that is, consider them as good as a means, or (2)\nwe may seek first to do right irrespective of consequences, in the\nbelief that in willing to do right we are already in possession of the\nhighest good. In either case we may consider our standards and values\neither as in some sense fixed or as in the making.[68] We may suppose\nthat good is objective and absolute, that right is discovered by a\nrational faculty, or we may consider that in regarding good as objective\nwe have not made it independent of the valuing process and that in\ntreating right as a standard we have not thereby made it a fixed concept\nto be discovered by the pure intellect. The position of this paper will\nbe (1) that good while objective is yet objective as a value and not as\nan essence or physical fact; (2) that a social factor in value throws\nlight upon the relation between moral and other values; (3) that right\nis not merely a means to the good but has an independent place in the\nmoral consciousness; (4) that right while signifying order does not\nnecessarily involve a timeless, eternal order since it refers to an\norder of personal relations; (5) that the conception of right instead of\nbeing a matter for pure reason or even the \"cognitive faculty\" shows an\nintimate blending of the emotional and intellectual and that this\nappears particularly in the conception of the reasonable.\n\n\n(1) We begin with the question of the synthetic and objective character\nof the good. With G. E. Moore as with the utilitarians the good is the\nultimate concept. Right and duty are means to the good. Moore and\nRashdall also follow Sidgwick in regarding good as unique, that is, as\n\"synthetic.\" Sidgwick emphasized in this especially the point that moral\nvalue cannot be decided by physical existence or the course of\nevolution, nor can the good be regarded as meaning the pleasant. Moore\nand Russell reinforce this. However true it may be that pleasure is one\namong other good things or that life is one among other good things,\ngood does not mean either pleasure or survival. Good means just \"good.\"\n\nA similar thought underlies Croce's division of the Practical into the\ntwo spheres of the Economic and the Ethical. \"The economic activity is\nthat which wills and effects only what corresponds to the conditions of\nfact in which a man finds himself; the ethical activity is that which,\nalthough it correspond to these conditions, also refers to something\nthat transcends them. To the first correspond what are called\nindividual ends, to the second universal ends; the one gives rise to the\njudgment concerning the greater or less coherence of the action taken in\nitself, the other to that concerning its greater or less coherence in\nrespect to the universal end, which transcends the individual.[69]\nUtilitarianism is according to Croce an attempt to reduce the Ethical to\nthe Economic form, although the utilitarians as men attempt in various\nways to make a place for that distinction which as philosophers they\nwould suppress. \"Man is not a consumer of pleasures. He is a creator of\nlife.\" With this claim of the distinctive, synthetic, character of the\nmoral consciousness and of the impossibility of testing the worth of\nideals by cosmic laws, or by gratification of particular wants as\nmeasured by pleasure, I have no issue. The analysis of the moral\njudgment made above points out just how it is that good is synthetic. It\nis synthetic in that it represents a measuring and valuing of\nends--instinctive and imagined, individual and social--against each\nother and as part of a whole to which a growing self corresponds. It is\nsynthetic in that it represents not merely a process of evaluating ends\nwhich match actually defined desires, but also a process in which the\ngrowing self, dissatisfied with any ends already in view, gropes for\nsome new definition of ends that shall better respond to its living,\ncreative capacity, its active synthetic character. Good is the concept\nfor just this valuing process as carried on by a conscious being that is\nnot content to take its desire as ready made by its present\nconstruction, but is reaching out for ends that shall respond to a\ngrowing, expanding, inclusive, social, self. It expresses value _as_\nvalue.\n\nValue _as value!_ not as being; nor as independent essence; nor as\nanything static and fixed. For a synthetic self, a living personality,\ncould find no supreme value in the complete absence of valuing, in the\ncessation of life, in the negation of that very activity of projection,\nadventure, construction, and synthesis in which it has struck out the\nconcept good. A theory of ethics which upholds the synthetic character\nof the good may be criticized as being not synthetic enough if it fails\nto see that on the basis of the mutual determination of percepts and\nconcepts, of self and objects, the synthetic character of the process\nmust be reflected in the ultimate meaning of the category which\nsymbolizes and incorporates the process.\n\n(2) We may find some light upon the question how moral value gets its\ndistinctive and unique character, and how it comes to be more\n\"objective\" than economic value if we consider some of the social\nfactors in the moral judgment. For although the concept good is rooted\nin the life process with its selective activity and attending emotions\nit involves a subtle social element, as well as the more commonly\nrecognized factors of intelligence.\n\nWithin the fundamental selective process two types of behavior tend to\ndifferentiate in response to two general sorts of stimulation. One sort\nis simpler, more monotonous, more easily analyzable. Response to such\nstimulation, or treatment of objects which may be described under these\nterms of simple, analyzable, etc., is easily organized into a habit. It\ncalls for no great shifts in attention, no sudden readjustments. There\nis nothing mysterious about it. As satisfying various wants it has a\ncertain kind of value. It, however, evokes no consciousness of self.\nToward the more variable, complex sort of stimuli, greater attention,\nconstant adjustment and readjustment, are necessary.\n\nObjects of the first sort are treated as things, in the sense that they\ndo not call out any respect from us or have any intrinsic value. We\nunderstand them through and through, manipulate them, consume them,\nthrow them away. We regard them as valuable only with reference to our\nwants. On the other hand, objects of the second sort take their place in\na bi-focal situation. Our attention shifts alternately to their behavior\nand to our response, or, conversely, from our act to their response.\nThis back and forth movement of attention in the case of certain of\nthese objects is reinforced by the fact that certain stimuli from them\nor from the organism, find peculiar responses already prepared in social\ninstincts; gesture and language play their part. Such a bi-focal\nsituation as this, when completely developed, involves persons. In its\nearlier stages it is the quasi-personal attitude which is found in\ncertain savage religious attitudes, in certain aesthetic attitudes, and\nin the emotional attitudes which we all have toward many of the objects\nof daily life.\n\nEconomic values arise in connection with attitudes toward things. We buy\nthings, we sell them. They have value just in that they gratify our\nwants, but they do not compel any revision or change in wants or in the\nself which wants. They represent a partial interest--or if they become\nthe total interest we regard them as now in the moral sphere. Values of\npersonal affection arise as we find a constant rapport in thought,\nfeeling, purpose, between the two members of our social consciousness.\nThe attitude is that of going along with another and thereby extending\nand enriching our experiences. We enter into his ideas, range with his\nimagination, kindle at his enthusiasms, sympathize with his joys or\nsorrows. We may disagree with our friend's opinions, but we do not\nmaintain a critical attitude toward _him_, that is, toward his\nfundamental convictions and attitudes. If \"home is the place where, when\nyou have to go there, they have to take you in,\" as Frost puts it, a\nfriend is one who, when you go to him, has to accept you.\n\nMoral values also arise in a social or personal relation--not in\nrelation to things. This is on the surface in the form of judgment; \"He\nis a good man,\" \"That is a good act.\" If it is less obvious in the\npractical judgment, \"This is the better course of action,\" i.e., the\ncourse which leads to the greater good, or to the good, this is because\nwe fail to discern that the good in these cases is a something with\nwhich I can identify myself, not a something which I merely possess and\nkeep separate from my personality. It is something I shall be rather\nthan have. Or if I speak of a share or participation it is a sharing in\nthe sense of entering into a kindred life. It is an ideal, and an ideal\nfor a conscious personal being can hardly be other than conscious. It\nmay be objected that however personal the ideal it is not on this\naccount necessarily social. It embodies what I would be, but does not\nnecessarily imply response to any other personality. This, however,\nwould be to overlook the analyses which recent psychology has made of\nthe personal. The ideal does not develop in a vacuum. It implies for one\nthing individuality which is conceivable only as other individuals are\ndistinguished. It implies the definition of purposes, and such\ndefinition is scarcely if ever attempted except as a possible world of\npurposes is envisaged.\n\nAEsthetic valuation is in certain respects intermediate between the\nvaluation of things on the one hand and the moral evaluation of acts of\npersons or conscious states on the other. AEsthetic objects are in many\ncases seemingly things and yet even as things they are quasi-personal;\nthey are viewed with a certain sympathy quite different from that which\nwe feel for a purely economic object. If it is a work of art the artist\nhas embodied his thought and feeling and the observer finds it there.\nThe experience is that of _Einfuehlung_. Yet we do not expect the kind of\nresponse which we look for in friendship, nor do we take the object as\nmerely a factor for the guidance or control of our own action as in the\npractical judgment of morality. The aesthetic becomes the object of\ncontemplation, not of response; of embodied meaning, not of\nindividuality. It is so far personal that no one of aesthetic sensibility\nlikes to see a thing of beauty destroyed or mistreated. The situation\nin which we recognize in an object meaning and embodied feeling, or at\nleast find sources of stimulation which appeal to our emotions, develops\nan aesthetic enhancement of conscious experience. The aesthetic value\npredicate is the outcome of this peculiar enhancement.\n\nIt seems that the social nature of the judgment plays a part also in the\nvarying objectivity of values. It is undoubtedly true that some values\nare treated as belonging to objects. If we cannot explain this fully we\nmay get some light upon the situation by noticing the degree to which\nthis is true in the cases of the kinds of values already described.\n\nEconomic values are dubiously objective. We use both forms of\nexpression. We say on the one hand, \"I want wheat,\" \"There is a demand\nfor wheat,\" or, on the other, \"Wheat is worth one dollar a bushel.\"\nConversely, \"There is no demand for the old-fashioned high-framed\nbicycle\" or \"It is worthless.\" The Middle Ages regarded economic value\nas completely objective. A thing had a _real value_. The retailer could\nnot add to it. The mediaeval economist believed in the externality of\nrelations; he prosecuted for the offenses of forestalling and regrating\nthe man who would make a profit by merely changing things in place. He\ncondemned usury. We have definitely abandoned this theory. We recognize\nthat it is the want which makes the value. To make exchange possible and\nsocialize to some degree the scale of prices we depend upon a public\nmarket or a stock exchange.\n\nIn values of personal affection we may begin with a purely individual\nattitude, \"I love or esteem my friend.\" If I put it more objectively I\nmay say, \"He is an honored and valued friend.\" Perhaps still more\nobjectively, we--especially if we are feminine--may say \"Is not X dear?\"\nWe may then go on to seek a social standard. We perhaps look for\nreinforcement in a small group of like-minded. We are a little perplexed\nand, it may be, aggrieved if other members of the circle do not love the\none whom we love. In such a group judgment of a common friend there is\ndoubtless greater objectivity than in the economic judgment. The value\nof a friend does not depend upon his adjustment to our wants. As\nAristotle pointed out, true friendship is for its own sake. Its value is\n\"disinterested.\" If a man does not care for an economic good it does not\nreflect upon him. He may be careless of futures, neglectful of corn,\nindifferent to steel. It lessens the demand, lowers the values of these\ngoods, an infinitesimal, but does not write him down an inferior person.\nTo fail to prize a possible friend is a reflection upon us. However the\nfact that in the very nature of the case one can scarcely be a personal\nfriend to a large, not to say a universal group, operates to limit the\nobjectivity.\n\nIn the aesthetic and moral attitudes we incorporate value in the object\ndecisively. We do not like to think that beauty can be changed with\nshifting fashions or to affirm that the firmament was ever anything but\nsublime. It seems to belong to the very essence of right that it is\nsomething to which the self can commit itself in absolute loyalty and\nfinality. And, as for good, we may say with Moore in judgments of\nintrinsic value, at least, \"we judge concerning a particular state of\nthings that it would be worth while--would be a good thing--that that\nstate of things should exist, even if nothing else were to exist\nbesides.\"\n\nWith regard to this problem of objectivity it is significant in the\nfirst place that the kind of situation out of which this object value is\naffirmed in aesthetic and moral judgments is a social situation. It\ncontrasts in this respect with the economic situation. The economic is\nindeed social in so far as it sets exchange values, but the object\nvalued is not a social object. The aesthetic and moral object is such an\nobject. Not only is there no contradiction in giving to the symbolic\nform or the moral act intrinsic value: there is entire plausibility in\ndoing so. For in so far as the situation is really personal, _either\nmember is fundamentally equal to the other and may be treated as\nembodying all the value of the situation_. The value which rises to\nconsciousness in the situation is made more complete by eliminating from\nconsideration the originating factors, the plural agents of admiration\nor approval, and incorporating the whole product abstractly in the\nobject. In thus calling attention to the social or personal character of\nthe aesthetic or moral object it is not intended to minimize that factor\nin the judgment which we properly speak of as the universalizing\nactivity of thought, much less to overlook the importance of the\njudgmental process itself. The intention is to point out some of the\nreasons why in one case the thinking process does universalize while in\nthe other it does not, why in one case the judgment is completely\nobjective while in the other it is not. In both aesthetic and moral\njudgments social art, social action, social judgments, through\ncollective decisions prepare the way for the general non-personal,\nobjective form. It is probable that man would not say, \"This is right,\"\nusing the word as an adjective, if he had not first said, as member of a\njudicially acting group, \"This is right,\" using the word as a noun. And\nfinally whatever we may claim as to the \"cognitive\" nature of the\naesthetic and moral judgment, the only test for the beauty of an object\nis that persons of taste discover it. The only test for the rightness of\nan act is that persons of good character approve it. The only test for\ngoodness is that good persons on reflection approve and choose it--just\nas the test for good persons is that they choose and do the good.\n\n(3) Right is not merely a means to good but has a place of its own in\nthe moral consciousness. Many of our moral choices or judgments do not\ntake the form of choice between right and wrong, or between duty and its\nopposite; they appear to be choices between goods. That is, we do not\nalways consider our value as crystallized into a present standard or\nfeel a tension between a resisting and an authoritative self. But when\nthey do emerge they signify a distinct factor. What Moore says of good\nmay be said also of right. Right means just \"right,\" nothing else. That\nis, we mean that acts so characterized correspond exactly to a self in a\npeculiar attitude, viz., one of adequate standardizing and adjustment,\nof equilibrium, in view of all relations. The concept signifies that in\nfinding our way into a moral world into which we are born in the process\nof valuing and judging, we take along the imagery of social judgment in\nwhich through language and behavior the individual is constantly\nadjusting himself, not only to the social institutions, and group\norganization but far more subtly and unconsciously to the social\nconsciousness and attitudes.\n\nThis conception of an order to which the act must refer has usually been\nregarded as peculiarly a \"rational\" factor. It is, however, rather an\norder of social elements, of a nature of persons, than of a \"nature of\nthings.\" In savage life the position of father, wife, child, guest, or\nother members of the household, is one of the most prominent facts of\nthe situation. The relationship of various totem groups and\ninter-marrying groups is the very focus of moral consciousness. Even in\nthe case of such a cosmic conception of order as Dike and Themis, Rita\nand Tao, the \"Way\" is not impersonal cosmos. It is at least\nquasi-personal. And if we say such primitive myth has no bearing on what\nthe \"nature\" of right or the \"true\" meaning of right is, it is pertinent\nto repeat that concepts without percepts are empty; that the term means\nnothing except the conceptual interpretation of a unique synthetic\nprocess in which an act placed in relation to a standard is thereby\ngiven new meaning. So long as custom or law forms the only or the\ndominant factor in the process, we have little development of the ideal\nconcept right as distinct from a factual standard. But when reason and\nintelligence enter, particularly when that creative activity of\nintelligence enters which attempts a new construction of ends, a new\nordering of possible experience, then the standardizing process is set\nfree; a new self with new possibilities of relation seeks expression.\nThe concept \"right\" reflects the standardizing, valuing process of a\nsynthetic order and a synthetic self. Duty born similarly in the world\nof social relations and reflecting especially the tension between the\nindividual and the larger whole is likewise given full moral\nsignificance when it becomes a tension within the synthetic self. And as\nthus reflecting the immediate attitudes of the self to an ideal social\norder both right and duty are not to be treated merely as means to any\nvalue which does not include as integrant factors just what these\nsignify.\n\nThis view is contrary to that of Moore, for whom \"right does and can\nmean nothing but 'cause of a good result,' and is thus identical with\nuseful.\"[70] The right act is that which has the best consequences.[71]\nSimilarly duty is that action which will cause more good to exist in the\nUniverse than any possible alternative. It is evident that this makes it\nimpossible for any finite mind to assert confidently that any act is\nright or a duty. \"Accordingly it follows that we never have any reason\nto suppose that an action is our duty: we can never be sure that any\naction will produce the greatest value possible.[72]\n\nWhatever the convenience of such a definition of right and duty for a\nsimplified ethics it can hardly be claimed to accord with the moral\nconsciousness, for men have notoriously supposed certain acts to be\nduty. To say that a parent has no reason to suppose that it is his duty\nto care for his child is more than paradox. And a still greater\ncontradiction to the morality of common sense inheres in the doctrine\nthat the right act is that which has the best consequences. Considering\nall the good to literature and free inquiry which has resulted from the\ncondemnation of Socrates it is highly probable--or at least it is\narguable--that the condemnation had better results than an acquittal\nwould have yielded. But it would be contrary to our ordinary use of\nlanguage to maintain that this made the act right. Or to take a more\nrecent case: the present war may conceivably lead to a more permanent\npeace. The \"severities,\" practised by one party, may stir the other to\ngreater indignation and lead ultimately to triumph of the latter. Will\nthe acts in question be termed right by the second party if they\nactually have this effect? On this hypothesis the more outrageous an act\nand the greater the reaction against it, the better the consequences are\nlikely to be and hence the more reason to call the act right and a duty.\nThe paradox results from omitting from right the elements of the\nimmediate situation and considering only consequences. The very meaning\nof the concept right, implies focussing attention upon the present\nrather than upon the future. It suggests a cross-section of life in its\nrelations. If the time process were to be arrested immediately after our\nact I think we might still speak of it as right or wrong. In trying to\njudge a proposed act we doubtless try to discover what it will mean,\nthat is, we look at consequences. But these consequences are looked upon\nas giving us the meaning of the present act and we do not on this\naccount subordinate the present act to these consequences. Especially we\ndo not mean to eliminate the significance of this very process of\njudgment. It is significant that in considering what are the intrinsic\ngoods Moore enumerates personal affection and the appreciation of\nbeauty, and with less positiveness, true belief, but does not include\nany mention of the valuing or choosing or creative consciousness.\n\n(4) If we regard right as the concept which reflects the judgment of\nstandardizing our acts by some ideal order, questions arise as to the\nobjectivity of this order and the fixed or moving character of the\nimplied standard. Rashdall lays great stress upon the importance of\nobjectivity: \"Assuredly there is no scientific problem upon which so\nmuch depends as upon the answer we give to the question whether the\ndistinction which we are accustomed to draw between right and wrong\nbelongs to the region of objective truth like the laws of mathematics\nand of physical science, or whether it is based upon an actual emotional\nconstitution of individual human beings.\"[73] The appraisement of the\nvarious desires and impulses by myself and other men is \"a piece of\ninsight into the true nature of things.