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THE JOURNAL

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PHILOSOPHY

EDITED BY

FREDERICK J. E. WOODBRIDGE

AND

WENDELL T. BUSH

VOLUME XIX

JANUARY— DECEMBER, 1922

1922

6

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TMC NIW f HA PRINTING COMPANY
LANOSTIM. PA.

VOL. XIX, No. 1. JANUARY 5, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

PRAGMATISM AND THE NEW MATERIALISM

THE most striking and significant phenomenon in recent Ameri-
can philosophy and psychology has, manifestly, been an
extensive recrudescence of materialism. To or towards this out-
come have converged several theories diverse in name and, in part,
in the logical considerations which have given rise to them. The
tendency finds its most unequivocal expression in behaviorism, when-
ever behaviorism, as in the recent writings of Professor J. B. Wat-
son, abandons the modest status of a special subdivision of psycho-
biology, and sets itself up as — or as a substitute for — a general
psychological theory. To say that in the processes commonly known
as sensation, feeling and thought nothing whatever occurs, or need
be presupposed, except gross or microscopic movements of various
portions of the musculature of an organism, is obviously equivalent
to the reduction of the entire content and implications of experi-
ence to motions of matter and transfers of physical energy. In
many of the American forms of neo-realism a scarcely less thorough-
going materialism has been manifest, so far as the world of con-
crete existence is concerned ; though the tendency here has been
curiously conjoined with a revival of a species — a very unplatonic
species — of "Platonic realism." In most of our neo-realists, the
latter seems an essentially otiose addition to their doctrine. Uni-
versals are asserted to "subsist" merely; and though subsistence
is declared to be a status independent of consciousness, this inde-
pendence renders it only the more alien to nature and irrelevant
to experience. Since mere subsistents have neither date, nor place,
nor causal efficacy, they are pertinent to the phenomenal order only
in so far as they are embodied in particular existences ; and by the
neo-realist their embodiment is apparently construed in the literal
sense of the word. For him too the only entities existing in time
and in the causal nexus are physical masses, and — if the two be
ultimately distinct — physical energy.

American pragmatism has often manifested a disposition to
join forces with behaviorism and neo-realism in their campaign
against the belief in the reality of psychical entities; indeed, if
certain utterances of its spokesmen be considered separately — apart

5

»i THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

from certain other utterances which to the uninitiated appear
simply to contradict them — no contemporary philosophical school
has given plainer expression to the materialistic doctrine. In
some recent papers in this JOURNAL* I cited several instances of
this ^nrt ; one of them it is pertinent to repeat here:

A careful inventory of our a**ets brings to light no such entities as those
which have been placed to our credit. We do not find body and object and con-
faeiousness, but only body and object. . . . The process of intelligence is some-
thing that goes on, not in our mind, but in things. . . . Even abstract ideas do
not compel the adoption of a peculiarly " spiritual " or " psychic " existence,
in the form of unanalyzable meanings.*

In the papers mentioned I attempted to show, among other
things, that this materialistic strain is incongruous with the most
characteristic and essential thesis of pragmatism, at least in its
later formulations. That thesis is to the effect that "intelligence"
is efficacious and "creative." By "intelligence" the pragmatist
appears to mean nothing mysterious or metaphysical; the word is
for him merely a name for a familiar type of experience, that,
namely, of practical reflection, of forming plans of action for deal-
ing with specific concrete situations. This process of reflection is,
he maintains, in certain cases a determinant of motions of matter,
i.e., of the movements of human bodies and of other masses with
which they physically interact. But upon the materialistic hypo-
thesis practical reflection itself is nothing but a motion of matter;
if "bodies and (physical) objects" are the only factors involved
in "intelligence," it should be possible to describe the phenome-
non called "planning" wholly in physical terms — i.e., in terms of
masses actually existing, of positions actually occupied, of molar
or molecular movements actually occurring, at the time when the
planning is taking place. The laws of that class of physical proc-
esses called "practical judgments" may, of course, be unique, in-
capable of reduction to the laws of physics or chemistry; and
pragmatism declares that they are in fact thus unique and irredu-
cible. But the things whose behavior these laws describe must — if
the pragmatist is to avoid psychophysical dualism — consist solely
of real parts of the material world.

Now since "intelligence," in the pragmatist 's sense, is an ob-
servable and analyzable phenomenon, the question whether any
entities are involved in it which are not real parts of the material
world is a question of empirical fact, to be settled by analysis of
the specific type of experience under consideration. And in my
previous papers I sought to show that this question must be answered

i Vol. XVH, pp. 589-596 and 622-632, 1920.

* Professor B. H. Bode, in Creative Intelligence, pp. 254-5, 245.

PRAGMATISM AND THE NEW MATERIALISM 7

in the affirmative. A plan of action, as I pointed out, obviously
requires the presentation of both past and possible future states
or contents of some part of the material world. But a past or
possible future state of the material world is not, at the moment
at which it is represented in the experience of the planner, a part
of the real material world. The content of my memories or of my
expectations, as such, would find no place in any inventory of
then existing "bodies and objects" which would be drawn up
even by a perfected physical science. It is of the very essence of
the planning-experience that it is cognizant of and concerned with
things, or configurations of things, which have yet to be physically
realized, and are therefore not yet physically real. Thus in fixing
his attention especially upon "intelligence" in its practical aspect,
the pragmatist is brought face to face with that type of experience
in which the empirical presence of non-physical entities and proc-
esses is, perhaps, more plainly evident than in any other.

This fact, it may be remarked parenthetically, is the reason why
I have thought it useful to select pragmatism as the immediate
point of attack in a critical examination of the new materialism in
general. The pragmatists have rendered a service to philosophers
of all schools by directing attention to the significance of certain
undeniably real aspects of the cognitive experience, which happen
also to be the best possible touchstone for the determination of the
issue between those who assert and those who deny the existence
of psychical or immaterial entities. That issue has hitherto been
discussed mainly in connection with the problem of perception ;
with that problem, in fact, the neo-realists seem to have been some-
what obsessed. The believer in the presence of distinctively mental
factors in the cognitive situation has not failed to meet the issue
on this the favorite ground of his adversary. But in this part of
the field the controversy, if not logically indecisive, has at any
rate grown somewhat tedious and repetitious. There remains, mean-
while, a region of experience in which the dispute seems capable
of being brought more speedily to a decisive conclusion; and it is
with this region that the pragmatist is especially preoccupied. He
is primarily interested, not in the question how we can know an
external, coexistent object, but in the question how one moment
of experience can know and prepare for another moment. It is,
in short, to what I have elsewhere named intertemporal cognitions
that his analysis is devoted; it is by man's habit of looking before
and after that he is chiefly impressed. Now to look before and
after is — as my previous papers pointed out — to behold the physi-
cally non-existent; it is to possess as data in experience objects

8 THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

which can not be conceived t<> b»> simultaneously present in the
material universe. Since, moreover, the pragmatist affirms the
potency of intelligence, that is to say, of this function of foresight
and recall, in the causation of (some) physical events, his phi-
losophy, if consistently worked out, should lead him to an inter-
action ist view upon the psychophysical problem.

Such, in brief, was the argument previously set forth. To that
argument Professor Bode has very courteously replied in an article
in tliis .lontNAL.' Certain phases, I will not say of pragmatism,
but of the opinions and doctrinal affinities of pragmatists, are
greatly illuminated by his paper, which is, moreover, manifestly
inspired by a genuinely philosophic desire to cooperate in an en-
deavor to promote a common understanding. Nevertheless — such
are the difficulties of philosophical discussion! — even this most
generous and fair-minded of critics has apparently altogether over-
looked the principal point of my argument; and the reasonings
which he presents appear to me to be not only inconclusive, but
almost wholly irrelevant to the particular issue upon which I had
hoped to focus attention. Yet they are apparently believed by
their author to controvert the conclusions I defended ; and it seems
needful, therefore, to examine carefully the chief considerations
which Professor Bode contributes to the discussion.

1. A great part of his reply is devoted to an explanation of what
the pragmatist means by "consciousness." He is not disposed
wholly to reject this term; he too is ready to formulate, in his
own way, a "differentia of the psychic" and a criterion "which
makes it possible to draw a sharp line between conscious and me-
chanical behavior." This, of course, is of much interest in itself;
but it has no pertinency to the reasons for affirming the existence
of "psychical" entities which were presented in my paper. To
say that for the instrumentalist "consciousness is identifiable with"
such and such a ' ' type of behavior, ' ' is equivalent to the two propo-
sitions (1) that by the word "consciousness" the instrumentalist
means the defined type of behavior; (2) that such a type of be-
havior is empirically discoverable. The first, being a verbal propo-
sition, requires no proof. The second is a proposition of fact and
therefore subject to verification. But its truth might be conceded
without the least logical detriment to the considerations which I
had advanced. For I have not questioned the pragmatist 's right
to define the word "consciousness" as he likes; I have not denied
that the "peculiar type of behavior" to which Professor Bode
prefers to apply that name is a fact of experience ; and I have not

» VoL XVIII, 1921, pp. 10-17.

PRAGMATISM AND THE NEW MATERIALISM 9

maintained that this type of behavior affords evidence that "mental
entities," in my sense of the term, exist. What I have maintained
is that there is also found in human experience a phenomenon dif-
fering in certain important respects from that which Professor
Bode describes; and that this does afford evidence of the existence
of mental entities. This other sort of experience, exemplified in
planning and all forms of practical reflection, is what I had sup-
posed the pragmatist to mean by "intelligence"; but I am less
interested in ascertaining the pragmatic name for the thing than in
pointing out that the thing is a fact. Throughout most of his paper,
then, Professor Bode, instead of looking at the evidence offered
for this conclusion, which he ostensibly rejects, appears to fix his
gaze upon another object altogether. Let me show this in detail
by outlining more specifically the pragmatic account of "conscious-
ness," as set forth by him. The pragmatist observes that some
stimuli are of a "peculiar kind," i.e., have specific characteristics
which others lack. For example, a noise in some cases has, in ad-
dition to the "various properties or qualities that are appropriate
subject-matter for the physicist, a further trait or quality" of
which the physicist takes no cognizance. This further trait is, it
appears, an "elusive" one, difficult to express in words; but its
nature is indicated by such expressions as "an indescribable 'what-
is-it' quality," an "inherent incompleteness." When a noise pos-
sesses, besides its mere noisiness, this special and unique quality,
it "causes the individual concerned to cock his ear, to turn his eyes,
perhaps to step to the window in order to ascertain the meaning
of the noise." Stimuli (a term which is for Bode apparently
synonymous with complexes of sensible qualities) are, then, said
to be "conscious" if they have this peculiarity; and "conscious-
ness" is a name for the "function of a quality in giving direction
to behavior." The conscious stimulus, in other words, is differ-
entiated by its tendency "to set on foot activities which are di-
rected towards getting a better stimulus." The word "directed"
here, however, must not be understood to imply any representation
of the better stimulus as future ; for a reaction possesses the ' ' psychi-
cal ' ' character ' ' irrespective of any explicit reference to the future. ' '
There need be no actual anticipation, of the "conceptual" sort.
Any case of organic response which exhibits the phenomenon of
trial-and-error would apparently exemplify "conscious" behavior,
in the pragmatist 's sense; in fact I can not see that there is any
kind of actual response which would not correspond to the defini-
tion.

There are — it may be observed incidentally — some inconveni-

10 THE JOURNAL OP PHILOSOPHY

ences in using the words "psychical," "mental," etc., in this
manner. One of them is that "psychical" apparently does not ex-
clude "physical." If I understand Bode's language, a real physi-
cal object would also be a "psychical existence" whenever it "set
on foot activities directed towards getting a better stimulus." It
is also a somewhat confusing feature of this usage that the adjec-
tives "conscious," "psychical," etc., seem applicable both to
stimuli and to the bodily behavior which the stimuli evoke, though
it is difficult to see how they can be attached to both substantives
univocally.

This, however, is by the way. What I wish to point out is that
my argument rested entirely upon an analysis of the particular
kind of reaction in which there is an "explicit reference to the
future" — in which actual foresight is an essential feature of the
experience. By transferring the adjective "psychical" to a kind
of reaction defined as lacking this feature, Professor Bode does
not answer that argument; he simply ignores it. Is it a fact that
explicit reference to the future sometimes occurs, that when we
form a plan of action unrealized possibilities are present as such
to our thought ? Or again, is it a fact that when we think of such
unrealized concrete possibilities we have present in thought objects
which can not be regarded as parts of the present content of the
material world? Only by answering the first of these questions in
the negative, or, if that were answered affirmatively, then by an-
swering the second in the negative, could Bode join issue with the
reasoning actually contained in the papers upon which he com-
ments. A radical behaviorist, I suppose, would answer one or the
other of these questions with an unequivocal negative. But it is
not clear from Professor Bode's article that he shares the behavior-
ist's fine a priori contempt for the facts of experience.

2. There is, however, a further aspect of the pragmatist's con-
ception of "conscious behavior" which is not fully brought out in
the summary above given; and this we must now examine, since
it is this aspect chiefly which makes it clear "why instrumental ism
is so reluctant to bring in mental states or psychic existences."
(The latter expression is presumably here used in the sense defined
in my previous papers; for Professor Bode has just told us that
in another sense, pragmatism itself recognizes psychic existences.)

The argument, if I have understood it, rests upon a distinctive
thesis about the attributes of "objects." The pragmatist, it would
seem, holds that what are usually called the effects of a stimulus
upon an organism should properly be called "parts" of the stimu-
lus, or attributes of the object (for Bode apparently uses the two

PRAGMATISM AND THE NEW MATERIALISM 11

terms interchangeably). In the case of a noise which causes a dog
to cock his ear, the attribute of causing-ear-cocking, "by which the
present stimulus makes provision for its own successor," is des-
ignated in pragmatist terminology the "incompleteness" of the
present stimulus ; and this ' ' incompleteness is intrinsic to the stimu-
lus, or inherent in it"; in other words, it is "as much a part of
the noise as any of its other traits." Since the behavior resulting,
or capable of resulting, from a given stimulus is thus read back
into the stimulus itself, and since the stimulus in turn is identified
with physical objects (and, in the case of perception, apparently
with the physical object perceived), there results for the pragmatist
a radical revision of the conception of physical objects. "Tradi-
tional theory" has been wont to regard such an object as "charac-
terized by stark rigidity and close-clipped edges"; to the pragmat-
ist, on the contrary, it seems to be a soft and plastic entity with
boundaries so wide that almost anything might be found within
them. The notion of the "inherent properties of an object" is
thus so enlarged as to include either (Bode does not seem to me
to be clear here) all organic responses which the object's presence
ever evokes, or, at any rate, an inherent tendency to evoke what-
ever responses in fact occur when it is present. Physical objects
are consequently things which can control behavior directly, by-
virtue of their own nature and attributes ; and it therefore becomes-*
unnecessary to introduce mental entities in the explanation of be-
havior, .in man or other animals. ' ' The emphasis shifts inevitably
from mental states in the traditional sense to this peculiar type of
control as exercised by objects."4 It is precisely because pragmat-
ism has become aware of "this distinctive character of the stimu-
lus" that it "can not afford to give countenance to entities or ex-
istences the chief purpose of which, " as it seems to Professor Bode,
is to obscure this character — to "translate it into mechanical equiv-
alents. ' '

To judge of the pertinency of this reasoning it is needful to re-
call once more — however wearisome the repetition — the precise argu-
ment against which it is supposed to be directed. That argument,
it will be remembered, (a) dealt exclusively with the evidence for
the existence of non-physical entities to be found in a particular
phase of human experience, viz., in intelligent planning, involving
an explicit representation of things past and future; (&) used the
expressions "psychical" or "non-physical entity" in a specific and
clearly defined sense, viz., as meaning "an entity not assignable to
real space and to the complex of matter and forces recognized by

* Op. tit., p. 15; italics in original.

12 THE JOURNAL OP PHILOSOPHY

the physical sciences, at the moment at which the entity is actually
present in experience." The reasoning offered as the principal
reply to this argument (a) still wholly ignores the specific type of
experience to which the argument related. It offers, not an analy-
sis of anticipation and memory, but an analysis of sensory stimula-
tion. 1 ask the pragmatist about "intelligence," and am given a
description of responses for which no intelligence is requisite. I
ask what precisely it is that happens when an architect plans a
building, or when an engineer endeavors to analyze the causes of
the collapse of the St. Lawrence bridge several years ago; Pro-
fessor Bode replies by telling me what it is that happens when a
dog cocks his ear. As described, moreover, "conscious behavior"
is not distinguishable from the kind of phenomenon which occurs
when a phototropic plant is touched by a ray of light. In the case
of the plant also the initial stimulus "makes provision for its own
successor" and "sets on foot activities directed towards getting a
better stimulus." (6) With respect to the question, irrelevant to
my argument, with which Bode's reply is actually concerned, his
conclusion is reached by a series of partly explicit and partly
tacit alterations in the meanings of terms. He first includes the
adaptive motor-responses to a sensation among the "traits" of the
sense-datum itself; he next tacitly identifies the sense-datum ("the
noise as heard") with the "stimulus" (which in the ordinary u-<-
of terms means, in the case of audition, the air wave set up by
the vibration of an elastic body) ; he then identifies the stimulus
with the "object" — presumably the object from which it proceeds,
e.g., an automobile-horn. By this process of freely substituting one
meaning for another, it is assuredly not difficult to prove that tho
dog's cocking his ear is merely an instance of "the control of be-
havior by objects." But the entire argument is of an essentially
verbal character; and the first two steps in it — the identification
of responses with sense-data, and of sense-data with external
stimuli — beg the only question to which the argument can be said
to be directed. For that question is whether sensory content is
totally identical with either the stimulus or the physical state of
the sensory nerves; and whether the stimulation passes over into
a motor response without the generation or interposition, any-
where in the process, of any factor which is not "physical" in the
ordinary sense, previously defined. That is a question of fact which
is hardly to be settled by the short and easy method of defining
physical objects ab initio as havinpr an inherent virtus excitatn'a
sufficient of itself to account for behavior.

What might at first be taken for a further distinct argument

PRAGMATISM AND THE NEW MATERIALISM 13

against psychophysical dualism and interactionism is suggested by
Professor Bode 's repeated remark that those doctrines imply a
"mechanistic" conception of behavior. "Unless we abandon the
category of interactionism we are back on the level of mechanistic
naturalism, from which the position of instrumentalism is intended
to provide a means of escape." But it is obvious that the adjec-
tive must here be used in some peculiar sense; for nothing is more
alien to "mechanistic naturalism," as that designation is usually
understood, than the doctrine that non-physical entities or proc-
esses can affect the movements of bodies. When, then, we seek to
determine precisely what Bode means by "mechanistic," we find
that the word apparently denotes any view which regards as in-
correct or insufficient the account of the ' ' distinctive nature of con-
scious behavior" given by the pragmatist. "Mechanical behavior,"
in short, is expressly antithetic to "conscious behavior," in the
pragmatist 's sense; and "conscious behavior" in his sense means,
as we have seen, behavior controlled by physical objects directly,
by virtue of their "inherent incompleteness" — this last expression,
in turn, meaning a capacity to initiate in an organism (without the
intervention of any other factors) a series of adaptive responses.
In brief, the charge that psychological interactionism is "mechan-
istic" means, when translated, that that doctrine affirms the pres-
ence and efficacy of factors other than physical objects in at least
some modes of human behavior. The charge, in short, is that
interactionism is — interactionism. There is here, therefore, no ar-
gument which seems to demand separate discussion.

3. After having, through nearly all of his article, vigorously
assailed the belief in mental or psychical entities (in my sense of
the terms), Professor Bode in his penultimate paragraph suddenly
and surprisingly utters a profession of faith in the creed which he
had seemed to be attacking. "We need not," he writes, "take
serious exception to Love joy's contention that concepts are 'mental
entities,' in the sense that they may be 'actually given . . . but
can not be regarded as forming a part, at the same moment, of the
complex of masses and forces, in a single public space, which con-
stitutes the world of physical science.' That concepts exist in
some form and that there is a discernible difference between them
and physical objects is an indubitable fact." These "concepts,"
moreover, are functional. "They function in much the same way
as physical objects;" they "control behavior." Here, it will be
observed, it is explicitly in the sense which I had given to "mental"
that Professor Bode grants the reality of mental entities. He adds,
it is true, that "the important issue is not whether concepts exist,

14 THE JOURNAL OP PHILOSOPHY

but whether the classification of them as 'mental' is to be made to
accord with the foregoing (i.e., the pragmatic) theory of conscious
behavior." This might be taken to mean that, after all, he regards
concepts as "mental" solely in the pragmatic sense, not in the
sense given in the definition which he quotes from my paper. But
to construe his meaning thus would be to imply that he denies in
one sentence what he had affirmed two sentences before; and no
such interpretation, happily, is necessary. For a " concept "-
e.g., a representation of a building yet to be erected — may be
"mental" both in the sense expressed by my definition and in a
sense which includes at least the distinctive positive differentia
of the "psychical" in the pragmatic definition. A non-physical
factor in experience may — and if it be efficacious, must — function
like any other stimulus. The idea of the house to be built will
necessarily have what Bode calls an "unfinished quality;" it too
will be "directed towards the end of completing the present incom-
pleteness." But its possession of this character does not alter the
fact that, unlike other possible varieties of "psychical" stimuli — in
the pragmatic meaning of the term — it consists in a representation
of a future object, and is therefore "psychical" in another sense,
a sense which excludes it from the class of physical things, i.e., of
things belonging to the objective spatial system.

Professor Bode, then, though he has elsewhere represented the
psychical as merely a special variety of the physical, now seems to
tell us plainly (a) that there are two distinct classes of factors in
our experience, "physical objects" and "mental entities;" (&)
that both are efficacious in the causation of physical changes.
These two propositions taken together seem to constitute the plain-
est possible affirmation of psychophysical dualism and interaction-
ism — as, I take it, those terms are commonly understood. Yet the
same passage concludes: "There is no ground for Lovejoy's conten-
tion that, if concepts are admitted to their legitimate place, it fol-
lows that, rightly constructed and consistently thought through, prag-
matism means interactionism. " Here I must confess myself baffled.
How this conclusion is to be reconciled with the admissions which
immediately precede it, I am unable to conjecture. I therefore
can not feel that Professor Bode has succeeded in making his posi-
tion, or that of pragmatists in general, unmistakably clear. After
careful study of his paper, I remain in some doubt whether he holds
that pragmatism implies materialism or not.

It still seems to me desirable, however, that the matter should
be made clear, and that pragmatists (not to speak of others) should
actually give some consideration to the reasons offered in support

A PARTIAL ANALYSIS OF FAITH 15

of the view that the pragmatic doctrine of the efficacy of intelli-
gence properly implies psychophysical dualism and interactionism.
And in the hope that Professor Bode himself, or others of the sam«
way of thinking, may again deal with the subject, I venture, by
way of conclusion and resume, to set down a few questions to
which I think it would be illuminating to have clear answers. (1)
Does the pragmatist hold that only physical things exist, i.e., that
they alone are disclosed by, or present as factors in, experience
("physical" meaning "occupying a position in objective space
and existing as a part of the sum of masses and forces dealt with
by physical science") ? (2) Is it not a fact that in the formation
of intelligent plans of action there are involved both "imaginative
recovery of the bygone" and imaginative anticipation of objects
and situations not yet physically realized? (3) If so, can every
bit of the content presented in the two types of experience just
mentioned be regarded as forming a real part of the physical world,
as constituted at the moment of such experience? (4) If so, where
in that world, and in what form or manner, does the "bygone"
that is "imaginatively recovered," or the future that is not yet
realized, exist? (5) If it does exist physically at the moment of
the experience in question, precisely what is meant by calling it
"bygone" or "future"? To the last four of these questions I can
not but think that all partisans of the new materialism might profit-
ably address themselves.

ARTHUR 0. LOVE JOY.
JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY.

A PARTIAL ANALYSIS OF FAITH

ELIEVING with Eucken, James, Bergson, and other philoso-
phers of like mind, that faith plays a very vital part in the lives
of us all, it has nevertheless been a mystery above other mysteries
to me when I attempted seriously to describe it, analyze it, and
classify it. A multiplicity of questions have arisen, some of which
have become so defined that an answer seems at least worth while
seeking. Some of them are : What is the function of faith, what does
it contribute to the happiness or the achievements of mankind?
What is the attitude of mind, what the emotions, what the nature
of the contents which go to make up the faith states? Is it some-
thing that grows within us by exercise and cultivation as the per-
ceiving and reasoning processes do ? Does it correspond to something
outside of us, or is it entirely subjective, something within us ?

A first difficulty with the problem lies in the fact that few of us

16 THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ever attain, or but seldom attain, to the pure faith states, and the
element of faith in our everyday life is so intermingled with other
elements in the stream of consciousness, that it is difficult to isolate
it for purposes of introspection. However the present writer through
stress of much illness and suffering has come to a certain practise of
faith and thereby to a certain understanding of it as practised by
others, which yields a degree of actual comfort and logical satisfac-
tion.

We all know what faith means, an acceptance of that which has
never been proven and may be impossible of proving. Its first and
most fundamental characteristic seems to be the attitude which con-
sciousness assumes toward any matter. This attitude, so far as the
present introspectionist is concerned, refuses to be subsumed under
any of the classes of attention as described in the present day
psychologies, and seems so radically different that to posit a class of
attitudes entirely opposite to those of attention offers the best chances
for clear analysis, at least for the present. Now ordinarily, we meet
the common situations of life in an attitude of attention, with the
responses acquired by imitation, habit, or reasoning. We depend
on ourselves, on our past experiences as known to consciousness in
remembering, for these responses and receive stimuli and carry out
reactions, with fluctuations of attention as to kind and degree. Con-
sciousness, or surface consciousness, goes on in an uninterrupted
flow. But a new situation arises or an old one becomes intolerable
with which one feels unable to cope. No amount of thinking carried
on with the utmost concentration of attention seems to avail. A
man with faith habits then suspends all efforts and waits for an
inspiration or guiding thought to come; if from within, we call it
auto-suggestion or intuition ; if from another, it is called, suggestion ;
if it appears to come from a divine source, it is prayer or an answer
to prayer.

Now the general nature of what the individual does is the same
in all cases. He drops the attitude of attention, stops the thinking
going on under the dominance of a controlling idea with carefully
selected associations. He assumes a waiting or expectant attitude in
throwing open his mind as it were in the belief that a suitable idea
or thought will appear to fill the existing vacancy. The common
expressions such as "I was at my wits' end when all at once I had a
lucky thought," or, "I was in despair when suddenly an inspira-
tion came," illustrate one type of response of the first sort, namely,
the appeal, perhaps unconscious, to something within one, other than
the surface stream of thought, call it the subconscious, or what you
will. The second sort of response, or suggestion, is found when peo-

A PARTIAL ANALYSIS OF FAITH 17

pie go to the confessional, to clairvoyants, or resort to some stereo-
typed form of response such as fortune telling by cards, opening a
book at random and being guided by the first words read. Young
children appeal to parents or other adults in this way and if a proper
spirit is cultivated in the family the different members appeal to
one another in this fashion and exemplify as nothing else does the
raison d'etre of family life. The third response, appeal to a Divine
Power, is of course prayer, epitomized in the Gethsemane utterance,
"Not my will, but Thine be done." It betokens the inhibition of
the dominant thought in the fullest degree, and the most complete
submission to whatever may come from the outside, or from within,
as one accepts the transcendent or the immanent idea of God.

The term expectancy is by no means new in philosophical writ-
ings. Eibot has used it in his Evolution of General Ideas, saying
that to simple association expectancy must be added before reason-
ing takes place.1 Consciousness must assume the expectant attitude
in order for the ideas to take on the correct relationship which is
necessary in the processes called reasoning. James uses the word
repeatedly in his essay, "The Sentiment of Rationality," without
giving it any very specific meaning other than a general state of mind
when uncertainty in regard to future events beyond our control is
present, as for example in the following. ' ' The permanent presence
of the sense of futurity in the mind has been strangely ignored by
most writers, but the fact is that our consciousness at a given moment
is never free from the ingredient of expectancy. " 2 Or again : ' ' An
ultimate datum, even though it be logically unrationalized, will, if
its quality is such as to define expectancy, be peacefully accepted by
the mind." 3 Whether one is justified in using the word to describe
or name a fundamental attitude of the mind different from attention
is another matter. If such a class exists, I know of no other word so
appropriate unless it be that of waiting, and while very appropriate
for some of this class, yet it carries with it too much the idea of
passivity, while expectancy denotes an eager looking forward, a
quality which caused the poet to write of faith as a "living flame."
On the other hand "waiting stillness" is very much used by the
mystics to describe the quiet confident repose of the soul in deepest
meditation. The expression "waiting on the Lord" is especially
frequent in the writings of the Hebrew psalmists: "I waited for the
Lord, He inclined unto me, " " My soul doth wait upon the Lord. ' '

When we come to consider the content of faith we can only say

1 Ribot, Evolution of General Ideas, p. 25.

2 James, Essays in Popular Philosophy, p. 77.

3 Ibid., p. 79.

18 THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

that any thing whose outcome lies in the future may constitute an
object of faith, but the universal and persistent content of faith has
to do with the welfare of the individual soul, now and hereafter,
with salvation and immortality; with the existence and purposes of
God, the Universal Soul, as it were; with the relationships of one
soul to another and to God ; in short, those things regarding which
our logical concepts and laws seem inadequate and whose future we
can not forecast with any demonstrable certainty. With many peo-
ple the welfare of the body is also in a peculiar manner the substance
of faith and all sorts of people assert the efficacy of faith in the cure
of physical ills. That faith in the cure of physical ills and in the
cure of sin is in its essential features the same thing from a psychol-
ogical standpoint, the writer has tried to show in a former article.4
This view receives strong confirmation in an essay by a Catholic
Father of Oxford who finds that the directions given by St. Ignatius
several centuries ago for practising spiritual exercises are the same,
mutatis mutandis, as those given by the modern mental healer for
physical cure. Taking psychoanalysis as an example of mental
psychotherapeutics which has the highest claim to being scientific
he says: "Psychoanalysis is based on the principle that there is a
subconscious self which can do things which we can not do volun-
tarily and seeks by means of suggestion to utilise the subconscious
machinery. Substitute for the subconscious self, God, and you have
the fundamental principle of the Spiritual Exercises." 5

But these subjects mentioned above have from time immemorial
formed the subject matter for intellectual speculation and scientific
experimentation, and reams upon reams have been written offering
proofs concerning truths accepted at that time, none of which have
been able to stand the test of newer facts and experiences. How is
it then that faith can handle these same matters and make them active
forces in the lives of individuals? In his Essay, "The Will to Be-
lieve," James makes this statement: "In truths dependent on our
personal actions, then, faith based on desire is certainly a lawful
and possibly an indispensable thing." e I believe that faith is always
based on desire, but for the matter of that so is willing, but with a
difference. Desire is a state of consciousness which terminates in
judgments, decisions, and acts, provided a will or action complex can
be found to complete the desire satisfactorily to consciousness as a
whole. If none such presents itself in the stream of consciousness,

*" A Glimpse into Mysticism and the Faith State." This JOURNAL, Vol.
XVII, pp. 708-715, Dec. 16, 1920.

• Walker, ' ' The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, ' ' Hib. Jour., April, 1921.

• P. 25.

A PARTIAL ANALYSIS OF FAITH 19

then the desire falls below the threshold and exists as unexpressed
desire — vague and undetermined as to outcome and in many cases
the cause of a disturbed emotional state. If thwarted or incomplete
desires in regard to a certain matter are many, that is, if conscious-
ness continues to find no satisfactory completion of the desires, a
state of inadequacy appears, consciousness inhibits itself, throws
wide the gates which guard the threshold so carefully in the process
of remembering in a state of attention, and assumes a state of expec-
tancy. Into the void thus formed, springs the desire with all the
weight of accumulation with the same action complex which before
could not force its way into the stream of thought or at least not
with enough strength to bring a decision. The impulses and desires,
weak as regards the dominant lines of thought and action, prevail
when they have brought about a state of uneasiness which leads to
the inhibiting of these dominant lines.

Perhaps we find the best example of this in religious conversion.
Underneath the many failures were the impulses, the strivings,
the desire to do better which ultimately brought about a state of
repentance, and prevailing over the old dominating line of action,
culminated in a new state of consciousness which is called the new
birth in Christian teaching. It is the bringing of consciousness to
higher levels in the terminology of Eucken, which reorganization
he ascribes to the mercy of God, to free grace. Personally, I too
believe that God reenforces these designs; that He is an active force
in us, sublimating the "natural desires" and motivating our weaker
but higher ideals and aspirations. Of this, of course I offer no
logical proof, but only add my testimony to that of others who
live and act by the same faith.

Prayer is the generally accepted mental process of faith and
is undeniably based on desire. In the words of the familiar hymn,
"Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, unuttered or expressed."
St. Augustine's admonition, "for to journey thither [towards God],
nay even to arrive there is nothing else but the will to go," forms
the nucleus of an interesting story of modern life, giving a psy-
chologically true account of the transition of a weary restless soul
to a joyous peacefulness though the strength of her desire.7 Again
the Hebrew psalmist has expressed the thought so perfectly. ' ' Rest
in the Lord, wait patiently for him; Delight thyself also in the
Lord and he shall give thee thy heart's desire."

Faith healing of the body follows in the main the same proce-
dure, as said before. First, all mental therapeutists and indeed
all practitioners recognize the need of the desire for health. A lady

T Montague, " The Will to Go," Atlantic Mo., May, 1921.

20 THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

who had been iimane for some time once expressed the wish to a
vi^it iii'j triciid that she might recover and leave the hospital. ThU
waa reported to the head physician, who replied that there was
then a chance of her recovery, and she did recover. The Christian
Scientists teach th«-ir patients to desire health, tn think health, and
to believe health is coming. It is difficult, in the present state of
knowledge regarding the interaction of the mind and the body,
to say why this is necessary. In general one may say that probably
the normal functioning of the body depends on the proper distribu-
tion of nerve energy to the different organs and parts of the body.
In certain cases, especially chronic ones, the mind seems in some
way to have played a part in the altering of the course of the nerve
currents and by a different mode of thinking can help to restore
normality. Fear has an inhibitory and generally harmful effect
on bodily functions, and hope and confidence have a helpful one.
Psychologists by method of psychical analysis believe they have
discovered that certain people take refuge in illness to escape some
situation they fear. The removal of the fear constitutes the main
factor in the cure, and physical and mental energy flow again in
natural channels. All suggestion, from auto-suggestion to hypno-
tism, is based on the principle of the inhibition of the stream of con-
sciousness and on the attitude of readiness to receive a new content.
This content must, as we have said, be based on desire and as most
people desire health very ardently, however much they may fear
a certain situation to which they are called upon to react, mental
cures are very often easily effected.

Dr. Prince has set forth this theory very clearly in the follow-
ing paragraphs as regards the new thought processes and his emo-
tion is equivalent to our idea of desire. "By similar procedures in
a very large number of instances, for therapeutic purposes, 7 have
changed the setting, the viewpoint, and the meaning of ideas with-
out any realization on the patients' part of the reason for the
change. This is the goal of psychotherapy, and in my judgment
the one fundamental principle common to all technical methods of
such treatments, different as these methods appear to be when
superficially considered.

"It is obvious that in everyday life when by arguments, per-
suasion, suggestion, punishment, exhortation, or prayer we change
the viewpoint of a person, we do so by building up complexes which
shall act as settings and give new meanings to his ideas. I may
add, if we wish to sway him, to carry this new viewpoint to ful-
fillment through action we introduce into the complex an emotion
which by the driving force of its impulses shall carry the ideas to
practical fruition."

A PARTIAL ANALYSIS OF FAITH 21

Again he says : ' ' With excitation of emotion, instincts and senti-
ments which have opposing conative tendencies are inhibited, re-
pressed, or dissociated and with them the systems with which they
are organized. ' ' 8 Here again we read desire, which I believe to
be the basis of most if not all emotions. The desire changes the
direction of thought, when consciousness is open, expectant.

The general feeling tone of faith is excitement-repose, running
the gamut from the highest ecstasy and pure joy to deep peace and
the waiting stillness. The factor which brings emotions of this
class is apparently the oneness of the individual and the source
from which the desire is to be realized. Brahmanism teaches that
the highest bliss is complete absorption in the Nirvana. The author
of the fourteenth chapter of the gospel of St. John sums up the
teaching on the unity of God and man in the following expression :
''I am in the Father and ye in me, and I in you." This is to
bring the highest satisfaction and the greatest power. James says
that this is the appeal in all movements which have meant much
to humanity, i.e., kinship or oneness.

"If we survey the field of history and ask what feature all
great periods of revival, of expansion of the human mind, display
in common, we shall find I think, simply this: that each and all
of them have said to the human being. 'The inmost nature of the
reality is congenial to powers which you possess. ' " 9

All this contains an important lesson for religious propaganda.
That concept of God has the strongest appeal which makes the
worshipper feel that he is akin to God or that God is akin to him.
The strong appeal of Christianty is that the tie or relationship be-
tween God and man is love of such a nature that it defines expect-
ancy and removes all doubts as to the future outcome of events,
therefore bringing the satisfaction and peace sought. To disbelieve
in a God who has this intimate relationship to us seems the acme of
evil or sin from the standpoint of this religion, the greatest dis-
loyalty to life itself. To believe in such a God is an essential fac-
tor in salvation and the highest service man has in his power to
render to himself, to others and to the universe and its God. Love
is the culmination of faith.

The feeling of kinship, commonly called rapport, is likewise of
the utmost importance in all physical cures where faith plays a
part. It is the consensus of opinion among psychoanalysts that
cure by their method is only possible where the rapport exists.
One of them at least believes that the establishing of this bond is
sometimes sufficient to effect the cure without the analysis. A

• Morton Prince, The Unconscious, pp. 368-9, p. 500.
» Op. cit., p. 86.

22 THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Christian Science healer told me that she could not help anyone
who was antagonistic to her and that she believed this was the com-
mon experience of all healers. A well known medical writer after
describing the rather elaborate Weir Mitchell rest cure, concludes
that the good results sometimes attained are chiefly brought about
by the suggestive influence of the physician and that the main effect
of the treatment is mental, much depending on the personality of
the physician and on the individuality of the patient. I do not
entirely agree with this, but certain it is that a feeling of close
fellowship brings about a state of mental and physical relaxation
essential to the healing of the body and to the redirection of nerve
energy.

What is the function and value of faith in human life can be
pretty well made out from the foregoing. Religious writings of all
times and places abound in stories of men whose lives have been
changed and reinvigorated by repentance and consequent acts of
faith. It means either a tapping of our own reserves of energy or
the drawing upon the sources of divine energy. "They that wait
upon the Lord shall renew their strength." Everyone has the
option of believing that which harmonizes best with his own ex-
perience. History will show, I believe, that the men who have most
influenced the race through the force of their personality have
been men who were great practisers of prayer, or else had a strong
belief in destiny. One who believes in destiny is one who takes
some sort of an appeal to the dispenser of fate in such a way that
he is confident of his own powers of accomplishment and hence
undertakes and carries through tremendous tasks. Likewise we
have found it to be a restorer of physical power and health. Just
as we found repentance necessary for spiritual rebirth, so we find
relaxation necessary for bodily renewal. Some physician has said:
"The primary effect of relaxation is weakness, stupor, numbness
and death-like paralysis ; the secondary effect, however, is increased
strength and new life."

The important question, the practical question in the whole
matter is, are the faith processes something common to all, or is
there a class of people who have the gift of faith as some have the
gift of music or art? It is peculiar to some people, no doubt, to
excel in the exercise of faith, but if our reasoning has been correct,
we can all cultivate it in the measure that our individual lives call
for it. First of all, we must have desire to realize an ideal; it is
the first step in the faith process. Desire is a mental process which
can not either be completely rationalized or find expression in will
processes. Hence its importance in consciousness is overlooked but

A PARTIAL ANALYSIS OF FAITH 23

it is the first step in all other processes, speaking broadly. In the
case of faith, the desires are those which enter into the stream of
consciousness and begin to function as a part of it, without being
completely rationalized or motivated. And herein lies the danger
of faith: that one gives the reins to desire without waiting for a
reasonable outcome to be forecasted, when such an outcome is
within the possibilities of reason. It is this abuse of faith which
has brought it into discredit. Faith should only be called into
play where strong desire exists and reason fails.

Secondly to attain an effectual faith, one must cultivate harmony
within oneself, a sort of rapport between the subconscious and the
surface consciousness, so that the forces of both work together in
greater power than either alone could possess. Mystics and healers
alike emphasize this need of harmony, the absence of any distracting
thought which might draw off energy in a useless and harmful ex-
penditure. A physician in speaking of the over-reaction of certain
patients to incoming stimuli of all kinds, says: "Such patients are
consequently in a state of perpetual mental unrest. . . . Nervous
energy is being wasted at a terrific rate in all directions. ' ' 10 Another
physician speaks of the conservation and direction of energy, say-
ing: "In the well developed individual the distribution of energy
through widening of the symbol, the 'soul' or spiritual development
has left the proper amount of functioning, of energy carriage, on any
one of them. ' ' "

In the same way, if one is to exercise faith by way of suggestion
for the benefit of another, one must practise removing all antagonism
between the suggestionist and the one who is to profit thereby. The
cultivation of a spirit of love and kindness is the cardinal teaching
of the great religions and they abound in precepts and admonitions
for doing this. The only general principle that comes to mind that
would be of aid in this, is the recognition of kinship with one's
fellow men as spoken of above, the abolition of all class and racial
distinction where moral matters are concerned. Spiritual faith seems
to rest, by the same law, on the recognition of the identity of one's
desire and purpose with those of the God of the universe.

The third rule for the attainment of faith is that one is to become
skillful in inhibiting the stream of thought, in the power of relax-
ing, in reaching monoideism, by a process of letting go all ideas in
consciousness in order for the one coming from another source to

10 Bryant, " Treatment of The Chronic Intestinal Invalid," Am. Jour, of
The Med. Soc., Jan. 1921, p. 72.

11 Jelliffe, ' ' Multiple Sclerosis and Psychoanalysis, ' ' Am. Jour, of The Med.
Soc., May, 1921, p. 672.

24 THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOl'll Y

hold its place in the focus of a new consciousness. A similar relaxa-
tion of the body is a help in this. The celebrated Reverend Dr.

T , the first and greatest successor of Moody, once told a small

group of listeners that he often spent the night in prayer lying prone,
which is the attitude of greatest bodily relaxation. Medical men are
coming to realize the function of physical relaxation in restorative
processes. One of them says that relaxation for nervousness may be
like diet or hygienic measures in gastro-intestinal disorders, and that
doing away with residual tension is the sine qua non of thorough
and successful treatment. "So in certain chronic cases, relaxation
becomes a gradual progress, a matter of habit formation, wherein
the presence of pain or disordered intestinal secretions or other
organic disturbances may completely block the way." "

In a word, while we shall never rationalize the supreme and per-
sistent content of our highest faith, we do rationalize much of the
humbler sort. We shall never understand the great geniuses of faith
any more than we do the great geniuses in music or philosophy, but
we may by faithful effort learn something of its laws as we do those
of memory or judgment, and in a small way grow in the knowledge
and practise thereof.

LUCINDA PEARL BOGOS.

UBBANA, ILL.

BOOK REVIEWS

The Psychology of the Special Senses and their Functional Dis-
orders. ARTHUR F. HURST. (The Croonian Lectures.) Oxford
University Press. 1920. Pp. 122.

The title of this book is somewhat misleading, as it deals almost
entirely with functional disorders of the special senses. There is an
introductory chapter on the nature of hysteria, followed by chapters
on disturbances of the special senses, especially of touch, pain, hear-
ing and vision. These disturbances are in the nature of anaesthesias
and hyperaesthesias.

All sensory experiences are considered as active processes, as
"reactions" of the individual, rather than as the mere passive recep-
tion of stimuli. In the absence of this active process, the state of
attention, no impressions will produce sensory experiences. In order
to hear, one must listen ; in order to see, one must look. This active
process has its physiological basis in synaptic changes in the afferent
neural pathways; attention is lowered resistance, absence of atten-

i* Jacobus, " Reduction of Nervous Irritability and Excitement through Pro-
gressive Relaxation," Jour, of Nervous and Mental Diseases, April, 1921, p. 284.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 25

tion is increased resistance. Any condition which will increase atten-
tion to a group of sensory stimuli may produce hyperaesthesia, and
any condition which will decrease attention will produce lowered
sensitivity or even anaesthesia.

Now suggestion is a very potent factor in producing these
changes and is made responsible for all of the functional sensory
disorders. Hysteria is defined as a ''condition in which symptoms
are present which have resulted from suggestion and are curable
by psychotherapy" (p. 5). Many of the supposedly fixed stigmata
of hysteria such as the ansesthesias and the restricted visual fields
are suggested unintentionally by the examining physician. The
patient being led by the technique of the examination and by lead-
ing questions to believe that certain conditions are present, e.g.
anaesthesias, fails to pay further attention to their sensory stimuli.
The uniformity of the symptoms in different cases is attributed to
the uniformity of examination methods with the consequent similar
heterosuggestion. The hysterical phenomena which are not the direct
effect of heterosuggestion are the result of autosuggestion following
organic disabilities. Thus a soldier deafened by a shell explosion may
believe that he is permanently deafened, and will no longer listen.
Hence he may remain deaf after all organic disturbance has ceased.

By forced attention to the pain of wounds, the patient may
become so accustomed to "look for" the pain that he may feel it long
after the wound has completely healed. Here the sensory experiences
are the result of greatly lowered synaptic resistance.

Upon the foregoing conception of hysteria the author with his
associates has effected many cures of functional disorders among the
soldiers. A group of case histories' is presented to illustrate each
type of hysterical symptom. The most effective treatment, where the
intelligence of the patient permits, consists of a simple and clear
explanation of the facts of suggestion, with a course of training in
the active process of listening, looking, and feeling.

A. T. POFFENBERGER.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

SCIENTIA. August, 1921. De la contribution des divers pays
au developpement de la chimie (pp. 85-102) : B. L. VANZETTI
(Padua). -A well-written sketch of a complex history, with insis-
tence on its international character. The Relation of Light Emis-
sion and Absorption to Atomic Structure (pp. 103-114) : E. P.
LEWIS (California).- A notable effort to put in brief and simple

26 THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

form the tangled and still highly problematic current conceptions
of the structure of atoms. The result is a paper well worth careful
perusal. Le problems de I'integration physiologique (pp. 115-
126): C. M. CHILD (Chicago). -Restates the author's well-known
opinions. The chemically most active region of an organism tends
to dominate the rest, because of the influences which that chemical
activity sends out. Dominance and subordination can thus be
chemically explained and quantitatively studied. ProbUmes finan-
ciers d'apres guerre. III. D'un nouveau princvpe de progressivite
pour les impots de succession, (pp. 127-144) : CORRADO GINI
(Padua). -An interesting detailed and critical study of the pro-
posal to tax inheritances more severely in proportion to the number
of generations through which the heritage has descended. In the
present financial crisis, the author recommends heavy taxes on such
capital as is not due to the labor and savings of the present owner,
and likewise on consumption which is beyond what is necessary
for efficiency. Reviews of Scientific Books and Periodicals.

Bruhn, Wilhelm. Glauben and Wissen. Leipzig and Berlin : B. G.

Teubner. 1921. Pp. 108. Kart. 30c; geb. 35c.
Dilthey, Wilhelm. Die Jugendgeschichte Hegels, und Andere

Abhandlungen zur Geschichte des Deutschen Idealismus. Gesam-

melte Schriften. Band IV. Leipzig: B. G. Teubner. 1921.

Pp. x + 583. $2.05, geheftet ; $2.25, gebunden.
W. Dilthey, A. Riehl, W. Wundt, H. Ebbinghaus, R. Eucken, Br.

Bauch, Th. Litt, M. Geiger, T. K. Oesterreich. Sytematische

Philosophic. Edited by Paul Hinneberg. Third, revised edition.

Leipzig : B. G. Teubner. 1921. Pp. x + 408.
Hartman, Nicolai. Grundziige einer Metaphysik der Erkenntnis.

Berlin and Leipzig : Walter de Gruyter & Co. 1921. Pp. xii -j-

389.

Stolzle, Remigius. Charles Darwins Stellung zum Gottesglauben.
Leipzig : Felix Meiner. 1922. Pp. 34. Brosch. 25c.

NOTES AND NEWS

fiMILE BOUTROUX

fimile Boutroux died in Paris on November 22 at the age of
seventy-six years. This simple announcement came as a shock to the
many academic generations that have passed through the Sorbonne
since Boutroux first became professor of philosophy in 1885, and to

NOTES AND NEWS 27

the countless friends his lucid lectures and his charming personality
won for him in England and America. To the students and profes-
sors of philosophy in France, to whom, from Bergson down, he has
been cher mattre, Boutroux seemed a fixed star, and a star of the
first magnitude. His passing means the removal of a thinker and a
man whose influence over the present generation of educated French-
men has been very great, not only through his original philosophic
analysis of the basic conceptions of science, but even more through
his gift of sympathetic interpretation of the great philosophers of
the past.

It is perhaps as an illuminating teacher that Boutroux will be
longest remembered. He possessed that ability that seems the gift
of certain French minds, and that is the envy and the despair of
foreign admirers, to transcend the explication des textes and to grasp
the very soul of a man 's thought. He aimed, in his own words, ' ' to
seek the truth together with a great philosopher, following him along
the winding bypaths of meditation, sharing in his emotions, enjoy-
ing with him that harmony wherein his mind has found repose."
Unfortunately, unlike Faguet, there did not flow from his pen an
unending series of penetrating recreations of the thinkers of the past.
We have a single volume of studies on Socrates, Aristotle, Kant;
and we have his Pascal. But the memory of his lectures on the his-
tory of philosophy at the Bcole Normale Superieure and at the Sor-
bonne will not soon fade, nor will his art be forgotten.

In his original thinking Boutroux addressed himself to the prob-
lem around which has resolved so much of French philosophical
investigation in the last generation, the problem of liberty. In a
world of ordered uniformity and law, such as the scientific advance
of the last century has demanded, where is there to be found room
for that moral choice without which ethics, and indeed any human
activity, even that of science itself, seems impossible? From 1874,
when his doctor's thesis De la contingence des lois de la nature
appeared, to Science et Religion in 1908, Boutroux undertook a criti-
cism and an evaluation of the fundamental conceptions of mechan-
istic science in the interests of revealing the discontinuities and the
contingencies that lie at its very heart. Probably his most important
book is his De I'idee de loi naturelle, published in 1894, wherein his
analysis is at its best. Here he tries to establish the difference between
the various kinds of laws which the particular sciences have dis-
covered, and especially between the static and mathematical laws of
mechanics, physics, and chemistry, and the dynamic and qualitative
laws of the biological and social sciences. The latter alone deal with
concrete realities; the former are abstractions which represent but

28 THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

one aspect of physical events, that susceptible of definite measure-
ment. These mechanical and mathematical laws, it is true, are neces-
sary, and set rigid limits to the events that are possible; but they
leave undetermined the particular things to whose activity they set
limits. Just what that activity will be depends on the laws of living,
of dynamic, ever-changing things, which are too close to reality to be
purely mechanical.

Boutroux insists strongly, following Comte, on the independence
of each science, and on the irreducibility of its laws to those of any
other science. The laws of the more concrete sciences, like psychology
and biology, can not be deduced from those of the more abstract and
mathematical sciences ; each new realm is governed by new and special
principles not contained in those of the previous realm. Nor is a
complex whole no more than the sum of its parts; such a whole is
genuinely creative, for with it new qualities come into existence. The
free development of such new wholes Boutroux believes to be the
truly active and contingent part of nature.

But the little that remains to us in written form of Boutroux is
by no means the measure of his influence. It was the charm of his
personality that carried his message so far. To know him was to love
him. We need go no further than our own William James, who never
mentions Boutroux in his letters save to call him "a regular angel"
or "the gentlest and most lovable of characters." And it is surely
as the teacher of the youth he so well loved that Boutroux would most
wish to be remembered.

JOHN H. RANDALL, JR.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

VOL. XIX, No. 2. JANUARY 19, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

AN ANALYSIS OF REFLECTIVE THOUGHT

IN replying to Mr. Buermeyer's criticism of my analysis of reflec-
tive thought1 I suffer from somewhat the same embarrassment
that affected him in writing it. He was handicapped by the fact
that the analysis which he takes as the subject of his criticism was
written for pedagogical purposes rather than for strictly logical ends.
I am handicapped in replying by the fact that since Mr. Buermeyer
states that he accepts the general instrumental position, and since
he develops his own views incidentally in a criticism of portions of
How We Think, I am not always quite sure of what his exact posi-
tion would be were he writing to express his independent beliefs.
In any case I shall ignore the statements of How We Think, and
attempt to discuss the points made in Mr. Buermeyer's article on
their own merits. It hardly seems to me that the original text
naturally bears in all points the construction he puts upon it, but
that is a minor matter, and if as acute a critic as Mr. Buermeyer
misunderstood it, the text is hardly likely to have been unambiguous
to others. So I am grateful to him for this opportunity.