\"[74] While these statements are\nprimarily intended to oppose the moral sense view of the judgment, they\nalso bear upon the question whether right is something fixed. The\nphrase \"insight into the true nature of things\" suggests at once the\nview that the nature of things is quite independent of any attitude of\nhuman beings toward it. It is something which the seeker for moral truth\nmay discover but nothing which he can in any way modify. It is urged\nthat if we are to have any science of ethics at all what was once right\nmust be conceived as always right in the same circumstances.[75]\n\nI hold no brief for the position--if any one holds the position--that in\nsaying \"this is right\" I am making an assertion about my own feelings or\nthose of any one else. As already stated the function of the judging\nprocess is to determine objects, with reference to which we say \"is\" or\n\"is not.\" The emotional theory of the moral consciousness does not give\nadequate recognition to this. But just as little as the process of the\nmoral consciousness is satisfied by an emotional theory of the judgment\ndoes it sanction any conception of objectivity which requires that\nvalues are here or there once for all; that they are fixed entities or\n\"a nature of things\" upon which the moral consciousness may look for its\ninformation but upon which it exercises no influence. The process of\nattempting to give--or discover--moral values is a process of mutual\ndetermination of object and agent. We have to do in morals not with a\nnature of things but with natures of persons. The very characteristic of\na person as we have understood it is that he is synthetic, is actually\ncreating something new by organizing experiences and purposes, by\njudging and choosing. Objectivity does not necessarily imply\nchangelessness.\n\nWhether right is a term of fixed and changeless character depends upon\nwhether the agents are fixed units, either in fact or in ideal. If, as\nwe maintain, right is the correlate of a self confronting a world of\nother persons conceived as all related in an order, the vital question\nis whether this order is a fixed or a moving order. \"Straight\" is a term\nof fixed content just because we conceive space in timeless terms; it is\nby its very meaning a cross-section of a static order. But a world of\nliving intelligent agents in social relations is in its very\npresuppositions a world of activity, of mutual understanding and\nadjustment. Rationalistic theory, led astray by geometrical conceptions,\nconceived that a universal criterion must be like a straight line, a\nfixed and timeless--or eternal--entity. But in such an order of fixed\nunits there could be no selection, no adjustment to other changing\nagents, no adventure upon the new untested possibility which marks the\nadvance of every great moral idea, in a word, no morality of the\npositive and constructive sort. And if it be objected that the predicate\nof a judgment must be timeless whatever the subject, that the word \"is\"\nas Plato insists cannot be used if all flows, we reply that if right=the\ncorrelate of a moving order, of living social intelligent beings, it is\nquite possible to affirm \"This is according to that law.\" If our logic\nprovides no form of judgment for the analysis of such a situation it is\ninadequate for the facts which it would interpret. But in truth\nmankind's moral judgments have never committed themselves to any such\nimplication. We recognize the futility of attempting to answer simply\nany such questions as whether the Israelites did right to conquer Canaan\nor Hamlet to avenge his father.\n\n(5) The category of right has usually been closely connected, if not\nidentified, with reason or \"cognitive\" activity as contrasted with\nemotion. Professor Dewey on the contrary has pointed out clearly[76] the\nimpossibility of separating emotion and thought. \"To put ourselves in\nthe place of another ... is the surest way to attain universality and\nobjectivity of moral knowledge.\" \"The only truly general, the reasonable\nas distinct from the merely shrewd or clever thought, is the _generous_\nthought.\" But in the case of certain judgments such as those approving\nfairness and the general good Sidgwick finds a rational intuition. \"The\nprinciple of impartiality is obtained by considering the similarity of\nthe individuals that make up a Logical Whole or Genus.\"[77] Rashdall\nchallenges any but a rationalistic ethics to explain fairness as\ncontrasted with partiality of affection.\n\nThere is without question a properly rational or intellectual element in\nthe judgment of impartiality, namely, analysis of the situation and\ncomparison of the units. But what we shall set up as our units--whether\nwe shall treat the gentile or the barbarian or negro as a person, as end\nand not merely means, or not, depends on something quite other than\nreason. And this other factor is not covered by the term \"practical\nreason.\" In fact no ethical principle shows better the subtle blending\nof the emotional and social factors with the rational. For the student\nof the history of justice is aware that only an extraordinarily\ningenious exegesis could regard justice as having ever been governed by\na mathematical logic. The logic of justice has been the logic of a\nwe-group gradually expanding its area. Or it has been the logic of a\nMagna Charta--a document of special privileges wrested from a superior\nby a strong group, and gradually widening its benefits with the\nadmission of others into the favored class. Or it has been the logic of\nclass, in which those of the same level are treated alike but those of\ndifferent levels of birth or wealth are treated proportionately. Yet it\nwould seem far-fetched to maintain that the countrymen of Euclid and\nAristotle were deficient in the ability to perform so simple a reasoning\nprocess as the judgment one equals one, or that men who developed the\nRoman Law, or built the cathedrals of the Middle Ages, were similarly\nlacking in elementary analysis. Inequality rather than equality has been\nthe rule in the world's justice. It has not only been the practice but\nthe approved principle. It still is in regard to great areas of life. In\nthe United States there is no general disapproval of the great\ninequalities in opportunity for children, to say nothing of inequalities\nin distribution of wealth. In England higher education is for the\nclasses rather than for the masses. In Prussia the inequality in voting\nstrength of different groups and the practical immunity of the military\nclass from the constraints of civil law seem to an American unfair. The\nwestern states of the Union think it unfair to restrict the suffrage to\nmales and give women no voice in the determination of matters of such\nvital interest to them as the law of divorce, the guardianship of\nchildren, the regulation of women's labor, the sale of alcoholic\nliquors, the protection of milk and food supply. Are all these\ndifferences of practice and conviction due to the fact that some people\nuse reason while others do not? Of course in every case excellent\nreasons can be given for the inequality. The gentile should not be\ntreated as a Jew because he is not a Jew. The slave should not be\ntreated as a free citizen because he is not a free citizen. The churl\nshould not have the same wergeld as the thane because he is lowborn. The\nmore able should possess more goods. The woman should not vote because\nshe is not a man. The reasoning is clear and unimpeachable if you accept\nthe premises, but what gives the premises? In every case cited the\npremise is determined largely if not exclusively by social or emotional\nfactors. If reason can then prescribe equally well that the slave should\nbe given rights because he is a man of similar traits or denied rights\nbecause he has different traits from his master, if the Jew may either\nbe given his place of equality because he hath eyes, hands, organs,\ndimensions, senses, affections, passions, or denied equality because he\ndiffers in descent, if a woman is equal as regards taxpaying but unequal\nas regards voting, it is at least evident that reason is no unambiguous\nsource of morality. The devil can quote Scripture and it is a very poor\nreasoner who cannot find a reason for anything that he wishes to do. A\npartiality that is more or less consistently partial to certain sets or\nclasses is perhaps as near impartiality as man has yet come, whether by\na rational faculty or any other.\n\nIs it, then, the intent of this argument merely to reiterate that reason\nis and ought to be the slave of the passions? On the contrary, the\nintent is to substitute for such blanket words as reason and passions a\nmore adequate analysis. And what difference will this make? As regards\nthe particular point in controversy it will make this difference: the\nrationalist having smuggled in under the cover of reason the whole moral\nconsciousness then proceeds to assume that because two and two are\nalways four, or the relations of a straight line are timeless, therefore\nethics is similarly a matter of fixed standards and timeless goods. A\nlegal friend told me that he once spent a year trying to decide whether\na corporation was or was not a person and then concluded that the\nquestion was immaterial. But when the supreme court decided that a\ncorporation was a person in the meaning of the Fourteenth Amendment it\nthereby made the corporation heir to the rights established primarily\nfor the negro. Can the moral consciousness by taking the name \"reason\"\nbecome heir to all the privileges of the absolute idea and to the\ntimelessness of space and number?\n\nSuppose I am to divide an apple between my two children--two children,\ntwo pieces--this is an analysis of the situation which is obvious and\nmay well be called the analytic activity of reason. But shall I give to\neach an equal share on the ground that both are equally my children or\nshall I reason that as John is older or larger or hungrier or mentally\nkeener or more generous or is a male, he shall have a larger piece than\nJane? To settle this it may be said that we ought to see whether there\nis any connection between the size of the piece and the particular\nquality of John which is considered, or that by a somewhat different use\nof reason we should look at the whole situation and see how we shall\nbest promote family harmony and mutual affection. To settle the first of\nthese problems, that of the connection between the size of the piece and\nthe size of the hunger or the sex of the child, is seemingly again a\nquestion of analysis, of finding identical units, but a moment's thought\nshows that the case is not so simple; that the larger child should have\nthe larger piece is by no means self-evident. This is in principle\ndoubtless the logic, to him that hath shall be given. It is the logic of\nthe survival of the strong, but over against that the moral\nconsciousness has always set another logic which says that the smaller\nchild should have the larger piece if thereby intelligent sympathy can\ncontribute toward evening up the lot of the smaller. Now it is precisely\nthis attitude of the moral consciousness which is not suggested by the\nterm reason, for it is quite different from the analytic and identifying\nactivity. This analytical and identifying activity may very well rule\nout of court the hypothesis that I should give John the larger piece\nbecause he has already eaten too much or because he has just found a\npenny or because he has red hair; it has undoubtedly helped in\nabolishing such practices as that of testing innocence by the ordeal.\nBut before the crucial question of justice which divides modern society,\nnamely, whether we shall lay emphasis upon adjustment of rewards to\nprevious abilities, habits, possessions, character, or shall lay stress\nupon needs, and the possibility of bringing about a greater measure of\nequality, the doctrine which would find its standard in an _a priori_\nreason is helpless.\n\nIf we look at the second test suggested, namely, that of considering the\nsituation as a whole with a view to the harmony of the children and the\nmutual affection within the family, there can be even less question that\nthis is no mere logical problem of the individuals in a logical genus.\nIt is the social problem of individuals who have feelings and emotions\nas well as thought and will. The problem of distributing the apple\nfairly is then a complex in which at least the following processes\nenter. (1) Analysis of the situation to show all the relevant factors\nwith the full bearing of each; (2) putting yourself in the place of each\none to be considered and experiencing to the full the claims, the\ndifficulties and the purposes of each person involved; (3) considering\nall of these _as_ members of the situation so that no individual is\ngiven rights or allowed claims except in so far as he represents a point\nof view which is comprehensive and sympathetic. This I take it is the\nforce of President Wilson's utterance which has commanded such wide\nacceptance: \"America asks nothing for herself except what she has a\nright to ask in the name of humanity.\" Kant aimed to express a high and\ndemocratic ideal of justice in his doctrine that we should treat every\nrational being as end. The defect in his statement is that the rational\nprocess as such has never treated and so far as can be foreseen never\nwill treat _human_ beings as ends. To treat a human being as an end it\nis necessary to put oneself into his place in his whole nature and not\nsimply in his universalizing, and legislative aspects: Kant's principle\nis profound and noble, but his label for it is misleading and leaves a\ndoor open for appalling disregard of other people's feelings,\nsympathies, and moral sentiments, as Professor Dewey has indicated in\nhis recent lectures on \"German Philosophy and Politics.\"\n\nThe term \"reasonable,\" which is frequently used in law and common life\nas a criterion of right, seems to imply that reason is a standard. As\nalready stated, common life understands by the reasonable man one who\nnot only uses his own thinking powers but is willing to listen to reason\nas presented by some one else. He makes allowance for frailties in human\nnature. To be reasonable means, very nearly, taking into account all\nfactors of the case not only as I see them but as men of varying\ncapacities and interests regard them. The type of the \"unreasonable\"\nemployer is the man who refuses to talk over things with the laborers;\nto put himself in their place; or to look at matters from the point of\nview of society as a whole.\n\nJust as little does the term reasonable as used in law permit a purely\nintellectualistic view of the process or an _a priori_ standard. The\nquestion as to what is reasonable care or a reasonable price is often\ndeclared to be a matter not for the court but for the jury to decide,\ni.e., it is not to be deduced from any settled principle but is a\nquestion of what the average thoughtful man, who considers other people\nas well as himself, would do under the circumstances. A glance at some\nof the judicial definitions of such phrases as \"reasonable care,\"\n\"reasonable doubt,\" \"reasonable law,\" as brought together in _Words and\nPhrases Judicially Defined_, illustrates this view. We get a picture not\nof any definite standard but of such a process as we have described in\nour analysis, namely, a process into which the existing social\ntradition, the mutual adjustments of a changing society and the\nintelligent consideration of all facts, enter. The courts have variously\ndefined the reasonable (1) as the customary, or ordinary, or legal, or\n(2) as according with the existing state of knowledge in some special\nfield, or (3) as proceeding on due consideration of all the facts, or\n(4) as offering sufficient basis for action. For example, (1) reasonable\ncare means \"according to the usages, habits, and ordinary risks of the\nbusiness,\" (2) \"surgeons should keep up with the latest advances in\nmedical science,\" (3) a reasonable price \"is such a price as the jury\nwould under all the circumstances decide to be reasonable.\" \"If, after\nan impartial comparison and consideration the jury can say candidly they\nare not satisfied with the defendant's guilt they have a reasonable\ndoubt.\" Under (4) falls one of various definitions of \"beyond reasonable\ndoubt.\" \"The evidence must be such as to produce in the minds of prudent\nmen such certainty that they would act without hesitation in their own\nmost important affairs.\" There is evidently ground for the statement of\none judge that \"reasonable\" (he was speaking the phrase \"reasonable\ncare,\" but his words would seem to apply to other cases) \"cannot be\nmeasured by any fixed or inflexible standard.\" Professor Freund\ncharacterizes \"reasonable\" as \"the negation of precision.\" In the\ndevelopment of judicial interpretation as applied to the Sherman Law the\ntendency is to hold that the \"rule of reason\" will regard as forbidden\nby the statute (_a_) such combinations as have historically been\nprohibited and (_b_) such as seem to work some definite injury.\n\n\nIII\n\nThe above view of the function of intelligence, and of the synthetic\ncharacter of the conscious process may be further defined in certain\naspects by comparison with the view of Professor Fite, who likewise\ndevelops the significance of consciousness and particularly of\nintelligence for our ethical concepts and social program.\n\nProfessor Fite insists that in contrast with the \"functional psychology\"\nwhich would make consciousness merely a means to the preservation of the\norganic individual in mechanical working order, the whole value of life\nfrom the standpoint of the conscious agent consists in its being\nconscious. Creative moments in which there is complete conscious control\nof materials and technique represent high and unique individuality.\nExtension of range of consciousness makes the agent \"a larger and more\ninclusive being,\" for he is living in the future and past as well as in\nthe present. Consciousness means that a new and original force is\ninserted into the economy of the social and the physical world.\"[78] On\nthe basis of the importance of consciousness Professor Fite would ground\nhis justification of rights, his conception of justice, and his social\nprogram. The individual derives his rights simply from the fact that he\nknows what he is doing, hence as individuals differ in intelligence they\ndiffer in rights. The problem of justice is that of according to each a\ndegree of recognition proportioned to his intelligence, that is, treat\nothers as ends so far as they are intelligent; so far as they are\nignorant treat them as means.[79] \"The conscious individual when dealing\nwith other conscious individuals will take account of their aims, as of\nother factors in his situation. This will involve 'adjustment,' but not\nabandonment of ends, i.e., self-sacrifice. Obligation to consider these\nends of others is based on 'the same logic that binds me to get out of\nthe way of an approaching train.'\"[80]\n\nThe point in which the conception of rights and justice and the implied\nsocial program advocated in this paper differs as I view it from that of\nProfessor Fite is briefly this. I regard both the individual and his\nrights as essentially synthetic and in constant process of\nreconstruction. Therefore what is due to any individual at a moment is\nnot measured by his present stage of consciousness. It is measured\nrather by his possibilities than his actualities. This does not mean\nthat the actual is to be ignored, but it does mean that if we take our\nstand upon the actual we are committed to a program with little place\nfor imagination, with an emphasis all on the side of giving people what\nthey deserve rather than of making them capable of deserving more.\nProfessor Fite's position I regard as conceiving consciousness itself\ntoo largely in the category of the identical and the static rather than\nin the more \"conscious\" categories of constant reconstruction. When by\nvirtue of consciousness you conceive new ends in addition to your former\nparticular ideas of present good the problem is, he says, \"to secure\nperfect fulfilment of each of them.\" The \"usefulness\" or \"advantage\" or\n\"profitableness\" of entering into social relations is the central\ncategory for measuring their value and their obligation.\n\nNow the conception of securing perfect fulfilment of all one's aims by\nmeans of society rather than of putting one's own aims into the process\nfor reciprocal modification and adjustment with the aims of others and\nof the new social whole involves a view of these ends as fixed, an\nessentially mechanical view. The same is the implication in considering\nsociety from the point of view of use and profit. As previously\nsuggested these economic terms apply appropriately to things rather than\nto intrinsic values. To consider the uses of a fellow-being is to\nmeasure him in terms of some other end than his own intrinsic personal\nworth. To consider family life or society as profitable implies in\nordinary language that such life is a means for securing ends already\nestablished rather than that it _proves_ a good to the man who invests\nin it and thereby becomes himself a new individual with a new standard\nof values. Any object to be chosen must of course have value to the\nchooser. But it is one thing to be valued because it appeals to the\nactual chooser as already constituted; it is another thing to be valued\nbecause it appeals to a moving self which adventures upon this new\nunproved objective. This second is the distinction of taking an interest\ninstead of being interested.\n\nThe second point of divergence is that Professor Fite lays greater\nstress upon the intellectual side of intelligence, whereas I should deny\nthat the intellectual activity in itself is adequate to give either a\nbasis for obligation or a method of dealing with the social problem. The\nprimary fact, as Professor Fite well states it, is \"that men are\nconscious beings and therefore know themselves and one another.\" It\ninvolves \"a mutual recognition of personal ends.\" \"That very knowledge\nwhich shows the individual himself shows him also that he is living in a\nworld with other persons and other things whose mode of behavior and\nwhose interests determine for him the conditions through which his own\ninterests are to be realized.\"\n\nWhat kind of \"knowledge\" is it \"which shows the individual himself\"?\nProfessor Fite has two quite different ways of referring to this. He\nuses one set of terms when he would contrast his view with the\nsentimental, or the \"Oriental,\" or justify exploitation by those who\nknow better what they are about than the exploited. He uses another set\nof terms to characterize it when he wishes to commend his view as human,\nand fraternal, and as affording the only firm basis for social reform.\nIn the first case he speaks of \"mere knowing\"; of intelligence as\n\"clear,\" and \"far-sighted,\" of higher degrees of consciousness as simply\n\"more in one.\" \"Our test of intelligence would be breadth of vision (in\na coherent view), fineness and keenness of insight.\"[81]\n\nIn the second case it is \"generous,\" it will show an \"intelligent\nsympathy\"; it seeks \"fellowship,\" and would not \"elect to live in a\nsocial environment in which the distinction of 'inferiors' were an\nessential part of the idea.\"[82] The type of intelligence is found not\nin the man seeking wealth or power, nor in the legal acumen which\nforecasts all discoverable consequences and devises means to carry out\npurposes, but in literature and art.