The questions raised by Mr. Buermeyer concern the matter of
steps or processes of thoughts. Starting from my analysis into
(i) the occurrence of a problem, (ii) its specification, (iii) occur-
rence of a solving suggestion, or supposition, hypothesis, (iv) elabo-
ration of suggestion, or reasoning, (v) experimental testing, he
adduces reasons for holding that the reflective act can not be
resolved into separate steps, and that, especially as thinking be-
comes more competent or scientific, the second, third and fourth
"tend to fuse into one indissoluble act." Part of Mr. Buermeyer's
contention I accept unreservedly, and am chagrined to find that I
should have given any impression to the contrary. In speaking of
"steps" it is perhaps natural to suppose that something chrono-
logical is intended, and from that it is presumably a natural conclu-
sion that the steps are taken in a temporal sequence in the order taken

iThis JOURNAL, VoL XVII, pp. 673-681.

29

30 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

above. Nothing of this sort, however, is intended. The analysis is
formal, and indicates the logical "movements" involved in an act of
critical thought. It is a matter of indifference which comes first.
Not even the occurrence of a problem need come absolutely first in
time. For a scientific man may reason and experiment for the ex-
press purpose of discovering a problem upon which to exercise in-
quiry. Were I writing at the present time and writing a complete
statement, I should certainly emphasize the point that the main
distinction between uncritical and critical or scientific thinking is
that the latter strives to combine as far as possible into one act the
functions of inferring and testing. The attempt represents an ideal
or limit which can not be attained except in mathematics. But so
far as the endeavor is concerned, I accept not merely Mr. Buer-
meyer's criticism of temporal separation of steps, but his conclusion
regarding the fusion into one process of induction, deduction and
experimental testing.

Apparently this statement leaves no outstanding differences be-
tween Mr. Buermeyer and myself. However, the case is not so
simple as this. Mr. Buermeyer says things which imply that in
denying temporal separation he also denies any significant distinc-
tion of functions, while I still stand by the indispensable nature for
logical analysis of these distinctions. Upon this point, however, the
embarrassment to which I referred in the opening sentences comes
into play. I am not sure just how far he means to go in the direc-
tion of logical as well as of psychological identification. In any
<ase, he makes specific statements which point to obliteration of
•distinctions in logic between induction and deduction, and those
statements will be used by me to clear up what seem to me signif-
icant logical distinctions. He refers indeed pretty continually to
the functions of induction, deduction and experiment, in the course
of showing their mutual involution. But whether this reference
marks a recognition that induction, deduction and experiment are
logically distinct from one another or whether it is a mere conces-
sion on Mr. Buermeyer 's part to the exigencies of stating my own
position for purposes of criticism, I am not sure.

This question is the important one, for it concerns the respective
definitions of induction and deduction. My impression is that Mr.
Buermeyer accepts the traditional statement of induction and deduc-
tion as logically movements respectively from the particular to the
general and from the general to the particular. My chief concern is
to modify this tradition. Induction I take to be a movement from
• facts to meaning; deduction a development of meanings, an exhibi-
tion of implications, while I hold that the connection between fact

AN ANALYSIS OF REFLECTIVE THOUGHT 31

and meaning is made only by an act in the ordinary physical sense
of the word act, that is, by experiment involving movement of the
body and change in surrounding conditions. These are the points
to which I hold, surrendering to Mr. Buermeyer as unclear and
inadequate those portions of How We Think calculated to leave any
other impression. There are of course points of contact between
the traditional statement and that which I have just made. Facts,
data, are logically speaking particulars, while meaning functions as
a universal. But the traditional discussion takes either particular
or universal or both for granted as given, while I am trying to
account for them, and to account for them in terms of the reflective
transformation of an experienced situation from a confused and
uncertain state to a clear and coherent condition. In this process,
data with their particularistic function present themselves when the
situation is subjected to analytic observation; they represent the
attempt to specify the problem. Suggested meanings present them-
selves as the means of restoring unity, coherence and consistency
to the particulars. As such they have the function of universality.
Experiment is the indicated application of meanings to the partic-
ulars to see what happens — to see whether the suggested unification
can be carried out and maintained. Experiment has a two-fold
function. From the side of suggested meanings it is a test ; from the
side of the otherwise fragmentary data, it supplies organization,
system. There are various things in Mr. Buermeyer 's criticism which
indicate that he accepts the traditional idea of ready-made or given
particulars and universals, data and meanings. At this point, we
part company.

The explicit discussion of induction and deduction may con-
veniently begin with a reference to the fact that the foregoing state-
ments assume but three functions; while the one quoted earlier in-
cludes four — leaving out the problem in respect to which there is no
difference between us. This seeming discrepancy is due to the fact
that the text of How We Think, with its practical pedagogic aim,
was especially concerned with enforcing the difference between un-
critical and critical thinking.2 Now one of the most marked dif-
ferences between poor thinking and good thinking is the former's
premature acceptance and assertion of suggested meanings. One of
the marks of controlled thinking is postponement of such acceptance.
Consequently I inserted between the problem and the presentation
of a suggestion the requirement of analytic examination of the "facts

2 The reader should not be misled by the fact that Mr. Buermeyer and I
use the word " reasoning " differently. He uses it to express what I call
critical or reflective thinking — thinking in its eulogistic sense. I prefer to con-
fine it to " ratiocination " or rational discourse, the elaboration of implications.

32 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

of the case." This "step" is not however different in critical think-
ing from the step of a tentative or hypothetical adoption of a sugges-
tion. It marks the endeavor to control the form which a hypothe-
tical meaning takes. The point as regards my view of induction
can be made clearer by distinguishing between the inductive move-
ment and induction as a critically executed function. Both termi-
nate logically in an hypothesis. But in ordinary thinking no pains
are taken to control the formation of the hypothesis. In critical or
scientific inquiry great pains are taken to secure an accurate speci-
fication and collection of observed data as the means of control.
This "step" is in my opinion the characteristic trait of scientific
induction. There is no implication that suggestions do not arise
until this step is taken. On the contrary suggestions swarm and
press for acceptance. That is the very danger against which sys-
tematically executed analytic observation protects us.

Mill set out to lay down rules for induction which shall be as
stringent as syllogistic rules were for Aristotelian deduction. Now
as against this point of view it seems to me essential to maintain
that the occurrence to the mind of explanatory "causes" is not a
matter which can ever be subjected to stringent rules. The elements
of individual capacity and of accident can never be excluded in
the inductive operation. Huxley remarks that after reading Darwin
and Wallace their theory of the origin of species seemed so obvious
that he could only wonder how he and others who had access to the
same facts should not have thought of such an obvious explanation.
Here is the factor which can not be reduced to rule as Mill set out
to reduce it. But on the other hand, a certain degree of regulation
of occurrence of hypotheses does obviously occur. How t The reply
of How We Think, to which I still hold, is that the analytic examina-
tion (extensive and intensive) of observed events supplies such
control as is available. This process can be reduced to a considerable
extent to rules. Mill's "canons" are not what he took them to be, but
they are, especially the method of Difference and the Joint Method,
statements of the way to conduct observation in order to secure the
data which are most likely to render the suggestion of meaning (hy-
pothesis, theory, "cause") relevant and fruitful — "most likely,"
other things being equal. There is no guarantee like that of the
Aristotelian syllogism such as Mill aspired to.

Instead of ruling out Mill's contribution to the theory of induc-
tion I tried to place it where it belongs. This consideration supplies
my answer to Mr. Buermeyer's remark that my account leaves me
without the support of Mill's canons, and in general reduces induc-
tion to a mere matter of happy guessing. Just because the phase

AN ANALYSIS OF REFLECTIVE THOUGHT 33

of happy guessing can not be eliminated, specification of the nature
of the problem or analytic observation is of transcendent importance
in induction. The performance of analytic observation of course
involves experiment; it does not precede it. And it is guided by
some idea or suggestion in most cases. Nevertheless there is a logical
difference between experiment as resulting in data which affect the
formation of a hypothesis and as affecting its acceptance. This is
true even when the same experiment has as matter of fact both effects.
Hence I can not accept Mr. Buermeyer's emendation that instead
of defining scientific induction as the sum of processes by which
formation of explanatory conceptions is facilitated (and regulated)
it should be defined as those by which their acceptance is determined.
Logically, we must distinguish the two results, although practically
(as has been said) the ideal or limit of scientific method is that the
same concrete procedure should effect both of them.

This is not a matter of splitting hairs. Practically it is essential
in order that the hypothetic character of an explanatory conception
may be adequately apprehended; and that the one thinking may
make certain that a proving or testing experiment brings to light
other facts than those which have led to its formation and (tenta-
tive) adoption. One has only to read current literature on spiritual-
ism and interpretation of dreams, proceeding from men who have
established scientific reputations in other fields, to note the practical
importance of this discrimination. The history of science is full
of similar cases — such as the elaboration of Weissmannism.

The theoretical bearing of insistence upon induction as connected
with hypothesizing may be seen by examining Mr. Buermeyer's
contention that it is ' ' at least equally deductive in character. " I do
not differ from Mr. Buermeyer in holding that it will be adequately
performed in the degree in which it utilizes deduction. But this
statement implies that they are logically distinct, while Mr. Buer-
meyer goes to the extent of holding that they are identical. Deduc-
tion involves as he points out "the application of knowledge, of ideas
already in hand" (p. 675). Now this he claims shows that forming
a hypothesis is deductive, since it rests upon prior knowledge. "Only
if we already have some information about a problematic situation,
some experience of analogous situations, are we able to form a
conjecture not wholly random" (p. 675). And again he speaks of
the competent thinker as the one who ' ' focuses upon the case in ques-
tion all the funded results of the agent's past experience, the occur-
rence of analogies at once subtle and to the point" (p. 675). With-
out this deductive quality he holds that hypothesizing would be
wholly casual and one man's theory likely to be as good as another's.

34 JOURNAL OP PHILOSOPHY

The necessity of information about the problematic situation is
not only admitted, but insisted upon. It expresses precisely the need
of regulating the formation of conceptions by analytic observation
which has just been dwelt upon. But it is denied unqualifiedly that
this information operates logically after the manner of a premise of
deductive reasoning. If it did, any two men with the same technical
competency would collect the same data and give their elements the
same weight. Suggestion, the occurrence of a hypothetical meaning,
is in last analysis a brute fact, alogical. It happens or it doesn't;
a certain "idea" presents itself or it doesn't; some other conception
holds the mind. (That a similar inductive jump actually takes place
in all significant deductions, I do not question. But this does not
identify their functions, that is respective uses, values, characteris-
tic results.)

In reference to the use of reasoning from information derived
from other and analogous cases Mr. Buermeyer seems to me guilty of
a fallacy or confusion which I have elsewhere pointed out. (For
example, Democracy and Education, p. 187.) There is a difference
between saying that the suggestion of a hypothesis would not occur
without prior experience and that it rests upon the use of prior ex-
perience. The former is a physical statement, the latter is a logical
one. In fact men often have a suggestion occur to them without being
aware of the prior experience which enabled the suggestion to spring
up. Even in the cases when they are aware of an earlier experience
which generated the suggestion they do not, if they are wise,
place the suggesting experience and the suggested meaning in the
relation of premise and conclusion, but only in that of suggester and
suggested — "association of ideas" in common parlance. The logical
question is whether the two situations are analogous. Knowledge
exists and is used to suggest a hypothesis. But the question for
present knowledge is whether the old case or rule is or is not appli-
cable to the new one. Many of our common errors come from as-
suming that what is known in some cases is also knowledge for the
case in hand. This kind of subeumption is the essence of all dog-
matism. Deductive reliance upon old knowledge, that is putting the
old case and the conception it suggests in the new case in the rela-
tion of logical premise and conclusion, is precisely the thing against
which the inductive function has to safeguard us. That a trained
man can rely upon old knowledge more confidently than an untrained
one is a fact. But the logically trained man still makes a distinction
between old knowledge as a source of suggestions and as a deductive
premise for a conclusion. The analytic inspection upon which I
have laid such emphasis as the crucial thing in induction has to ex-

AN ANALYSIS OF REFLECTIVE THOUGHT 35

tend not merely to the present problematic situation but to the prior
situations from which a would-be rule or conclusion springs up.
Only in this way, can we safeguard the acceptance of a suggestion
by determining the degree of similiarity which exists between the two
cases. Mr. Buermeyer refers to Newton's inference as to gravita-
tion. Well, why not refer also to his inference as to light ? It was
the same man working with the same instrumentalities. In one case,
the supposition of analogy with prior experiences has been confirmed.
In the other case, it hasn't been. In short, the hypothetical charac-
ter of inductive inference lies precisely in the supposition of analogy
between the present problematic cases and other assured cases.
This is the point at issue. There is no paradox in the fact that what
is knowledge in one context is hypothesis or even error in another.
But it is a fact which precludes that acceptance of prior knowledge
as a deductive premise upon which Mr. Buermeyer 's argument de-
pends.

Upon the importance in induction of a plurality of competing
hypotheses and of the importance of elimination, of exclusion, of all
but one, I am glad to find myself wholly at one with Mr. Buermeyer,
and also to accept the explanation which he gives (on p. 676). I
should also agree with Mr. Moore that the assumption of a plurality
of hypotheses as applicable (that is, as worth trying to apply) to
the same set of facts is of the essence of skepticism. But I should
add two qualifications. Such an assumption is itself involved in
the hypotheses; or it is itself a hypothesis, namely, that each one
of a number of hypotheses having prima facie claims is worth de-
veloping and examining. And I should add also that skepticism
about the categorical value of an inductive inference is a prerequi-
site of good thinking. Part of the worth of competing hypotheses
and of the method of successive elisions is that it fosters precisely
his healthy skepticism.

But I can not see in acceptance of the importance of the method
of elimination anything which militates against my analysis. I can
see in it several things which seem to go against Mr. Buermeyer 's.
For example, since all competing hypotheses are equally suggested
by the problematic situation in conjunction with prior analogous
situations, they are not deductive conclusions from identical premises
but are suggestions springing up from different sources. In the
latter case each may need deductive amplification and be worth
experimental testing. An assertion that incompatible hypotheses are
deductively grounded in identical premises is, it seems to me, skepti-
cism of the most nihilistic kind ; it destroys the very possibility of any
valid deduction. Mr. Moore's statement from this point of view is

36 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

quite moderate. But it implies no depreciation of plurality of hypo-
theses and a process of selection among them by a method of elimi-
nation. On the contrary. If one hypothesis is good because it starts
one train of deductive implications and initiates one set of experi-
ments, several are better because they extend the operation. In any
complicated case, it would be practically impossible to arrive at a
sound conclusion save as various deductive systems were compared
and the results of different experiments used to check one another.

Mr. Buermeyer's criticism applies also to the treatment of de-
duction as the development of a suggested meaning through tracing
its implications, that is, its logical connections with other meanings
or conceptions. His discussion of this point is, however, compara-
tively brief, and mine must also be. He speaks of deduction in
modern logic as "a general theory of types of order, or implica-
tion" (p. 676). I see nothing in this conception contrary to my point
of view. Because ordinary reasoning constantly employs implicatory
relationships in order to expand or elaborate a suggested meaning,
there is every reason why an abstract theory of implicatory relation-
ships should develop. Many of those who have engaged in the devel-
opment of this logic would deny their ultimate instrumental or meth-
odological character. But Mr. Buermeyer's general acceptance of
the instrumental logic does not suggest any such disposition on his
part. He says, however, that while the development of a content of a
hypothesis uses these types of order, it can not be identified with them,
since it is partial or selective. Precisely. Just as induction employs
selected matter-of-fact information in forming a hypothesis, so de-
duction employs a system of previously formed conceptions or mean-
ings or relations. It has to pick out and adapt for the purpose in
hand, which is set by the problem. This selection is inductive be-4
cause it involves forming an hypothesis regarding their value or
applicability for the purpose in hand. Their established position
within the general system of types of implication does not guarantee
their appropriateness in the given context any more than the assured
place of information in one context guarantees its use in a new
problematic situation.

Up to this point I but repeat my agreement with Mr. Buermeyer
so far as the use of induction in deduction is concerned. It would
also be admitted or claimed that deduction occurs for the sake of
experimental testing. More than this, there is constant testing dur-
ing the deductive process; mentally conceptions are tried together
to see how they fit for the purpose in hand. Otherwise, as Mr. Buer-
meyer acutely remarks, deduction would become like the calculations

AN ANALYSIS OF REFLECTIVE THOUGHT 37

of an adding machine (p. 680 ).3 But this dependence upon and use
of induction does not, that I can see, affect the statement that the
function of deduction, or deduction logically viewed, consists in
elaboration of a meaning of which has first presented itself in a
crude, undeveloped form, and which is accepted not finally but as
worth being made the base of development.4 In fact, it is not easy
to tell whether or not Mr. Buermeyer denies this point.

In conclusion, one ultimate point at issue may be said to turn
upon the relation of act (or process) and function, or as Mr. Buer-
meyer points out the relation of the psychological and logical. I
concede wholly to Mr. Buermeyer the contention that in the degree in
which any job of thinking is well done, experimenting and deduc-
tion are involved in induction — and so on all the way around. But
I deny that this factual involvement means logical identification.
This denial seems to Mr. Buermeyer to imply going back upon that
belief in the intimate relation of psychology and logic which is the
essence of the pragmatic or instrumental logic. I do not think so.
One might contend that a science of physiology depended upon
ability to detect chemical processes and trace their workings with
respect to all the functions of the organism. Would this cancel the
distinction between breathing and circulation, even if it were shown
that they not merely depend upon each other but that fundamentally
similar chemical reactions were found in both? Function is not a
separate process: to suppose that it is, seems to me the error of all
abstractionism and absolutism. It is, however, a distinctive matter,
for it concerns the results of processes. A man may go from New
York to Chicago and from Chicago to New York upon the same
tracks, in the same car and with the same engineer. But the purpose,
the outcome is different. So is it with induction and deduction. The
more we become aware of the identity of psychological process, the
more the difference in function becomes significant. To ignore this
distinctiveness of Junction because of the unity of act seems to me
to deliver the cause of concrete, psychological thinking into the hands
of the enemy — those who assert that all true reasoning is deductive

» I take it that Mr. Buermeyer would probably agree with me that the same
thing holds of the general theory of types of order or implications which the
new school substitutes for the old syllogism. As a matter of fact, they also
involve induction.

* If Mr. Buermeyer had carried his criticism to the point of stating that
conclusions appear in every phase of reflective thinking I should also have
agreed with him. It is far from being true (as a chronological interpretation of
iny analysis would infer) that conclusion is postponed till the problem is solved.
We accept or adopt at every point. The difference is in the conditions and
purpose of the acceptance, as is suggested above regarding acceptance of a
hypothesis.

38 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

and that induction is a mere psychological preliminary, important
only in the biography of the individual thinker. I wish that Mr.
Buermeyer would turn his well-loaded guns upon that camp; and
in conclusion I again thank him for the opportunity to make clearer
points which in How We Think were doubtless left in regrettable
obscurity.

JOHN DEWET.
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

THE NERVOUS SYSTEM, PSYCHOLOGICAL FACT OB

FICTION?

SO habituated have we become to the inferior position which
psychology occupies among the sciences that we have become
accustomed to excuse its deficiencies rather than to understand and
correct them. Hence, the tradition continues that psychology deals
with vague and futile materials, not natural facts which can be
described and referred to valid laws. Indeed, it is only with ex-
treme reserve that one grants psychology a place among the natural
sciences at all. Of course it is the psychologist himself who is re-
sponsible for this situation for he is only very slowly prying loose
the facts of his domain from the metaphysical incrustations in which
the centuries have confined them.

The psychologist 's handling of the nervous system is an excellent
case in point. The nervous system, originally brought into psy-
chology as a means of concretizing and interpreting the diaphanous
and fleeting states of mind, has not yet been provided with its
proper place as a component factor in a complex psychological act.
Instead, it is mainly used as a scheme wherewith to handle the
elusive knowings or awarenesses which are still all too prominent
in psychological writings. Although the nervous system is made
to do heavy duty in psychology, as is manifest from even the slight-
est examination of psychological literature, it is only in the case of
reflexes and similar actions that it serves in any sense as a descrip-
tive factor. In practically all other cases the nervous system is
used in psychology merely as an explanatory agent. In the pres-
ent paper an attempt is made to investigate the neural conceptions
prevalent in psychology with the hope that we can thereby suggest
what is factual and what fictitious in these conceptions.

Unfortunately, at present it happens to be true that in general,
whether psychologists use the nervous system as a descriptive fact
as in the study of reflex action, or as an explanatory instrument
in other cases, the results so far as psychology is concerned are

THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 39

equally detrimental. In general, we might say that two distinct
and serious disadvantages are thereby sustained. Not only are the
highly important nervous functions gravely misinterpreted, with
the consequence that the whole psychological act is hopelessly mis-
understood, but, what is probably worse, a barrier is immediately
set up preventing future progress in our interpretation of psy-
chological phenomena.

Briefly, let us examine each of the two uses of the nervous ap-
paratus in psychology, and first the descriptive use of it. When we
describe a reflex or any other act as a neural apparatus or as an
effect of a neural operation we give only a partial description of
the activity. Either we make the nervous apparatus the whole act
to the exclusion of the muscular, glandular and other processes, as
well as the stimulating circumstances, or else, when we include the
muscular, glandular, and other response factors, we still exclude
the stimulating conditions which are no less essential factors in
the whole action. Need we say how inaccurate and useless is the
description of an act when we omit from it any factor, whether it
is muscular, glandular or discriminative? But we might suggest
how seriously inadequate must be an account of a response act from
which is omitted the specification of its differential character and
specific sensitivity to a particular stimulatng object and condition.
To omit the recording of the stimulating conditions of reflex and
other psychological reactions means to seek exclusively in the re-
action phase of the behavior for the mechanism of the event, which
in its essence is an interaction of a complete response with a spe-
cific stimulus.

That the nervous system should ever have been made into the
exclusive materials of a psychological act may be explained by the
great influence of histological and experimental findings upon the
thinking of psychologists. Truly remarkable, of course, are the
coordinating and integrating functions of the nervous apparatus
even when considered as purely physiological (mechanical) func-
tions, but just as certain is it that the narration of how allied and
antagonistic reflexes operate as mere facts of synaptic coordina-
tion gives us a very slight notion of the exact place of the nervous:
apparatus in a psychological action. We meet here with a para-
dox, namely, that the over-emphasis of the neural apparatus in
psychological descriptions, instead of adding anything to our under-
standing of the nervous system, rather deprives us of such an under-
standing, besides inducing us to place a very erroneous interpreta-
tion upon the total psychological act. No one can gainsay that
experimental work on the nervous system is absolutely indispens-

40 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

able for an understanding of psychological reactions, especially of
the simpler sort, but to overlook in such experimentation the prag-
matic neglect of many other essential factors, means to misconstrue
the facts studied. Let us also remember that in all experimental
work the necessity to use simple actions in the laboratory proce-
dure results in an emphasis on the neural1 factors entirely out of
proportion to their actual place in psychological behavior in general.

Turning now to the employment of the neural apparatus as an
explanatory factor in psychological interpretations, we find that
practically always it serves as a means of supporting a theory of
behavior not actually derived from the observation of such be-
havior. In particular the neural mechanisms are used to uphold
some sort of mentalism; that is to say, the neural apparatus is
seized upon as an appropriate physical counterpart (either paral-
lel, cause, or condition or result) of mental states. Among the con-
ditions presumably explained by the neural apparatus is the
manner in which the "psychic," whether conceived as stuff or proc-
ess, can operate in a factual world. And so the nervous system is
taken to be (1) the tangible counterpart of the intangible psychic;
or (2) it serves merely to fill in the gaps (subconscious and associa-
tion theories) between the functioning of mental (awareness) proc-
esses; (3) or further, it is made to operate as the complete substi-
tution for consciousness in cases where no awareness is presumed
to be present. We will not attempt to rehearse here all of the dif-
ficulties attendant upon the confusion of the nervous system with
mind, which inevitably results from employing a neural explana-
tion in psychology. Suffice it to say that it is our fundamental
•conviction that the necessity to look upon the nervous system as an
-explanatory principle for psychological processes is for the most
part owing to a lack of appreciation of the essential fact of psy-
chological phenomena, namely, the interaction of a complex organ-
ized specific response with a specific stimulus.

Many are the specific ways in which the nervous system is used
in explaining so-called mental facts or awareness, and always, we
submit, with hopelessly unsatisfactory results. We take pleasure
in availing ourselves of Holt's excellent discussions2 of the peculiar
interpretations of the neural functions in mental activity. In
speaking of the relation of automatic or habitual to so-called con-

i We doubt much whether an unbiased judgment would lay greater stress upon
the neural factor than upon the glandular or muscular phases, although it seems
clear that the interrelationship of response with stimulus would suffer in any such
comparison.

* The Concept of Congoioutnett, 1914, Oh. 15. Also this JOURNAL, 1915, VoL
XH, pp. 365-372, 393-409.

THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 41

scious activities he says, "One theory, for instance, has it that the
cerebral cortex is the 'seat of consciousness,' while habituated un-
conscious acts are done by the cerebellum and cord. From which
it follows that when a motion is first learned (for this appears to
be always a conscious process) it is learned by the cerebrum, but
thereafter it is performed by the cerebellum and cord (which
never learned it). A most plausible conception! And thereafter,
since it can be performed either consciously or unconsciously, a
double set of nervous mechanisms is maintained in readiness. Or
again, there is a view that 'consciousness' is comparable to resist-
ance, or heat, developed at neural cell or synapse. Unconscious-
ness in a process is attained when the neural path is worn so
' smooth' that no appreciable heat is developed. When, then, an
act has once become automatic it can not be performed consciously,
unless the organism relearns it in a new set of nerves. This patently
violates the facts. ' ' 3 Also, Holt has shown4 in his analysis of the
drainage theory of McDougall that sometimes the attempt to use
the nervous system as an explanation of awareness results in the
theory that when the nervous mechanism functions least, there is
a maximum of consciousness.