[83]\n\nThe terms which cover both these meanings are the words \"consider\" and\n\"considerate.\" \"Breadth of consideration\" gives the basis for rights.\nThe selfish man is the \"inconsiderate.\"[84] This term plays the part of\nthe _amor intellectualis_ in the system of Spinoza, which enables him at\nonce to discard all emotion and yet to keep it. For \"consideration\" is\nused in common life, and defined in the dictionaries, as meaning both\n\"examination,\" \"careful thought,\" and \"appreciative or sympathetic\nregard.\" The ambiguity in the term may well have served to disguise from\nthe author himself the double role which intelligence is made to play.\nThe broader use is the only one that does justice to the moral\nconsciousness, but we cannot include sympathy and still maintain that\n\"mere knowing\" covers the whole. The insistence at times upon the \"mere\nknowing\" is a mechanical element which needs to be removed before the\nethical implications can be accepted.\n\nOnce more, how does one know himself and others? Is it the same process\nprecisely as knowing a mechanical object? Thoughts without percepts are\nempty, and what are the \"percepts\" in the two cases? In the first case,\nthat of knowing things, the percepts are colors, sounds, resistances; in\nthe case of persons the percepts are impulses, feelings, desires,\npassions, as well as images, purposes, and the reflective process\nitself. In the former case we construct objects dehumanized; in the\nlatter we keep them more or less concrete. But now, just as primitive\nman did not so thoroughly de-personalize nature, but left in it an\nelement of personal aim, so science may view human beings as objects\nwhose purposes and even feelings may be predicted, and hence may, as\nProfessor Fite well puts it, view them mechanically. What he fails to\nnote is that just this mechanical point of view is the view of \"mere\nknowing\"--if \"mere\" has any significance at all, it is meant to shut out\n\"sentiment.\" And this mechanical view is entirely equal to the\nadjectives of \"clear,\" \"far-sighted,\" and even \"broad\" so far as this\nmeans \"more in one.\" For it is not essential to a mechanical point of\nview that we consider men in masses or study them by statistics. I may\ncalculate the purposes and actions, yes, and the emotions and values of\none, or of a thousand, and be increasingly clear, and far-sighted, and\nbroad, but if it is \"mere\" knowing--scientific information--it is still\n\"mechanical,\" i.e., external. On the other hand, if it is to be a\nknowledge that has the qualities of humaneness, or \"intelligent\nsympathy,\" it must have some of the stuff of feeling, even as in the\nrealm of things an artist's forest will differ from that of the most\n\"far-sighted,\" \"clear,\" and \"broad\" statistician, by being rich with\ncolor and moving line.\n\nAnd this leads to a statement of the way in which my fellow-beings will\nfind place in \"my\" self. I grant that if they are there I shall take\nsome account of them. But they may be there in all sorts of ways. They\nmay be there as \"population\" if I am a statistician, or as \"consumers,\"\nor as rivals, or as enemies, or as fellows, or as friends. They will\nhave a \"value\" in each case, but it will sometimes be a positive value,\nand sometimes a negative value. Which it will be, and how great it will\nbe, depends not on the mere fact of these objects being \"in\nconsciousness\" but on the capacity in which they are there. And this\ncapacity depends on the dominant interest and not on mere knowing. The\ntrouble with the selfish man, says Professor Fite, is that he \"fails to\nconsider,\" \"he fails to take account of me.\"[85] Well, then, _why_ does\nhe fail? _Why_ does he not take account of me? He probably does\n\"consider\" me in several of the ways that are possible and in the ways\nthat it suits him to consider me. I call him selfish because he does not\nconsider me in the one particular way in which I wish to be considered.\nAnd what will get me into his consideration from this point of view? In\nsome cases it may be that I can speak: \"Sir, you are standing on my\ntoe,\" and as the message encounters no obstacle in any fixed purpose or\ntemperamental bent the idea has no difficulty in penetrating his mind.\nIn other cases it may interfere with his desire to raise himself as high\nas possible, but I may convince him by the same logic as that of an\n\"approaching railway train\"--that he must regard me. In still other\ncases--and it is these that always test Individualism--I am not myself\naware of the injury, or I am too faint to protest. How shall those who\nhave no voice to speak get \"consideration\"? Only by \"intelligent\nsympathy,\" and by just those emotions rooted in instinctive social\ntendencies which an intellectualistic Individualism excludes or\ndistrusts.\n\n\nIV\n\nWhat practical conclusion, if any, follows from this interpretation of\nthe moral consciousness and its categories? Moral progress involves both\nthe formation of better ideals and the adoption of such ideals as actual\nstandards and guides of life. If our view is correct we can construct\nbetter ideals neither by logical deduction nor solely by insight into\nthe nature of things--if by this we mean things as they are. We must\nrather take as our starting-point the conviction that moral life is a\nprocess involving physical life, social intercourse, measuring and\nconstructive intelligence. We shall endeavor to further each of these\nfactors with the conviction that thus we are most likely to reconstruct\nour standards and find a fuller good.[86]\n\nPhysical life, which has often been depreciated from the moral point of\nview, is not indeed by itself supreme, but it is certain that much evil\ncharged to a bad will is due to morbid or defective conditions of the\nphysical organism. One would be ashamed to write such a truism were it\nnot that our juvenile courts and our prison investigations show how far\nwe are from having sensed it in the past. And our present labor\nconditions show how far our organization of industry is from any decent\nprovision for a healthy, sound, vigorous life of all the people. This\nwar is shocking in its destruction, but it is doubtful if it can do the\nharm to Great Britain that her factory system has done. And if life is\nin one respect less than ideals, in another respect it is greater; for\nit provides the possibility not only of carrying out existing ideals but\nof the birth of new and higher ideals.\n\nSocial interaction likewise has been much discussed but is still very\ninadequately realized. The great possibilities of cooeperation have long\nbeen utilized in war. With the factory and commercial organization of\nthe past century we have hints of their economic power. Our schools,\nbooks, newspapers, are removing some of the barriers. But how far\ndifferent social classes are from any knowledge, not to say\nappreciation, of each other! How far different races are apart! How easy\nto inculcate national hatred and distrust! The fourth great problem\nwhich baffles Wells's hero in the _Research Magnificent_ is yet far\nfrom solution. The great danger to morality in America lies not in any\ntheory as to the subjectivity of the moral judgment, but in the conflict\nof classes and races.\n\nIntelligence and reason are in certain respects advancing. The social\nsciences are finding tools and methods. We are learning to think of much\nof our moral inertia, our waste of life, our narrowness, our muddling\nand blundering in social arrangements, as stupid--we do not like to be\ncalled stupid even if we scorn the imputation of claiming to be \"good.\"\nBut we do not organize peace as effectively as war. We shrink before the\nthought of expending for scientific investigation sums comparable with\nthose used for military purposes. And is scholarship entitled to shift\nthe blame entirely upon other interests? Perhaps if it conceived its\ntasks in greater terms and addressed itself to them more energetically\nit would find greater support.\n\nAnd finally the process of judgment and appraisal, of examination and\nrevaluation. To judge for the sake of judging, to analyze and evaluate\nfor the sake of the process hardly seems worth while. But if we supply\nthe process with the new factors of increased life, physical, social,\nintelligent, we shall be compelled to new valuations. Such has been the\ncourse of moral development; we may expect this to be repeated. The\ngreat war and the changes that emerge ought to set new tasks for ethical\nstudents. As medievalism, the century of enlightenment, and the century\nof industrial revolution, each had its ethics, so the century that\nfollows ought to have its ethics, roused by the problem of dealing\nfundamentally with economic, social, racial, and national relations, and\nusing the resources of better scientific method than belonged to the\nethical systems which served well their time.\n\nOnly wilful misinterpretation will suppose that the method here set\nforth is that of taking every want or desire as itself a final\njustification, or of making morality a matter of arbitrary caprice. But\nsome may in all sincerity raise the question: \"Is morality then after\nall simply the shifting mores of groups stumbling forward--or backward,\nor sidewise--with no fixed standards of right and good? If this is so\nhow can we have any confidence in our present judgments, to say nothing\nof calling others to an account or of reasoning with them?\" What we have\naimed to present as a moral method is essentially this: to take into our\nreckoning all the factors in the situation, to take into account the\nother persons involved, to put ourselves into their places by sympathy\nas well as conceptually, to face collisions and difficulties not merely\nin terms of fixed concepts of what is good or fair, and what the right\nof each party concerned may be, but with the conviction that we need new\ndefinitions of the ideal life, and of the social order, and thus\nreciprocally of personality. Thus harmonized, free, and responsible,\nlife may well find new meaning also in the older intrinsic goods of\nfriendship, aesthetic appreciation and true belief. And it is not likely\nto omit the satisfaction in actively constructing new ideals and working\nfor their fulfilment.\n\nFrankly, if we do not accept this method what remains? Can any one by\npure reason discover a single forward step in the treatment of the\nsocial situation or a single new value in the moral ideal? Can any\nanalysis of the pure concept of right and good teach us anything? In the\nlast analysis the moral judgment is not analytic but synthetic. The\nmoral life is not natural but spiritual. And spirit is creative.\n\n\n\n\nVALUE AND EXISTENCE IN PHILOSOPHY, ART, AND RELIGION\n\nHORACE M. KALLEN\n\n\nHe who assiduously compares the profound and the commonplace will find\ntheir difference to turn merely on the manner of their expression; a\nprofundity is a commonplace formulated in strange or otherwise obscure\nand unintelligible terms. This must be my excuse for beginning with the\ntrite remark that the world we live in is not one which was made for us,\nbut one in which we happened and grew. I am much aware that there exists\na large and influential class of persons who do not think so; and I\noffer this remark with all deference to devotees of idealism, and to\nother such pietists who persist in arguing that the trouble which we do\nencounter in this vale of tears springs from the inwardness of our own\nnatures and not from that of the world. I wish, indeed, that I could\nagree with them, but unhappily their very arguments prevent me, since,\nif the world were actually as they think it, they could not think it as\nthey do. In fact, they could not think. Thinking--worse luck!--came into\nbeing as response to discomfort, to pain, to uncertainty, to problems,\nsuch as could not exist in a world truly made for us; while from time\nimmemorial _pure_ as distinct from human consciousness has been\nidentified with absolute certainty, with self-absorption and\nself-sufficiency; as a god, a goal to attain, not a fact to rest in. It\nis notable that those who believe the world actually to have been made\nfor us devote most of their thinking to explaining away the experiences\nwhich have made all men feel that the world was actually not made for\nus. Their chief business, after proving the world to be all good, is\nsolving \"the problem of evil.\" Yet, had there really been no evil, this\nevil consequence could not have ensued: existence would have emerged as\nbeatitude and not as adjustment; thinking might in truth have been\nself-absorbed contemplation, blissful intuition, not painful learning by\nthe method of trial and error.\n\nAlas that what \"might have been\" cannot come into being by force of\ndiscursive demonstration! If it could, goodness alone would have existed\nand been real, and evil would have been non-existence, unreality, and\nappearance--all by the force of the Word. As it is, the appearance of\nevil is in so far forth no less an evil than its reality; in truth, it\nis reality and its best witnesses are the historic attempts to explain\nit away. For even as \"appearance\" it has a definite and inexpugnable\ncharacter of its own which cannot be destroyed by subsumption under the\n\"standpoint of the whole,\" \"the absolute good,\" the \"over-individual\nvalues.\" Nor, since only sticks and stones break bones and names never\nhurt, can it be abolished by the epithet \"appearance.\" To deny reality\nto evil is to multiply the evil. It is to make two \"problems\" grow where\nonly one grew before, to add to the \"problem of evil\" the \"problem of\nappearance\" without serving any end toward the solution of the real\nproblem how evil can be effectively abolished.\n\nI may then, in view of these reflections, hold myself safe in assuming\nthat the world we live in was not made for us; that, humanly speaking,\nit is open to improvement in a great many directions. It will be\ncomparatively innocuous to assume also, as a corollary, that in so far\nas the world was made for mind, it has been made so by man, that\ncivilization is the adaptation of nature to human nature. And as a\nsecond corollary it may be safely assumed that the world does not stay\nmade; civilization has brought its own problems and peculiar evils.\n\nI realize that, in the light of my title, much of what I have written\nabove must seem irrelevant, since the \"problem of evil\" has not, within\nthe philosophic tradition, been considered part of a \"problem of values\"\nas such. If I dwell on it, I do so to indicate that the \"problem of\nevil\" can perhaps be best understood in the light of another problem:\nthe problem, namely, of why men have created the \"problem of evil.\" For\nobviously, evil can be problematic only in an absolutely good world, and\nthe idea that the world is absolutely good is not a generalization\n_upon_ experience, but a contradiction _of_ experience. If there exists\na metaphysical \"problem of evil,\" hence, it arises out of this\ngeneralization; it is secondary, not primary; and the primary problem\nrequires solution before the secondary one can be understood. And what\nelse, under the circumstances, can the primary one be than this: \"Why do\nmen contradict their own experience?\"\n\n\nII\n\nSo put, the problem suggests its own solution. It indicates, first of\nall, that nature and human nature are not completely compatible, that\nconsequently, conclusions are being forced by nature on human nature\nwhich human nature resents and rejects, and that traits are being\nassigned to nature by human nature which nature does not possess, but\nwhich, if possessed, would make her congenial to human needs. All this\nis so platitudinous that I feel ashamed to write it; but then, how can\none avoid platitudes without avoiding truth? And truth here is the\nobvious fact that since human nature is the point of existence to which\ngood and evil refer, what is called value has its seat necessarily in\nhuman nature, and what is called existence has its seat necessarily in\nthe nature of which human nature is a part and apart. Value, in so far\nforth, is a content of nature, having its roots in her conditions and\nits life in her force, while the converse is not true. All nature and\nall existence is not spontaneously and intrinsically a content of value.\nOnly that portion of it which is human is such. Humanly speaking,\nnon-human existences become valuable by their efficacious bearing on\nhumanity, by their propitious or their disastrous relations to human\nconsciousness. It is these relations which delimit the substance of our\ngoods and evils, and these, at bottom, are indistinguishable from\nconsciousness. They do not, need not, and cannot connect all existence\nwith human life. They are inevitably implicated only with those which\nmake human life possible at all. Of the environment, they pertain only\nto that portion which is fit by the implicated conditions of life\nitself. It may therefore be said that natural existence produces and\nsustains some values,--at least the minimal value which is identical\nwith the bare existence of mankind--on its own account, but no more. The\nresidual environment remains--irrelevant and menacing, wider than\nconsciousness and independent of it. Value, hence, is a specific kind of\nnatural existence among other existences. To say that it is non-existent\nin nature, is to say that value is not coincident and coexistent with\nother existences, just as when it is said that a thing is not red, the\nmeaning is that red is not copresent with other qualities. Conversely,\nto say that value exists in nature is to say that nature and human\nnature, things and thoughts, are in some respect harmonious or\nidentical. Hence, what human nature tries to force upon nature must be,\nby implication, non-existent in nature but actual in mind, so that the\nnature of value must be held inseparable from the nature of mind.[87]\n\nIt follows that value is, in origin and character, completely\nirrational. At the foundations of our existence it is relation of their\nconditions and objects to our major instincts, our appetites, our\nfeelings, our desires, our ambitions--most clearly, to the\nself-regarding instinct and the instincts of nutrition, reproduction,\nand gregariousness. Concerning those, as William James writes, \"Science\nmay come and consider their ways and find that most of them are useful.\nBut it is not for the sake of their utility that they are followed,\nbut because at the moment of following them we feel that it is the only\nappropriate and natural thing to do. Not a man in a billion when taking\nhis dinner, ever thinks of utility. He eats because the food tastes good\nand makes him want more. If you ask him why he should want to eat more\nof what tastes like that, instead of revering you as a philosopher,\nhe will probably laugh at you for a fool. The connection between\nthe savory sensation and the act it awakens is for him absolute and\n_selbstverstaendlich_, an _a priori_ synthesis of the most perfect sort,\nneeding no proof but its own evidence.... To the metaphysician alone can\nsuch questions occur as 'Why do we smile when pleased, and not scowl?\nWhy are we unable to talk to a crowd as we talk to a single friend? Why\ndoes a particular maiden turn our wits upside down?' The common man can\nonly say '_of course_ we smile, _of course_ our heart palpitates at the\nsight of a crowd, _of course_ we love the maiden, that beautiful soul\nclad in that perfect form, so palpably and flagrantly made from all\neternity to be loved.' And so, probably, does each animal feel about\nthe particular things it tends to do in the presence of particular\nobjects.... To the broody hen the notion would probably seem\nmonstrous that there should be a creature in the world to whom\na nestful of eggs was not the utterly fascinating and precious and\nnever-to-be-too-much-set-upon object it is to her.\" In sum, fundamental\nvalues are relations, responses, attitudes, immediate, simple,\nsubjectively obvious, and irrational. But everything else becomes\nvaluable or rational only by reference to them.\n\nStudy them or others empirically,[88] and they appear as types of\nspecific behavior, simple or complicated, consisting of a given motor\n\"set\" of the organism, strong emotional tone, and aggregates of\nconnected ideas, more or less systematized. In the slang of the new\nmedical psychology which has done so much to uncover their method and\nmechanism, they are called \"complexes\"; ethics has called them\ninterests, and that designation will do well enough. They are the\nprimary and morally ultimate efficacious units of which human nature is\ncompounded, and it is in terms of the world's bearing upon their destiny\nthat we evaluate nature and judge her significance and worth.\n\nNow in interest, the important delimiting quality is emotional tone.\nWhatever else is sharable, that is not. It is the very stuff of our\nattitudes, of our acceptances and rejections of the world and its\ncontents, the very essence of the relations we bear to these. That these\nrelations shall be identical for any two human beings requires that the\ntwo shall be identical: two persons cannot hold the same relation to the\nsame or different objects any more than two objects can occupy\nabsolutely the same space at the same time. Hence, all our differences\nand disagreements. However socially-minded we may be, mere numerical\ndiversity compels us to act as separate centers, to value things with\nreference to separate interests, to orient our worlds severally, and\nwith ourselves as centers. This orienting is the relating of the\nenvironment to our interests, the establishment of our worlds of\nappreciation, the creation of our orders of value. However much these\ncross and interpenetrate, coincide they never can.\n\nOur interests, furthermore, are possibly as numerous as our reflex arcs.\nEach may, and most do, constitute distinct and independent valuations of\ntheir objects, to which they respond, and each, with these objects,\nremains an irreducible system. But reflex arcs and interests do not act\nalone. They act like armies; they compound and are integrated, and when\nso integrated their valuations fuse and constitute the more complex and\nmassive feelings, pleasures and pains, the emotions of anger, of fear,\nof love; the sentiments of respect, of admiration, of sympathy. They\nremain, through all degrees of complexity, appraisements of the\nenvironment, reactions upon it, behavior toward it, as subject to\nempirical examination by the psychologist as the environment itself by\nthe physicist.