Nor is the case any better with the action theory of Miinster-
berg which Holt himself espouses, for there has never been, nor can
there ever be established any relationship between the nervous
system and any kind of knowing. All such neural theories succeed
only in throwing the nervous system out of its perspective in the
total reaction. No less has this been the case when the nervous
apparatus is considered the basis for the association of ideas, than
when the neural mechanism is assumed to be a basis for conscious-
ness in general. Indeed, in Holt's article from which we have
quoted, we are inclined to believe the spirit of the discussion is op-
posed to the conception that a psychological act is primarily a
neural act or that the activities involved in psychological action
are due to and can be explained by the nervous apparatus involved.
Holt's view when stripped of its traditional neural concretions is
not far from our hypothesis that psychological behavior consists
of the stimulating object or conditions on the one hand, and the
action of the person on the other. Indeed, wherever Holt uses an
illustration, his argument is definitely in accord with our own. "We
deem it most unfortunate that the neural tradition is so strong, since
it induces such aberration in our vision of psychological facts as to
prevent us from describing human behavior as it occurs and inter-
preting it in factual terms.

3 The Freudian Wish, 1915, p. 190.
* The Concept of Consciousness, p. 334.

42 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

We would urge, therefore, that psychology should be emanci-
pated from physiology, for it is only when psychological behavior
is studied as it actually occurs that justice can be done to the
nervous functions as well as to all the other factors in psychologi-
cal phenomena. How troublesome the neuronic theory is may be
judged from the fact that even when psychologists consider that
they are studying responses to stimuli the neural prejudice influ-
ences them to consider all psychological behavior as merely the
integration of reflexes. Two fundamental objections to this proce-
dure may be offered. In the first place, reflex acts belong to the
permanent behavior equipment of the individual and are not capable
of integration ; 8 and secondly, to think of all of our behavior as
reflexes or combinations of reflexes means to overlook the great
variety and complexity of our actual behavior. Especially can
such a conception not do justice in any sense to the complex social,
esthetic, and moral adaptations to our human surroundings. We
wonder if anyone ever seriously considered the nervous system as
such to be of any service in distinguishing between two objects,
to say nothing of a difference between the alternatives of a moral
issue. But it is implied that in simpler cases the nervous system
does perform such functions. Thus, the supporters of the neuronic
theory necessarily overlook the presence in the behavior equipment
of the person of other very important types of acts besides re-
flexes, as well as all the other specific facts of human adaptation
other than neural action. To deny then, that all of our behavior
is reflex in form does not mean in any sense to neglect or deny any
quality or value of reflexes, but merely not to ascribe to them quali-
ties they do not have, nor attribute to them vague and mystic prop-
erties of becoming something else by concretion and aggregation.
For it is inevitable when we make reflexes the basis of every re-
action that we introduce surreptitiously and ad hoc qualities and
conditions which really are not there. An excellent example of
this (because in this matter psychologists follow the physiologists)
is the case of the physiologists who assume that upon the series of
physiological facts which they study there is crudely superimposed
another series which they call psychic.

The neuronic theory, we submit, stands in the way of psychol-
ogists who would develop a concrete science of actual human be-
havior, for such behavior, it need hardly be argued, is essentially
such a comjlex adaptation to conditions that it is unthinkable that
a neural theory could be an explanation of it. Moreover, to cling

• In the psychological process of integration we assume that acta lose their
identification in becoming parts of larger acts.

THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 43

to such a theory means to make the reflex act the prototype of
human action. And just here is where the extreme deficiency of
the neural theory appears, for by retaining it as a general means
of explanation we overlook its actual function and value as a com-
ponent in all psychological phenomena.

If, while ourselves rejecting neural explanations of psycho-
logical action, we still seek a justification for the belief in such
reputed explanations, we can find it in the overpowering impulse
to make a rigid and fixed explanation of such utterly important
and exceedingly difficult facts as psychological phenomena are.
How vain is such a quest is clear from the fact that quite aside
from its violation of scientific methodology (namely, to seek the
cause of a phenomenon in a part of itself) we maintain, and with
perfect safety we believe, that a genuinely critical search will
reveal not a single valid principle of explanation which psychology
has derived from physiology — although this does not deny, in any
sense, that many valuable psychological principles were worked
out by physiologists. In order not to be misunderstood at
this point let us forthwith distinguish between the useful, nay,
necessary employment of the neural factors as descriptive elements
of actual reaction systems from the useless and pernicious employ-
ment of the neural apparatus as an explanatory process. We pro-
pose with all emphasis to distinguish between (1) the description
of the exceedingly important part which the synaptic coordination
processes as integrative functions play in every reaction system,6
and (2) the neural structures and functions which are implied to
exist beside the psychological response and to explain it. In plainer
words, let us distinguish between the facts which the neurologist
and nerve physiologist have discovered and verified and the neural
theories which the older psychologists have invented to materialize
their psychism. Let it not be overlooked that we do not deny that
in many cases the psychologists ' imaginary neurology is based upon
a germ of fact. A case in point is the elaboration of the neurologi-
cal fact that the impulse meets with greater resistance at the
synapse than in a nerve trunk, into the fiction that synaptic re-
sistance is the cause or condition of such complex action as remem-
bering or knowing. Such inventions consist primarily, of course,
in the translation of associationistic mechanisms into neural terms.

It is all very well to desire fixed materials of references with
which to secure complex phenomena, but as a matter of fact the
nervous apparatus can not accomplish any such purpose, and pri-

8 Cf. our discussion of the reaction system in this JOURNAL, 1921, Vol. XVIII,
p. 263.

44 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

marily, of course, because there does not eiist any need to anchor
down psychological facts when we consider such facts to be con-
crete responses to stimuli, as indeed they are. We cheerfully ad-
mit, as we have previously observed, that for extreme mentalists
or spiritualists the neural mechanisms do serve as stable supports,
but who, we might ask, would be willing to accept a type of psy-
chology needing such support?

To test our proposition concerning the negative value of neural
mechanisms in the interpretation of behavior we might consider
the case of the child learning to keep his finger away from the
burning candle. In particular, we might study Holt's neural inter-
pretation, since this is one of the most recently formulated views
based upon a mercilessly severe criticism of other neural explana-
tions. After rejecting the Meynert scheme which James has made
into a classic, Holt assumes that the child is endowed with two re-
flexes, one for extension and the other for retraction. Now the
explanation consists in positing a greater "openness" and "wear-
ing down" of the second or retractive path so that it will operate
in preference to the first. But even if we agree to overlook en-
tirely the absolutely hypothetical character of the "openness" and
"wearing down" of paths, must we not assume, if the two reflexes
are present, that both pathways are already open and worn down!
Yet Holt finds it necessary to explain how the second or retraction
path is opened and worn down relatively more. This explanation
which he offers is twofold. In the first place, he asserts that the
prolonged pain which the child suffers continues the retraction
stimulus for a long period, thus causing the path to wear down.
And in the second place, he suggests that just as the first five
pedestrians across a snow-covered field do more than the next
twenty-five toward making a path, so the passage of a first nervous
impulse over a path of high resistance wears it down more than
the same impulse would wear an already opened tract.7

As to the first point, what does Holt mean by pain t Not a men-
tal something, let us hope. For if he does, he not only abjures the
necessity for explaining anything, since by admitting mentalities he
need merely associate with pain an "idea of retraction" as in the
original Meynert scheme, but he also involves himself in the far
worse situation that he can never demonstrate the connection be-
tween such a mental state and a nervous mechanism, to say nothing
at all of how such a mental state can wear down a neural path. On
the other hand, if he means a pain reaction, that is to say, a response
in which the person discriminates pain, then the pain reaction clearly

T The Freudian With, p. 69.

THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 45

can be a stimulus to the child to learn to withdraw his hand from
the candle flame. But in this case, of course, the learning consists
of the acquisition of a complete reaction system and not the wearing
down of a path in the nervous system.

And now let us examine the second part, namely, that the retrac-
tion path is worn down more because it is a new path. Here again
it is difficult to see why the retraction path is new, since Holt assumes
the two reflexes to be present. And as to establishing a balance
between the two,8 in what sense is that learning to keep the finger
out of the flame when in fact the balance means merely that both
acts will be performed. That is to say, each time the child puts his
finger into the flame he will also withdraw it. No, Holt must cleave
to the notion of a greater openness of the second path, and not
merely a balance between the two, but, even if we allow that the
retraction path is new and that a new path is opened more at first,
how is Holt's problem any nearer a solution? What more can hap-
pen with the retraction path than that it reaches the condition of
the extension path when the latter first began to be used.

To us the entire explanation is exceedingly fantastic, and for the
reason, we might suggest, that Holt is attempting to make the entire
learning a neural affair,9 even to making the stimulating situation
(the pain reaction) a factor in the neural process. Were it not for
the faith in the neural theory as an explanatory mechanism it is
doubtful whether both reactions would have been considered reflexes
at all. Now if we are correct in assuming that Holt's handling of
the neural theory is as effective as any, then we mean to suggest the
possible incapacity of any of them to account for psychological facts.

Very differently is the learning explained on the organismic-
response10 and stimulus basis. As a matter of fact, although it makes
little difference for the explanation, we need not consider the first or
extension act as a reflex. Be that as it may, we consider the act to be
present and because the result is disastrous or unsatisfactory (pain-
ful) we observe a new act to be built up. We assume that the with-
drawing action constitutes a new response built up for adaptation
to the candle as a consequence of the previous reaction to that candle
and in addition to the retraction reflex. In other words, there is
a new behavior segment established in which the candle constitutes
the stimulus. It is the acquisition of this reaction system which
constitutes the learning.

s Il>id., p. 72.

• At this point 'he is not living up to his promise in the criticism of neural
theories.

10 The term organismic is used to point out the absolute inseparability of the
stimulus and response factors in a psychological action.

46 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

We assume that in the second or new behavior segment, the child
discriminates the stimulus differently or has developed a new mean-
ing for the candle flame, a new meaning in the sense that a new dif-
ferential response is called out by it. This is the essential fact in all
perceptual activities. Instead of perceiving the object as something
to touch, it is now something that hurts and must be (is) left alone.
The essentially perceptual phase of the new behavior segment is a
vestigial or incipient performance of the previous reaction, which
precedes a final overt response — the withdrawal of the hand or some
other mode of action. Especially must we guard here against any
implication that the candle flame in the second behavior segment
calls out an "idea" of the burn as in the Meynert- James scheme.
No such factitious element is in any sense involved in our exposition.
The strictly perceptual phase of the behavior segment is an act of
the person in precisely the exact form as in the first instance. More-
over, the perceptual act is not in any sense merely a neural mechan-
ism but a complete behavior, although it is true enough that it is not
as open to the spectator's observation as the first act. Also we must
observe that in the candle-flame situation the perceptual act happens
to be a visual response ; that isi to say, a reaction system in which the
primary receptor is ocular, although the complete reaction system
does involve in addition tactual factors. The new retraction act,
then, is one in which the child's contact with the candle is visual.
In fact the importance of the new acquisition lies precisely in the
avoidance of any actual touching of the object. But notice, however,
that the learning may be just as effective if the new act involves
auditory or olfactory perception. And finally, we must be very care-
ful not to confuse the anticipatory perceptual reaction system with
the final withdrawal or other response which follows closely upon
the operation of the former.

The importance and value of our hypothesis as compared with
any neural one, of which we take Holt's to be an especially good
example, is further indicated in the fact that it can accomplish two
things which Holt admits his theory can not,11 namely, (1) account
for all kinds of learning and (2) explain the child's concept of
candle. As to the first, or the explanation of other kinds of learn-
ing, from our standpoint all learning, whether manual (handicraft),
technical (skill, industrial or esthetic), or informational (book learn-
ing) consists of the organization of new behavior segments, that is,
specific responses to specific stimulating objects or conditions. Each
response constitutes the acquisition of a new specific adaptation to

11 The Freudian Wish, p. 74.

THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 47

particular surrounding objects. It is thus that capacities and in-
formation are acquired by the person.

Concepts, from our standpoint are completely implicit or vestig-
ial responses to surrounding objects. In other words, they are the
ordinary perceptual responses so abstracted from the original con-
tact with things through the removal of the stimulating object, that
they are aroused to action through a substitution stimulus.12 Very
simply explained, then, are the child's concepts of the candle; they
are merely residual responses left over from the original contacts
with the candle, and which can be translated into verbal terms. That
concepts are derived from originally overt contacts with objects no
one will deny, for it is a matter of course that the number and variety
of our concepts depend upon our actual past experiences. Also, the
degree of abstraction of our concepts depends upon whether our
original contacts with the conceived objects were direct (actual) or
indirect (imparted to us through speech or printed matter). Once
more, unless concepts were implicit actions derived from our actual
previous contacts with our stimulating objects, how could it ever be
possible to react to these objects in their absence? To repeat, our
concepts of objects are the reaction systems developed to those
things, which can function relatively independently of them.13

Some there are who will still persist in the criticism that after
all the organism ic hypothesis affords us no intimation as to why
reaction systems are built up as responses to stimulation objects.
In considering this criticism two points must be carefully distin-
guished, one of which has no answer. If one means by this criti-
cism that we have not specified why it is that any empirically spe-
cific response is developed to a particular stimulus, we might answer
that in our argument we assumed that any given stimulating situa-
tion would necessarily call out an adaptive reaction correlated with
that situation; since, further, we fundamentally assume that psy-
chological reactions are phenomena of adaptation. But observe
that the stimulating situations are not the exclusive conditions for
the building up of particular reactions. Another very important
set of conditions is found in the previous psychological development
of the organism, and a by no means negligible circumstance is the
biological organization of the individual. Nor do all of these in
their aggregate exhaust the conditions for the acquisition of reac-
tion systems; there are many others if only we devote ourselves to
a study of psychological phenomena under the factual conditions
of their development and occurrence. Most fortunate the day when

« Cf. Kantor, " An Objective Interpretation of Meanings," Am. Jour. Pty.,
1921, Vol. XXXn, pp. 231 sq.

is Through substitution of stimuli, as we have said above.

48 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

psychologists will give up the ideas that psychological phenomena
are simple or that they can be reduced to such partial explanatory
terms as are involved in the nervous mechanism. Observe, how-
ever, that whatever explanation there be for the acquisition of our
particular reactions, it can not exist otherwise than in the study of
concrete behavior segments.

On the other hand, if one takes the import of the criticism we
have mentioned to be that we do not know how reaction systems
are built up at all, we can only question the legitimacy of the ques-
tion. We take it that we are no more obliged to explain why psy-
chological organisms have their specific properties (for we may
assume the fact of building up reaction systems as a quality of the
organism) than the physicist is required to explain why bodies fall.
Not that we would restrict any speculation based upon fact and
the criteria of logic, but we do insist that whatever we believe and
assert concerning psychological phenomena must be in accord with
observable fact and in harmony with the logic of science. In point
of fact, is it not obvious that the criticism just discussed is urged
entirely in the interest of a neural explanation, which we of course
take to be something different from a psychological description T

Next to the misinterpretation of the entire reaction, by far the
greatest damage sustained by psychology from the neuronic theory
is the retardation in the understanding of the actual function of
the neural factors of reaction systems. If it is true, as we be-
lieve, that in much of current psychological work an erroneous
use of the nervous apparatus is made, then it appears plausible
that we are not acquiring all the information we should concern-
ing the actual operation of that important component of all re-
actions. Surprisingly little is yet known of the exact workings of
the neural mechanisms, and since numerous are the facts to be
known it therefore behooves us to let no false hypothesis prevent
us from investigating neural mechanisms as actual phases of be-
havior, that is to say as exceedingly complex coordinating systems,
and not as causes of acts or counterparts of invented mentalities.

Not untrue is it to say, then, that the organismic hypothesis is
presented in the interest of an emended conception of the relation-
ship between psychology and biology. Instead of considering bio-
logical phenomena as merely explanatory schemes for psychology,14
we must study the physiological facts with which psychology is
concerned as actual and essential components of a larger adapta-
tion process, namely, the psychological response. No latitude is

"The reader will recall that among the first achievements of " biological
psychology ' ' was the redefinition of ' ' consciousness " as a thing or process de-
veloped to maintain the life of animals.

BOOK REVIEWS 49

allowed us in this matter at all, and we dare not omit any physio-
logical fact, because it is just a fact of nature that all psychologi-
cal organisms are biological organisms also. This truth, of course,
should offer no inducement to the psychologist to use physiological
facts or fables to explain the phenomena of his scientific domain.
Nor is this evil necessary in any sense when we study psychological
responses as definite autonomous events existing in nature. Of
course, if we consider the phenomena of psychology to be correlates
or adjuncts of physiological facts we must frequently resort to the
magical use of the nervous system. But regardless of how easily
the words cortical and cerebral roll from the tongue of the psychol-
ogist when he wishes to explain some mentalistic fact,15 the neurol-
ogist still can not find in the cortex any of the magical conveni-
ences which the psychologist requires.16 For example, there has
never been any neural machinery discovered to account either for
the existence or the association of mentalistic ideas.17

Finally, we must not be misled by the overlapping of some of
the psychological data with biological facts into distorting such data
by the indulgence in general physiological explanations; for in
the first place, psychological phenomena are no more physiological
than they are physical, and in the second place, the argument that
psychology is based on physiology is no more valid than the argu-
ment that all sciences, because they are human phenomena, are
based upon sociology. The only valid scientific procedure is to
accord full recognition to any facts that we study without attempt-
ing violently to transform them into something else.

J. E. KANTOB.
INDIANA UNIVERSITY.

BOOK REVIEWS

Christianisme et Neo-Platonisme dans la Formation de Saint Angus-
tin. CHARLES BOYER. Paris : Gabriel Beauchesne. 1921.

L'Idee de Verite dans la Philosophic de Saint Augustin. CHARLES
BOYER. Paris : Gabriel Beauchesne. 1921. Pp. 233.
We have bracketed these two treatises, not merely because they

15 An explanation that frequently takes the form of thin king that specific
brain cells are connected in some way with particular thoughts.

i«In similar fashion when the physiologist hits upon some fact which th«
mere study of neural mechanism does not and can not explain he utters the magic
word ' ' consciousness. ' '

if Cf. Herriek, Introduction to Neurology, 1920, Ch. 20. While we can not
accept in the slightest Bergson 's metaphysical substitution for the neuronic theory
(cf. Matter and Memory) we must nevertheless commend his excellent exposure of
the defects of that theory.

50 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

are the work of the same author, but because they bear upon two
distinct phases of a very large theme and serve admirably to deepen
our appreciation of one of the most notable and dominating char-
acters in the early development of western European thought. The
modern world, or that portion of it, at least, which takes little im-
mediate interest in the successive philosophic positions of Latin
Christianity, has drifted a long way from St. Augustine and the
speculations that made him so commanding a figure in the course of
the centuries even among thinkers who have had no obvious concern
with theology. Scholars like Picavet, or Harnack, or Loofs, may call
attention to particular phases of his genius, and a group of students
here and there may read and note, but, on the whole, interest in
his writings has flagged, and he remains for the philosophic world at
large, even in centers that are supposed to cultivate a tradition of
familiarity with his views, one of that great brotherhood of authors
who are more written about than read. Yet he is as actual and com-
pelling in his wistful outlook on the mystery of things as Plato or
Aristotle, and more modern, if less didactic, than Thomas of Aquin
himself.

M. Boyer, one may be sure, is persuaded of all this; yet his
first treatise, in spite of many an apparent statement to the contrary,
limits the scope of his essays to two distinct points which he develops
with a precision and an economy of argument that is as scientific
as it is conciliating and restrained in tone from first to last. In the
earlier volume he traces the story of the retreat at Cassisiacum, and
maintains, against Boissier, Harnack and Loofs, and notably against
Thimmes, to name only the more distinguished scholars with whom
he takes issue on this point, that it was to Catholic Christianity, and
not to Neo-Platonism, that the mind of Augustine yielded itself
in the famous garden scene that took place at Milan in the month
of September, 386. The succeeding nine years were years of develop-
ment; but they were years of orientation, too; for they were the
years of a neophyte who felt— perhaps too confidently — that he had
discovered in the Neo-Platonic School a rational support for the
change in his mental outlook that his "conversion" had inevitably
forced upon him. The Confessions that all the world knows and
the Dialogues, a purely philosophical work of absorbing interest
and great beauty, in spite of the note of youth that pulses through
it, furnish the ground of this contention. They simply will not
bear the interpretation that the critics mentioned above have put
upon them; and M. Boyer 's pages literally bristle with subsidiary
fact and text in corroboration of this more reasonable conclusion.

In the subsequent work, L'Idee de Verite dams la Philosophic

BOOK REVIEWS 51

i

de Saint Augustin, published soon after La Formation, M. Boyer
touches upon matter that is more actual to the present-day student
of philosophy. Realist, Conceptualist, Pragmatist, Bergsonian, or
Neo-Scholastic, each one of us has his metaphysic — some of us,
perhaps, a meta-metaphysic — on the meaning of Truth; and not a
little depends on the texture of mind with which he approaches the
problem.

In the years before the War there was a good deal of discussion
on the subject, hardly any of it thorough, or profound, unless we
except Mr. H. H. Joachim's really able essay. If the general move-
ment of ideas has since set in other directions, M. Boyer 's study
will not on that account suffer from a lack of timeliness ; for there
is something, not merely fundamental, but ineluctable and far-reach-
ing, in the answers that one gives to these questions in limine. One's
mental states, the quality of one's assents, one's ultimate infer-
ences,— these things are involved in them from the start. All this
was felt as acutely in St. Augustine's day as in our own. The pre-
vailing skepticism borrowed a certain tone and eclat from the
brilliant thinkers against whom the contra Academicos libri ires
were directed from the villa at Cassisiacum. Truth, after all, was
a discoverable thing; and the great neophyte was determined to
bring that assurance home to the inquirers of his time. Reducendi
mihi videntur homines . . . in spem reperiendae veritatis, he wrote
in 386. It was an ambition in every way worthy of so tireless and
high-souled a thinker.

M. Boyer sketches for us in lucid outline the general drift of
the argument by which this life-purpose was carried out. He distin-
guishes four different senses in which the word truth is employed by
Augustine throughout his writings. There is, first of all, the com-
mon, or logical, sense which pervades all the more recondite uses of
the term, and which, in a sense, may be said to inspire them. It is
the assertion or affirmation, of that which is, the identification,
namely, of reality with whatever may be affirmed of it. From this
logical sense of the term the transition to its more metaphysical sup-
positions may be inferred. There are three of these: (a) the adequa-
tional sense, as embodied in the relation between the thing and the
idea; (£) the Logos, or filiative, sense, known only through the
Christian revelation, in virtue of which the Son is the unique and
perfect Expression of the Father; and (y) finally, the graduate
sense, which is to be found only in finite, or derived Reality, and
which is rooted in the measure, or grade, of being that things have
as imaging in their several likenesses, or adumbrations, the primary
reality which gives them their measure of truth. It is in this sense

52 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

that the Scholastics, later on, maintain with Aquinas that things are
true in proportion to their being; maxime vera sunt maxime entia.
That St. Augustine in his various expositions of this aspect of the
truth of things laid himself open to grave misapprehension in after
times, many a chapter in the Summa contra Gentiles, to say nothing
of the various Schools of Ontologism in the last century, abundantly
proves. M. Beyer, though but a modest beginner, is to be con-
gratulated on this really dignified and scholarly piece of work.

C. C. CLIFFORD.
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

Dieu — Son Existence et sa Nature. F. R. GARRIGOU-LAORANGE, des
Freres Precheurs. Paris: Gabriel Beauchesne. 1915. Pp. 770.1
Let us say frankly at the outset that the delay in noticing this
work of the distinguished Thomist and Professor at the Angelical,
whose name is not as well known to American students of philosophy
as it ought to be, is out of all proportion to its merits which are many
and satisfying to a marked degree. The author describes his book,
in a challenging sub-title, as a Solution Thomiste des Antinomies
Agnostiques. Whether the class of students to whom we venture to
recommend it for consultation, if not for exhaustive reading, will
agree with this initial claim will depend, of course, on his previous
equipment and his general attitude towards the more fundamental
problems of epistemology. The work, in spite of its bulk, is pro-
fessedly a text-book, with a text-book's inevitable limitations; but it
will be found to be a very stimulating and wholesome contribution
to many a more pretentious effort notwithstanding that fact. On
not a few of the problems that the late Professor William James
tried to illuminate in his own inimitable and engaging way, F.
Garrigou-Lagrange speaks with compelling attention, and, be it add-
ed, with a courage as refreshing as that of the great Harvard teacher
himself. As might be expected, the range of subjects touched upon
in the course of the work is almost as extensive as the history of west-
ern thought itself; but the subjects themselves are pressing, actual
and modern, — as the array of foot-notes and long citations, embodied
candidly in the text, makes clear. Perhaps the chief merits of the
book are its downright attitude towards those Kantian strictures on
causality which so obsess the modern student of thought, and its ob-
vious acquaintance with the philosophic literature of our time.

C. C. CLIFFORD.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

1 The book is now in its third edition.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 53

Values, Immediate and Contributory. MAURICE PICARD. The New

York University Press. 1920. Pp. vi + 197.

While primarily concerned with maintaining certain theses on
specific and technical points of value theory, this little book has a
much wider appeal. It is at once too limited in scope and technical
in treatment to afford the general introduction the present state of
the subject makes so desirable, but it formulates and discusses some
of the chief problems which such a book must take into account.
Part I. deals acutely and lucidly with questions of analysis, origin
and interrelation of values. Part II., perhaps somewhat less suc-
cessfully, with the normative aspects of the problem. Mr. Picard
takes a definite standpoint. He describes himself as a Pragmatist
with certain reservations. But this prevents him neither from tak-
ing seriously, nor from understanding — up to a point — the philos-
ophy of absolute values which he is called upon to criticize.

Mr. Picard sets himself the task of settling a dispute which has
long occupied students of value theory, namely the relation of in-
trinsic and instrumental, or of immediate and contributory values
to each other. "My whole thesis," he says, "assumes that there
are two classes and that they are of coordinate rank." Everything
with which conscious activity comes into contact is valuable from
both the contributory and immediate points of view. But it is only
the contributory values that are objective. His position may be
described as a polemic against the subordination of instrumental to
intrinsic values, and against the supposed objectivity of intrinsic
values. Starting with points that are matters of general agreement,
namely that all contributory values are objective, some immediate
values are subjective, his own conclusion is that all immediate values
are subjective (p. 4).

It is with the second part of his polemic that the larger part of
the book is concerned. The disproof of immediate objective values in
the three spheres of morals, esthetics and logic is necessary, but it
becomes of the first importance to disprove the theory that truth
is an immediate value. For the general question "Windelband 's
theory of norms is taken, for the more specific, Kickert's theory
of truth. Mr. Picard has done a useful service in his con-
scientious critical study of these two value philosophies, a genuine
understanding of which, especially of the latter, is signally lacking
in American philosophy. There is nothing distinctively new in this
criticism, and his apparent lack of acquaintance with the 1915 edition
of Rickert's Oegenstand der ErJcentniss unfortunately vitiates much
of his criticism so far as it applies to that writer. He charges both

64 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

philosophers with inconsistency and errors of method and in that
charge he is undoubtedly to a degree justified. The element of psy-
chologismus in both of them has been pointed out repeatedly.
Rickert, he finds, adopts the position that truth and reality depend
upon a transcendental Sollen, but he assumes the knowledge of cer-
tain facts, psychological, in order to prove this dependence. Windel-
band does the same thing. Yet to show internal inconsistency and
error in method does not disprove the truth of the position, and it can
not be said that Mr. Picard has disproved it. Indeed, in one place
he says (p. 177), "our attack is not so much an attack on the theory
that there are objective norms of thinking, feeling, willing, as an
attack on the attempt to demonstrate the existence of such norms
from psychological data." As to the charge of inconsistency and
error of method, Rickert at least escapes it, in my opinion, in the
more objective method of his later book. In any case this psycholo-
gismus is not inherent in the position, as I have elsewhere attempted
to show.

On the other hand, Mr. Picard 's positive contention that all ob-
jective values are contributory and do not depend upon immediate
or intrinsic values for their objectivity, leads to some curious con-
sequences. "Strange as it may seem," he writes, "the judgment
that a vase is immediately beautiful will be found to be of contribu-
tory value" (p. 17). Apparent judgments of objective intrinsic
value retain their objectivity by being forced, in pragmatic fashion,
into the instrumental mold. This is possible, I think, only by a
confusion, inherent in all pragmatic discussions of this question, of
instrumental (in the sense of objective relation or means to ends)
with contributory (in the sense of adding to the functioning of con-
scious activity). It is in this latter sense only that all judgments
of value may be said to be contributory. This confusion of the judg-
ment of value as contributory with the judgment of contributory
value leads, of course, to the denial of judgments of immediate value.
Mr. Picard thinks that such judgments are only apparent and due
merely to the fact that "it is possible to use the cognitive function
of conscious activity to express in thought and language facts of
immediate value." The "value judgment" is a large question into
which we can not go here. It must suffice to recall the main conten-
tion of the opponents of his view — namely, that value, as merely
felt and not acknowledged in judgment, is not a value in any philo-
sophical sense. It is merely a psychological fact, a part of existence.

In this concluding chapter Mr. Picard leaves the way open for
a philosophy or metaphysics of value in a fashion which, while per-

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 55

haps not wholly consistent with his Pragmatism, is none the less
admirable. In this connection it may perhaps be permitted to take
note of the author's reference to the present writer in his preface.
The " subjective point of departure," the "psychological position,"
ascribed to me applies only to an early work specifically designed
to introduce the English-speaking public to that phase of value
theory. That this scarcely represents my present position must be
obvious to those who have followed the later developments in this
field. Insistence upon my present "objective, non-psychological"
point of view has value in this connection only because this develop-
ment in the present writer's thought is typical of a fairly constant
tendency in value theory as a whole. WILBUR M. URBAN.

HANOVER, N. H.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

SCIENTIA. October, 1921. The Part played ly different
Countries in the Development of the Science of Radioactivity (pp.
257-270): ROBERT W. LAWSON (Sheffield). -A history of radio-
activity researches, with some closing remarks on the question of
national contributions. The major contributions havg been British,
the most numerous German, then follow France, Austria, and
America. Le probleme de la luminosite du del nocturne (pp. 271-
278) : CHARLES FABRY (Paris). -A curiously interesting paper. A
diffused light is responsible for the degree of illumination we find
in the night sky. Though this light is only a five-hundred-millionth
of the intensity of sunlight, yet were it not for this light, we should
be able to perceive with the naked eye stars of the eighth magni-
tude, or ten times as many stars as we now perceive. The origin
of this diffused light, whether from particles in nearby space, from
faint auroras in our atmosphere, or from untold billions of indi-
vidually invisible stars, is still a mystery. L' association des idees
dans les reves (pp. 279-296) : ERNESTO LUGARO (Turin). -Dreams
are neither mere associations of ideas following old channels nor
the symbols for hidden desires. In dreams the emotions are stilled.
The abundant originality which characterizes the sensory picture-
show of the dream world has never been sufficiently emphasized.
Though there is almost total incoherence to the succession in time,
a dream taken at a given moment may present sensorially a wonder-
fully rich and coherent picture. Buts et resultats coloniaux de la
guerre mondiale. I. Les resultats politico-territoriaux (pp. 279-
308) : GENNARO MONDAINI (Rome). -This first article is little more
than a compendium of facts concerning the colonial growth of Eng-

56 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

land, France, and Japan due to the war. Reviews of Scientific
Books and Periodicals.

Brandt, Lilian. How Much Shall I Give T New York : The Frontier

Press. 1921. Pp. xi +153.
Brunswig, Alfred. Einfuhrung in die Psychologic. (Philosophische

Reihe, herausgegeben von Dr. Alfred Werner, 34 band.) Munich :

Rosl & Cie. 1921. Pp. 164. M. 15.
Bruhn, W. Glauben und Wissen. Leipzig and Berlin: B. G. Teub-

ner. 1921. Pp. 108.

Eastman, Max. The Sense of Humor. New York: Charles Scrib-

ner's Sons. 1921. Pp. 257.
Harrison, Jane Ellen. Epilegomena to the Study of Greek Religion.

Cambridge University Press. 1921. Pp. 40.

NOTES AND NEWS

PROFESSOR JAMES JOHNSTONE read a paper on "The Limitations
of the Knowledge of Nature" at a recent meeting of the Aristotelian
Society. He held that a candid and impartial survey of the specula-
tive biology of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries must force
one to the recognition of a two-fold passage of nature. According
to the fundamental concept of physical science, the second law of
energetics, viz., the augmentation of entropy, physical change tends
continually to diminution. The universe, to use Bergson's term, is
detending. To the biologist there is another aspect, for life is the
incessant attempt of certain physico-chemical systems to resist the
increase of entropy. The difficulty in accepting the main result of
generalized relativity in biology is that for speculative physiology
space-time can not be completely isotropie. More especially is this
so if with Bergson we regard the quality of duration as the cumula-
tive continuity of life. It is a passage as well as the persistence of
that which has passed. The conclusion of the paper was that we
must regard Newton's "ocean of truth" as amorphous in structure.
The relations that are to be discovered in it are only in it in the sense
that they come into existence with the thought that makes the relation.

Dr. H. H. Bawden, of San Ysidro, San Diego Co., California,
informs us that he is disposing of his library, and will be glad to
correspond with those who may be interested. Among his books he
has an unbroken file of the JOURNAL OP PHILOSOPHY, which he values
at $90.

VOL. XIX, No. 3. FEBRUARY 2, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ON THE METHOD OF METAPHYSICS

~TT\ VERY metaphysical theory, whatever its type, gives primary
-GJ importance to one pair of contrasted concepts. In fact we
can define metaphysical thinking as that which follows the making
of this distinction, and which attempts to make explicit the full
meaning of these two concepts and their relation to each other. The
discrimination is commonly expressed as that between the actual
and the apparent, or between the existent and the seeming, or be-
tween the real and the phenomenal. We shall employ another term
which has some important advantages, and shall express the distinc-
tion as between the real and the given. We wish to know the nature
of the real; but we do not get that knowledge easily and directly:
we must begin with something short of it, and must approach it
through an earlier acquaintance with something which is original
datum. If we hope to reach a general comprehension of reality we
must found it upon the character of the given. Data of some kind
are necessary material for any significant theory. We accept tM»
as true in every science; and metaphysics is not exempt from the
same condition. Indeed a recognition of this fact is of primary im-
portance for an understanding of the method which should be fol-
lowed.

From this underlying distinction it seems to follow quite clearly
that any complete and acceptable doctrine should have two distinct
parts, which we shall briefly characterize and then discuss more in
detail.

First of all the theory must offer some account of the given simply
as such. This part of a metaphysics would be entirely free, in an
ideally successful case, from anything hypothetical. Certain data
must be possessed, and must be granted as a foundation, if any
ontological structure is to be raised at all. A statement of this
original material ought to be possible without the admixture of
any speculative and dubious factors. The natural scientists have
accustomed us to a requirement of this kind. An impartial state-
ment of any facts which are to be explained is a proper introduction
to the statement of some theory which undertakes to make these facts
more intelligible. In the problem of color-vision, for instance, there
is a collection of phenomena which can be stated quite independently

57

58 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

of any theory which may be held concerning the retinal process.
If the data were not formulated in the first place, without any
speculative interpretation being allowed to slip into the account,
the difficulty of finding an adequate theory would of course be im-
mensely increased. This same ideal should hold in metaphysics.
However difficult it may be in practise, the first aim should be a
strictly non-hypothetical expression of the data from which the rest
of the doctrine must be developed.

The second part of a valuable metaphysics must deal, on the
contrary, chiefly with hypotheses. The datum is what it is, and we
may suppose that its essential traits can be expressed. But our
problem began by assuming it to be contrasted with something we
name the real. A metaphysics could have no use for the conception
of a reality which would not account at least for the main charac-
teristics of the phenomenal fact; but various realities may be con-
ceivable, each of which would be sufficient to account for these, and
this range of possible alternatives must be examined. If some of the
suppositions which we find ourselves inclined to make, or which
have been urged in historical doctrines, are seriously self-contra-
dictory, then of course that must be made plain : the incoherent must
be simply excluded. If a theory, otherwise coherent, is incompatible
with some part of the given, then that incompatibility must be
observed and the theory must also be excluded. Should only one
hypothesis as to the character of the real be able to survive these tests,
then the demonstration of that fact would bring our ontology to a
liappy ending in a last chapter ; and a last chapter would be a happy
•ending in itself. But if, as we shall consider probable, several diverse
suppositions should remain tenable, then the most we can ask from
a metaphysics is a clear statement of main alternative theories, and
a recognition of any non-logical characteristics which may fairly
make one theory preferable to another.

The data which should be formulated and described in the first
part of an ideal theory are of course not to be identified merely
with those experiences which especially arouse us to the problem
of metaphysics. Striking experiences of change, deceived expecta-
tion, the disappearance of something from our world, the discovery
of conflicting beliefs about the general character of the world, all
these challenge us and make necessary the distinction between the
apparent and the actual, the given and the real. In a sense one
might say that these are the special data for the metaphysical
theory to which they impel us. But its original material must in-
clude all that constitutes our experience. And this is not unavail-
able nor remote. There is no great difficulty in becoming aware
of our datum, however difficult its adequate and pure description

ON THE METHOD OF METAPHYSICS 59

may be. The simplest appreciation of it comes when one gives up
all formulating of anything in words: a certain "this" remains,
something which is at least concrete and multifarious. But of course
our formulating is a fact too, as it occurs, and one which must have
its own place in an account of the given. We must allow, or assert,
that some actual interpreting of the data is itself a part of the data.
But we can hardly deny that the possibility of reaching a metaphys-
ical conclusion depends on our having something to interpret. With-
out a determinate material, which could be expressed as empirical
fact, the terms phenomenal and real would be equally meaningless.
And to say what this material is, without prejudice to any hypo-
thesis of a more inclusive and trans-empirical reality, is the first
problem of metaphysics.

If a description of the given is to be accomplished at all it must
be obtained by some process of discrimination and analysis. Any
account which purports to be descriptive of something concrete and
individual presupposes that abstractions are made and a dissection
performed. The possibility of this analysis, this discrimination of
factors or traits, is difficult to deny in respect to anything which
is in a.ny way deseribable. Even a Bergsonian reality, which is
asserted to be not portrayable as a complex, can still be significantly
described by such various adjectives as continuous, active, tense,
and so on. And other theories which undertake to deny that com-
plexity can be accurately predicated of the real, allow nevertheless
that the phenomenal world permits discrimination and has at least
''main aspects" which accurate thinking must recognize.

Any understanding which proceeds by distinguishing and by
abstracting must aim at some set of "primitive ideas" in which the
analysis could terminate. If the analysis is expressed, some set of
ultimate terms must be assumed, individually undefined but mak-
ing others definable. So the most non-hypothetical account of the
data of metaphysics must require some collection of concepts which
are supposed simple, and which are obtained by a process of abstrac-
tion performed on the data themselves. We are inclined to believe
that there must be some one particular analysis which is the single
and only right means to an adequate comprehension of whatever is
being analyzed. But there seems little to support this supposition.
We ought not to take for granted, nor even to expect, that a meta-
physics should contain only a single description of the given, and
that it should be able to exclude every other description as faulty.
A plurality of allowable descriptive formulations is the more reason-
able expectation. That several analyses of a given material may
be equally valid and practicable is strikingly illustrated in the field
of symbolic logic. Alternative sets of primitive ideas may be em-

60 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ployed with equal success, and an idea which is adopted as undefined
and ultimate in one formulation may as properly be treated as
complex and analyzable in another. The simplicity of a concept
is not an intrinsic character which can be read by inspection, but
it is something which the logician postulates after experiment with
various tentative primitives. And in metaphysics we surely ought
to take seriously the suggestion that the data which form our material
may be analyzable with equal validity into more than one set of
ultimate terms, and may be describable in more than one fashion
with equal truth.

One expression of the given, one first broad formulation of it,
would probably pass as acceptable to most common-sense people of
our time. We think there is nothing hypothetical in saying at least
that the given is an experienceable world of nature which includes
our human society. But we must examine how much of this view
can be retained in a statement which undertakes carefully to exclude
all hypothesis; or rather, how far this must be re-phrased and
translated, if its meaning is to be put into a strictly positivistic
expression. Two types of answer may be mentioned, characteristic
of divergent theories of psychology and appearing also in meta-
physical doctrines which have contemporary interest.

The first answer would be : the giyenjsui£jifin*nce, and experience
is known without hypothesis or interpretation when it is analyzed in-
to an order of simple qualities. All that common-sense finds as fact is
held by this psychology to be accurately describable in this fashion,
even of course one's own process of observing and analyzing. This
kind of psychological analysis is evidently employed in Russell's
theory of the physical world, with its doctrine of "particulars" and
of the humorously named ' ' official biographies. ' ' His elaborate hypo-
thesis of perspectives and ordered classes of private spaces is thus
actually based on it. But, once this qualitative analysis of expe-
rience has been admitted as valid of sense-perceptions, the other data,
which he adopts in addition to the particulars, become also subject
to the same possible treatment. The experience of being acquainted
with a universal, for instance, is part of an actual biography too
and is describable in the terms of this psychology.

The second type of answer is that which appears in the behaviorist
psychology, rejecting the qualitative analysis of the given and mak-
ing its own description in the terms of biological science. The
philosophical theory represented by Dewey's Reconstruction in Phi-
losophy stands on this ground also. In the reconstructed description
of "experience," we are told, "the interaction of organism and
environment ... is the primary fact . . . ." That the datum is
of this biological sort is not merely one hypothesis among others,

ON THE METHOD OF METAPHYSICS 61

nor a hypothesis adopted simply because it is verified in use. For
the nature of verification itself is explained, in this philosophy, in
terms of the adaptive responses of organisms. This biological form-
ulation is not offered as a useful speculative interpretation of some
data which could be properly described without recourse to any
such speculation ; it is presented as a merely descriptive expression
of the data themselves.

If there is any force in the suggestion that several non-hypothet-
ical accounts of the given may be possible, the disparate character
of these two types of description should not be taken as proving
that at least one of them is wrong. But some quite different set
of primitive ideas may be more successful. An account of the given
which would put the term self among the undefined ultimates is
surely a competitor with the others. The whole problem is still
open, and although uncertainty as to the allowable formulations
of the data upon which a metaphysics must rest is undesirable
enough, at any rate there is nothing to be gained at present by
merely assuming that only one formulation is allowable.

We have been taking for granted that the given is something
within which various abstractions can be made, and which permits
of such analysis as this implies. Without this character the pos-
sibility of analytic comprehension and of description would of course
be lacking. And when we ask that our metaphysics should contain a
purely descriptive part, we make an a priori determination of the
given to this extent.

But it is not subject to any such elaborate predetermination as
is the phenomenal world in a Kantian theory. All Kant's argument
proceeds as the analysis of a certain concept of experience ; and this
concept is simply postulated. If we postulate the occurrence of a
certain type of knowing-of-objects, if we make this our fundamental
fact and datum, or in other words if we assume that the datum is to
be described as a knowing of a specified kind, then indeed we can ob-
tain some a priori characteristics of objects knowable in this way.
The summary description of the experience can be expanded into
a series of analytic judgments which merely make explicit the pecul-
iarities of this postulated knowing ; and from these judgments we can
deduce some of the characteristics which must be possessed by
anything which can be known in this particular fashion. But such
assertions as that all experienceable objects must be temporal and
spatial, and must consist of something which endures through all
change, are in this case merely drawn out of the postulated character
of the process concerned, and are analytic judgments. There is no
way whatever of compelling any one to agree that the given is
actually an object-knowing of this specified type. One can express

62 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

what one finds the given to be, and if it is finally formulated as a
something-known-in-a-specified-way, then the concept of this type
of experience can be analytically expressed. But the occurrence
of this particular kind of experience is entirely a question of fact.

If we assume that a purely descriptive account of the given is
possible, we still have to consider how wide a range of significance
could be claimed for the primitive ideas required in it. They would
have one meaning as abstractions from the given fact itself. Is it
possible that they would have also a much larger application t Could
they be used to give us some knowledge of a trans-empirical reality,
perhaps of one from which the given would be logically derivable!

It is fairly clear that we could not attribute any such importance
to these ideas. Suppose that an analysis of the merely given had
been completed, and that a collection of terms had been reached
which were adopted for that description as undefined and simple.
In some other description they might conceivably be considered as
complex and analyzable; but so long as we stick to any single
description we could not treat any one of them as a possible source
of others. It is not possible that any final term in a systematic
formulation of the given could be taken as the concept of a meta-
physical entity from which the concrete given would follow as a
logical implication. The complex concept of the phenomenal fact
can not be deduced from any item which a purely descriptive ex-
pression of the phenomenal may require: the analysis of the given
can not disclose any logical source of it. Within experience we
can not find any origin of experience. No concept obtained in the
abstraction-process could be known to have any applicability except
within the given itself. And, if our metaphysics is to contain any-
thing more than a purely descriptive expression of the phenomenal,
that additional content must be essentially hypothetical and specu-
la^ve.

There is no obligation which would compel a person to carry his
theory of the given beyond a simply positivistic description such as
we have been supposing. And there is no obligation to attempt even a
description. Abstractions are required by any one who wishes to
know abstractly ; but without that purpose they are not required at
all. It might be objected, in behaviorist terms, that abstractions
are required constantly by any organism which is to survive, since
selective responses are a condition of its keeping alive. But we need
not commit ourselves to this biological description. And we may be
sure that the mm-occucrence of a conceptual understanding would
not annihilate the given. The mystics have a right to imagine this
absence of abstract comprehension, and to produce it so far as they
can. If the resulting experience is enlightening, however, the en-

ON THE METHOD OF METAPHYSICS 63

lightenment must apparently remain incommunicable : what can not
be conceived can hardly be described.

But the mystic state may be assumed a very rare accomplishment ;
actually we do dissect our world, and do use abstractions in compre-
hending it. Actually, also, we would not be satisfied with a philos-
ophy which consisted in a mere description of phenomena. As meta-
physics begins in the conviction that th^given^is to be distinguished
from the^realjjso we are led to make a hypothetical ^7t^Tlgi^T1 of the
gi\en, and to suppose a more inclusive fact. All metaphysical think-
ing postulates this ; and even the positivists and empiricists have in
fact allowed their accounts of the world to contain a very consider-
able hypothetical element.

A metaphysical theory, then, ought to have a secon^part which
is frankly and explicitly speculative in character. "We can conceive
of various trans-empirical reals; and we can see that there are
degrees of compatibility between these several suppositions and the
phenomena from which we must start. The problem is to determine,
so far as we can, what types of reality would be consistent with the
given as we find it to be, what various kinds of being might have
this actual seeming. So long as we avoid self-contradiction in our
assumptions we may surely use the greatest freedom in tentative
and experimental suppositions, and may assume a reality of any
imaginable extent or variety. There would be more fault in re-
stricting hypotheses to traditional forms than in encouraging the
most unchecked speculation. Men have probably suffered more from
too limited a conception of possibilities than from too credulous an
acceptance of mere speculations.

In the problem of a pure description we were led to suppose
that more than one may be practicable; and in the problem of the
hypothetical interpretation we find a somewhat similar situation.
We take for granted that there is some unique and all-inclusive
reality ; but we should be slow to assume that the gjvjm is sufficient
to carry us very far in determining its character. Certainly for
the present, and while a satisfactory statement of the data is still
in question, we are very far from any narrowly specified concept of
a reality which alone is compatible with them.

There are, broadly, two main divergent developments which a
speculative metaphysical theory may take. In a theory of one type,
of which James's radical empiricism may serve as an instance, the
real is supposed to be immensely more inclusive than the given, yet
is supposed to be simply more of the same sort. The distinction is
between a part and the whole, rather than between one kind of
being and an essentially different kind. The other type of theory
may be illustrated by Berkeley's doctrine of ideas and spirits:

64 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

there is supposed to be a reality which exceeds the given, not merely
by including more of the same variety, but also and especially by
including entities of a radically different kind. A theory of this J
second type is under obvious difficulties in drawing up a description/
of the real or reals which it assumes. The only significant terms'
at its disposal are those which are abstractions from the given; for
the only source of the meaning of our words is in our concrete
experience, and their only assured applicability is to it. But concepts
can be constructed which are not descriptive of anything given, and
they can be supposed to have some kind of trans-empirical signif-
icance.

If this is indeed the situation in metaphysical theory, the pre-
sumption would apparently be that some very different hypotheses
are equally in agreement with all the facts we have. The business
, of our theory is probably to discover the allowable r^ge of sup-
\ positions rather than to prove a certain one finally true. In each
of the sciences we have found that in general the known facts in
some problem limit the number of possible explanations, but do not
establish any single one. There is no evident reason which would
lead us to suppose that metaphysics is in a different case. The
best obtainable result may be a set of mutally exclusive but equally
tenable theories. Take the hypothesis, for instance, that every
event is a required part in the fulfillment of some all-inclusive
design. No actual occurrences can refute this, for any collection
of events is conformable to some purpose or other: a teleological
interpretation is always possible for anything that happens. But
we find also that the contrary hypothesis is at least as tenable,
and that many events may be supposed to have no purposive charac-
ter.

The history of philosophy consists partly in a series of demon-
strations that earlier supposed demonstrations were inconclusive.
But a doctrine which fails to be established may retain some value as
a speculative possibility. We hope, of course, that our data will
lead us to a fairly specific knowledge of the nature of reality : but
we may admit that a group of very diverse hypotheses about it
is more probably accomplishable. One may recall the answer which
Berkeley received to his appeals for the payment of Parliament's
subsidy for his colony. Walpole replied that, speaking as minister,
he could assure him the grant would be paid in due time ; but speak-
ing as a friend he advised him not to count on it.

The material which we try to understand has its own definite

) character, and any ontological suppositions must be adapted "to save
the appearances." The phenomena are the first essential determi-

ON THE METHOD OF METAPHYSICS 65

nant of any hypothesis about the real. But it may be useful to notice
more carefully the relation which exists between the two.

The ideal of any doctrine about reality would be a deductive
system, from which verifiable conclusions could be drawn concerning
phenomena. Verification is not wholly an affair of the future.
Present phenomena are a present criterion. If we can say what is
given we can also prescribe some of the deductions which a satis-
factory system must allow. These inferences are in fact simply
begged and postulated, in advance of any knowledge as to how we
may be able to obtain them. We must assume some real which can
account for the occurrence of exactly this given. We try to find
some way of deriving what we already accept as fact.

This method of reaching a set of principles is commonly dis-
credited. When we discover that a person with whom we are arguing
has already settled on his conclusion, and is merely making a de-
termined hunt for premises which will justify him in holding it, we
are inclined to be scornful of his procedure. We do not easily admit
that we ourselves are given to rationalizing our convictions in this
way; and we condemn the process even when we believe, in some
particular case, that a man practically could not avoid the prejudice
which he displays. We are apt to think that our metaphysics ought
to be free from any trace of such rationalizing. But, in a very
genuine sense, no theory of reality can be free from it. The essential
undertaking is to discover principles from which would follow
facts of the type we find. To understand the world more geometrico
must still be the ideal of philosophy. But the modern theory of
mathematics has shown more clearly what a geometry is ; and another
suggestion for metaphysics may be derived from this work.

Not until recent years has there been an adequate formulation
of the primitive ideas and the postulates which underlie the old
Euclidean geometry. We know now that the postulates of this
geometry are not accepted because they are certain in themselves. If
they are considered to have a superiority over certain other alter-
natives it lies in this, that they permit the deduction of some theorems
which are believed to be more useful than those which would follow
from the other postulates. The theory of relativity, however, now
seems to have shown that the Euclidean theorems are inapplicable
to some physical measurements, and that one of the non-Euclidean
geometries is always applicable. If so, the postulates which go with
this non-Euclidean geometry will be adopted without dispute, or
at least without successful objection. In themselves Riemann's
postulates are not more true nor less true than Euclid's; the truth
value we attach to them is dependent on the practical acceptability
of the theorems they generate.