\n\nWith a difference, however, a fundamental difference. When you have an\nemotion you cannot yourself examine it. Effectively as the mind may work\nin sections, it cannot with sanity be divided against itself nor long\nremain so. A feeling cannot be had and examined in the same time. And\nthough the investigator who studies the nature of red does not become\nred, the investigator who studies the actual emotion of anger does tend\nto become angry. Emotion is infectious; anger begets anger; fear, fear;\nlove, love; hate, hate; actions, relations, attitudes, when actual,\nintegrate and fuse; as feelings, they constitute the sense of behavior,\nvarying according to a changing and unstable equilibrium of factors\n_within_ the organism; they are actually underneath the skin, and\nconsequently, to know them alive is to have them. On the other hand, to\nknow _things_ is simply to have a relation to them. The same thing may\nbe both loved and hated, desired or spurned, by different minds at the\nsame time or by the same mind at different times. One, for example,\nvalues whiskey positively, approaches, absorbs it, aims to increase its\nquantity and sale; another apprehends it negatively, turns from it,\nstrives to oust it from the world. Then, according to these direct and\nimmediate valuations of whiskey, its place in the common world of the\ntwo minds will be determined. To save or destroy it, they may seek to\ndestroy each other. Even similar positive valuations of the object might\nimply this mutual repugnance and destruction. Thus, rivals in love: they\nenhance and glorify the same woman, but as she is not otherwise\nsharable, they strive to eliminate each other. Throughout the world of\nvalues the numerical distinctness of the seats or centers of value,\nwhatever their identity otherwise, keeps them ultimately inimical. They\nmay terminate in the common object, but they originate in different\nsouls and they are related to the object like two magnets of like\npolarity to the same piece of iron that lies between them. Most of what\nis orderly in society and in science is the outcome of the adjustment of\njust such oppositions: our civilization is an unstable equilibrium of\nobjects, through the cooeperation, antipathy, and fusion of\nvalue-relations.\n\nIndividuals are no better off; personality is constructed in the same\nway. If, indeed, the world had been made for us, we might have been\nspared this warfare to man upon earth. Life might have been the obvious\nirrational flow of bliss so vividly described by William James; nature\nand human nature would have been one; bridging the gulf between them\nwould never have been the task of the tender-minded among philosophers.\nUnfortunately our mere numerical difference, the mere numerical\ndifference of the interests which compose our egos, makes the trouble,\nso that we are compelled to devote most of our lives to converting the\ndifferent into the same. The major part of our instincts serve this\nfunction recognizably, e.g., nutrition, and the \"higher powers\" do so no\nless, if not so obviously. Generalization is nothing more, thinking\nnothing else. It is the assimilation of many instances into one form,\nlaw, or purpose; the preservation of established contents of value, just\nas nutrition is the preservation of life by means of the conversion of\nforeign matter into the form and substance of the body. By bowels and by\nbrain, what is necessary, what will feed the irrationally given\ninterest, is preserved and consumed: the rest is cast off as waste, as\nirrelevance, as contradiction.\n\nThe relation may, of course, also reverse itself. Face to face with the\nimmovable and inexorable, the mind may accept it with due resignation,\nor it may challenge its tyranny and exclude it from its world. It may\nseek or create or discover a substitute that it is content to accept,\nthough this will in turn alter the course and character of the interest\nwhich in such an instance defines the mind's action. Thus, a way out\nfor one of the lovers of the same girl might be to become a depressed\nand yearning bachelor, realizing his potential sexuality in the\nvicarious reproduction of reverie and sentiment; another might be to\ndivert the stream of his affections to another girl, reorganizing his\nlife about a different center and acquiring a new system of practical\nvalues determined by this center; a third might be a complete\nredirection of his sexual energies upon objects the interest in which we\nwould call, abnormal and anti-social in one case, and in another lofty\nand spiritual. In the latter case sexuality would have been\ndepersonalized; it would have changed into poetic and humanitarian\npassion; it would have become love as Plato means us to take the word.\nBut each of these processes would have been a conversion, through the\nneed defined by an identical instinct, of the _same into the different_;\nthe human nature which existed at the beginning of the change would be\ndeeply other than the human nature in which the change culminated. In\neach case a condition thrust upon the spirit by its environment would\nhave occasioned the creation and maintenance of an environment demanded\nby the spirit. Yet in so far as it was not truly _the same_ as that\nenvisaged in the primitive demand, it would still imply the tragedy of\nthe world not made for us and the \"problem of evil,\" in which the life\nof the spirit is persistently a salvage of one of two always\nincompatible goods, a saving by surrender.\n\nAnd this is all that a mind is--an affair of saving and rejecting, of\nvaluing with a system of objects of which a living body and its desires\nand operations, its interests, are focal and the objects marginal, for\nits standard. Mind, thus, is neither simple, nor immutable, nor stable;\nit is a thing to be \"changed,\" \"confused,\" \"cleared,\" \"made-up,\"\n\"trained.\" One body, I have written elsewhere,[89] \"in the course of its\nlifetime, has many minds, only partially united. Men are all too often\n\"of two minds.\" The unity of a mind depends on its consistent pursuit of\n_one_ interest, although we then call it narrow; or on the cooeperation\nand harmony of its many interests. Frequently, two or more minds may\nstruggle for the possession of the same body; that is, the body may be\ndivided by two elaborately systematized tendencies to act. The beginning\nof such division occurs wherever there is a difficulty in deciding\nbetween alternative modes of behavior; the end is to be observed in\nthose cases of dual or multiple personality in which the body has\nordered a great collection of objects and systematized so large a\ncollection of interests in such typically distinct ways as to have set\nup for itself different and opposed \"minds.\" On the other hand, two or\nfifty or a million bodies may be \"of the same mind.\"\n\nUnhappily, difference of mind, diversity and conflict of interests is\nquite as fundamental, if not more so, as sameness of mind, cooeperation\nand unity of interests. This the philosophical tradition sufficiently\nattests. To Plato man is at once a protean beast, a lion, and an\nintellect; the last having for its proper task to rule the first and\nto regulate the second, which is always rebellious and irruptive.[90]\nAccording to the Christian tradition man is at once flesh and spirit,\neternally in conflict with one another, and the former is to be\nmortified that the latter may have eternal life. Common sense divides us\ninto head and heart, never quite at peace with one another. There is no\nneed of piling up citations. Add to the inward disharmonies of mind its\nincompatibilities with the environment, and you perceive at once how\ncompletely it is, from moment to moment, a theater and its life a drama\nof which the interests that compose it are at once protagonists and\ndirectors. The catastrophe of this unceasing drama is always that one or\nmore of the players is driven from the stage of conscious existence. It\nmay be that the environment--social conditions, commercial necessity,\nintellectual urgency, allies of other interests--will drive it off; it\nmay be that its own intrinsic unpleasantness will banish it, will put it\nout of mind; whatever the cause, it is put out. Putting it out does not,\nhowever, end the drama; putting it out serves to complicate the drama.\nFor the \"new psychology\"[91] shows that whenever an interest or a desire\nor impulsion is put out of the mind, it is really, if not extirpated,\nput into the mind; it is driven from the conscious level of existence to\nthe unconscious. It retains its force and direction, only its work now\nlies underground. Its life henceforward consists partly in a direct\noppugnance to the inhibitions that keep it down, partly in burrowing\nbeneath and around them and seeking out unwonted channels of escape.\nSince life is long, repressions accumulate, the mass of existence of\nfeeling and desire tends to become composed entirely of these\nrepressions, layer upon layer, with every interest in the aggregate\nstriving to attain place in the daylight of consciousness.\n\nNow, empirically and metaphysically, no one interest is more excellent\nthan any other. Repressed or patent, each is, whether in a completely\nfavorable environment or in a completely indifferent universe, or before\nthe bar of an absolute justice, or under the domination of an absolute\nand universal good, entitled to its free fulfilment and perfect\nmaintenance. Each is a form of the good; the essential content of each\nis good. That any are not fulfilled, but repressed, is a fact to be\nrecorded, not an appearance to be explained away. And it may turn out\nthat the existence of the fact may explain the effort to explain it\naway. For where interests are in conflict with each other or with\nreality, and where the loser is not extirpated, its revenge may be just\nthis self-fulfilment in unreality, in idea, which philosophies of\nabsolute values offer it. Dreams, some of the arts, religion, and\nphilosophy may indeed be considered as such fulfilments, worlds of\nluxuriant self-realization of all that part of our nature which the\nharsh conjunctions with the environment overthrow and suppress.\nSometimes abortive self-expressions of frustrated desires, sometimes\nideal compensations for the shortcomings of existence, they are always\nequally ideal reconstructions of the surrounding evil of the world into\nforms of the good. And because they are compensations in idea, they are\nsubstituted for existence, appraised as \"true,\" and \"good,\" and\n\"beautiful,\" and \"real,\" while the experiences which have suppressed the\ndesires they realize are condemned as illusory and unreal. In them\nhumanity has its freest play and amplest expression.\n\n\nIII\n\nThis has been, and still to a very great extent remains, most\nspecifically true of philosophy. The environment with which philosophy\nconcerns itself is nothing less than the whole universe; its content is,\nwithin the history of its dominant tradition, absolutely general and\nabstract; it is, of all great human enterprises, even religion, least\nconstrained by the direction and march of events or the mandate of\ncircumstance. Like music, it expresses most truly the immediate and\nintrinsic interests of the mind, its native bias and its inward goal. It\nhas been constituted, for this reason, of the so-called \"normative\"\nsciences, envisaging the non-existent as real, forcing upon nature pure\nvalues, forms of the spirit incident to the total life of this world,\nunmixed with baser matter. To formulate ultimate standards, to be\ncompletely and utterly lyrical has been the prerogative of philosophy\nalone. Since these standards reappear in all other reconstructions of\nthe environment and most clearly in art and in religion, it is pertinent\nto enumerate them, and to indicate briefly their bearing on existence.\n\nThe foremost outstanding is perhaps \"the unity of the world.\"\nConfronted by the perplexing menace of the variation of experience, the\ndichotomies and oppositions of thoughts and things, the fusion and\ndiversifications of many things into one and one into many, mankind has,\nfrom the moment it became reflective, felt in the relation of the One\nand the Many the presence of a riddle that engendered and sustained\nuneasiness, a mystery that concealed a threat. The mind's own\npreference, given the physiological processes that condition its\nexistence, constitution, and operation, could hardly come to rest in a\nmore fundamental normation than Unity. A world which is _one_ is easier\nto live in and with; initial adjustment therein is final adjustment; in\nits substance there exists nothing sudden and in its character nothing\nuncontrollable. It guarantees whatever vital equilibrium the organism\nhas achieved in it, ill or good. It secures life in attainment and\npossession, insuring it repose, simplicity, and spaciousness. A world\nwhich is many complicates existence: it demands watchful consideration\nof irreducible discrete individualities: it necessitates the integration\nand humanization in a common system of adjustment of entities which in\nthe last analysis refuse all ordering and reject all subordination,\nconsequently keeping the mind on an everlasting jump, compelling it to\npay with eternal vigilance the price of being. The preference for unity,\nthen, is almost inevitable, and the history of philosophy, from the\nVedas to the Brahma Somaj and from Thales to Bergson, is significantly\nunanimous in its attempts to prove that the world is, somehow, through\nand through one. That the oneness requires _proof_ is _prima facie_\nevidence that it is a value, a desiderate, not an existence. And how\nvaluable it is may be seen merely in the fact that it derealizes the\ninner conflict of interests, the incompatibilities between nature and\nman, the uncertainties of knowledge, and the certainties of evil, and\nsubstitutes therefore the ultimate happy unison which \"the identity of\nthe different\" compels.\n\nUnity is the common desiderate of philosophic systems of all\nmetaphysical types--neutral, materialistic, idealistic. But the dominant\ntradition has tended to think this unity in terms of _interest_, of\n_spirit_, of _mentality_. It has tended, in a word, to assimilate nature\nto human nature, to identify things with the _values_ of things, to\nenvisage the world in the image of man. To it, the world is all spirit,\nego, or idea; and if not such through and through, then entirely\nsubservient, in its unhumanized parts, to the purposes and interests of\nego, idea, or spirit. Why, is obvious. A world of which the One\nsubstance is such constitutes a totality of interest and purpose which\nfaces no conflict and has no enemy. It is fulfilment even before it is\nneed, and need, indeed, is only illusion. Even when its number is many,\nthe world is a better world if the stuff of these many is the _same_\nstuff as the spirit of man. For mind is more at home with mind than with\nthings; the pathetic fallacy is the most inevitable and most general.\nAlthough the totality of spirit is conceived as good, that is, as\nactualizing all our desiderates and ideals, it would still be felt that,\neven if the totality were evil, and not God, but the Devil ruled the\nroost, the world so constituted must be better than one utterly\nnon-spiritual. We can understand and be at home with malevolence: it\noffers at least the benefits of similarity, of companionship, of\nintimateness, of consubstantiality with _will_; its behavior may be\nforeseen and its intentions influenced; but no horror can be greater\nthan that of utter aliency. How much of religion turns with a persistent\ntropism to the consideration of the devil and his works, and how much it\nhas fought his elimination from the cosmic scheme! Yet never because it\nloved the devil. The deep-lying reason is the fact that the humanization\nof Evil into Devil mitigates Evil and improves the world. Philosophy has\nbeen least free from this corrective and spiritizing bias. Though it has\ncared less for the devil, it has predominantly repudiated aliency, has\nsought to prove spirit the cause and substance of the world, and in that\ndegree, to transmute the aliency of nature into sameness with human\nnature.\n\nWith unity and spirituality, _eternity_ makes a third. This norm is a\nfundamental attribute of the One God himself, and interchangeable with\nhis ineffable name: the Lord is Eternal, and the Eternal, even more than\nthe One, receives the eulogium of exclusive realness. To the\nphilosophical tradition it is the most real. Once more the reason should\nbe obvious. The underlying urge which pushes the mind to think the world\nas a unity pushes it even more inexorably to think the world as\ntimeless. For unity is asserted only against the perplexities of a\nmanyness which may be static and unchanging, and hence comparatively\nsimple. But eternity is asserted and set against mutability: it is the\nnegation of change, of time, of novelty, of the suddenness and\nslaughter of the flux of life itself, which consumes what it generates,\nundermines what it builds and sweeps to destruction what it founds to\nendure. Change is the arch-enemy of a life which struggles for\nself-_preservation_, of an intellect which operates spontaneously by the\nlogic of identity, of a will which seeks to convert others into sames.\nIt substitutes a different self for the old, it falsifies systems of\nthought and deteriorates systems of life. It makes unity impossible and\nmanyness inevitable. It upsets every actual equilibrium that life\nattains. It opens the doors and windows of every closed and comfortable\ncosmos to all transcosmic winds that blow, with whatever they carry of\npossible danger and possible ill. It is the very soul of chaos in which\nthe pleasant, ordered world is such a little helpless thing. Of this\nchange eternity is by primary intention the negation, as its\nphilological form shows. It is _not-time_, without positive intrinsic\ncontent, and in its secondary significances, i.e., in those\nsignificances which appear in metaphysical dialectic, without meaning;\nsince it is there a pure negation, intrinsically affirming nothing, of\nthe same character as \"not-man\" or \"not-donkey,\" standing for a nature\naltogether unspecific and indeterminable in the residual universe. By a\nsort of obverse implication it does, however, possess, in the\nphilosophic tradition, a positive content which accrues to it by virtue\nof what it denies. This content makes it a designation for the\npersistence and perdurability of desiderated quality--from metaphysical\nunity and spirituality to the happy hunting-grounds or a woman's\naffection. At bottom it means the assurance that the contents of value\ncannot and will not be altered or destroyed, that their natures and\ntheir relations to man do not undergo change. There is no recorded\nattempt to prove that evil is eternal: eternity is _eternity of the good\nalone_.\n\nUnity, spirituality, and eternity, then, are the forms which contents of\nvalue receive under the shaping hands of the philosophic tradition, to\nwhich they owe their metaphysical designation and of which the business\nhas so largely and uniquely been to _prove_ them the foundations and\nontological roots of universal nature. But \"the problem of evil\" does\nnot come to complete solution with these. Even in a single,\nmetaphysically spiritual and unchanging world, man himself may still be\nless than a metaphysical absolute and his proper individuality doomed to\nabsorption, his wishes to obstruction and frustration. Of man,\ntherefore, the tradition posits _immortality_ and _freedom_, and even\nthe materialistic systems have sought to keep somehow room for some form\nof these goods.\n\nTo turn first to immortality. Its source and matrix is less the love of\nlife than the fear of death--that fear which Lucretius, dour poet of\ndisillusion, so nobly deplored. That he had ever himself been possessed\nof it is not clear, but it is perfectly clear that his altogether sound\narguments against it have not abolished its operation, nor its effect\nupon human character, society, and imagination. Fear which made the\ngods, made also the immortality of man, the denial of death. What the\nfear's unmistakable traits may be has never been articulately said,\nperhaps never can be said. Most of us never may undergo the fear of\ndeath; we undergo comfort and discomfort, joy and sorrow, intoxication\nand reaction, love and disgust; we aim to preserve the one and to\nabolish the other, but we do not knowingly undergo the fear of death.\nIndeed, it is logically impossible that we should, since to do so would\nbe to acquire an experience of death such that we should be conscious of\nbeing unconscious, sensible of being insensible, aware of being unaware.\nWe should be required to be and not to be at the same instant, in view\nof which Lucretius both logically and wisely advises us to remember that\nwhen death is, we are not; and when we are, death is not.\n\nExperience and feeling are, however, neither logical nor wise, and to\nthese death is far from the mere non-being which the poet would have us\nthink it. To these it has a positive reality which makes the fear of it\na genuine cause of conduct in individuals and in groups, with a basis in\nknowledge such as is realized in the diminishing of consciousness under\nanaesthetic, in dreams of certain types, and most generally in the\nnascent imitation of the _rigor mortis_ which makes looking upon the\ndead such a horror to most of us. Even then, however, something is\nlacking toward the complete realization of death, and children and\nprimitive peoples never realize it at all. Its full meaning comes out as\n_an unsatisfied hunger in the living_ rather than as a condition of the\ndead, who, alive, would have satisfied this hunger. And the realization\nof this meaning requires sophistication, requires a lengthy corporate\nmemory and the disillusions which civilization engenders. Primitive\npeoples ask for no proof of immortality because they have no notion of\nmortality; civilized thinking has largely concerned itself about the\nproof of immortality because its assurance of life has been shaken by\nthe realization of death through the gnawing of desire which only the\ndead could still. The _proof_ which in the history of thought is offered\nagain and again, be it noted, is not of the reality of life, but of the\nunreality and inefficacy of death. Immortality is like eternity, a\nnegative term; it is _im_mortality. The experienced fact is mortality;\nand the fear of it is only an inversion of the desire which it\nfrustrates, just as frustrated love becomes hatred. The doctrine of\nimmortality, hence, springs from the fear of death, not from the love of\nlife, and immortality is a value-form, not an existence. Now, although\nfear of death and love of life are in constant play in character and\nconduct, neither constitutes the original, innocent urge of life within\nus. \"Will to live,\" \"will to power,\" \"struggle for existence,\" and other\nGermanic hypostases of experienced events which the great civil war in\nEurope is just now giving such an airing, hardly deserve, as natural\ndata, the high metaphysical status that Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and\ncompany have given them. They follow in fact upon a more primary type of\nliving, acting form, a type to which the \"pathetic fallacy\" or any other\nmanner of psychologizing may not apply. The most that can be said about\nthis type is that its earlier stages are related to its later ones as\npotential is to kinetic energy. If, since we are discussing a\nmetaphysical issue, we must mythologize, we might call it the \"will to\nself-expression.\" Had this \"will\" chanced to happen in a world which was\nmade for it, or had it itself been the substance of the world, \"struggle\nfor existence,\" \"will to live,\" and \"will to power,\" never could have\nsupervened. All three of these expressions designate data which require\nan opposite, a counter-will, to give them meaning. There can be a\nstruggle for existence only when there are obstacles thereto, a will to\nlive only when there are obstructions to life, a will to power only when\nthere is a resistance against which power may be exercised. Expression\nalone is self-implying and self-sufficient, and in an altogether\nfavorable environment we might have realized our instincts, impulses,\ninterests, appetites and desires, expressed and actualized our\npotentialities, and when our day is done, have ceased, as unconcerned\nabout going on as about starting.\n\nMetchnikoff speaks somewhere of an instinct toward death and the\neuphoria which accompanies its realization. He cites, I think, no more\nthan two or three cases. To most of us the mere notion of the existence\nand operation of such an instinct seems fanciful and uncanny. Yet from\nthe standpoint of biology nothing should be more natural. Each living\nthing has its span, which consists of a cycle from birth through\nmaturation and senescence to dissolution, and the latter half of the\nprocess is as \"fateful\" and \"inevitable\" as the former! Dying is itself\nthe inexpugnable conclusion of that setting free of organic\npotentialities which we call life, and if dying seems horrid and\nunnatural, it seems so because for most of us death is violent, because\nits occasion is a shock from without, not the realization of a tendency\nfrom within. In a completely favorable environment we should not\nstruggle to exist, we should simply exist; we should not will to live,\nwe should simply live, i.e., we should actualize our potentialities and\ndie.\n\nBut, once more alas, our environment is not completely favorable, and\nthere's the rub. That disorderly constellation of instincts and\nappetites and interests which constitutes the personality of the best of\nus does not work itself out evenly. At the most favorable, our\nself-realizations are lopsided and distorted. For every capacity of ours\nin full play, there are a score at least mutilated, sometimes\nextirpated, always repressed. They never attain the free fullness of\nexpression which is consciousness, or when they do, they find themselves\nconfronted with an opponent which neutralizes their maturation at every\npoint. Hence, as I have already indicated, they remain in, or revert to,\nthe subterranean regions of our lives, and govern the making of our\nbiographies from their seats below. What they fail to attain in fact\nthey succeed in generating in imagination to compensate for the failure;\nthey realize themselves vicariously. The doctrine of immortality is the\ngeneric form of such vicarious self-realization, as frequently by means\nof dead friends and relatives to whose absolute non-being the mind will\nnot assent, as by means of the everlasting heaven in which the mind may\nforever disport itself amid those delights it had to forego on earth.\nMuch of the underlying motive of the doctrine is a _sehnsucht_ and\nnostalgia after the absent dead; little a concern for the continuity of\nthe visible living. And often this passion is so intense that system\nafter system in the philosophic tradition is constructed to satisfy it,\nand even the most disillusioned of systems--for example, Spinoza's--will\npreserve its form if not its substance.\n\nThat the \"freedom of the will\" shall be a particularized compensatory\ndesiderate like the immortality of the soul, the unity, the\nspirituality, and the eternity of the world is a perversion worked upon\nthis ideal by the historic accident we call Christianity. The\nassumptions of that theory concerning the nature of the universe and the\ndestiny of man, being through and through compensatory, changed freedom\nfrom the possible fact and actual hope of Hellenic systems into the\n\"problem\" of the Christian ones. The consequent controversy over\n\"free-will,\" the casuistic entanglement of this ideal with the notion of\nresponsibility, its theological development in the problem of the\nrelation of an omnipotent God to a recalcitrant creature, have\ncompletely obscured its primal significance. For the ancients, the free\nman and the \"wise man\" were identical, and the wise man was one who all\nin all had so mastered the secrets of the universe that there was no\ndesire of his that was not actually realized, no wish the satisfaction\nof which was obstructed. His way in the world was a way without let or\nhindrance. Now freedom and wisdom in this sense is never a fact and ever\na value. Its attainment ensues upon created distinctions between\nappearance and reality, upon the postulation of the metaphysical\nexistence of the value-forms of the unity, spirituality, and the\neternity of the world, in the realization of which the wise man founded\nhis wisdom and gained his freedom. Freedom, then, is an ideal that could\nhave arisen only in the face of _obstruction to action directed toward\nthe fulfilling and satisfying of interests_. It is the assurance of the\nsmooth and uninterrupted flow of behavior; the flow of desire into\nfulfilment, of thought into deed, of act into fact. It is perhaps the\nmost pervasive and fundamental of all desiderates, and in a definite way\nthe others may be said to derive from it and to realize it. For the\nsoul's immortality, the world's unity and spirituality and eternity, are\nbut conditions which facilitate and assure the flow of life without\nobstruction. They define a world in which danger, evil, and frustration\nare non-existent; they so reconstitute our actual environment that the\nobstructions it offers to the course of life are abolished. They make\nthe world \"rational,\" and in the great philosophic tradition the freedom\nof man is held to be a function of the rationality of the world. Thus,\neven deterministic solutions of the \"problem of freedom\" are at bottom\nno more than the rationalization of natural existence by the dialectical\nremoval of obstructions to human existence. Once more, Spinoza's\nsolution is typical, and its form is that of all idealisms as well. It\nensues by way of identification of the obstruction's interest with those\nof the obstructee: the world becomes ego or the ego the world, with\nnothing outside to hinder or to interfere. In the absolute, existence is\ndeclared to be value _de facto_; in fact, _de jure_. And by virtue of\nthis compensating reciprocity the course of life runs free.\n\nIs any proof necessary that these value-forms are not the contents of\nthe daily life? If there be, why this unvarying succession of attempts\nto _prove_ that they are the contents of daily life that goes by the\nname of history of philosophy? In fact, experience as it comes from\nmoment to moment is not one, harmonious and orderly, but multifold,\ndiscordant, and chaotic. Its stuff is not spirit, but stones and railway\nwrecks and volcanoes and Mexico and submarines, and trenches, and\nfrightfulness, and Germany, and disease, and waters, and trees, and\nstars, and mud. It is not eternal, but changes from instant to instant\nand from season to season. Actually, men do not live forever; death is a\nfact, and immortality is literally as well as in philosophic discourse\nnot so much an aspiration for the continuity of life as an aspiration\nfor the elimination of death, purely _im_mortality. Actually the will is\nnot free, each interest encounters obstruction, no interest is\ncompletely satisfied, all are ultimately cut off by death.\n\nSuch are the general features of all human experience, by age\nunwithered, and with infinite variety forever unstaled. The traditional\nphilosophic treatment of them is to deny their reality, and to call them\nappearance, and to satisfy the generic human interest which they oppose\nand repress by means of the historical reconstruction in imaginative\ndialectic of a world constituted by these most generalized value-forms\nand then to eulogize the reconstruction with the epithet \"reality.\"\nWhen, in the course of human events, such reconstruction becomes limited\nto the biography of particular individuals, is an expression of their\nconcrete and unique interest, is lived and acted on, it is called\nparanoia. The difference is not one of kind, but of concreteness,\napplication, and individuality. Such a philosophy applied universally in\nthe daily life is a madness, like Christian Science: kept in its proper\nsphere, it is a fine art, the finest and most human of the arts, a\nreconstruction in discourse of the whole universe, in the image of the\nfree human spirit. Philosophy has been reasonable because it is so\nunpersonal, abstract, and general, like music; because, in spite of its\nlabels, its reconstructions remain pure desiderates and value-forms,\nnever to be confused with and substituted for existence. But\nphilosophers even to this day often have the delusion that the\nsubstitutions are actually made.[92]\n\n\nIV\n\nIt is the purity of the value-forms imagined in philosophy that makes\nphilosophy \"normative.\" The arts, which it judges, have an identical\norigin and an indistinguishable intent, but they are properly its\nsubordinates because they have not its purity. They, too, aim at\nremodeling discordant nature into harmony with human nature. They, too,\nare dominated by value-forms which shall satisfy as nearly as possible\nall interests, shall liberate and fulfil all repressions, and shall\nsupply to our lives that unity, eternity, spirituality, and freedom\nwhich are the exfoliations of our central desire--the desire to live.\nBut where philosophy has merely negated the concrete stuff of experience\nand defined its reality in terms of desire alone, the arts acknowledge\nthe reality of immediate experience, accept it as it comes, eliminating,\nadding, molding, until the values desiderated become existent in the\nconcrete immediacies of experience as such. Art does not substitute\nvalues for existence by changing their roles and calling one appearance\nand the other reality: art converts values into existences, it realizes\nvalues, injecting them into nature as far as may be. It creates truth\nand beauty and goodness. But it does not claim for its results greater\nreality than nature's. It claims for its results greater immediate\nharmony with human interests than nature. The propitious reality of the\nphilosopher is the unseen: the harmonious reality of the artist must be\nsensible. Philosophy says that apparent actual evil is merely apparent:\nart compels potential apparent good actually to appear. Philosophy\nrealizes fundamental values transcendentally beyond experience: art\nrealizes them within experience. Thus, men cherish no illusions\nconcerning the contents of a novel, a picture, a play, a musical\ncomposition. They are taken for what they are, and are enjoyed for what\nthey are. The shopgirl, organizing her life on the basis of eight\ndollars a week, wears flimsy for broadcloth and the tail feather of a\nrooster for an ostrich plume. She is as capable of wearing and enjoying\nbroadcloth and ostrich plume as My Lady, whose income is eight dollars\na minute. But she has not them, and in all likelihood, without a social\nrevolution she never will have them. In the novels of Mr. Robert\nChambers, however, or of Miss Jean Libbey, which she religiously reads\nin the street-car on her way to the shop; in the motion picture theater\nwhich she visits for ten cents after her supper of corned beef, cabbage,\nand cream puffs, she comes into possession of them forthwith,\nvicariously, and of all My Lady's proper perquisites--the Prince\nCharming, the motor-car, the Chinese pug, the flowers, and the costly\nbonbons. For the time being her life is liberated, new avenues of\nexperience are actually opened to her, all sorts of unsatisfied desires\nare satisfied, all sorts of potentialities realized. All that she might\nhave been and is not, she becomes through art, here and now, and\n_continuously with_ the drab workaday life which is her lot, and she\nbecomes this without any compensatory derealization of that life,\nwithout any transcendentalism, without any loss of grip on the\nnecessities of her experience: strengthened, on the contrary, and\nemboldened, to meet them as they are.\n\nI might multiply examples: for every object of fine art has the same\nintention, and if adequate, accomplishes the same end--from the\nsculptures of Phidias and the dramas of Euripides, to the sky-scrapers\nof Sullivan and the dances of Pavlowa. But there is need only to\nconsider the multitude of abstract descriptions of the aesthetic\nencounter. The artist's business is to create the other object in the\nencounter, and this object, in Miss Puffer's words, which are completely\nrepresentative and typical, is such that \"the organism is in a\ncondition of repose and of the highest possible tone, functional\nefficiency, enhanced life. The personality is brought into a state of\nunity and self-completeness.\" The object, when apprehended, awakens the\nactive functioning of the whole organism directly and harmoniously with\nitself, cuts it off from the surrounding world, shuts that world out for\nthe time being, and forms a complete, harmonious, and self-sufficient\nsystem, peculiar and unique in the fact that there is no passing from\nthis deed into further adaptation with the object. Struggle and aliency\nare at end, and whatever activity now goes on feels self-conserving,\nspontaneous, free. The need of readjustment has disappeared, and with it\nthe feeling of strain, obstruction, and resistance, which is its sign.\nThere is nothing but the object, and that is possessed completely,\nsatisfying, and as if forever. Art, in a word, supplies an environment\nfrom which strife, foreignness, obstruction, and death are eliminated.\nIt actualizes unity, spirituality, and eternity in the environment; it\nfrees and enhances the life of the self. To the environment which art\nsuccessfully creates, the mind finds itself completely and harmoniously\nadapted by the initial act of perception.\n\nIn the world of art, value and existence are one.\n\n\nV\n\nIf art may be said to create values, religion has been said to conserve\nthem. But the values conserved are not those created: they are the\nvalues postulated by philosophy as metaphysical reality. Whereas,\nhowever, philosophy substitutes these values for the world of\nexperience, religion makes them continuous with the world of experience.\nFor religion value and existence are on the same level, but value is\nmore potent and environs existence, directing it for its own ends. The\nunique content of religion, hence, is a specific imaginative extension\nof the environment with value-forms: the visible world is extended at\neither end by heaven and hell; the world of minds, by God, Satan,\nangels, demons, saints, and so on. But where philosophy imaginatively\nabolishes existence in behalf of value, where art realizes value in\nexistence, religion tends to control and to escape the environment which\nexists by means of the environment which is postulated. The aim of\nreligion is salvation from sin. Salvation is the escape from experience\nto heaven and the bosom of God; while hell is the compensatory\nreadjustment of inner quality to outer condition for the alien and the\nenemy, without the knowledge of whose existence life in heaven could not\nbe complete.\n\nIn religion, hence, the conversion of the repressed array of interests\ninto ideal value-forms is less radical and abstract than in philosophy,\nand less checked by fusion with existence than in art. Religion is,\ntherefore, at one and the same time more carnal and less reasonable than\nphilosophy and art. Its history and protagonists exhibit a closer\nkinship to what is called insanity[93]--that being, in essence, the\nsubstitution in actual life of the creatures of the imagination which\nsatisfy repressed needs for those of reality which repress them. It is\na somnambulism which intensifies rather than abolishes the contrast\nbetween what is desired and what must be accepted. It offers itself\nultimately rather as a refuge from reality than a control of it, and its\ndevelopment as an institution has turned on the creation and use of\ndevices to make this escape feasible. For religion, therefore, the\nperception that the actual world, whatever its history, is now _not_\nadapted to human nature, is the true point of departure. Thus religion\ntakes more account of experience than compensatory philosophy; it does\nnot de-realize existent evil. The outer conflict between human nature\nand nature, primitively articulated in consciousness and conduct by the\ndistress engendered through the fact that the food supply depends upon\nthe march of the seasons,[94] becomes later assimilated to the inner\nconflict between opposing interests, wishes, and desires. Finally, the\nwhole so constituted gets expressed in the idea of sin. That idea makes\noutward prosperity dependent upon inward purity, although it often\ntransfers the locus of the prosperity to another world. Through its\noperation fortune becomes a function of conscience and the one desire of\nreligious thinking and religious practice becomes to bring the two to a\nhappy outcome, to abolish the conflicts. This desiderated abolition is\nsalvation. It is expressed in the ideas of a fall, or a separation from\nheaven and reunion therewith. The machinery of this reunion of the\ndivided, the reconversion of the differentiated into the same, consists\nof the furniture of religious symbols and ceremonials--myths, baptisms,\nsacraments, prayers, and sacrifices: and all these are at the same time\ninstruments and expressions of desires. God is literally \"the\nconservation of values.\"[95] \"God's life in eternity,\" writes Aristotle,\nwho here dominates the earlier tradition, \"is that which we enjoy in our\nbest moments, but are unable to possess permanently: its very being is\ndelight. And as actual being is delight, so the various functions of\nwaking, perceiving, thinking, are to us the pleasantest parts of our\nlife. Perfect and absolute thought is just this absolute vision of\nperfection.\"[96]\n\nEven the least somnambulistic of the transcendental philosophies has\nrepeated, not improved upon Aristotle. \"The highest conceptions that I\nget from experience of what goodness and beauty are,\" Royce declares,\n\"the noblest life that I can imagine, the completest blessedness that I\ncan think, all these are but faint suggestions of a truth that is\ninfinitely realized in the Divine, that knows all truth. Whatever\nperfection there is suggested in these things, that he must fully know\nand experience.\"\n\nBut this aesthetic excellence, this maximum of ideality is in and by\nitself inadequate. God, to be God, must _work_. He is first of all the\ninvisible socius, the ever-living witness, in whose eyes the\ndisharmonies and injustices of this life are enregistered, and who in\nthe life everlasting redresses the balances and adjusts the account.\nEven his grace is not unconditional; it requires a return, in deed or\nfaith; a payment by which the fact of his salvation is made visible. But\nthis payment is made identical by the great religions of disillusion\nwith nothing other than the concrete condition from which the faithful\nare to be saved. If the self is not impoverished, unkempt, and hungry,\nin fact, it is made so. Cleanliness may be next to godliness, but\nself-defilement is godliness; sainthood, if we are to trust the lives of\nsaints, whether in Asia or in Europe, is coincident with insanitation;\nsaintly virtues are depressed virtues,--humility, hope, meekness, pity;\nand such conditions of life which define the holy ones are\nunwholesome--poverty, asceticism, squalor, filth. Hence, by an ironic\ninversion, religions of disillusion, being other-worldly, identify\nescape from an actual unpropitious environment with submergence in it;\nthat being the visible and indispensable sign of an operative grace. So\nthe beatitudes: the blessed are the poor, the mourners, the meek.\nBeginning as a correction of the evils of existence, religion ends by\noffering an infallible avenue of escape from them through postulating a\ndesiderated type of existence which operates to gather the spirit to\nitself. For this reason the value-forms of the spirituality or spiritual\ncontrol of the universe and of the immortality of the soul have been\nvery largely the practical concern of religion alone, since these are\nthe instruments indispensable to the attainment of salvation. In so far\nforth religion has been an art and its institutional association with\nthe arts has been made one of its conspicuous justifications. So far,\nhowever, as it has declared values to be operative without making them\nactually existent it has been only a black art, a magic. It has ignored\nthe actual causes in the nature and history of things, and has\nsubstituted for them non-existent desirable causes, ultimately reducible\nto a single, eternal, beneficent spirit, omnipotent and free. To convert\nthese into existence, an operation which is the obvious intent of much\ncontemporary thinking in religion,[97] it must, however, give up the\nassumption that they already exist _qua_ spirit. But when religion gives\nup this assumption, religion gives up the ghost.\n\nWhat it demands of the ghost, and of all hypostatized or\nanthropomorphized ultimate value-forms, is that they shall work, and its\nlife as an institution depends upon making them work. Christian Science\nbecomes a refuge from the failure of science, magic from mechanism, and\nby means of them and their kind, blissful immortality, complete\nself-fulfilment is to be attained--after death. There is a \"beautiful\nland of somewhere,\" a happy life beyond, but it is beyond life. In fact,\nalthough religion confuses value and existence, it localizes the great\nvalue-forms outside of existence. Its history has been an epic of the\nretreat and decimation of the gods from the world, a movement from\nanimism and pluralism to transcendentalism and monism; and\nconcomitantly, of an elaboration and extension of institutional devices\nby which the saving value-forms are to be made and kept operative in the\nworld.\n\n\nVI\n\nLet us consider this history a little.\n\nConsciousness of feeling, psychologists are agreed, is prior to\nconsciousness of the objects of feeling. The will's inward strain,\nintense throbs of sensation, pangs and pulses of pleasure and pain make\nup the bulk of the undifferentiated primal sum of sentience. The soul is\naware of herself before she is aware of her world. A childish or\nprimeval mind, face to face with an environment actual, dreamt, or\nremembered, does not distinguish from its privacy the objective or the\ncommon. All is shot through with the pathos and triumph which come\nunaccountably as desired good or evaded evil; all has the same tensions\nand effects ends in the same manner as the laboring, straining,\nvolitional life within. These feelings, residuary qualities, the last\nfloating, unattached sediment of a world organized by association and\nclassified by activity, these subtlest of all its beings, finally termed\nmind and self, at first suffuse and dominate the whole. Even when\nobjects are distinguished and their places determined these are not\nabsent; and the so-called pre-animistic faiths are not the less suffused\nwith spirit because the spiritual has not yet received a local\nhabitation and name. They differ from animism in this only, not in that\ntheir objects are characterized by lack of animation and vital tonality.\nAnd this is necessary. For religion must be anthropopathic before it\nbecomes anthropomorphic; since feeling, eloquent of good and evil, is\nthe first and deepest essence of consciousness, and only by its\nwandering from home are forms distinguished and man's nature separated\nfrom that of things and beasts.