66 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

A similar situation exists in metaphysics. If we could get a
completed doctrine into systematic form we would place as the
postulates of the system a set of propositions which had been reached
by a process of experimentation and selection. They would not be
given their place in the system because they were intrinsically true
and obviously certain, but simply because they would furnish an
adequate basis for the inference of some propositions which are
simply taken for granted when the theory-making begins. We can
not hope to find any ontological principles which are absolutely self-
evident, which can be recognized at sight, and whose inherent cer-
tainty would guarantee the certainty of their implications. Any
set of assertions about reality would be sufficiently and wholly
justified if they permitted the inference of empirical facts which
we already hold, and led to no inferences which are contrary to
such facts. An illustration may be drawn even from Bergson 's
theory. Suppose we could properly assume that a simple description
of the data already includes these facts : that instinct and intelligence
are two different forms of knowing; that they have reached their
highest development in insects and in men, respectively; that there
is a constant origination of new forms of life ; and that this spatial
world is predominantly but not wholly mechanical. Then the as-
sumption of a vital force such as Bergson describes (of the order of
consciousness, active, tense, able to relax its tension, etc.) would be
plausible just in proportion as it could be seen to involve the occur-
rence of this kind of a world. One may object that those alleged
facts are not merely descriptive of the given, and that they already
contain a hypothetical interpretation of the actual data. But in
Bergson 's argument, one may fairly say, they have the role of data ;
and the only question with which we are here concerned is the kind
of justification which a proposed account of reality could have. If
the data can be accurately formulated then that formulation will
evidently be the touchstone of any ontological doctrine which may
be proposed.

It would be logically possible, as we said, to give up the meta-
physical problem altogether, and not to contrast the given with any-
thing. But if the distinction between it and a reality is maintained,
then the only account which we can produce of that reality must be
hypothetical. A positive description of the given can not lead us
to anything except abstractions made upon it. Analysis can not dis-
cover any factor in it which somehow again contains the original,
and from which it might then be logically deduced. Any theory,
also, of the type which holds that the phenomenal world has its
source in a mind of a certain sort and is constituted by forms
employed by various faculties of this mind, is evidently hypo-

ON THE METHOD OF METAPHYSICS 67

thetical. Like any other hypothesis it must first be tested for internal
coherence: if we deny temporality and causality to this mind we
must consider whether it can be supposed to operate in any way;
and if we assert that no other objects except sensible objects can be
either given or validly conceived, we must consider whether we
can know anything at all about a non-sensible mind. But supposing
that no incoherence has been found in this hypothesis, it must seek
its confirmation like any other candidate, by allowing deductions
which we already accept and which are part of a description of the
given.

The situation which we thus find in metaphysical theory is similar
to that which has recently been developed in logic. The validity
of the classical fundamental certainties, i.e., those propositions whose
denial implies their affirmation, is actually undisputed ; but logically
it is conditional and requires the assumption of a particular set of
postulates for our logic. Other postulates could be adopted which
would not require the truth-value to be assigned to such proposi-
tions; and these other postulates could be used without violation
of consistency as they would define it. The postulates of our actual
logic are accepted because they validate inferences which we con-
sider good, and not because they themselves are separately and in-
dividually indubitable. We have to work backward to discover the
principles which we are actually implying. And the formulatiora
of an adequate set of primitive ideas and postulates for our logic,
although now it has probably been accomplished, is not even yet a
matter of agreement among the symbolic logicians.

In our metaphysics, then, if we can obtain a description of
our data it will serve to limit the number of hypotheses which
can be held concerning the nature of reality; and the deducibility
of the chief characteristics of such data must be the main test
by which any proposed ontological doctrine should be judged. If,
as we have supposed, it should prove possible to make more than one
valid description of the given, we may believe the number of tenable
hypotheses would be thereby still further reduced ; but until we are
more certain about our descriptions we can hardly take for granted
that the specification of reality can be carried very far even in this
fashion. We are not sure how to express the given ; and we are quite
sure, when we stop to consider, that our understanding of the world
is partly an interpretation and a supposition. We realize occasion-
ally that our active beliefs are held in the face of other possible
assumptions which have quite as good a logical standing. It would
be proper, then, for a systematic metaphysics to give some recognition
to the non-logical features by which some hypotheses acquire a
weighted value for us. Two of these may be mentioned. Some

68 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

speculations we discard as wild and extravagant, though we can by
no means show that they are inherently impossible. We take Occam '9
razor as our best implement: not to destroy all hypotheses, but to
insure a comely simplicity among the survivors. At bottom the
motive for this is esthetic. Whatever alternative theories may be
allowed as logically tenable, we admit a differential value of this
kind among them. Furthermore, of two suppositions which are,
so far as we see, in equal agreement with the data, one may be
actually dispiriting and the other may be effectively stimulating.
Hypotheses have what may be called a moral aspect as well as an
esthetic. Great individual differences must be recognized in the
valuations which men make on this score: the whole topic leads off
into psychological problems. But one is justified in holding that a
metaphysical theory may properly take notice of all the main features
which make one ontological hypothesis more acceptable than another.

CHARLES H. TOLL.
AM H ERST COLLEGE.

CRITICAL REALISM

WHEN The New Realism was published, nine years ago, some
observers professed much surprise at the spectacle of phi-
losophers laboring side by side in a common cause, without any
discernible tendency on the part of any one of them to turn upon
and rend his neighbor. Since then, however, the achievement has
"been duplicated in the volume entitled Creative Intelligence; so
that the philosophical public is in process of becoming habituated
to the phenomenon. Whether these joint undertakings are evi-
dence, as some seem to suppose, that philosophy is at last to enter
upon an era of truly objective and rigidly impersonal inquiry,
after the manner of the sciences, or merely that philosophers pos-
sess a hitherto unsuspected capacity for cooperation, is still a ques-
tion upon which it is useless to look for agreement. The latest
volume of this kind is the recent Essays In Critical Realism,1 the
purpose of which is to expound and defend the realistic faith
which the contributors to the volume hold as a common possession.
As compared with the earlier books, this work offers a compara-
tively simple programme or plan of campaign, in that it is centered
almost exclusively upon the nature of knowing. Five of the seven
essays are devoted to this topic. As is stated in the preface, the
authors have "found it entirely possible to isolate the problem of

i Essays in Critical Ecalism: A Cooperative Study of the Problem of Knowl-
edge. DURANT DRAKE, ARTHUR O. LOVEJOY, JAMES BISSETT PRATT, ARTHUR K.
ROGERS, GEORGE SANTAYANA, ROY WOOD SELLARS, C. A. STRONG. Macmillan & Co.
1920.

CRITICAL REALISM 69

knowledge," so that it is with reference to this problem, as con-
trasted with ontological problems, that the collaborators find them-
selves in essential agreement. In the two remaining essays the
emphasis falls on the side of criticism rather than construction.
The essay by Lovejoy is, in the main, a criticism of Dewey's prag-
matism: and the essay by Rogers is a critical review of various
theories regarding the nature of truth and error. While these
essays contain much that is of interest and importance, they will
be omitted from present consideration, since it is my purpose to
discuss more specifically the doctrine to which the authors have
applied the name of Critical Realism.

As was to be expected, the authors are at considerable pains to
differentiate their position from other forms of realism. This is
done by emphasizing the distinguishing feature of their doctrine
of knowledge. Naive realism, so it is pointed out, made the mis-
take of supposing that physical objects could be intuited directly,
and so found itself unable to deal with certain difficulties, partic-
ularly those arising from the relativity of sense-perception. Copy-
ism escapes from this difficulty, to be sure, but it is obliged to
get over to outer existence by a process of inference, which can
be done only by a tour de force. Neo-realism is an attempt to re-
habilitate the faith of naive realism in the identity of experience
and object, but it is obliged to construct its world out of conceptual
entities or essences, which gives rise to various difficulties, espe-
cially with reference to the problem of truth and error. Each of
these standpoints contains something of value, which it is possible
to conserve through a reinterpretation of knowledge along the lines
laid down by Critical Realism. Naive realism and neo-realism are
correct in insisting that physical objects are known directly and
not through a process of inference. Copyism is correct in holding
that experience and object are numerically distinct and not identi-
cal. The reconciliation and justification of these claims are the
fruits of the new conception of knowledge which constitutes the
distinctive trait of Critical Realism.

Stated briefly, the doctrine advanced by Critical Realism is
about as follows: Knowledge takes places by means of a datum
or "given." This datum, which is denoted variously as "quality-
complex," "character-complex," and "essence," is not an exist-
ence, but something more in the nature of a meaning or what
Bradley calls a ' ' floating adjective. " " By the essence of a percept
I mean its what divorced from its that — its entire concrete nature,
including its sensible characters, but not its existence" (p. 223).
This doctrine of "essences" is the central feature of Critical Real-
ism. It is by means of this doctrine that the position undertakes

70 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

to avoid the errors of its predecessors. Since the essence is not
an existence, it can not be identified with outer reality, after the
manner of neo-realism, though it can be affirmed of outer reality.
Moreover, this affirmation is direct, which means that the reality
of which the essence is affirmed becomes the object of knowledge,
as against the assertion of copyism that the immediate object of
knowledge is a mental state. To put it differently the essence is
a means but not an object of knowledge (cf. pp. 97, 189, 226).
It makes natural and easy the transition to an outer reality, which
is so difficult for copyism; and it maintains the distinction be-
tween content and object of knowledge which is denied by naive
realism and neo-realism.

If I interpret the doctrine correctly, this is the solution proposed
by Critical Realism. It is a solution accepted by all the members
of the group, but is elaborated particularly by Strong, who com-
ments feelingly on the great significance of essences: "As I have
elsewhere explained, I owe this precious conception to Mr. Santa-
yana. I had long been convinced that cognition requires three
categories for its adequate interpretation; the intermediate one —
between subject and objects — corresponding to the Kantian 'phenom-
enon* or 'appearance.' At one time I used to designate this
category as content, since it agrees with the current conception
of a content of consciousness; but in my efforts to conceive it
clearly, I was continually falling off either into the category of
object or into that of 'psychic state.' What was my relief when at
last I heard Mr. Santayana explain his conception of 'essence,' and
it dawned upon me that here was the absolutely correct descrip-
tion of the looked-for category" (p. 224, note).

At first sight the theory presents an appearance of engaging
simplicity. It starts with the tri-partite division of mental exist-
ences, external existences and essences ; and asserts that the essences
are the meanings or contents through which the external existences
become known. As long as we are careful to insist upon the status
of the essences as floating or wandering adjectives, they are in-
capable of usurping the place of existences and offering themselves
as the objects of thought. These floating adjectives seek an an-
chorage, which is provided by the act of affirming the external ex-
istences to which they pertain or the nature of which they reveal.
This act of affirmation is much more fundamental and direct than
any process of inference. "The sense of the outer existence of
these essences is indistinguishably fused with their appearance"
(p. 20). "We do not infer a realm of existence co-real with our-
selves but, instead, affirm it through the very pressure and sugges-
tion of our experience" (p'. 195). That is, essences lead on "irre-

CRITICAL REALISM 71

sistibly" and "instinctively," to the world of existents; and so we
escape both the Scylla of copyism and the Charybdis of hyposta-
tized meanings.

It soon appears, however, that this doctrine of essences needs
to be handled with care. On this point, it is intimated, there is,
unfortunately, no complete agreement among the Critical Realists
themselves. This issue is indeed "the one question in our in-
quiry upon which we have not been able fully to agree." The
statement of the disagreement is relegated to a pair of footnotes
(pp. 4 and 20), apparently with the commendable purpose of
keeping family squabbles as much as possible out of the public eye.
The disagreement, it seems, turns on the question of what consti-
tutes a datum or essence. Three of the seven hold that the datum
or essence is in every case the character of the mental existent;
while the remaining four take the position that the essence may
be, so to speak, composite in nature. According to the latter view,
the essence may result in part from the nature of the mental
state and in part from the function of the mental state or the
use to which it is put. The statement of the difference is brief
to the point of obscurity; but as I interpret it, the point is some-
thing like this: If I see a cushion as blue, the blue is an essence
or datum. The mental state of the moment may include the
quality 'blue,' which is referred to the physical object. The dis-
senting three hold that it must be so included, since this is the
only way in which essences can be obtained. But in the opinion
of the second group, the datum, while it may be, need not be, a
character of the mental state. The latter need not include the
quality blue at all, "as, e.g., if I see the cushion in a faint light,
when it is nearly black, or through tinted glasses, and yet perceive
it as a blue cushion. So it is clear that the characters that make
up the datum depend more upon the associations than upon the
actual characters of the mental state" (p. 30). The actual datum
may be constituted in part by the function performed by the mental
state. On page 29, at the end of an illustration intended to show
that the characters of the mental state may be very different from
the datum or essence, it is said that "when a complex mental
state of the sort just indicated exists, together with the readiness
of the organism to act in a certain way, then we say, and feel,
that a certain datum has been 'given' or has 'appeared.' This
is all there is to 'givenness'."

Perhaps we can rest content with the earnest assurance that
the disagreement is not a serious matter. But, even so, a considera-
tion of the disagreement furnishes an opportunity to gain a further
insight into the meaning of Critical Realism. If we take the view

72 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

that the essence expresses the character of the mental existent, we
come somewhat closer to the position of copyism. If my mental
state must "consist" in part of the quality "blue" (whatever
that may mean), it follows that sensible qualities are "subjective
substitutes for the corresponding parts of the physical world"
(p. 191), and that "the content in terms of which we think the
object must have the property of reproducing the character of the
object in some measure" (p. 198, italics mine). This is certainly
the language of copyism. On the other hand, if we take cases in
which, according to the second view, the essence is the joint prod-
uct of mental states and their function, there is no justification
for such language at all. The essence is not a subjective substi-
tute and there is no process of reproduction. In appearance at
least we are now much closer to the standpoint of common sense.
Since in such cases "the datum as a whole (the total character
given) is not the character of any existent" (p. 21, note), atten-
tion is naturally directed away from the conventional notion of
reproduction and towards a consideration of function.

Whether the disagreement just mentioned has any serious conse-
quences for their position is a question which we can afford to let
the Critical Realists settle among themselves. My purpose is
simply to point out the shift of emphasis towards function which
the disagreement brings to light; a shift that a pragmatically
minded reader is not likely to overlook. He will not fail to notice
that if "the datum as a whole is not the character of any existent,"
but is determined, in some measure, by the behavior of the organ-
ism, the import of this doctrine can easily be translated into his
own familiar language of stimulus and response. The "datum as
a whole," he finds, varies with the response; and there is little
occasion to bother with the metaphysical "external object" of
Critical Realism at all. "Data are directly dependent on the
individual organism, not on the external object, varying in their
character with the constitution of the sense organs and the way
in which these are affected, and only secondarily and indirectly
with the external thing" (p. 225). Moreover, these data are
symbols or signs which make it possible to ' ' rehearse and anticipate
the movement of things" (c/. pp. 170-173). In other words, the
data of Critical Realism can easily be induced to take the place
accorded to objects in pragmatic philosophy. Datum and body
vary concomitantly, and the process of experience becomes a proc-
ess in which we "adjust our bodies and our beliefs" to our environ-
ment (p. 30), which seems to mean that experience is a constant
quest for a more adequate stimulus. We test the adequacy of our
data by observing how they work. If they stand up under the

CRITICAL REALISM 73

test, they become symbols of other experiences, which is to say that
they are not the objects but the means of knowing. It is all a
question of further experiences. If a sense-observation requires
confirmation, we appeal to the other senses, or to the observations
of other persons, or to the congruity of the given observation with
the whole body of our past experiences (cf. p. 106). To the adher-
ent of pragmatic doctrine such extensive agreement is naturally
a source of considerable gratification.

To the Critical Realist, however, this agreement is of minor
significance, since his chief concern is for the "external object."
To him the datum is not merely a symbol of other experiences, but
is a warrant for the belief in an outer existence. Just how the
datum functions in this connection is not altogether clear. It is
stated that we pass to outer existence, as it were, "instinctively,"
since "the sense of the outer existence of these essences is indis-
tinguishably fused with their appearance." "Thinghood and per-
ception go together" (p. 197). Passages like these suggest that
the reference to outer existence is somehow part and parcel of the
datum. But we are also told that "when the datum is said to
exist, something is added to it which it does not and can not con-
tain— the finding of it, the assault, the strain, the emphasis, the
prolongation of our life before and after it towards the not-given.
These concomitant contributions of the psyche weight that datum,
light it up, and make it seem at once substantial and incidental.
Its imputed existence is a dignity borrowed from the momentum
of the living mind, which spies out and takes alarm at that datum
(or rather at the natural process that calls it forth), supposing
that there is something substantial there, and something dangerous
that will count and work in the world. But essences (as Berkeley
said of his 'ideas') are inert" (pp. 179, 180).

Contrasting statements of this sort suggest the uncomfortable
suspicion that the harmony among the Critical Realists is attribu-
table to company manners, rather than to inward disposition of
mind. Unless the language is misleading, we have here another
cleavage, besides the one already discussed. On the one hand we
are assured that Critical Realism "looks upon the total content as
empirical, and is sceptical of the Kantian theory of the constitu-
tive understanding" (p. 211). On the other hand we are met
with the assertion that existence is a "concomitant contribution"
with which the psyche weights the datum. Whether these state-
ments admit of reconciliation, we need not pause to inquire.
Whether apparent or real, this disagreement likewise may be used
to clarify issues. Just what are we to understand by the assertion
that the affirmation of thinghood or existence must be superadded
to the content of perception?

74 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Apparently the question raises a dilemma. If an additional
element is superimposed from without upon the content of the
datum by the affirmation, we get Kantianism ; if nothing is super-
imposed, we get an empty form. Perhaps these two alternatives
have not been kept consistently apart. On the surface the state-
ment that there is a "sense" of outer existence, which is "indis-
tinguishably fused" with the content of the datum, appears to be
intended as an alternative to Kantianism. But if so, it is neces-
sary to ascertain just what is gained by the manoeuver. The
sensory qualities are already "present" by virtue of their status
as experienced facts. But this "presence" is not what is meant
by "existence." The "sense" aforementioned requires the affirma-
tion of existence, but it furnishes no content or meaning for ex-
istence. It does not warrant the conclusion that "the special and
invidious kind of reality opposed to appearance must mean an
underlying reality, a substance; and it had better be called by
that name" (p. 165), unless "substance" is taken to mean "ex-
istence" and nothing more. But bare existence adds nothing at
all. A sensory fact which is merely present is not specifiably
different from a fact which has the affirmation of existence added
to it. As Hume says, ."To reflect on anything simply and to re-
flect on it as existent, are nothing different from each other. That
idea, when conjoined with the idea of any object, makes no addi-
tion to it."2 The affirmation of this ontological existence is sup-
posed to be vital to the position of Critical Realism, but an ex-
amination of it discloses, if a Yankeeism may be pardoned, that it
is the little end of nothing, whittled down to a point.

But this is not the only connection in which the problem of
existence arises to trouble us. Correlated with these "external ob-
jects" are "mental states." These too exist, although "their data,
the appearances they yield me, are to be distinguished from the
mental states themselves" (p. 21). The belief in these existences,
however, seems to rest on a different basis from that of the belief
in external objects. The appeal is not to a "sense of existence,"
as in the case of outer existence, but is rather to inference, backed
up by introspection (cf. pp. 25, 26, 234-237). The mental states
must be held to exist, for they are needed as vehicles of the data
or essences. Without the mental states we should be unable to ac-
count for the fact that data are sometimes given and sometimes
not (pp. 26, 233). When we introspect, these states, ordinarily un-
noticed, come to light. "I admit that an unfelt sensation, in the
sense in which the word sensation is ordinarily used, is absurd; but

2 Treatise of Human Nature, Part II, section VI.

CRITICAL REALISM 75

I persist in thinking that that which we feel, when we feel, i.e.,
distinctly attend to, a sensation, is capable of existing when it is
not felt, and so does exist in all vision, hearing and touching of
external realities" (p. 235).

The claim, then, that mental states are the vehicles of the data
is intended to mean that the mental states give to the data that
peculiar quality of "feltness" which distinguishes the given from
the not-given. Data, to be sure, are not felt directly, since they are
not existences. "It is well known that the chief factor in the visual
perception of distance ... is convergence and accommodation of
the eyes. The sense that distance is actually felt may then be due
to the fact that it is brought before us by the muscular sensations
of convergence and accommodation. Distance, in that case, would
be felt, but not visually felt. And the instance would constitute a
beautiful example of the way external objects and relations are
known by means of sensations which have in them little of the
characters of the external things, but are simply used as signs"
(p. 236).

It will be recalled that copyism is criticized by Critical Realism
for attempting to pass from the given experience to outer existence
by a process of inference. The same criticism, it would seem, is
applicable to the attempt to justify the belief in mental states by
a process of inference. Since the existence of these states is not
intuited, they are as much "outer" to the data as any physical
fact. Does it become known to us in precisely the same way ? For
example, of an ordinary perception, in which a blue object is pre-
sented, it is said : ' ' Blueness here belongs to both datum and mental
state" (p. 30). The reference to the physical object, as we have
been told, is brought about by a "sense of outer existence." Must
we then resort to a parallel "sense of inner existence," which is
likewise " indistinguishably fused" with the datum, or is it neces-
sary to resort to inference? Two such "senses" mixed up in
one experience would look dubious enough, in all conscience; while
the other alternative is made unattractive by the horrible example
of copyism. But waiving this point, we come upon a further ques-
tion, What is a mental state when we finally discover it ? Since the
given consists exclusively of ' ' essences, ' ' of meanings or universals,
it would seem that introspection can not disclose a "sensation of
blue," but merely "blue." That is, introspection comes upon the
same datum that, in the original perception, was assigned to the
physical object. What then can be meant by saying that it is now
found to be the character of a mental state? The only difference
that is introduced by introspection consists in the discovery of a
different context for the blue. It is now found to be associated with

76

"sensation of eye strain" and similar introspective material. But
this does not convert the blue into something mental, or make the
blue a clue to the existence of a mental entity, unless this connota-
tion is smuggled in with the word "sensations." While we speak,
indeed, of "sensations of eye strain," they too are, by hypothesis,
essences or data, and their reference to the eyes is as direct and
unambiguous as is the reference of blue to a physical object. If
we classify these "sensations" in turn as mental on the score of
their associations, it is plain that we become involved in an endless
regress of essences. Critical Realism provides no content for the
notion of mental states; which is perhaps the reason why it is not
scandalized by the suggestion of unconscious mental states. If we
stick consistently to the doctrine that the given consists of essences,
there can be no room for existences of any sort, and both external
objects and mental states go by the board.

This conclusion is emphasized when we examine the function
of mental states in giving concreteness or vividness to the essences
which enter into experience. It is clear that, if externality is made
to depend upon an empty reference of essence to existence, it be-
comes necessary to invest these essences with the "tang" of sensi-
bility, by virtue of which they become transformed from plain ab-
stractions into living experiences. They must take on "concretion
for discourse and for action" (p. 22). This process is supposed
to be illustrated by Strong's "beautiful example" of the muscular
sensations of convergence and accommodation which give us the ap-
pearance of visual distance. "The datum is sensibly vivid be-
cause it is brought before us by a sensation" (p. 237. Unfortu-
nately the illustration fails to illustrate. The datum being what it
is, how can vividness apply to it? "A meaning here is not to be
understood as a peculiar kind of feeling that can be met with
introspectively in the same way that a visual sensation or a pain
can, but as a function which the feeling dicharges in bringing us
into mental relation to an external thing. When, having a sensa-
tion caused by an object in our minds, we are disposed (in virtue
of the connected nervous arrangements) to act as with reference
not to it but to the object, then that object is, in so far, before the
mind as a datum" (p. 237).

The passage just quoted seems to reveal a significant inconsis-
tency. Data are functions and so can not be met with introspec-
tively, as it is possible to meet with a visual sensation or a pain.
That is, a visual sensation or a pain is something different in kind
from data or essences. If they are not essences, they must be ex-
istences, yet they can be the objects of our immediate apprehension.
"There are states of our sensibility which do not bring before us

CRITICAL REALISM 77

objects other than themselves — e.g., anger or pain, or in some cases,
chill" (p. 233). How this squares with the doctrine that existence
is never given directly, I am unable to make out. A little reflection
will show, however, that the general position requires some con-
cession in this matter of sensations. A rigid adherence to the doc-
trine of essences would leave no room for vividness at all. Vivid-
ness must come in, not as a meaning, but as something immediately
"felt," something that "constitutes its own object." If we were
to limit our consideration of sensations to essences referred to
mental states, as the theory requires, the whole procedure would
remain coldly logical. Since Critical Realism ignores the sug-
gestion that givenness may be connected with the functioning of
the "essence," and not of the "mental state," it can account for
the warmth and intimacy of sensory experience only by lapsing
into the standpoint of traditional subjectivism, and it finds itself
obliged to give new life to the dismal theory of unconscious mental
states, which seemed in process of dissolution. The whole situation
seems to be just another phase of the historic difficulty about
sensations and relations; and the best we get is the unintelligible
assurance that "a datum can be so concrete as even to have sensible
vividness, and yet not be an existence, but only an entirely concrete
universal, a universal of the lowest order" (p. 231). How low
a universal of this sort would have to be, it would perhaps be indeli-
cate to inquire.

The foregoing criticism may be summed up by saying that the
doctrine of essences, which constitutes the distinctive feature of
the position and which is relied upon as an alternative to both
copyism and neo-realism, works havoc in the end, because it leaves
no room for existence of any kind. It is a pleasure to concede many
merits to the book. In view of the nature of its topic, it is very
readable. It possesses many keen and suggestive analyses, and it
is undoubtedly an important contribution. But that it offers an
acceptable solution as it stands, I am unable to believe. In the
presence of the historic tradition which requires that mind be iso-
lated from its objects by a gulf which can be traversed only by a
claim, Critical Realism lays aside all its sophistication and shows
a striking capacity for simple faith. But, as I have tried to show,
the book itself furnishes certain suggestions as to the lines along
which an acceptable revision might be made. And it provides ad-
ditional evidence for the view that the "external object," to which
Critical Realism attaches so much importance, serves no purpose
whatever except to give a certain dignity or esthetic sanction to the
proceedings. But the authors have succeeded in making their
position as plausible as the materials at their disposal would per-

78 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

mit, and in doing so they have done much towards the clarification
of the important philosophic issues of the day.

B. H. BODE.

OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY.

BOOK REVIEWS

Le Thomisme, introduction au systcme de 8. Thomas D'Aquin.

fiTEENNE GILSON. Strasbourg: A. Vix et Cie. 1919. Pp. 174.

It has become conventional among historians of philosophy to
pass from the Greeks to the moderns, from Plotinus to Bacon and
Descartes, much as if between there had been no speculating on
earth "about it, and about." This attitude of mind is grossly pro-
vincial. It appears to be taken for granted that the great school-
men of the thirteenth century, because they were theologians,
could not be philosophers ; whereas, remarks Professor Gilson, ' ' une
philosophic qui cherche a rejoindre une foi n'en est pas moins une
philosophic" (p. 6). Indeed, to him the thirteenth century ap-
pears as rich a philosophical epoch as the epochs of Descartes
and of Leibnitz, or of Kant and of Auguste Comte. As chief
representatives of that rich period he cites Thomas Aquinas and
Duns Scotus. It is to the philosophical system of the former that
he will introduce his reader.