\n\nWhen practice has cooerdinated activity, and reflection distinguished\nplaces, animism proper arises. First the environment is felt as the\nsoul's kindred; then its operations are fancied in terms dramatic and\npersonal. The world becomes almost instinctively defined as a hegemony\nof spirits similar to man, with powers and passions like his, and\ndirected for his destruction or conservation, but chiefly for their own\nglory and self-maintenance. The vast \"pathetic fallacy\" makes religion\nof the whole of life. It is at this point indistinguishable from science\nor ethics. It is, in fact, the pregnant matrix of all subsequent\ndiscourse about the universe. Its character is such that it becomes the\ndeterminating factor of human adaptations to the conditions imposed by\nthe environment, by envisaging the enduring and efficacious elements\namong these conditions as persons. The satisfaction of felt needs is\nrendered thereby inevitably social; and in a like manner fear of their\nfrustration cannot be unsocial. Life is conceived and acted out as a\nmiraculous traffic with the universe; and the universe as a band of\nspirits who monopolize the good and make free gifts of evil, who can be\nfeared, threatened, worshiped, scolded, wheedled, coaxed, bribed,\ndeceived, enslaved, held in awe, and above all, used for the prosecution\nof desiderated ends and the fulfilment of instinctive desires. The first\nrecorded cognized order is a moral order in which fragmentary feelings,\ninstinctive impulsions, and spontaneous imaginings are hypostatized,\nideas are identified with their causes, all the contents of the\nimmature, sudden, primitive, blundering consciousness receive a vital\nfigure and a proper name. So man makes himself more at home in the world\nwithout,--that world which enslaves the spirit so fearfully and with\nsuch strangeness, and which just as miraculously yields such ecstasy,\nsuch power, such unaccountable good! In this immediate sense the soul\ncontrols the world by becoming symbolic of it; it is the world's first\nlanguage. It is, however, an inarticulate, blundering, incoherent thing\nand the cues which it furnishes to the nature of the environment are as\noften as not dangerous and misleading. When bows and arrows, crystals\nand caves, clouds and waters, dung and dew, mountains and trees, beasts\nand visions, are treated as chiefs and men must be treated, then the\nmoral regimen initiated, taking little account of the barest real\nqualities manifested by these things, and attributing the maximum\nimportance to the characters postulated and foreign, is successful\nneither in allaying evil nor in extending good. Its benefits are\nadventitious and its malfeasance constant. Food buried with the dead was\nfood lost; blood smeared upon the bow to make it shoot better served\nonly to make the hands unskilful by impeding their activity. Initiation,\nceremony, sacrificial ritual, fasting, and isolation involved\nprivations for which no adequate return was recovered, even by the\nmedicine-man whose absolute and ephemeral power needed only the betrayal\nof circumstances for its own destruction, taking him along with it,\noftener than not, to disgrace or death.\n\nAs the cumulus of experience on experience grew greater, chance\nviolations of tradition, or custom, or ritual, or formula achieving for\nthe violator a mastery or stability which performance and obedience\nfailed to achieve, the new heresy became the later orthodoxy, for in\nreligion, as in all other matters human, nothing succeeds like success.\nAn impotent god has no divinity; a disused potency means a dying life\namong the immortals as on the earth. And as the gods themselves seemed\noften to give their worshipers the lie, the futility of the personal and\ndramatic definitions of the immediate environment became slowly\nrecognized, the recognition varying in extent, and clearer in practice\nthan in discourse.\n\nAccordingly the most primitive of the animisms underwent a necessary\nmodification. The plasticity of objects under destructive treatment, the\nimpotence of _taboo_ before elementary needs, the adequate satisfactions\nwhich violations of the divine law brought,--these killed many gods and\ndrove others from their homes in the hearts of things. The objects so\npurged became matters of accurate knowledge. Where animation is denied\nthe _whole_ environment, wisdom begins to distinguish between\nspirit-haunted matter and the purely material; knowledge of person and\nknowledge of things differentiate, and science, the impersonal and more\npotent knowledge of the environment, properly begins. Familiarity leads\nto control, control to contempt, and for the unreflective mind,\npersonality is not, as for the sophisticated, an attribute of the\ncontemptible. The incalculable appearance of thunder, the magic greed of\nfire, the malice, the spontaneity, the thresh and pulse as of life which\nseems to characterize whatever is capricious or impenetrable or\nuncontrollable are too much like the felt throbs of consciousness to\nbecome dehumanized. To the variable alone, therefore, is transcendent\nanimation attributed. Not the seasonal variation of the sun's heat, but\nthe joy and the sorrow of which his heat is the occasion made him\ndivine. When the gods appear, to take the place of the immanent spirits\nimmediately present in things, they appear, therefore, as already\ntranscendent, with habitations just beyond the well-known: on high\nmountains, in the skies, in dark forests, in caves, in all regions\nfeared or unexplored. But chiefly the gods inhabit those spaces whence\nissue the power of darkness and destruction, particularly the heaven, a\nword whose meaning is now, as it was primitively, identical with\ndivinity. The savage becomes a pagan by giving concrete personality to\nthe dreadful unknown. Thence it is that the ancient poet assigns the\ngods a lineage of fear; and fear may truly be said to have made the\ngods, in so far as the gods personify the fear which made them.\n\nThe moral level of these figments alters with the level of their\nhabitation; their power varies with their remoteness; Zeus lives in the\nhighest heaven and is arbiter of the destiny of both gods and man. To\nhim and to his like there cannot be the relation of equality which is\nsustained between men and spirits of the lower order. His very love is\nblasting; interchange of commodities, good for good and evil for evil is\nnot possible where he is concerned. Gods of the higher order he\nexemplifies, even all the gods of Olympus, of the Himalayas, of\nValhalla, are literally beings invoked and implored, as well as dwellers\nin heaven. To them man pays a toll on all excellence he gains or finds;\nlibations and burnt-offerings, the fat and the first fruits: he exists\nby their sufferance and serves their caprice. He is their toy, born for\ntheir pleasure, and living by their need.\n\nBut just because men conceive themselves to be play-things of the gods,\nthey define in the gods the ideals of mankind. For the divine power is\npower to live forever, and the sum of human desire is just the desire to\nmaintain its humanity in freedom and happiness endlessly. And exactly\nthose capacities and instruments of self-maintenance,--all that is\nbeauty, or truth, or goodness, the very essence of value in any of its\nforms,--the gods are conceived to possess and to control: these they may\ngrant, withhold, destroy. They are as eternal as their habitations, the\nmountains; as ruthless as their element, the sea; as omnipresent as the\nheavens, their home. To become like the gods, therefore, the masters and\nfathers of men, is to remain eternally and absolutely human: so that who\nis most like them on earth takes his place beside them in heaven.\nHercules and Elias and Krishna, Caka-Muni and Ishvara, Jesus and Baha\nUllah. Nay, they are the very gods themselves, manifest as men! The\nhistory of the gods thus presents a double aspect: it is first a\ncharacterization of the important objects and processes of nature and\ntheir survival-values,--the sun, thunder, rain, and earthquakes;\ndissolution, rebirth, and love; and again it is the narration of\nactivities native and delightful to mankind. Zeus is a promiscuous lover\nas well as a wielder of thunderbolts; Apollo not only drives the chariot\nof the sun; he plays and dances, discourses melody and herds sheep.\n\nBut while the portrait of the heart's desire in fictitious adventures of\ndivinity endears the gods to the spirit, the exploration of the elements\nin the environment whose natures they dramatically express, destroys\ntheir force, reduces their number, and drives them still further into\nthe unknown. Olympus is surrendered for the planets and the fixed stars.\nWith remoteness of location comes transmutation of character. The forces\nof the environment which were the divinity are now conceived as\ninstrumental to its uses. Its power is more subtly described; its nature\nbecomes a more purely ideal expression of human aspiration. Physical\nremoteness and metaphysical ultimacy are akin. God among the stars is\nbetter than God on Olympus. If, as with the Parsees, the unfavorable\ncharacter of the environment is expressed in another and equal\nbeing,--the devil, then the god of good must, in the symbolic struggle,\nbecome the ultimate victor and remain the more potent director of man's\ndestiny. In religion, therefore, when the mind grows at all by\nexperience, monism develops spontaneously. For the character of the god\nbecomes increasingly more relevant to hope than to the conditions of\nhope's satisfaction. And what man first of all and beyond all aspires\nto, is that single, undivided good,--the free flow of his unitary life,\nstable, complete, eternal. There is hence always to be found a chief and\nfather among the gods who, as mankind gain in wisdom and in material\npower, consumes his mates and his children like Kronos or Jahweh,\ninherits their attributes and performs their functions. The chief\ndivinity becomes the only divinity; a god becomes God. But divinity, in\nbecoming one and unique, becomes also transcendent. Monotheism pushes\nGod altogether beyond the sensible environment. Personality, instead of\nbeing the nature of the world, has become its ground and cause, and all\nthat mankind loves is conserved, in order that man, whom God loves, may\nhave his desire and live forever. Life is eternal and happiness\nnecessary, beyond nature,--in heaven. Finally, in transcendental\nidealism, the poles meet; what has been put eternally apart is eternally\nunited; the immaterial, impalpable, transcendent heaven is made one and\ncontinuous with the gross and unhappy natural world. One _is_ the other;\nthe other the one. God _is_ the world and transcends it; _is_ the evil\nand the good which conquers and consumes that evil. The environment\nbecomes thus described as a single, eternal, conscious unity, in which\nall the actual but transitory values of the actual but transitory life\nare conserved and eternalized. In a description of God such as Royce's\nor Aristotle's the environment is the eternity of all its constituents\nthat are dearest to man. Religion, which began as a definition of the\nenvironment as it moved and controlled mankind, ends by describing it\nas mankind desires it to be. The environment is now the aforementioned\nideal socius or self which satisfies perfectly all human requirements.\nPluralistic and quarrelsome animism has become monistic and harmonious\nspiritism. Forces have turned to excellences and needs to satisfactions.\nNecessity has been transmuted to Providence, sin has been identified\nwith salvation, value with existence, and existence with impotence and\nillusion before Providence, salvation, and value.\n\n\nVII\n\nWith this is completed the reply to the question: Why do men contradict\ntheir own experience? Experience is, as Spinoza says, passion and\naction, both inextricably mingled and coincident, with the good and evil\nof them as interwoven as they. That piecemeal conquest of the evil which\nwe call civilization has not even the promise of finality. It is a\nPenelope's web, always needing to be woven anew. Now, in experience\ndesire anticipates and outleaps action and fact rebuffs desire. Desire\nrealizes itself, consequently, in ideas objectified by the power of\nspeech into independent and autonomous subjects of discourse, whereby\nexperience is One, Eternal, a Spirit or Spiritually Controlled, wherein\nman has Freedom and Immortality. These, the constantly desiderated\ntraits of a perfect universe, are in fact the limits of what adequacy\nenvironmental satisfactions can attain, ideas hypostatized, normative of\nexistence, but not constituting it. With them, in philosophy and\nreligion, the mind confronts the experiences of death and obstruction,\nof manifoldness, change and materiality, and denies them, as Peter\ndenied Jesus. The visible world, being not as we want it, we imagine an\nunseen one that satisfies our want, declaring the visible one an\nillusion by its side. So we work a radical substitution of desiderates\nfor actualities, of ideals for facts, of values for existences. Art\nalone acknowledges the actual relations between these contrasting pairs.\nArt alone so operates as in fact to convert their oppugnance into\nidentity. Intrinsically, its whole purpose and technique consists of\ntransmutation of values into existences, in the incarnation the\nrealization of values. The philosophy and religion of tradition, on the\ncontrary, consists intrinsically in the flat denial of reality, or at\nleast, co-reality, to existence, and the transfer of that eulogium to\nvalue-forms as such.\n\nMetaphysics, theology, ethics, logic, aesthetics, dialectic developments\nas they are of \"norms\" or \"realities\" which themselves can have no\nmeaning without the \"apparent,\" changing world they measure and belie,\nassume consequently a detachment and self-sufficiency they do not\nactually possess. Their historians have treated them as if they had no\ncontext, as if the elaboration of the ideal tendencies of the successive\nsystems explained their origin, character, and significance. But in fact\nthey are unendowed with this pure intrinsicality, and their development\nis not to be accounted for as exteriorization of innate motive or an\nunfoldment of inward implications. They have a context; they are crossed\nand interpenetrated by outer interests and extraneous considerations.\nTheir meaning, in so far as it is not merely aesthetic, is _nil_ apart\nfrom these interests and considerations of which they are sometimes\nexpressions, sometimes reconstructions, and from which they are\npersistently refuges.\n\nPhilosophy and religion are, in a word, no less than art, social facts.\nThey are responses to group situations without which they cannot be\nunderstood. Although analysis has shown them to be rooted in certain\npersistent motives and conditions of human nature by whose virtue they\nissue in definite contours and significances, they acquire individuality\nand specific importance only through interaction with the constantly\nvarying social situations in which they arise, on which they operate,\nand by which they are in turn operated on. Philosophy has perhaps\nsuffered most of all from nescience of those and from devoting itself,\nat a minimum, to the satisfaction of that passion for oneness, for\n\"logical consistency\" without which philosophic \"systems\" would never\narise, nor the metaphysical distinction between \"appearance\" and\n\"reality\"; and with which the same systems have made up a historic\naggregate of strikingly repugnant and quarrelsome units. It is this\npursuit of consistency as against correctness which has resulted in the\nirrelevance of philosophy that the philosopher, unconscious of his\nmotives and roots, or naively identifying, through the instrumentality\nof an elaborate dialectic, his instinctive and responsive valuations of\nexistence with its categoric essences, confuses with inward autonomy and\nthe vision of the \"real.\" Consequently, the systems of tradition begin\nas attempts to transvalue social situations whose existence is\ntroublesome and end as utterances of which the specific bearing, save to\nthe system of an opponent, is undiscoverable. The attempt to correct the\nenvironment in fact concludes as an abolition of it in words. The\nphilosophic system becomes a solipsism, a pure lyric expression of the\nappetites of human nature.\n\nFor this perversity of the philosophic tradition Plato is perhaps, more\nthan any one else, answerable. He is the first explicitly to have\nreduplicated the world, to have set existences over against values, to\nhave made them dependent upon values, to have assigned absolute reality\nto the compensatory ideals, and to have identified philosophy with\npreoccupation with these ideals. Behind his theory of life lay far from\nagreeable personal experience of the attitude of political power toward\nphilosophic ideas. Its ripening was coincident with the most distressing\nperiod of the history of his country. The Peloponnesian War was the\nconfrontation of two social systems, radically opposed in form, method,\nand outlook. Democracy, in Athens, had become synonymous with\ndemagoguery, corruption, inefficiency, injustice and unscrupulousness in\nevery aspect of public affairs. The government had no consistent policy\nand no centralized responsibility; divided counsel led to continual\ndisaster without, and party politics rotted the strength within. Beside\nAthens, Sparta, a communistic oligarchy, was a tower of strength and\neffectiveness. The Spartans made mistakes; they were slow, inept, rude,\nand tyrannical, but they were a unit on the war, their policy was\nconsistent, responsibilities were adequately centered, good order and\nloyalty designated the aims and habits of life.[98] The Republic is the\nresponse to the confrontation of Spartan and Athenian; the attempt to\nfind an adequate solution of the great social problem this confrontation\nexpressed. The successful state becomes in it the model for the\nmetaphysical one, and the difference between fact and ideal is amended\nby dialectically forcing the implications of existence in the direction\nof desire. Neither Athens nor Sparta presented a completely satisfactory\nsocial organization. There must therefore exist a type of social\norganization which is so satisfying. It must have existed from eternity,\nand must be in essence identical with eternal good, identical with that\noneness and spirituality, lacking which, nothing is important. This\narchetypal social organization whose essence is excellence, it is the\ncongenital vocation of the philosopher to contemplate and to realize.\nPhilosophers are hence the paragons among animals, lovers of truth,\nhaters of falsehood and of multiplicity, spectators of all time and all\nexistence. In them the power to govern should be vested. Their nature is\nof the same stuff as the Highest Good with which it concerns itself, but\nbeing such, it appears, merely \"appears\" alas! irrelevant to the actual\nsituations of the daily life. The philosopher is hence opposed and\nexpelled by that arch-sophist, Public Opinion: the man on the street,\nfailing to understand him, dubs him prater, star-gazer,\ngood-for-nothing.[99] He becomes an ineffectual stranger, an outlaw, in\na world in which he should be master.\n\nPlato's description of the philosopher and philosophy is, it will be\nseen, at once an apology and a program. But it is a program which has\nbeen petrified into a compensatory ideal. The confession of impotence,\nthe abandonment of the programmatic intent is due to identification of\nthe ideal with metaphysical fact, to the hypostasis of the ideal. With\nChristianism, that being a philosophy operating as a religion,\nworld-weariness made the apology unnecessary and converted the\nhypostasis into the basis of that program of complete surrender of the\nattempt to master the problems of existence upon which ensued the arrest\nof science and civilization for a thousand years. The Greeks were not\nworld-weary, and consequently, their joy in life and existence\ncontributed a minimum of relevance to their other-worldly dreams. Need it\nbe reasserted that the whole Platonic system, at its richest and best in\nthe Republic, is both an expression of and a compensation for a concrete\nsocial situation? Once it was formulated it became a part of that\nsituation, altered it, served as another among the actual causes which\ndetermined the subsequent history of philosophy. Its historic and\nefficacious significance is defined by that situation, but philosophers\nignore the situation and accept the system as painters accept a\nlandscape--as the thing in itself.\n\nNow, the aesthetic aspect of the philosophic system, its autonomy, and\nconsequent irrelevancy, are undeniable. Once it comes to be, its\nintrinsic excellence may constitute its infallible justification for\nexistence, with no more to be said; and if its defenders or proponents\nclaimed nothing more for it than this immediate satisfactoriness, there\nwould be no quarrel with them. There is, however, present in their minds\na sense of the other bearings of their systems. They claim them, in any\nevent, to be _true_, that is, to be relevant to a situation regarded as\nmore important because more lastingly determinative of conduct, more\n\"real\" than the situation of which they are born. Their systems are\noffered, hence, as maps of life, as guides to the everlasting. That they\nintend to define some method for the conservation of life eternally, is\nclear enough from their initial motivation and formal issue: all the\nSocratics, with their minds fixed on happiness or salvation according to\nthe prevalence of disillusionment among them; the Christian systems,\nstill Socratic, but as resolutely other-worldly as disillusioned\nBuddhists; the systems of Spinoza, of Kant, the whole subsequent horde\nof idealisms, up to the contemporary Germanoid and German idealistic\nsoliloquies,--they all declare that the vanity and multiplicity of life\nas it is leads them to seek for the permanent and the meaningful, and\nthey each find it according to the idiosyncrasies of the particular\nimpulses and terms they start with. That their Snark turns out in every\ncase to be a Boojum is another story.\n\nYet this story is what gives philosophy, like religion, its social\nsignificance. If its roots, as its actual biography shows, did not reach\ndeep in the soil of events, if its issues had no fruitage in events made\nover by its being, it would never have been so closely identified with\nintelligence and its systematic hypostasis would never have ensued. The\nfact is that philosophy, like all forms of creative intelligence, is a\ntool before it is a perfection. Its autonomy supervenes on its\nefficaciousness; it does not precede its efficaciousness. Men\nphilosophize in order to live before they live in order to philosophize.\nAristotle's description of the self-sufficiency of theory is possible\nonly for a life wherein theory had already earned this self-sufficiency\nas practice, in a life, that is, which is itself an art, organized by\nthe application of value-forms to its existent psycho-physical processes\nin such a way that its existence incarnates the values it desiderates\nand the values perfect the existence that embodies them.\n\nThe biography of philosophy, hence, reveals it to have the same\npossibilities and the same fate that all other ideas have. Today ideas\nare the patent of our humanity, the stuff and form of intelligence, the\ndifferentiae between us and the beasts. In so far forth, they express the\nsurplusage of vitality over need, the creative freedom of life at play.\nThis is the thing we see in the imaginings and fantasies of childhood,\nwhose environment is by social intent formed to favor and sustain its\nbeing. The capacity for spontaneity of idea appears to decrease with\nmaturity, and the few favored healthy mortals with whom it remains are\ncalled men of genius. William James was such a man, and there are a few\nstill among the philosophers. But in the mass and in the long run, ideas\nare not a primary confirmation of our humanity; in the mass and long\nthey are warnings of menace to it, a sign of its disintegration. Even so\nradical an intellectualist as Mr. Santayana cherishes this observation\nto the degree of almost suggesting it as the dogma that all ideas have\ntheir origin in inner or outer maladjustment.[100] However this may be,\nthat the dominant philosophic ideas arise out of radical disharmonies\nbetween nature and human nature need not be here reiterated, while the\nprovocative character of minor maladjustments is to be inferred from the\nfertility of ideas in unstable minds, of whatever type, from the\nneurasthenic to the mad. Ideas represent in these cases the limits of\nvital elasticity, the attempt of the organism to maintain its organic\nbalance; it is as if a balloon, compressed on one side, bulged on the\nother.\n\nIdeas, then, bear three types of relations to organic life, relations\nsocially incarnated in traditional art, religion, and philosophy. First\nof all they may be an expression of innate capacities, the very essence\nof the freedom of life. In certain arts, such as music, they are just\nthis. In the opposite case they may be the effect of the compression of\ninnate capacities, an outcome of obstruction to the free low of life.\nThey are then compensatory. Where expressive ideas are confluent with\nexistence, compensatory ideas diverge from existence; they become pure\nvalue-forms whose paramount realization is traditional philosophy. Their\nrise and motivation in both these forms is unconscious. They are ideas,\nbut not yet intelligence. The third instance falls between these\noriginal two. The idea is neither merely a free expression of innate\ncapacities, nor a compensation for their obstruction or compression.\nArising as the effect of a disharmony, it develops as an enchannelment\nof organic powers directed to the conversion of the disharmony into an\nadjustment. It does not _use up_ vital energies like the expressive\nidea, it is not an abortion of them, like the compensatory idea. It uses\nthem, and is aware that it uses them--that is, it is a program of action\nupon the environment, of conversion of values into existences. Such an\nidea has the differentia of intelligence. It is creative; it actually\nconverts nature into forms appropriate to human nature. It abolishes the\nOtherworld of the compensatory tradition in philosophy by incarnating it\nin this world; it abolishes the Otherworld of the religionist, rendered\nimportant by belittling the actual one, by restoring the working\nrelationships between thoughts and things. This restoration develops as\nreconstruction of the world in fact. It consists specifically of the art\nand science which compose the efficacious enterprises of history and of\nwhich the actual web of our civilization is spun.\n\nManifest in its purity in art, it attends unconsciously both religion\nand philosophy, for the strands of life keep interweaving, and whatever\nis, in our collective being, changes and is changed by whatever else may\nbe, that is in reach. The life of reason is initially unconscious\nbecause it can learn only by living to seek a reason for life. Once it\ndiscovers that it can become self-maintaining alone through relevance to\nits ground and conditions, the control which this relevance yields makes\nit so infectious that it tends to permeate every human institution, even\nreligion and philosophy. Philosophy, it is true, has lagged behind even\nreligion in relevancy, but the lagging has been due not to the\nintention of the philosopher but to the inherent character of the task\nhe assumed. Both art and religion, we have seen, possess an immediacy\nand concreteness which philosophy lacks. Art reconstructs correlative\nportions of the environment for the eye, the ear, the hopes and fears of\nthe daily life. Religion extends this reconstruction beyond the actual\nenvironment, but applies its saving technique at the critical points in\nthe career of the group or the individual; to control the food-supply,\nto protect in birth, pubescence, marriage, and death. All its motives\nare grounded in specific instincts and needs, all its reconstructions\nand compensations culminate with reference to these. Philosophy, on the\nother hand, deals with the _whole_ nature of man and his _whole_\nenvironment. It seeks primaries and ultimates. Its traditional task is\nso to define the universe as to articulate thereby a theory of life and\neternal salvation. It establishes contact with reality at no individual,\nspecific point: its reals are \"real in general.\" It aims, in a word, to\nbe relevant to all nature, and to express the whole soul of man. The\nconsequence is inevitable: it forfeits relevance to everything natural;\ntouching nothing actual, it reconstructs nothing actual. Its concretest\nincarnation is a dialectic design woven of words. The systems of\ntradition, hence, are works of art, to be contemplated, enjoyed, and\nbelieved in, but not to be acted on. For, since action is always\nconcrete and specific, always determined to time, place, and occasion,\nwe cannot in fact adapt ourselves to the aggregate infinitude of the\nenvironment, or that to ourselves. Something always stands out,\nrecalcitrant, invincible, defiant. But it is just such an adaptation\nthat philosophy intends, and the futility of the intention is evinced by\nthe fact that the systems of tradition continue side by side with the\nrealities they deny, and live unmixed in one and the same mind, as a\npicture of the ocean on the wall of a dining room in an inland town. Our\noperative relations to them tend always to be essentially aesthetic. We\nmay and do believe in them in spite of life and experience, because\nbelief in them, involving no action, involves no practical risk. Where\naction is a consequence of a philosophic system, the system seems to\ndichotomize into art and religion. It becomes particularized into a\ntechnique of living or the dogma of a sect, and so particularized it\nbecomes radically self-conscious and an aspect of creative intelligence.\n\nSo particularized, it is, however, no longer philosophy, and philosophy\nhas (I hope I may say this without professional bias) an inalienable\nplace in the life of reason. This place is rationally defined for it by\nthe discovery of its ground and function in the making of civilization;\nand by the perfection of its possibilities through the definition of its\nnatural relationships. Thus, it is, in its essential historic character\nat least, as fine an art as music, the most inward and human of all\narts. It may be, and human nature being what it is, undoubtedly will\ncontinue to be, an added item to the creations wherewith man makes his\nworld a better place to live in, precious in that it envisages and\nprojects the excellences and perfections his heart desires and his\nimagination therefore defines. So taken, it is not a substitution for\nthe world, but an addition to it, a refraction of it through the medium\nof human nature, as a landscape painting by Whistler or Turner is not a\nsubstitution for the actual landscape, but an interpretation and\nimaginative perfection of it, more suitable to the eye of man. A system\nlike Bergson's is such a work, and its aesthetic adequacy, its beauty,\nmay be measured by the acknowledgment it receives and the influence it\nexercises. Choosing one of the items of experience as its medium, and\nthis item the most precious in the mind's eye which the history of\nphilosophy reveals, it proceeds to fabricate a dialectical image of\nexperience in which all the compensatory desiderates are expressed and\nrealized. It entices minds of all orders, and they are happy to dwell in\nit, for the nonce realizing in the perception of the system the values\nit utters. By abandoning all pretense to be true, philosophic systems of\nthe traditional sort may attain the simple but supreme excellence of\nbeauty, and rest content therewith.\n\nThe philosophic ideal, however, is traditionally not beauty but truth:\nthe function of a philosophic system is not presentative, but\n_re_presentative and causal, and that the systems of tradition have had\nand still have consequences as well as character, is obvious enough. It\nis, however, to be noted that these consequences have issued out of the\nfact that the systems have been specific items of existence among other\nequally and even more specific items, thought by particular men, at\nparticular times and in particular places. As such they have been\nprograms for meeting events and incarnating values; operative ideals\naiming to recreate the world according to determined standards. They\nhave looked forward rather than backward, have tacitly acknowledged the\nreality of change, the irreducible pluralism of nature, and the\ngenuineness of the activities, oppugnant or harmonizing, between the\nitems of the Cosmic. Many they ostensibly negate. The truth, in a word,\nhas been experimental and prospective; the desiderates they uttered\noperated actually as such and not as already existing. Historians of\nphilosophy, treating it as if it had no context, have denied or ignored\nthis role of philosophy in human events, but historians of the events\nthemselves could not avoid observing and enregistering it.\n\nOnly within very recent years, as an effect of the concept of evolution\nin the field of the sciences, have philosophers as such envisaged this\nnon-aesthetic aspect of philosophy's ground and function in the making of\ncivilization and have made it the basis for a sober vision which may or\nmay not have beauty, but which cannot have finality. Such a vision is\nagain nothing more than traditional philosophy become conscious of its\ncharacter and limitations and shorn of its pretense. It is a program to\nexecute rather than a metaphysic to rest in. Its procedure is the\nprocedure of all the arts and sciences. It frankly acknowledges the\nrealities of immediate experience, the turbulence and complexity of the\nflux, the interpenetrative confusion of orders, the inward\nself-diversification of even the simplest thing, which \"change\" means,\nand the continual emergence of novel entities, unforeseen and\nunprevisible, from the reciprocal action of the older aggregate. This\nperceptual reality it aims to remould according to the heart's desire.\nAccordingly it drops the pretense of envisaging the universe and devotes\nitself to its more modest task of applying its standards to a particular\nitem that needs to be remade. It is believed in, but no longer without\nrisk, for, without becoming a dogma, it still subjects itself to the\ntests of action. So it acknowledges that it must and will itself undergo\nconstant modification through the process of action, in which it uses\nevents, in their meanings rather than in their natures, to map out the\nfuture and to make it amenable to human nature. Philosophy so used is,\nas John Dewey somewhere says, a mode and organ of experience among many\nothers. In a world the very core of which is change, it is directed upon\nthat which is not yet, to previse and to form its character and to map\nout the way of life within it. Its aim is the liberation and enlargement\nof human capacities, the enfranchisement of man by the actual\nrealization of values. In its integrate character therefore, it\nenvisages the life of reason and realizes it as the art of life. Where\nit is successful, beauty and use are confluent and identical in it. It\nconverts sight into insight. It infuses existence with value, making\nthem one. It is the concrete incarnation of Creative Intelligence.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] The word relation suffers from ambiguity. I am speaking here of\n_connexion_, dynamic and functional interaction. \"Relation\" is a term\nused also to express logical reference. I suspect that much of the\ncontroversy about internal and external relations is due to this\nambiguity. One passes at will from existential connexions of things to\nlogical relationship of terms. Such an identification of existences with\n_terms_ is congenial to idealism, but is paradoxical in a professed\nrealism.\n\n[2] There is some gain in substituting a doctrine of flux and\ninterpenetration of psychical states, _a la_ Bergson, for that of rigid\ndiscontinuity. But the substitution leaves untouched the fundamental\nmisstatement of experience, the conception of experience as directly and\nprimarily \"inner\" and psychical.\n\n[3] Mathematical science in its formal aspects, or as a branch of formal\nlogic, has been the empirical stronghold of rationalism. But an\nempirical empiricism, in contrast with orthodox deductive empiricism,\nhas no difficulty in establishing its jurisdiction as to deductive\nfunctions.\n\n[4] It is a shame to devote the word idealism, with its latent moral,\npractical connotations, to a doctrine whose tenets are the denial of the\nexistence of a physical world, and the psychical character of all\nobjects--at least as far as they are knowable. But I am following usage,\nnot attempting to make it.\n\n[5] See Dr. Kallen's essay, below.\n\n[6] The \"they\" means the \"some\" of the prior sentence--those whose\nrealism is epistemological, instead of being a plea for taking the facts\nof experience as we find them without refraction through epistemological\napparatus.\n\n[7] It is interesting to note that some of the realists who have\nassimilated the cognitive relation to other existential relations in the\nworld (instead of treating it as an unique or epistemological relation)\nhave been forced in support of their conception of knowledge as a\n\"presentative\" or spectatorial affair to extend the defining features of\nthe latter to all relations among things, and hence to make all the\n\"real\" things in the world pure \"simples,\" wholly independent of one\nanother. So conceived the doctrine of external relations appears to be\nrather the doctrine of complete externality of _things_. Aside from this\npoint, the doctrine is interesting for its dialectical ingenuity and for\nthe elegant development of assumed premises, rather than convincing on\naccount of empirical evidence supporting it.\n\n[8] In other words, there is a general \"problem of error\" only because\nthere is a general problem of evil, concerning which see Dr. Kallen's\nessay, below.\n\n[9] Compare the paper by Professor Bode.\n\n[10] As the attempt to retain the epistemological problem and yet to\nreject idealistic and relativistic solutions has forced some\nNeo-realists into the doctrine of isolated and independent simples, so\nit has also led to a doctrine of Eleatic pluralism. In order to maintain\nthe doctrine the subject makes no difference to anything else, it is\nheld that _no_ ultimate real makes any difference to anything else--all\nthis rather than surrender once for all the genuineness of the problem\nand to follow the lead of empirical subject-matter.\n\n[11] There is almost no end to the various dialectic developments of the\nepistemological situation. When it is held that all the relations of the\ntype in question are cognitive, and yet it is recognized (as it must be)\nthat many such \"transformations\" go unremarked, the theory is\nsupplemented by introducing \"unconscious\" psychical modifications.\n\n[12] Conception-presentation has, of course, been made by many in the\nhistory of speculation an exception to this statement; \"pure\" memory is\nalso made an exception by Bergson. To take cognizance of this matter\nwould, of course, accentuate, not relieve, the difficulty remarked upon\nin the text.\n\n[13] Cf. _Studies in Logical Theory_, Chs. I and II, by Dewey; also\n\"Epistemology and Mental States,\" Tufts, _Phil. Rev._, Vol. VI, which\ndeserves to rank as one of the early documents of the \"experimental\"\nmovement.\n\n[14] Cf. \"The Definition of the Psychical,\" G. H. Mead, _Decennial\nPublications of the University of Chicago_.\n\n[15] Cf. _The Logic of Hegel-Wallace_, p. 117.\n\n[16] _Bosanquet's Logic_, 2nd Ed., p. 171. The identification of\ninduction and procedure by hypothesis occurs on p. 156.\n\n[17] _Ibid._, p. 14 (italics mine).\n\n[18] Perhaps the most complete exhibition of the breakdown of formal\nlogic considered as an account of the operation of thought apart from\nits subject-matter is to be found in Schiller's _Formal Logic_.\n\n[19] Cf. Stuart on \"Valuation as a Logical Process\" in _Studies in\nLogical Theory_.\n\n[20] _The New Realism_, pp. 40-41.\n\n[21] Cf. Montague, pp. 256-57; also Russell, _The Problems of_\n_Philosophy_, pp. 27-65-66, _et passim_; and Holt's _Concept of\nConsciousness_, pp. 14ff., discussed below.\n\n[22] Cf. Angell, \"Relations of Psychology to Philosophy,\" _Decennial\nPublications of University of Chicago_, Vol. III; also Castro, \"The\nRespective Standpoints of Psychology and Logic,\" _Philosophic Studies,\nUniversity of Chicago_, No. 4.\n\n[23] I am here following, in the main, Professor Holt because he alone\nappears to have had the courage to develop the full consequences of the\npremises of analytic logic.\n\n[24] _The Concept of Consciousness_, pp. 14-15.\n\n[25] It is interesting to compare this onlooking act with the account of\nconsciousness further on. As \"psychological\" this act of onlooking must\nbe an act of consciousness. But consciousness is a cross-section or a\nprojection of things made by their interaction with a nervous system.\nHere consciousness is a function of all the interacting factors. It is\nin the play. It _is_ the play. It is not in a spectator's box. How can\nconsciousness be a function of all the things put into the cross-section\nand yet be a mere beholder of the process? Moreover, what is it that\nmakes any particular, spectacle, or cross-section \"logical\"? If it be\nsaid all are \"logical\" what significance has the term?\n\n[26] Cf. Russell's _Scientific Methods in Philosophy_, p. 59.\n\n[27] Holt, _op. cit._, pp. 128-30.\n\n[28] In fact, Newton, in all probability, had the Cartesian pure notions\nin mind.\n\n[29] Holt, _op. cit._, p. 118 (italics mine). Cf. also Perry's _Present\nPhilosophical Tendencies_, pp. 108 and 311.\n\n[30] The character of elements and the nature of simplicity have been\ndiscussed in the preceding section.\n\n[31] _Ibid._, p. 275.\n\n[32] _Ibid._, p. 275.\n\n[33] This lack of continuity between the cognitive function of the\nnervous system and its other functions accounts for the strange paradox\nin the logic of neo-realism of an act of knowing which is \"subjective\"\nand yet is the act of so palpably an objective affair as a nervous\nsystem. The explanation is that the essence of all deprecated\nsubjectivity is, as before pointed out, functional isolation. That this\nsort of subjectivity should be identified with the \"psychical\" is not\nstrange, since a living organism is very difficult to isolate, while the\nterm \"psychical,\" in its metaphysical sense, seems to stand for little\nelse than just this complete isolation. Having once appealed to the\nnervous system it seems incredible that the physiological continuity of\nits functions with each other and with its environment should not have\nsuggested the logical corollary. Only the force of the prepossession of\nmathematical atomism in analytic logic can account for its failure to do\nso.\n\n[34] But it would be better to use the term \"logically-practical\"\ninstead of \"subjective\" with the psychical implications of that term.\n\n[35] An analysis which has been many times carried out has made it clear\nthat scientific data never do more than approximate the laws and\nentities upon which our science rests. It is equally evident that the\nforms of these laws and entities themselves shift in the reconstructions\nof incessant research, or where they seem most secure could consistently\nbe changed, or at least could be fundamentally different were our\npsychological structure or even our conventions of thought different. I\nneed only refer to the _Science et Hypothese_ of Poincare and the\n_Problems of Science_ of Enriques. The positivist who undertakes to\ncarry the structure of the world back to the data of observation, and\nthe uniformities appearing in the accepted hypotheses of growing\nsciences cannot maintain that we ever succeed in isolating data which\nmust remain the same in the kaleidoscope of our research science; nor\nare we better served if we retreat to the ultimate elements of points\nand instants which our pure mathematics assumes and implicitly defines,\nand in connection with which it has worked out the modern theory of the\nnumber and continuous series, its statements of continuity and infinity.\n\n[36] In other words, science assumes that every error is _ex post facto_\nexplicable as a function of the real conditions under which it really\narose. Hence, \"consciousness,\" set over against Reality, was not its\ncondition.\n\n[37] C. Judson Herrick, \"Some Reflections on the Origin and Significance\nof the Cerebral Cortex,\" _Journal of Animal Behavior_, Vol. III, pp.\n228-233.\n\n[38] _Psychology_, Vol. I, p. 256.\n\n[39] H. C. Warren, _Psychological Review_, Vol. XXI, Page 93.\n\n[40] _Principles of Psychology_, I, p. 241, note.\n\n[41] _Ibid._, p. 258.\n\n[42] _Psychology. Briefer Course._ P. 468.\n\n[43] Angell, _Psychology_, p. 65.\n\n[44] _Psychology_, Vol. I, p. 251.\n\n[45] Thorstein Veblen: _The Instinct of Workmanship_, p. 316.\n\n[46] It may still be argued that we must depend upon analogy in our\nacceptance or rejection of a new commodity. For any element of novelty\nmust surely suggest something to us, must _mean_ something to us, if it\nis to attract or repel. Thus, the motor-car will whirl us rapidly over\nthe country, the motor-boat will dart over the water without effort on\nour part. And in such measure as we have had them hitherto, we have\nalways enjoyed experiences of rapid motion. These new instruments simply\npromise a perfectly well-known _sort_ of experience in fuller measure.\nSo the argument may run. And our mental process in such a case may\naccordingly be held to be nothing more mysterious than a passing by\nanalogy from the _old_ ways in which we got rapid motion in the past to\nthe _new_ way which now promises more of the same. And more of the same\nis what we want.\n\n\"More of the same\" means here intensive magnitude and in this connection\nat all events it begs the question. Bergson's polemic seems perfectly\nvalid against such a use of the notion. But kept in logical terms the\ncase seems clearer. It is said that we reason in such a case by\n\"analogy.\" We do, indeed; but what is analogy? The term explains nothing\nuntil the real process behind the term is clearly and realistically\nconceived. What I shall here suggest holds true, I think, as an account\nof analogical inference generally and not simply for the economic type\nof case we have here to do with. Reasoning is too often thought of as\nproceeding from given independent premises--as here (1) the fact that\nhitherto the driving we have most enjoyed and the sailing we have most\nenjoyed have been _fast_ and (2) the fact that the motor-car is _fast_.