This system, like all great systems of philosophy, resulted from
an effort to harmonize divergent spiritual tendencies of the histor-
ical moment. In a few broad outlines, Professor Gilson sketches
the antecedents of the situation.

After Plotinus, there was for five centuries virtual philosophical
silence. The two centuries of the Patristic period were altogether
theological; the three centuries following where wholly given to
practical issues, political and social reconstruction. Under Char-
lemagne this task was fulfilled. Under his aegis, also, revived philo-
sophical speculation, thereafter to continue to modern times without
breach of continuity. During the next four centuries, three con-
siderable conclusions were arrived at, all three fundamental to
the Thomistic synthesis: (1) recognition of the parallel validity of
reason and faith; (2) solution of the age-long problem of " uni-
versals " by conceptualism demonstrating the sense-origin of con-
cepts; (3) the so-called scholastic method of argumentation by enum-
eration of arguments contra, development of the solution proposed,
refutation of objections already raised.

Opinion in this period, on the other hand, wavered uncertainly be-
tween Plato and Aristotle without clearly understanding either. Of
Aristotle, especially, only the Organon was directly accessible. What

BOOK REVIEWS 79

therefore wholly altered the situation were the Toledan translations
of the Physics and Metaphysics, Avicenna's abridgment, and
Averroes' commentary, all divulgated at the beginning of the
thirteenth century. But the Peripatetic system, now at last revealed
in its wholeness, seemed to deny Christian faith in divine providence
and the immortality of the individual human soul.

In consequence, Christian opinion again split. One faction, voiced
principally by the Franciscan St. Bonaventure, asserted fundamental
antagonism between the new Aristotle and Christian dogma. Aris-
totle's basic error lay for them in his rejection of Plato's doctrine
of Ideas. If God possessed not in himself the Ideas of all things
as exemplars, he must know himself only, and not particulars ; which
negates divine providence. Moreover, oblivious of his world, God
could not have created it. Therefore it must be eternal. If eternal,
there must have existed in it an infinity of men, and so there must
be an infinity of souls ; unless indeed the soul is corruptible, or the
same souls pass from body to body, or there is but one soul — or
intellect — for all men. According to Averroes, Aristotle accepted
the last choice. Hence, obviously, Aristotle would deny the possi-
bility of individual immortality and of future reward and punish-
ment. St. Bonaventure and his group, accordingly, rejected Aris-
totle and all his works, and clung to the traditional Platonic-
Augustinian exemplarism.

Another faction, in despair, renounced speculation by reason
altogether, so setting up again the barrier between reason and
faith. At the other extreme, a not inconsiderable group of in-
tellectual radicals, defying imputation of heresy, accepted the
Averroistic Aristotle in toto.

Against the anathema of the Church, these radicals could not
prevail ; but the very boldness of their stand in the name of reason
was a warning. The manifest superiority of Aristotle's natural
science assured its ultimate acceptance. If his metaphysics could
be conformed to Christian dogma, that dogma would be the more
strengthened by sponsoring his triumphant — and innocuous —
physical doctrines. Otherwise, there was danger of heresy spread-
ing.

Specifically, to Christianize Aristotle it was necessary, says
Professor Gilson, to ' ' reintroduire dans le systeme 1 'exemplarisme
et la creation, maintenir la providence, concilirer 1'unite de la
forme substantielle avec 1 'immortalite de Tame " (p. 12). The
path-breaker towards this end was Albert of Cologne, called " the
Great ; ' ' but although encyclopedic in scope, he failed to achieve
in any proper sense a coherent and consistent philosophical sys-
tem on the compromise bases. This achievement was reserved for

80 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

his disciple, Thomas Aquinas; and as evidence of St. Thomas's
success, Professor Qilson alleges the fact that "apres six cent
ans de speculation philosophique et malgre des tentatives innom-
brables pour constituer une apolog6tique sur des bases nouvelles,
1'Eglise vit encore de la pensce de S. Thomas d'Aquin, et veut
continuer d'en vivre " (pp. 13-14).

The method of St. Thomas's conciliation may be illustrated
by a single instance. According to Aristotle, a future contingent
can not be known, for as soon as known as true, it ceases to be
contingent to become necessary. But to refuse God the knowledge
of future contingents, is to make providence impossible. Aris-
totle's conclusion on this point is therefore inadmissible. Although
disparity with dogmatic truth, however, motivates rejection of
Aristotle's authority, rejection is not justified until reason can
find support for the opposite conclusion. St. Thomas, accordingly,
demonstrates by logical deduction that God can, and must, know
future contingents (pp. 67-68).

The instance is typical; and from it the generalization may
be made that St. Thomas incorporated into his system Aristotle's
positions so far as these were compatible with Christian dogma;
and if substitutions were made in the name of the Faith, these also
were logically deduced from the premises of the system itself. So, to
repeat, although St. Thomas be motivated by theological considera-
tions, he still achieved in the strictest sense of the word a philosophy.

To evaluate in detail the outline of this philosophy given by Pro-
fessor Gilson is beyond the competence of the present reviewer. It
is at least delightfully candid, succinct, and clear.

There is, however, a point of query. Emphasizing as basic to
Thomism, the restriction of human cognition to abstraction from the
data of sense, Professor Gilson declares in his general conclusion:
"Le platonisme trouvait dans la mystique son dernier achevement,
et il faut dire, au contraire, que dans la mesure oil la mystique sup-
poserait une intuition, et comme une experience directe de Dieu par
1'ame, le thomisme constitue la negation radicale de la mystique "
(pp. 171-172). Perhaps in consistency this should be true; but
St. Thomas was confronted with the case of St. Paul (II Cor. xii),
and unqualifiedly concludes that the Apostle had in " rapture "
immediate cognition of the divine essence. (Cf. De veritate, xii,
2; Summa theol. II-II, clxxiv, 4.) Now obviously, to admit the pos-
sibility of even a single " experience directe de Dieu par 1'ame " is
to open the door to mysticism. Instance the Thomist Dante 's claim to
a similar intuition, which may be poetic fiction, but is no less recog-
nition of the mystical potentiality of St. Thomas's doctrine.

JEFFERSON B. FLETCHER.
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

BOOK REVIEWS 81

The Principles of Esthetics. DE\VITT H. PARKER. Boston : Silver,

Burdett and Company. 1920. Pp. v -f 374.

It would have been achievement enough to have produced some-
thing like an adequate textbook on esthetics. But Mr. Parker has
done more than this. He has written a, book that makes profitable
and pleasant reading alike for those unfamiliar with the subject
and for those versed in its traditions and literature. For purposes
of instruction, The Principles of Esthetics must, to be sure, be sup-
plemented by works on certain aspects of the subject that are left
entirely untouched — as, for example, the matter of the origins of
art. But this deficiency is partially supplied by references in the
bibliography appended. Moreover, the matters treated are quite
numerous and varied enough for the compass of the volume.

Mr. Parker deliberately stresses psychological esthetics; or
perhaps it might more properly be said that for him the subject is
essentially psychological. "I use 'experience of art' 'esthetic ex-
perience,' and 'beauty' with the same meaning," he observes (p.
53). This bias does not prevent his giving in his later chapters an
exceedingly good objective analysis of the structure of the several
arts, taking up in turn, music, poetry, prose literature, painting,
sculpture and architecture. In connection with the problem of
evil, he considers the nature of the tragic, the comic, and the pa-
thetic, treating these as so many methods of solving that problem.
The last two chapters he devotes to the relation of art to morality
and religion.

The book is essentially non-historical. To but a small extent
is even reference made to traditional solutions of the problems
considered. Mr. Parker's own solutions are, of course, by no means
uniquely his, but in his handling he displays vigor, originality and
freshness. Particularly good throughout the volume is the treat-
ment of the antithesis of thought and feeling in the esthetic ex-
perience. Mr. Parker coins the word einmeinung after analogy
with einfiihlung to express "the relation of the idea to the sense
medium of the expression." "Feeling," he observes (p. 70) "is
a function of ideas; if, then, we demand sincerity in the one, we
must equally demand conviction in the other."

To those who relish a sincere, sympathetic, and human treat-
ment of matters which may be made either too abstruse or hack-
neyed, this volume will be exceedingly welcome.

HELEN Huss PARKHURST.
BAENARD COLLEGE.

82 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

SCIENTIA. September, 1921. Le comete secolari ed ft moto
del Sole nello spazio (pp. 181-188): G. ABMELLINI (Padua). -It
seems highly probable that all comets belong to the solar system.
Even if a comet's orbit were found to be hyperbolic, we even then
could not be sure it came from the remote depths of space. L1 'emis-
sion d'electricitS par les corps incandescent* (pp. 189-194) : A.
BONTARIC (Dijon). -Under the influence of heat, electrons escape
from a body in a way analogous to ordinary vaporization, and this
movement of negative particles constitutes an electric current.
First studied from a purely theoretical angle, this phenomenon has
now given rise to ingenious technical applications — showing again
the unexpectedly practical value of highly theoretical inquiries.
The Chemical and Biological Differences in Proteins (pp. 195-200) :
E. H. A. PLIMMER (Aberdeen). -Somewhat technical paper point-
ing out the inadequacy of our knowledge in this field. La question
de I'union de I'Autriche allemande a I'Allemagne (pp. 201-212) :
BERTRAND AUERBACH (Nancy). -Purely historical sketch of the re-
lations of Austria to Germany in the period just before the Treaty
of Versailles. Psycho-vitalisme et hypothese mnemique (pp. 213-
217) : "VERNON LEE" (Florence). -Review of the work of Richard
Semon, defending his theory of organic memory as truly scientific
and not obscurantist. Reviews of Scientific Books and Periodicals.

de Miranda, Pontes. A Sabedoria dos Instinctos; Ideas e Anteci-
pac.6es. Rio de Janeiro: J. Ribeiro dos Santos. 1921. Pp. 238.

Mitchell, T. W. The Psychology of Medicine. London : Methuen &
Co. 1921. Pp. 187. 6 sh.

Ralph, Joseph. How to Psycho- Analyze Yourself : Theory and Prac-
tice of Remoulding the Personality by the Analytic Method.
Long Beach, California: published by the author. 1921. Pp.
318. $5.

van Velzen, H. Thoden. Force Curative. Geneva: S. A. des Edi-
tions Sonor. 1921. Pp. 30.

NOTES AND NEWS

CONFERENCE ON PHILOSOPHY AT THE UNIVERSITY OP TORONTO

Sir Robert Falconer, President of the University of Toronto,
on behalf of the Department of Philosophy extended an invitation
to several prominent leaders to take part in a conference on Jan.
17, 18 and 19 to discuss philosophical problems. Some of those

NOTES AND NEWS 83

invited were ima,ble to attend; but a sufficient number were pres-
ent to make possible an interesting programme, planned to secure
a presentation and discussion of contemporary tendencies.

The proceedings were opened by a general statement of the im-
port of modern philosophy by Professor Woodbridge of Columbia.
He developed the thought that at first both medieval and modern
philosophy were mainly engaged in the task of translating earlier —
especially the Greek — speculations into the Latin and modern lan-
guages. Later the modern philosophers discovered that they must
get beyond terms and terminologies and explore the real subject
matter of philosophy, i.e. actual human experience. Out of the
earlier effort to state and formulate, and the later one to explore
and investigate, there grew up a healthy rivalry or " criticism"
which has kept modern philosophy alive and moving. Whether
this movement is a forward and progressive one or not is to some
still a matter for debate.

Professor Shastri of Calcutta followed with an exposition of
the various schools of eastern philosophy and their inter-relations
in a manner which showed his intimate knowledge of this subject.

In the evening a public lecture was given by Professor Hock-
ing of Harvard on "Philosophy and History." It was skilfully
shown that history must eventually endeavor to interpret events
in terms of mind. When certain notable changes took place, not
foreseen or humanly planned for, it was once customary to invoke
for explanation Chance, or Fate, or Providence. Later on, much
more stress was laid upon "economic pressure." After analyzing
the elements in the term "economic" and admitting its tremendous
significance, he pointed out that these economic agencies are not
mere blind forces, utterly uncontrollable, but that, wherein they
succeed, in the long run it can be shown that this success is inti-
mately dependent on the fact that they are entitled to succeed,
because fulfilling some social or moral need. Further, it was shown
that the chief moral-social requirement centers upon the recogni-
tion of the infinite worth of the individual soul or personality, and
that to teach this recognition and its consequent duties is the high-
est expression of that longing for religion that is found through
all human history.

On the second day Professor Hocking took the lead with a
presentation of evil from the realistic standpoint. This led to
the suggestion of a more adequate view, where evil is indeed ad-
mitted to be genuinely evil, but where it is also more than merely ex-
istent as a permanent opposition to good. What we call evils can
be dealt with in such a way as to become " something more " than
merely evil.

84 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Professor Creighton of Cornell gave a presentation of the phil-
osophical meaning of intelligibility, wherein he differentiated phi-
losophy from the explanations current in the special sciences and
indicated how philosophical criticism is not merely destructive,
but also constructive.

In the evening Professor Shastri contrasted Eastern and West-
ern tendencies in thought and civilization, and pleaded for a more
adequate mutual understanding and a closer cooperation between
East and West.

On the final day of the conference, a good debate was secured
on the fundamental differences between the realistic and the ideal-
istic tendencies. Professor Woodbridge clearly stated how this
opposition arose out of the emphasis of Descartes on certainty, the
emphasis of Bacon on power. Professor Hocking maintained the
possibility of a reconciliation, not by any superficial or external
synthesis, but by widening our interpretation of direct or immedi-
ate experience so as to find in it a dialectical process seeking the
' ' that ' ' of certainty, and an experiential process seeking the ' ' what ' '
of content. Out of this suggestion grew a spirited discussion of
the import of "intuition" and of how to discriminate between a
pseudo-problem and a genuine problem in philosophy. Professor
Creighton summed up the debate by claiming that though there
might seem to be an opposition there was no real contradiction be-
tween the logical process of proof and the intuitional; that, in
fact, logical proofs became concentrated or vitally synthesized in
an "intuition," which was not an abandonment but a consumma-
tion of the logical. An "intuition," then, is concrete and includes
in it a logical factor.

In the evening a delightful lecture was given by Professor
Creighton, showing in a lucid and interesting way the contrast
between the eighteenth and nineteenth century in philosophy,
literature and civilization.

JAMES GIBSON HUME.

UNIVZRSITY or TORONTO

VOL. XIX, No. 4. FEBRUARY 16, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

THE IDENTITY OF INSTINCT AND HABIT

TWO years ago, in a brief paper entitled Are There Any In-
stinctsf * I questioned the usefulness of the conception of
instincts then prevalent in psychology, pointing out that while there
are many reaction patterns which may legitimately be called in-
stinctive— if by instinctive we mean unlearned — these reaction pat- •
terns are not combined in the so-called instincts in any exclusive ; -
way, but that the same reaction pattern occurs in several of the
instincts, and that in some of the instincts practically all of the
reaction patterns, learned and unlearned, which the animal possesses,
function at one time or another. The ' ' instincts, ' ' I concluded, are
teleological groupings of activities, not psychological groupings. •
They are teleological, in that they are grouped with reference to
the ends attained by the complex activity : not ends that the acting
animal holds as conscious purposes, but ends that the classifier (the
psychologist, biologist, philosopher, or whoever draws up the list
of instincts), considers as attained by the activity in question. Lists
of instincts, therefore, represent no fundamental psychological proc-
esses, but merely the convenience of the classifier: and any list
which is convenient is as valid as any other list.

Since this heretical assault upon a widely held doctrine was
delivered, a considerable number of writers have taken up the cudgel
against instincts; and there seems to be danger that denunciation
of instinct will become as fashionable and as uncritical as the accept-
ance of instincts has been hitherto. In particular, there seems to
be a tendency to make no discrimination between instinctive activity,
instinct, and instincts ; but to assume that rejecting the last of these
disposes of the others. It may well be that there is such a thing as
instinct, namely, action determined solely by the environment (stim-
ulation pattern), and the constitution of the animal; and that hence
certain actions are properly called instinctive (without regard to
what they accomplish in the world, of course) ; although the "in-
stincts" are purely arbitrary groupings of activities. A recent
author,2 in fact, while rejecting the whole conception of instinct,
reinstates instinctive activities under the changed names of inherited

1 Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 1919, Vol. 14, pp. 307-311.

2 Zing Yang Kuo, ' ' Giving up Instincts in Psychology, ' ' this JOURNAL,
1921, Vol. 18, pp. 645-664.

85

86 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOI'JI Y

"action-systems," defining these in precisely the same way in which
we would ordinarily define instinctive tendencies.

It seems to me, therefore, necessary to state a little more carefully
the objections to the old use of "instincts" in psychology, and also
to add the consideration of certain objections to the antithesis
usually assumed between instinct and habit, especially since these
latter objections have not been raised by any of the recent authors
to whom I refer. In my present view concerning this relation of
instinct and habit, I am in part indebted to Dr. Ulrich,8 although
I must confess that the suggestion comes to me not from his im-
portant monograph, but from personal discussion with him of
matters contained therein. I hope I may be pardoned if I repeat
somewhat, and if I seem to introduce rather elementary illustrations,
for I now feel that it is better to be a little tedious rather than run the
risk of not making my point understood.

Psychologists have got into the habit of contrasting instinct and
intelligence. From that they have gone on to the custom of speak-
ing of specific instincts as if they were really separable entities;4
a habit that was wished upon psychologists by a variety of men:
philosophers, students of animal behavior, etc. The machinery of
instincts so constructed has been seized on by several psychologists as
ready-made apparatus for the construction of social psychology,
and it behooves us to look rather carefully, if necessarily somewhat
hastily, into the whole question of instincts, which, of course, we
have to separate from instinct and from instinctive reaction.

We find in the animal, human and infra-human, tendencies to
react in certain ways to certain stimuli : tendencies to make certain
definite responses to certain definite features of the environment.
For example: At a certain tirade the bell rings, whereupon the stu-
dents in my room gather up their books and file out through the
door. There is thus demonstrated a tendency to react in a particular
way, however complex, to a particular stimulus pattern, which in
this case happens to be a relatively simple one. The reaction, of
course, was not in existence during the time immediately preceding
the ringing of the bell. The students, however, did have the
tendency. It may not have been in existence during the whole of the
hour preceding the action, but certainly a number of minutes before
the bell rang the tendency was there, ready to play its part in
bringing about the action. A tendency, we may assume, is a certain
arrangement in the nervous system; what Stout and others have

*" Integration of Movement in Learning in the Albino Rat," Psychobio-
logy, 1920, VoL 2, pp. 375-448, 455-500; Journal of Comparative Psychology,
1921, Vol. 1, pp. 1-96, 155-199, 221-286.

* The separation of intelligence into different intelligences has not been so
easily accepted, although that separation has been proposed.

THE IDENTITY OF INSTINCT AND HABIT 87

called a disposition of the nervous system: something which is
definitely in existence, whether we describe it as a physical or chem-
ical arrangement. It is because of this arrangement in the nervous
system that the stimulus produces the response. That the "disposi-
tion" exists as an organic fact, is further proved by the fact that
the reaction, in a case such as we have described, may be predicted.

As an illustration of the relation of "disposition," or "tend-
ency," to response, we may consider an electric door bell and its
operation. We press the button and the bell rings; because there
was a mechanical arrangement of parts, an existing "disposition"
of the sort that made the response (the transmission of the current
and the ringing of the bell) possible when the stimulus (the pressing
of the button.) was 'applied. We mean by the "tendency" of an
animal to react in a certain way to a certain stimulus, nothing more
occult than the "tendency" of the bell to ring when the button is
pressed.

In the human animal some of these tendencies are tendencies to
perceptual reactions. If a certain canvas with certain paint smears
on it is presented to one man, he perceives a genuine Tintoretto;
while another person to whom is presented the same canvas perceives
only a dreary daub. Why ? The two men have different perceptual
tendencies. There is a tendency on the part of one man to react to
that stimulus in one way ; and the other man has a tendency to react
in another way.

Men have also divergent emotional tendencies. One man, while
watching a certain scene on the stage, has an emotional result which
we might describe as "interest, with mild pleasure"; another man
reacts with a sad emotion, akin to grief. This difference can be stated
as due to a difference in tendencies which have previously been es-
tablished, so that the same stimulus pattern produces the responses
in accordance with the different tendencies.

There are also thought-tendencies, as definite as the perceptual
and emotional tendencies. If I mention Plymouth Rock to a group
of people, some of them may think of chicken-runs, incubators,
broilers, and market reports, while others may think of a stern and
rock-bound coast, where the breaking waves dash high; depending
on the particular tendency existing in the individual who is stimu-
lated.

It is customary to divide or group these tendencies under two
headings. We class them as instinctive, native, or inherited on the
one hand, and habitual, learned, or acquired on the other. It is
further customary to use the term "instinct" in a general way to
indicate the existence in any animal of native reaction tendencies,
"habit" in a corresponding way to indicate the existence of acquired

88 JOURNAL OF PJIIL080PJI Y

tendencies, and "intelligence" to mean the capacity to acquire or to
modify reaction tendencies. With these methods of speech we have
no quarrel, and may accept the terms as defined.

But there is a further custom of speaking of certain groups of
instinctive tendencies as instincts. This usage is by no means a
necessary consequence of those just described. We might use the
term instinct in a general way, and speak in particular of instinctive
reactions, and yet not speak of "an instinct" or "instincts" at all.
The conception of instincts has been constructed, however, and va-
rious lists of "instincts" have been compiled, and we have come in
a rather naive way to speak of this or that "instinct" as if they were
separable entities: either groups of reactions, or tendencies toward
certain complex reactions. We speak of the "nesting instinct" of
the bird, the "instinct of flight," the "parental instinct," etc.,
through various lists, these lists ranging all the way from those in-
cluding but two instincts: the self-preservatory and the reproduc-
tive or race-preservative; through the list of four which Trotter
considers adequate; to McDougall's list of twelve, and the list of
Thorndike, which includes an indefinite number between ten and
twenty.

The enumeration of such lists does not necessarily involve the
distinction of "instincts" from simpler tendencies; but in the
hands of all those who have constructed "fundamental" lists, such
a distinction, as a matter of fact, is involved. Practically all of the
compilers of lists have refused to admit to the group of "instincts"
the simple reflex, such as the knee jerk, and many more complicated
native reactions, such as the sucking of the child.

Criteria are therefore devised in order to distinguish instincts
from other non-acquired tendencies. Most of the classifiers object
to defining an instinct as a mere group of reflexes. McDougall
assumes that consciousness is involved; that there are essential con-
scious elements in an instinct; and does not accept as an instinct
an unconscious reaction, however definite. In a partial way, McDou-
gall makes emotional accompaniment a criterion. In a certain num-
ber of the twelve instincts, at least, primary emotions are assumed
to be involved. The instinct of flight involves the emotion of fear;
repulsion involves disgust; curiosity, wonder; pugnacity, anger;
self-abasement, subjection; self-assertion, elation; the parental in-
stinct, tender emotion.

It is not my intention to discuss the various criteria of instinct ;
I merely mention these as illustrating the way in which psychologists
have taken the term "instincts" in the plural, as contrasted with
' ' instinctive reaction, ' ' which has not the same meaning.

From a purely physiological point of view, there are no instincts.

THE IDENTITY OF INSTINCT AND HABIT 89

There are groups of re-activities (including not merely the end re-
sult, muscular and glandular activities, but the whole process in the
nervous system and effectors), into which the minor groups enter
in varying conditions. In the activities of flight, food-getting, and
fighting, as they actually occur, when the "tendency" passes over
into action, the same running movements may be present. To a
large extent the running movement in getting away from some object
which is inimical to the animal, the running movements in going
after food of an elusive type, the running movements in pursuing
an enemy, may be practically the same. In general, the same minor
complex may enter now into this, now into that complex which is
called an instinct, or the eventuation of an instinct. Some so-called
instincts are at times entirely included in other instincts. For in-
stance, flight, pugnacity, and food getting, taken just as groups of
reactivities, may each occur as part of the parental instinct, since
the parental instinct involves not merely the begetting of children,
but also the procuring of food for them, and the fighting in their
defense, and even the running away with a child at times, if danger
is too threatening. We would have, then, from a physiological point
of view, the instinct of flight and the instinct of pugnacity as parts
of the total complex which would be called the parental instinct.
It seems to me, moreover, that practically all of our activities enter
at some time or other into the so-called reproductive instinct; and
there are perhaps instances where the relation is reversed: where
instinct A at one time includes instinct B, and at another time in-
stinct B includes instinct A.

This inclusiveness and overlapping nature of the so-called in-
stincts is not the point of greatest difficulty in classification. The
really obstructive difficulty lies in the indefinite shading of one in-
stinct into another. For example, between flight and pugnacity, even
when it is not a question of their being included in some other in-
stinct, the lines are by no means sharp; for between the two there
is a continuous gradation of intermediate instincts.

If we attempt to distinguish instincts by the accompanying emo-
tions, we again find difficulty. Fear, for example, appears some-
times as self-abasement, and shades by gradations into wonder.
Moreover, fear is involved in a number of the instincts : the parental,
the gregarious, and sometimes in the acquisitive. So also the sub-
jective emotion and the emotion of elation are both found at times
in the reproductive and parental instincts, and in the pugnacious
instinct. I should say, moreover, that there are indefinite shadings
of emotions between fear and disgust. The withdrawal from a situa-
tion may not involve fear alone or mere disgust, but may be marked
by something between the two. So also there seems to be indefinite

90 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

shadings between fear and wonder, and fear and anger. It might be
said that these shadings are mixtures; that we have in one case a
mixture of fear and anger, and in another case a mixture of fear and
wonder. That may be true. But we have no clearly marked "ele-
mental" fear, or "pure" anger. Fear itself seems to be a compl'-x
which varies widely, and seems to contain elements which are also
contained in anger and various other emotions, and at the present
time it is safest to regard each of these so-called "primary" emotions
as a complex of several elements, some of which are common to several
emotions; and to regard the particular emotion present at any tine
as dependent upon the relative strength of the components. Excite-
ment, for instance, is sometimes present in fear and usually in anger.
Again, most of these "primary" emotions, such as fear or anger,
are apparently of several kinds. The fear you have when you start
running immediately does not seem of the same sort as the fear
you have when you are struck immobile, and it is a question worth
considering whether these are the same fear. To me, retrospection
shows that they are not the same. Again, flight might occur without
fear, or at least without the kind of fear which is usually associated
with flight. I have found myself running, after a motor car has
honked beside me on a street crossing, and yet have not found the
inner content which I call fear. The emotion in such cases I should
call "startle" or "being startled "; but not "fear."