\nBut do we accept the conclusion because the premises suggest it in a way\nwe cannot resist? On the contrary, stated thus, the premises clearly do\n_not_ warrant the conclusion that the motor-car will be enjoyable. Such\na statement of the premises is wholly formal and _ex post facto_. What,\nthen, is our actual mental process in the case? The truth is, I think,\nthat we simply--yes, \"psychologically\"--wish to try _that promised\nunheard-of rate of speed_! That comes first and foremost. But we mean to\nbe reasonably prudent on the whole, although we are avowedly adventurous\njust now in this particular direction! We, therefore, ransack our memory\nfor _other fast things_ we have known, to see whether they have\nencouragement to give us. We try to supply ourselves with a major\npremise because the new proposal in its own right interests us--instead\nof having the major premise already there to coerce us by a purely\n\"logical\" compulsion as soon as we invade its sphere of influence. And\nconfessedly, in point of \"logic,\" there is no such compulsion in the\nsecond figure: there is only a timid and vexatious neutrality, a mere\n\"not proven.\"\n\nWhy, then, do we in fact take the much admired \"inductive leap,\" in\nseeming defiance of strict logic? Why do we close our eyes to logic,\nturn our back upon logic, behave as if logic were not and had never\nbeen? In point of fact, we do nothing of the sort. The \"inductive leap\"\nis no leap away from logic, but the impulsion of logic's mainspring seen\nonly in its legitimate event. Because we have not taken care to see the\nimpulse coming, it surprises us and we are frightened. And we look about\nfor an illusive assurance in some \"law of thought,\" or some\nquestion-begging \"universal premise\" of Nature's \"uniformity.\" We do not\nsee that we were already conditionally committed to the \"leap\" by our\ninitial interest. Getting our premises together is no hurried forging of\na chain to save us from our own madness in the nick of time. We are only\nhoping to rid ourselves of an excess of conservative ballast. To reason\nby analogy is not to repress or to dispense with the interest in the\nradically novel, but to give methodical and intelligent expression to\nthat interest.\n\n[47] Aristotle's _Nicomachaean Ethics_ (Welldon's transl.), Book VIII.\n\n[48] Cf. Aristotle's _Politics_ (Jowett's trans.) III. 9. Sec.6 ff. and\nelsewhere; _Nicom. Ethics_, I, Chap. III (end).\n\n[49] Cf. Veblen: _op. cit._\n\n[50] W. McDougall in his _Social Psychology_ (Ed. 1912, pp. 358 ff.)\nrecognizes \"incomplete anticipation of the end of action\" as a genuine\ntype of preliminary situation in human behavior, but appears to regard\nthis as in so far a levelling-down of man to the blindness of the\n\"brutes.\" But \"incompleteness\" is a highly ambiguous term and seems here\nto beg the question. \"Incompleteness\" may be given an emphasis in which\nit imports conjecture and hypothesis--almost anything, in fact, but\nblindness. Rather do the brutes get levelled up to man by such facts as\nthose McDougall cites.\n\n[51] take _routine_ to be the essence and meaning of hedonism. There are\ntwo fundamental types of conduct--routine and constructiveness.\nReference may be made here to Boehm-Bawerk's pronouncement on hedonism in\n_Kapital und Kapitalzins_, 1912 (II-2, pp. 310 ff.): \"What people love\nand hate, strive towards or fight off--whether only pleasure and pain or\nother 'lovable' and 'hatable' things as well,--is a matter of entire\nindifference to the economist. The only thing important is that they do\nlove and hate certain things.... The deductions of marginal utility\ntheory lose no whit of their cogency even if certain ends (dependent for\ntheir realization upon a supply of goods inadequate to the fulfillment\nof all ends without limit) are held to have the character not of\npleasure but of something else. The marginal utility may be a least\npleasure or a competing least utility of some other sort....\" (p. 317).\nThis is a not uncommon view. As W. C. Mitchell has suggested, it is too\nobvious to be wholly convincing. (_Journ. Pol. Ec._, Vol. XVIII. \"The\nRationality of Economic Activity.\") Veblen has made it perfectly clear\nthat particular matters of theory are affected by the presupposition of\nhedonism. (_Journ. Pol. Ec._, Vol. XVII, _Quart. Journ. Econ._, Vol.\nXXII, p. 147 ff.) The matter is too complex for a footnote, but I think\nit of little consequence whether \"pleasure\" be in any case regarded as\nsubstantively the end of desire or not. This is largely a matter of\nwords. What is important is the practical question whether a thing is\n_so habitual with me that when the issue arises I cannot or will not\ngive it up and take an interest in something new_ the \"utility\" of which\nI cannot as yet be cognizant of because it partly rests with me to\ncreate it. If this is the fact it will surely look as if pleasure or the\navoidance of pain were my end in the case. Hedonism and egoism are in\nthe end convertible terms. There is conduct wearing the outward aspect\nof altruism that is egotistic in fact--not because it was from the first\ninsincere or self-delusive, but because it has become habitual and may\nin a crisis be held to for the sake of the satisfaction it affords.\nGenuine altruism, on the other hand, is a form of constructiveness.\n\n[52] Until after this essay was finished I had not seen John A. Hobson's\nbook entitled _Work and Wealth, A Human Valuation_ (London, 1914). My\nattention was first definitely called to this work by a friend among the\neconomists who read my finished MS. late in 1915, and referred me in\nparticular to the concluding chapter on \"Social Science and Social Art.\"\nOn now tardily reading this chapter I find that, as any reader will\nreadily perceive, it distinctly anticipates, almost _verbatim_ in parts,\nwhat I have tried, with far less success, to say in the foregoing two\nparagraphs above. Hobson argues, with characteristic clearness and\neffect, for the qualitative uniqueness and the integral character of\npersonal budgets, holding that the logic of marginality is \"an entirely\nillusory account of the psychical process by which a man lays out his\nmoney, or his time, or his energy\" (p. 331). \"So far as it is true that\nthe last sovereign of my expenditure in bread equals in utility the last\nsovereign of my expenditure in books, that fact proceeds not from a\ncomparison, conscious, or unconscious, of these separate items at this\nmargin, but from the parts assigned respectively to bread and books in\nthe organic plan of my life. Quantitative analysis, inherently incapable\nof comprehending qualitative unity or qualitative differences, can only\npretend to reduce the latter to quantitative differences. What it\nactually does is to ignore alike the unity of the whole and the\nqualitativeness of the parts\" (p. 334). Hobson not only uses the analogy\nof the artist and the picture (p. 330) precisely as I have done, but\noffers still other illustrations of the principle that seem to me even\nmore apt and telling. Though not indebted to him for what I have put\ninto the above paragraphs, I am glad to be able to cite the authority of\nso distinguished an economist and sociologist for conclusions to which I\nfound my own way. Other parts as well _of Work and Wealth_ (e.g.,\nChapter IV, on \"The Creative Factor in Production\") seem to have a close\nrelation to the main theme of the present discussion.\n\n[53] It may be worth while to glance here for the sake of illustration\nat an ethical view of preference parallel with the economic logic above\ncontested. \"The act which is right in that it promotes one interest, is,\nby the same principle,\" writes R. B. Perry, \"wrong in that it injures\nanother interest. There is no contradiction in this fact ... simply\nbecause it is possible for the same thing to possess several relations,\nthe question of their compatibility or incompatibility being in each\ncase a question of empirical fact. Now ... an act ... may be doubly\nright in that it conduces to the fulfillment of two interests. Hence\narises the conception of comparative goodness. If the fulfillment of one\ninterest is good, the fulfillment of two is better; and the fulfillment\nof all interests is best.... Morality, then, is _such performance as\nunder the circumstances, and in view of all the interests affected,\nconduces to most goodness_. In other words, that act is morally right\nwhich is most right.\" (_Present Philosophical Tendencies_, p. 334. Cf.\nalso _The Moral Economy_). It is evident that constructive change in the\nunderlying system (or aggregate?) of the agent's interests gets no\nrecognition here as a matter of moral concern or as a fact of the\nagent's moral experience. Thus Perry understands the meaning of freedom\nto lie in the fact that \"_interests operate_,\" i.e., that interests\nexist as a certain class of operative factors in the universe along with\nfactors of _other_ sorts. \"I can and do, within limits, _act as I will_.\nAction, in other words, is governed by desires and intentions.\" (pp. 342\nff.). The cosmical heroics of Bertrand Russell are thus not quite the\nlast word in Ethics (p. 346). Nevertheless, the \"free man,\" in Perry's\nview, apparently must get on with the interests that once for all\ninitially defined him as a \"moral constant\" (p. 343).\n\n[54] In a recent interesting discussion of \"Self-interest\" (T. N.\nCarver, _Essays in Social Justice_, 1915, Chap. III) occurs the\nfollowing: \"We may conclude ... that even after we eliminate from our\nconsideration all other beings than self, there is yet a possible\ndistinction between one's present and one's future self. It is always,\nof course, the present self which esteems or appreciates all interests\nwhether they be present or future. And the present self estimates or\nappreciates present interests somewhat more highly than it does future\ninterests. In this respect the present self appreciates the interests of\nthe future self according to a law quite analogous to, if indeed it be\nnot the same law as that according to which it appreciates the interests\nof others\" (p. 71). This bit of \"subjective analysis\" (p. 60), a\nprocedure rather scornfully condemned as \"subjective quibbling\" on the\nfollowing page, must be counted a fortunate lapse. It could be bettered,\nI think, in only one point. Must the future self \"of course\" and\n\"always\" get license to live by meeting the standards of the present\nself? Has the present self no modesty, no curiosity, no \"sense of\nhumor\"? If it is so stupidly hard and fast, how can a self new and\nqualitatively different ever get upon its feet in a man? In some men no\nsuch thing can happen--but must it be in all men impossible and\nimpossible \"of course\"? And what of the other self? Carver has not\napplied the \"methods of subjective analysis\" to _change_ from self _to_\nself or from interest in self _to_ interest in others. The present tense\nof formal logic governs fundamentally throughout the whole account.\n\nIf this essay were a volume I should try to consider, from the point of\nview of constructive intelligence, the explanation of interest as due to\nthe undervaluation of future goods.\n\n[55] Fite, _Introductory Study of Ethics_, pp. 3-8.\n\n[56] Dewey and Tufts, _Ethics_, pp. 205-11.\n\n[57] The term \"egocentric predicament\" (cf. R. B. Perry: _Present\nPhilosophical Tendencies_, p. 129 ff.) has had, for a philosophic term,\na remarkable literary success. But at best it conveys a partial view of\nthe situation it purports to describe. The \"egocentricity\" of our\nexperience, viewed in its relation to action, seems, rightly considered,\nless a \"predicament\" than an opportunity, a responsibility and an\nimmunity. For in relation to _action_, it means (1) that an objective\ncomplex situation has become, in various of its aspects, a matter of my\ncognizance in terms significant to me. That so many of its aspects have\ncome into relations of conflict or reenforcement significant _for me_ is\n_my_ opportunity for reconstructive effort if I choose to avail myself\nof it. Because, again, I am thus \"on hand myself\" (_op. cit._, p. 129)\nand am thus able to \"report\" upon the situation, I am (2) responsible,\nin the measure of my advantages, for the adequacy of my performance. And\nfinally (3) I cannot be held to account for failure to reckon with such\naspects of the situation as I cannot get hold of in the guise of \"ideas,\nobjects of knowledge or experiences\" (_Ibid._). Our egocentricity is,\nthen, a predicament only so long as one stubbornly insists, to no\nobvious positive purpose, on thinking of knowledge as a self-sufficing\nentitative complex, like a vision suddenly appearing full-blown out of\nthe blue, and as inviting judgment in that isolated character on the\nrepresentative adequacy which it is supposed to claim (cf. A. W. Moore,\n\"Isolated Knowledge,\" _Journ. of Philos., etc._, Vol. XI). The way out\nof the predicament for Perry and his colleagues is to attack the\ntraditional subjective and representative aspects of knowledge. But,\nthis carried out, what remains of knowledge is a \"cross-section of\nneutral entities\" which _still_ retains all the original\nunaccountability, genetically speaking, and the original intrinsic and\nisolated self-sufficiency traditionally supposed to belong to knowledge.\nThe ostensible gain achieved for knowledge is an alleged proof of its\nultimate self-validation or the meaninglessness of any suspicion of its\nvalidity (because there is no uncontrolled and distorting intermediation\nof \"consciousness\" in the case). But to wage strenuous war on\nsubjectivism and representationism and still to have on hand a problem\ncalling for the invention _ad hoc_ of an entire new theory of mind and\nknowledge seems a waste of good ammunition on rather unimportant\noutworks. They might have been circumvented.\n\nBut what concerns us here is the ethical parallel. The egocentric\npredicament in this aspect purports to compel the admission by the\n\"altruist\" that since whatever he chooses to do must be his act and is\nobviously done because he wishes, for good and sufficient reasons of his\nown, to do it, therefore he is an egoist after all--perhaps in spite of\nhimself and then again perhaps not. The ethical realism of G. E. Moore\n(_Principia Ethica_, 1903) breaks out of the predicament by declaring\nGood independent of all desire, wish or human interest and\n_indefinable_, and by supplying a partial list of things thus\nindependently good. What I do, I do because it seems likely to put me in\npossession of objective _Good_, not because it accords with some habit\nor whim of mine (although my own pleasure is undoubtedly _one_ of the\ngood things). It is noteworthy that Perry declines to follow Moore in\nthis (_op. cit._, p. 331 ff.). Now such an ethical objectivism can give\nno account of the motivation, or the process, of the individual's\nefforts to attain, for guidance in any case, a \"more adequate\"\napprehension of what things are good than he may already possess, just\nas the objectivist theory of consciousness ( = knowledge) can supply no\nclue as to how or whether a _more_ or a _less_ comprehensive or a\nqualitatively _different_ \"cross-section of entities\" can or should be\ngot into one's \"mind\" as warrant or guidance (\"stimulus\") for a\ncontemplated response that is to meet a present emergency (cf. John\nDewey, \"The Reflex Arc Concept in Psychology,\" _Psychol. Rev._, Vol.\nIV). Thus neither sort of deliverance out of the alleged predicament of\negocentricity abates in the least the only serious inconvenience or\ndanger threatened by subjectivism.\n\n[58] Cf. W. Jethro Brown, _The Underlying Principles of Modern\nLegislation_ (3d ed., London, 1914), pp. 165-68.\n\n[59] Bosanquet: _Principle of Individuality and Value_, pp. 13, 15, 20,\n24, 27, 30.\n\n[60] The case against the Austrian explanation of market-price in terms\nof marginal utility has been well summed up and re-enforced by B. M.\nAnderson in his monograph, _Social Value_ (Boston, 1911). Anderson finds\nthe fatal flaw in the Austrian account to consist in the psychological\nparticularism of the marginal utility theory. The only way, he holds, to\nprovide an adequate foundation for a non-circular theory of price is to\nunderstand the marginal estimates people put upon goods as resultants of\nthe entire moral, legal, institutional, scientific, aesthetical, and\nreligious state of society at the time. This total and therefore\nabsolute state of affairs, if I understand the argument, is to be\nregarded as focussed to a unique point in the estimate each man puts\nupon a commodity. Thus, presumably, the values which come together,\nsummed up in the total demand and supply schedules for a commodity in\nthe market, are \"social values\" and the resultant market-price is a\n\"social price.\" This cross-sectional social totality of conditions is\nstrongly suggestive of an idealistic Absolute. The individual is a mere\nfocussing of impersonal strains and stresses in the Absolute. But the\nreal society is a radically temporal process. The real centers of\ninitiation in it are creatively intelligent individuals whose economic\ncharacter as such expresses itself not in \"absolute\" marginal\nregistrations but in price estimates.\n\nOn the priority of price to value I venture to claim the support of A.\nA. Young, \"Some Limitations of the Value Concept,\" _Quart. Journ.\nEcon._, Vol. XXV, p. 409 (esp. pp. 417-19). Incidentally, I suspect the\nattempt to reconstruct ethical theory as a branch of what is called\n_Werttheorie_ to be a mistake and likely to result only in useless and\nmisleading terminology.\n\n[61] _Positive Theory of Capital_ (Eng. trans.). Bk. IV, Ch. II. The\npassage is unchanged in the author's latest edition (1912).\n\n[62] It is pointed out (e.g., by Davenport in his _Economics of\nEnterprise_, pp. 53-54) that, mathematically, in a market where large\nnumbers of buyers and sellers confront each other with their respective\nmaximum and minimum valuations on the commodity this interval within\nwhich price must fall becomes indefinitely small to the point of\nvanishing. This is doubtless in accord with the law of probability, but\nit would be an obvious fallacy to see in this any manner of proof or\npresumption that therefore the assumptions as to the nature of the\nindividual valuations upon which such analysis proceeds _are true_. In a\nlarge market where this interval is supposed to be a vanishing quantity\nis there more or less higgling and bargaining than in a small market\nwhere the interval is admittedly perceptible? And if there _is_ higgling\nand bargaining (_op. cit._, pp. 96-97), what is it doing that is of\nprice-fixing importance unless there be supposed to be a critical\ninterval for it to work in? Such a use of probability-theory is a good\nexample of the way in which mathematics may be used to cover the false\nassumptions which have to be made in order to make a mathematical\ntreatment of certain sorts of subject-matter initially plausible as\ndescription of concrete fact.\n\n[63] As I have elsewhere argued (\"Subjective and Exchange Value,\"\n_Journ. Pol. Econ._, Vol. IV, pp. 227-30). By the same token, I confess\nskepticism of the classical English doctrine that cost can affect price\nonly through its effect upon quantity produced. \"If all the commodities\nused by man,\" wrote Senior (quoted by Davenport, _op. cit._, p. 58),\n\"were supplied by nature without any interference whatever of human\nlabor, but were supplied in precisely the same amounts that they now\nare, there is no reason to suppose either that they would cease to be\nvaluable or would exchange at any other than the present proportions.\"\nBut is this inductive evidence or illustrative rhetoric? One wonders,\nindeed, whether private property would ever have developed or how long\nmodern society would tolerate it if all wealth were the gift of nature\ninstead of only some of it (that part, of course, which requires no use\nof produced capital goods for its appropriation).\n\n[64] Certain points in this discussion have been raised in two papers,\nentitled, \"The Present Task of Ethical Theory,\" _Int. Jour. of Ethics_,\nXX, and \"Ethical Value,\" _Jour. of Phil., Psy., and Scientific Methods_,\nV, p. 517.\n\n[65] Cf. also John Dewey, _Influence of Darwin upon Philosophy_, and\nDewey and Tufts, _Ethics_, Ch. XVI.\n\n[66] _International Journal of Ethics_, XXV, 1914, pp. 1-24.\n\n[67]_ Dreams of a Spirit Seer._\n\n[68] Cf. A. W. Moore, _Pragmatism and Its Critics_, 257-78.\n\n[69] Croce, _Philosophy of the Practical_, pp. 312 f.\n\n[70] G. E. Moore, _Principia Ethica_, p. 147.\n\n[71] _Ethics_, ch. V.\n\n[72] G. E. Moore, _Principia Ethica_, p. 149.\n\n[73] Rashdall, _Is Conscience an Emotion?_ pp. 199 f.\n\n[74] _Ibid._, 177.\n\n[75] G.E. Moore, _Ethics_, Ch. III.\n\n[76] Dewey and Tufts, _Ethics_, pp. 334 f.\n\n[77] _Methods of Ethics_, p. 380.\n\n[78] _Individualism_, 55, 61, 62.\n\n[79] Lectures III and IV, especially 175, 176, 235-39.\n\n[80] Pp. 111 ff., 172-75, 329 ff.\n\n[81] Pp. 73, 186, 236, 261 f., 267, 269.\n\n[82] 124, 182, 301.\n\n[83] 263 ff., 123.\n\n[84] Pp. 180, 241.\n\n[85] P. 180.\n\n[86] Art and religion have doubtless their important parts in embodying\nvalues, or in adding the consciousness of membership in a larger union\nof spirits, or of relation to a cosmic order conceived as ethical, but\nthe limits of our discussion do not permit treatment of these factors.\n\n[87] Cf. my paper, \"Goodness, Cognition, and Beauty,\" _Journal of\nPhilosophy, Psychology, and Scientific Methods_, Vol. IX, p. 253.\n\n[88] Cf. Thorndike, _The Original Nature of Man_; S. Freud, _Die\nTraumdeutung_, _Psychopathologie des Alltagsleben_, etc.; McDougall,\n_Social Psychology_.\n\n[89] _The Journal of Philosophy, Psychology, and Scientific Methods_,\nVol. IX, p. 256.\n\n[90] Cf. Plato, _Republic_, IX, 571, 572, for an explicit anticipation\nof Freud.\n\n[91] This \"new psychology\" is not so very new.\n\n[92] Cf. Hocking, _The Meaning of God in Human Experience_, for the most\nrecent of these somnambulisms. But any idealistic system will do, from\nPlato to Bradley.\n\n[93] Cf. James, _The Varieties of Religious Experience_.\n\n[94] Cf. Jane Harrison, _Ancient Art and Ritual_.\n\n[95] Cf. my paper, \"Is Belief Essential in Religion?\", _International\nJournal of Ethics_, October, 1910.\n\n[96] \"Metaphysics,\" _Book Lambda_.\n\n[97] This is accomplished usually by ignoring the differentia of the\nterm of religion, and using it simply as an adjective of eulogy, as in\nthe common practice the term \"Christian\" is made coextensive with the\ndenotation of \"good,\" or \"social.\" For example, a \"Christian gentleman\"\ncan differ in no discernible way from a gentleman not so qualified save\nby believing in certain theological propositions. But in usage, the\nadjective is simply tautologous. Compare R. B. Perry, _The Moral\nEconomy_; E. S. Ames, _The Psychology of Religious Experience_; J. H.\nLeuba, _A Psychological Study of Religion_; H. M. Kallen, _Is Belief\nEssential in Religion?_\n\n[98] The condition of England and Germany in the present civil war in\nEurope echoes this situation.\n\n[99] Cf. _Republic_, Books V and VI.\n\n[100] Cf. _Winds of Doctrine_ and _Reason in Common Sense_.\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER'S NOTES\n\n\n1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.\n\n2. Punctuation has been normalized. As well as obvious misprints have\nbeen corrected.\n\n3. The original text includes Greek characters. For this text version\nthese letters have been replaced with transliterations.\n\n4. The word \"Phoenicians\" uses an \"oe\" ligature in the original.","title":"Creative Intelligence: Essays in the Pragmatic Attitude","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":124665}