I think the assumption that there is a very simple or constant
thing to be called fear, another to be called anger, and so on, is
certainly a dangerous one. If there are such constant things, the
evidence so far does not demonstrate it. I can not see at the present
time any great hope for the evolution of a list of "instincts" on the
basis of the emotions.

If we should now attempt to distinguish reaction-tendencies on
the basis of desire, or the purpose of the reacting animal (not the
purpose of the classifiers), we might be on a better foundation. I
think, myself, there is a distinct possibility there, and have been
working on this line for several years. I should say, however, that
in this we are getting away from the instinct basis altogether: that
the classification of activities in accordance with their furtherance of
desires is a very different problem from that in which McDougall,
Watson, and Trotter have been interested. Such a system of distinc-
tion would depend, not on a primary classification of activity groups,
but on a working out of the total activities of the organism now in
this way, and now in that, from a strictly psychological point of view.

The actual basis of all the suggested lists of instincts is in the
purposes of the classifier, not in the purpose of the reacting animal.
All the unlearned activities of the animal which the classifier views

THE IDENTITY OF INSTINCT AND HABIT 91

as contributing to the obtaining of food are considered by him as
the "feeding instinct." All of those which, from the point of view
of the classifier, culminate in the perpetuation of the species, are
considered the "reproductive instinct." Any end or purpose which
the classifier considers as important enough to set over against other
ends is the point of departure for the erection of "an instinct."
This is the teleological method, not the psychological. Now, from
such a point of view, the classifier may erect as many instincts as
will accomplish his own purposes. There is no reason for objecting
to a "mathematical instinct," unless you do so on the ground of
universality. There are results in the world which involve getting
together the mathematical relationship of things, and the tendency
to work towards these results is native to some people, if not to all.
The "musical instinct," the "religious instinct," and many others,
are also widely distributed. There certainly is such a thing as re-
ligion and activities which produce certain results which are desig-
nated as religious, and if we judge by history and by contemporary
events, tendencies toward these sorts of activities are universal,
and have a native basis in the constitution of human organisms.
There is also a tendency in the human animal to construct a political
system.

The popular writers who construct any instincts they please are
quite in accord with the general system of instinct classification.
In using the term "an instinct," you must conceive of a definite
and describable type of result which may be attained by activities
of various sorts, and assume that some of these activities are un-
learned. Any system of classification which is adequate for your
purpose is quite valid. A list of instincts is a good deal like a
filing system: you may file all your documents under the letter of
the alphabet with which the name of the writer begins, or you may
file by subjects, or by dates. One system is useful in one business,
another is more useful in another business. But an industry can not
be founded on a filing system; neither can a system of social psy-
chology be founded on a classification of instincts.

But after all, this difficulty with instincts is only a minor one.
While I am glad to see that many persons interested in social psy-
chology are beginning to doubt the usefulness of specific instincts
as bases for work, I think there is a still graver difficulty in the
whole question of instinct and instinctive reactions, a difficulty
which rather seriously concerns not only the foundations of certain
types of social psychology, but also some of our conceptions of educa-
tion and eugenics.

We have been so far assuming that there is a fundamental differ-
ence, in human and other animals, between instinctive and acquired

92 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

reactions. Instinctive reactions we have tentatively supposed to be
native tenileiieies to respond to stimuli in specific ways; and acquired
reactions are supposed to be those tendencies which are derived
from previous reactions and innate dispositions together. Starting
with a tendency to some definite reaction to a definite stimulus, va-
rious other reactions modify this tendency and eventually an acquired
tendency, distinjruishably different from the original tendency, arises.

This conception of the two classes of reactions, easily accepted in
the past, is indeed questionable. In the life of the higher animal,
there are seldom, if ever, simple reactions to simple stimuli. The
actual occurrences are complex stimulus patterns and complex reac-
tions. We find some reactions, such as the knee-jerk, in which both
stimulus and reaction are relatively simple; and some, such as the
infant's sucking reaction, in which the stimulus seems simple, al-
though the reaction is complex. But in the main, the actual adjust-
ments of the organism to its environment are complex in both re-
spects, and even the sucking reaction involves more of a stimulus
pattern than we ordinarily suppose.

The stimulus pattern of an instinctive reaction, as such reactions
are usually conceived, is assumed to be a purely spatial one : that is,
not temporal also. In such a reaction, only the stimuli of the move-
ment are effective. In the instinctive flying of a bird, assuming such
to occur, the visual, tactual, kinesthetic, and perhaps auditory stimuli
of the moment are assumed to be effective : the stimuli of preceding
minutes, hours, and days, and the reactions evoked thereby, are as-
sumed to be negligible. If these preceding stimuli and reactions do
contribute to, or modify, the reaction, then the reaction is in so far
not instinctive, but learned.

The characteristic of the learned reaction is just the temporal
stimulus pattern. In playing billiards, for example, the movements
of the arm and body are the results not of the stimulus of the moment
alone, but are the results of a stimulus pattern which extends over a
long period of time, perhaps months or years.

But both of these reactions, the acquired reaction and the so-
called instinctive one, are equally "native." Suppose that a child
is given a small piece of sandpaper at an early age, and that he puts
that in his mouth, and subsequently cries. If the piece of sandpaper
is given him repeatedly, the child eventually will react in a quite
different way. Instead of grabbing the sandpaper, he will turn his
head away and cry, and go through other reactions which express his
intention of not putting the sandpaper in his mouth. The sand-
paper in this case is the stimulus. At the first presentation, when
the child put it in his mouth, we have a so-called instinctive reaction.
At the last presentation, when he does not put it in his mouth but

THE IDENTITY OF INSTINCT AND HABIT 93

does something else, we have a so-called acquired reaction. At the
first time, it is assumed by current theory, the child 's nervous system
was so disposed that that particular stimulus, regardless of other
stimuli preceding it, caused that particular reaction ; and at the last
time the child's nervous system was so constituted by heredity
and the results of repeated stimulation, that the same stimulation
at that particular time produced a different reaction. In the one
case, there is a spatial, in the other a temporal, pattern. But after all,
are not the two cases of the same kind, and equally "instinctive" ?
Is the difference between a temporal pattern and a spatial pattern
great enough to be made so important, even if we should admit the
possibility of a purely temporal pattern? The general statement
of the reaction tendency in the two cases is much the same. If it
is true that the child 's organism, at the first trial, is so constituted
by heredity that the first stimulation produces the first reaction (put-
ting the sandpaper in the mouth), is it not equally true that his
organism is at that moment so constituted that another stimulus
(the repeated presentation of the sandpaper) will produce another
reaction (avoiding the sandpaper) ? Are not both reactions equally
"instinctive" ? Is not the reaction to a temporal stimulus pattern
just as "native" as the reaction to a stimulus pattern merely spa-
tially conditioned?

But, the reader may say, admitting that all reactions are equally
"instinctive," both are not equally "acquired." Admitting that
the second reaction is as fully native as the first, is there not some-
thing more in the second, or in the condition of the second ? Even
this we may very seriously deny. After all, there is no such thing
as a "merely spatial" pattern: all patterns are temporal, and all
reactions equally "acquired."

Let us consider such a complex reaction system as the nest-build-
ing of the robin. How could this occur without preceding stimuli
and reactions involved in the processes of feeding, flying, etc. ? Sup-
pose the bird had not gone through this preceding reaction series.
Can we assume that his nervous system could have developed to the
point where the nest-building tendency would appear? We can
not. In other words, a temporal pattern extending far back of the
beginning of the nest-building, is involved ; and our basis for distin-
guishing between this sort of reaction and habit completely disap-
pears.

Suppose we consider some of the less complex reactions: the
sucking reaction of the child, for example. Suppose the child had
not first been stimulated by cold air, and pressure, in such a way
as to produce the crying reaction: could the sucking reaction have
been evoked later? Here, again, we can not get away from the effects

94 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

of preceding stimuli. In this case it might be said that we are
not dealing with a specific effect on the nervous system in the way
of modification, but with the preservation of the integrity of the
nervous system. But this is a distinction without a valid difference.
We are concerned with a condition in the nervous system which makes
a certain specific reaction possible, and any other stimuli which
are essential to putting the nervous system in such condition, or
to maintaining it in such condition, through the reaction evoked,
must be considered as a part of the stimulus pattern. Our knowledge
of the nervous system does not permit us to go beyond this point.
At the present time, I can see no way of distinguishing usefully
between instinct and habit. All reactions are definite responses to
definite stimulus patterns, and the exact character of the response
is determined in every case by the inherited constitution of the
organism and the stimulus pattern. All reactions are instinctive:
all are acquired. If we consider instinct, we find it to be the form
and method of habit-formation : if we consider habit, we find it to be
the way in which instinct exhibits itself. Practically, we use the
term instinctive reaction to designate any reaction whose antecedents
we do not care, at the time, to inquire into ; by acquired reaction, on
the other hand, we mean those reactions for whose antecedents we
intend to give some account. But let us beware of founding a psy-
chology, social, general, or individual, on such a distinction.

KNIGHT DUNLAP.
JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY.

MUST WE GIVE UP INSTINCTS IN PSYCHOLOGY?

IN a recent number of this JOURNAL (Vol. XVIII, No. 24) there ap-
peared an article entitled ' ' Giving Up Instincts in Psychology ' '
by Mr. Zing Yang Kuo, of the University of California, in which
the writer argued not only that instincts have been overworked as
explanatory concepts in psychology, but that, as a matter of fact,
there are no such things as instincts in human nature. This point
of view and many of the considerations urged in behalf of it are
interesting and stimulating. There are several points, however, at
which the writer's argument appears to me to be loose and open to
attack. For example, emphasis is laid on the fact that "there is no
general agreement among the students of instincts as to the number
and kinds of instincts. ' ' That there is such a lack of general agree-
ment among students of instincts no one would deny. But this does
not imply the non-existence of instincts; it merely reflects the lack
of scientific accuracy and completeness in this field of investigation.

MUST WE GIVE UP INSTINCTS? 95

This lack of accuracy and completeness in enumerating and classify-
ing the instincts is doubtless due in part to the relatively short
period of time that instincts have been made the objects of scientific
study. It may also be due to the specialized and partial points of
view from which instincts have been considered. Students in this
field have for the most part been concerned with instinctive tenden-
cies as these are implicated in various social processes and institu-
tions. It was inevitable, because of this circumstance, that confusion
and differences should arise with reference to the number and kinds
of instincts. But this confusion and these differences may be ex-
pected to gradually pass away as methods of study become more
refined and the points of view from which investigations are made
become more objective.

Again, the writer attempts to establish an analogy between the
theory of instinct as implying a prwri relation of the organism
to the environment and the theory of innate ideas ; and argues that
one is as objectionable as the other. He says: "To assume any
inborn tendency is to assume a priori relation between the organism
and stimulating objects; for every behavior is an interaction between
the organism and its surrounding objects. Such an assumption is
no less objectionable than the theory of innate ideas. As a matter of
fact both the theory of instinct and that of innate ideas are based on
the same conception ; namely, the conception of a priori relation of
the organism to external objects" (p. 648). Now if we are war-
ranted in speaking of an inborn tendency as implying a priori rela-
tion between organism and environment in an objectionable sense,
a very large part of the structural and functional equipment of the
organism must be regarded as involving the same implication. Re-
lations between the organism and the environment in the way of
behavior depend on and presuppose the skeletal system, vital organs,
receptors and limbs quite as much as they depend on and presuppose
tendencies to action, whether innate or acquired. There is a sense of
course in which these relations may be said to be a priori, namely
in the sense that the structures and functions which they bring into
operation are fitted in advance of experience to interact with the
environment in significant ways. But there is nothing mysterious
or miraculous about a priori capacities in this sense. They represent
the selective influence of the environment on the life stream from
which the organism springs. And whatever there is of a priori
character about an inborn tendency, i.e., an instinct, is to be ac-
counted for in the same way. Innate ideas, however, when they
have been ascribed to the mind, have not been thought of as being
a priori in this sense. Rather they have been referred to some tran-
scendental source which has been set over against and contrasted

96 JOURNAL OF PHlLOSOl'll V

with the empirical and biological agencies conditioning our nat
Mr. Kuo's contention that "hotli the theory of instinct and that of
innate ideas are based on the same conception; namely, that of
(i }>rinri relation of the organism to external objects," overlooks the
fact that the a priori character of the relation in the two cases is
entirely different.

Furthermore, it would seem that while Mr. Kuo rejects the notion
of an "inborn tendency" because it implies a priori relation of the
organism to the environment, he neverthless is forced to presuppose
this conception in accounting for the development of behavior. More
specifically, it is admitted that "the human infant is endowed with
a great number of units of reaction" (p. 658) ; and by "units of
reaction" is meant the "elementary acts out of which various co-
ordinated activities of later life are organized" (p. 658). Now
these "units of reaction" or "elementary acts" must be presumed
to involve innate neural tracts making possible just these responses
and no others, however simple and undifferentiated in character they
may be. We may call these responses "spontaneous" or "random";
but these are relative terms. They do not imply that we regard the
responses in question as being accidental or unconditioned. \Ve call
such responses spontaneous or random because they do not seem
to us to fall into any purposive system. And yet, they serve this
purpose at least : they are the stuff out of which, as Mr. Kuo says,
"the coordinated activities of later life are organized." At any rate,
these "units of reaction" or "elementary acts" with which the in-
dividual is endowed at birth presuppose neural tracts which can
only be described as "inborn tendencies" i.e., tendencies to perform
certain definite responses and no others; and as such they imply
a priori relation between organism and environment of the same
character which Mr. Kuo rejects in the case of instincts. Indeed,
these "inborn tendencies" which become overt actions upon the
presentation of the appropriate stimuli, are called, in another con-
nection, "non-specific instincts" (p. 658). Whatever we may call
them, they differ from instincts, as commonly understood, not in the
fact that they are irrelevant to environmental conditions as repre-
sented by the stimuli which excite them, whereas instincts involve
inborn tendencies which are relevant to the environment; but in
the fact that they are not organized into systems serving specific
biological ends.

But the argument at another point seems to me to imply the
existence of instincts in this more specific and purposive sense. I
have in mind the interpretation given Spaulding's experiment on
the flight of birds. "That the birds could fly without previous edu-
cation," says Mr. Kuo "was rather due to the maturity of reaction

MUST WE GIVE UP INSTINCTS? 97

system. . . . Given a mature reaction system and given an environ-
mental demand, a definite reaction can fairly be predicted" (p. 653).
Now it is important to know just what the writer means to include
within such a "reaction system" which is capable in advance of all
education, when properly stimulated, of executing an intricate and
significant action such as full-fledged flight. He speaks of the partic-
ular "reaction system" utilized in the flight of Spaulding's birds
as including "wings and other flying mechanisms" (p. 653). What
are these other "flying mechanisms" ? Do they not include nerve
centers and nerve connections ? And if so, must these not be thought
of as forming and ripening in advance of experiences having to do
with flight? To account for their tendency and ability, and the
tendency and ability of other mechanisms involved, to execute ade-
quate flying movements by reference to their maturity is beside the
mark; the question is, did this state of maturity result from former
efforts to fly? If not (as in the case of Spaulding's experiment), it
must have developed out of conditions which were present in the
organism at birth; in which case, I do not see that the notion of
instinct can be excluded from a scientific interpretation of the facts.
It is true, of course, that any action, instinctive or acquired, is
conditioned by the presentation of an appropriate stimulus. But the
stimulus is not the cause of the action ; there is no mechanical equiva-
lence between the stimulus and the response that we are able to make
out. It is only a cue for the execution of movements provided for
in some ' ' reaction system. ' ' And given the stimulus and the ' ' reac-
tion system" we can predict the response to be expected only if we
have in mind the purpose served by such mechanisms as are under
consideration. We can be certain, for example, that birds kept in
small boxes until their wings and other flying mechanisms have
matured will fly when there is an environmental demand for this
action, because we know in advance that wings and the mechanisms
connected therewith are developed for flying. Without this advance
information, turning the birds loose in the air with nothing to support
them might, for all we could tell, result in any other action as well
as in flight. And so it is in the case of any combination of stimulus
and "reaction system" : our ability to predict a definite response
always presupposes an insight into the functional character of the re-
lationship involved. Mere knowledge of the stimulus as a brute fact
and of the reaction mechanisms as so many structural entities is not
sufficient. This means that the primary condition of significant
activity, as well as of spontaneous or random movement, is internal
rather than external. Whether we think of this condition in terms
of McDougall's "drives" or "springs to action" or in terms of Mr.
Kuo's "reaction systems," the emphasis falls on the neural struc-

98 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

tures of the organism rather than on environmental factors. And
however complex this inner tendency to action is, and however much
of its complexity and significance it may owe, at any moment of its
history, to the modifying influences of education or training, it
presupposes a minimum core or foundation in the inherited struc-
tures of the organism without which it could not have had a begin-
ning. The minimum core or foundation thus presupposed, in so far
as it is inborn, and in so far as it makes possible significant inter-
actions with the environment, is, it seems to me, on the basis of Mr.
Kuo's own argument, deserving of the name "instinct."

J. R. QEIGER.
COLLEGE or WILLIAM AND MART.

THE MODIFICATION OF INSTINCT

IN an article on "The Modification of Instinct from the Standpoint
of Social Psychology," published in the Psychological Review,
volume 27, 1920, pp. 247-69, I took the position that instinct could
be modified by habits formed prior to the instinct's appearance. As
a partial support for this view, I cited the following observation
made by C. O. Whitman upon pigeons :

If a bird of one species is batched and reared by a wholly different species,
it is very apt when fully grown to prefer to mate with the species under which
it has been reared. For example, a male passenger-pigeon that was reared with
ring-doves and had remained with that species was ever ready, when fully grown,
to mate with any ring-dove, but could never be induced to mate with one of his own
species. I kept him away from ring-doves a whole season, in order to see what
could be accomplished in the way of getting him mated finally with his own
species, but he would never make any advances to the females, and whenever a
ring-dove was seen or heard in the yard he was at once attentive.

Professor H. A. Carr, in editing the Whitman manuscript, also
directed attention to the principle involved. Since the publication
of my paper, this interpretation has been questioned first by Pro-
fessor James Leuba in private correspondence and last by Mr.
Zing Yang Kuo, in a most interesting paper upon "Giving up In-
stincts in Psychology," this JOURNAL, Volume 18, 1921, pp. 656-7.
The criticism urged is that the behavior of the pigeons so modified
was not an instinct but a habit. The passenger-pigeons' choices of
mates from their own species are themselves, so it is said, the result
of training and association and are not innate. Therefore, so the
conclusion runs, we do not have the modification of an instinct,
but merely the supplanting of one habit by another.

The proper understanding of much human and animal behavior
depends to such an extent upon the principle here involved that
I wish to suggest the answer to the problem as I see it :

THE MODIFICATION OF INSTINCT 99

For the principle concerned, it makes no difference whether the
specific choice of mates by normally reared passenger-pigeons is
chiefly inherited or acquired. The modification brought about is
of the same general type as that found in the conditioned reflex,
save for the temporal location of the modifying influences. Whit-
man's observation gives us a case which is scientifically described
and convenient to use, but illustrations might be drawn as well
from man's sex choices, from the field of sex education, and else-
where. The sex instinct consists of those motor and glandular activi-
ties whose occurrence is due to an inherited synaptic connection
giving certain sensory impulses ready access to the necessary final
common paths. The instinct is certain behavior set up in muscles
and glands. It is not a stimulus, nor yet an inherited synaptic con-
nection, but is aroused by the former and controlled by the latter.
Considered most accurately the instinct is not modified unless effec-
tor activities are changed. We are considering, however, as others
have considered, the modification of the total inherited stimulus-
response situation. The immediate problem is whether or not habit-
ual associations formed prior to the appearance of the instinct have
set certain stimuli as the ones which will be effective in arousing the
instinct.

The detailed stimuli arousing sex behavior are unknown. In
general, however, two classes of stimuli are involved : visceral sensory
impulses corresponding to appetite, or desire, on the conscious side ;
and somatic sensory impulses aroused by the external object or by
the symbol which represents it. It is probable that in many animals
there is not a high degree of specificity on the somatic sensory side
and that these factors are supplied to a high degree by the experience
of the individual. However, the chance selection of somatic avenues
seems to be weighted in favor of cutaneous, olfactory and possibly
visual stimulation, i.e., the somatic avenues do not seem to be equally
open. On the visceral sensory side there seems to be an undoubted
native connection between internal secretions and the appearance
of sex responses in the somatic and visceral effectors (just as there
is a connection between stomach contractions and feeding activities
in normal animals). Exercise seems able only to vary this visceral
sensory factor and so affect the intensity of the appetite. Whether
or not this is actually the case, I do not know. (A diagram indicat-
ing the coexistence of the two types of sensory avenues is presented
on page 253 of my paper above cited.)

What Whitman's observations show is that prior to the appear-
ance of that typical form of response known as sex behavior the
associations established within the lifetime of the pigeon have
changed the stimuli which will later help in eliciting tlir rrr-ponse by

100 JOURNAL OF

varying the synaptic connections on the somatic sensory side of the
arc. The contrast between mating with members of the same species
in the one case and with members of another species in the other
case gives the essential fact. In ncitlu-r instance need the stimulus
be connected with the response through synapses set by heredity
in order that the modification of instinctive behavior conform to
the principle stated. If experiment should show that there is no
somatic afferent connection set by heredity to arouse the mating
response, the stimulus-response fact would of course be different
from what I am inclined to assume, viz., that along with the inherited
motor grouping goes a more or less definite nervous organization
favoring certain somatic stimuli. But such results, if secured, would
only further confirm the fact that associations formed prior to the
appearance of the instinct may modify it (either on the motor or
on the sensory side) when it does appear. In the food-getting in-
stinct in chicks one has an instinct similar to the sex instinct in
that the sensory components of each include both somatic and vis-
ceral factors and in that the somatic stimuli are less definite than
they later become. The chick pecks at first in response to visual
stimulation from any small object or in response to an overpowering
appetite in the absence of the proper external stimulus. With prac-
tise the somatic stimuli become confined largely to food objects. The
significant difference between the food-getting and the mate-getting
responses is that one appears shortly after birth and the other much
later. The food-getting instinct therefore offers little opportunity
for modification by experience either on the sensory or on the motor
side prior to its appearance.

I do not regard it as the function of this paper to discuss the
question of whether or not instincts do exist. The psychologists
who are questioning the existence of inherited forms of response may
do the science a service in forcing a more definite use of terms, but
so far the prospects of attaining their avowed goal do not seem
encouraging. To disprove the existence of instincts, one must either
disprove the existence of reflexes or prove that there is a significant
difference in kind between the behavior termed instinct and that
termed reflex. Mr. Kuo discounts the idea of the existence of in-
stincts partly because the behavior in question involves the coordi-
nation of simpler responses, and coordination he holds to be the
result of habit. However, physiological work indicates that even
the simplest reflexes are coordinated activities. The author also
disputes the existence of delayed instincts, inherited forms of be-
havior appearing at varying intervals after birth. Various angles
of this question have been long discussed, but I cite in opposition
to Mr. Kuo's view only Lloyd Morgan's somewhat theoretical dis-

BOOK REVIEWS 101

cussion of the moorhen's first dive and Yerkes's and Blooinfield's
experimental observations on the behavior of kittens in killing mice.
In order to disprove the existence of delayed instincts, it is not
sufficient to indicate that elements of the response have been exer-
cised before. It is necessary to account for the somewhat sudden
grouping of the elements into a significantly new response under
conditions where the influence of habit formation is experimentally
controlled and negligible.

The opponents of instinct will also have a very considerable
difficulty in handling such data, meager though it is, as that pre-
sented by Yerkes on the inheritance of savageness and wildness in
rats and by Whitman on the hybridization of pigeon behavior.

There are other interesting — tout I think seriously mistaken —
points both in Mr. Kuo's paper and in other recent papers couched
in a similar vein. My purpose, however, is merely to remove the
misapprehension which has come to my notice with reference to an
earlier proposition, viz., that associations formed prior to the appear-
ance of an instinct may modify the instinct when it appears.

WALTER S. HUNTER.

THE UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS.

Mysticism, Freudianism and Scientific Psychology. KNIGHT DUN-
LAP. St. Louis: C. V. Mosby Company, 1920. Pp. 173.

There are two main points of interest in this stimulating essay :
the pigeonholing of the Freudians with the mystics; and the re-
flex arc concept applied to perception and to the association of
ideas.

Mysticism is illustrated by quotations from Plotinus and Dionys-
ius, as well as from Maeterlinck and other modern mystics. It
pretends to reach a "third kind of knowledge," additional to that
gained through the senses and through inference.

This third and highest type of knowledge is to be had only in
rare moments of absorption in an adored object, and is ineffable
and incommunicable. The author concludes that this "knowledge"
amounts to emotion, pure and simple, with the sex element strong
in the emotional complex. But such emotional experience has no
claims to scientific recognition as a source of knowledge.

"Pseudo-mysticism," exemplified by belief in spirit communi-
cation and telepathy, differs from the genuine article in pretend-
ing to employ logical inference in reaching its conclusions, but its
logic is constantly vitiated by the use of ambiguous middle terms,

102 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOI'H Y

or "sliding terms," to use the author's expressive words. All
mysticism is impatient of clearly defined terms, and of the whole
painstaking procedure of science, and tries to solve the mysteries
of life by uncritical short cuts.

Scientific procedure is strenuous and exacting. It requires
constant touch with facts, parsimony in hypotheses, experimental
testing of hypotheses, verification of results by independent ob-
servers, and careful definition of terms.

Freud is shelved with the mystics by the canny bookseller;
Freud's popular appeal is to the love for the mystical. He and
his followers shrink from the arduous road of science, and pre-
tend to possess knowledge gained in some other way. His reason-
ings are vitiated by sliding terms. "Libido" is one such term;
it means either the genuine sex motive, or something, oh! very
much broader, just according to the momentary needs of the argu-
ment.

But the champion sliding term is the Unconscious. Sometimes
the unconscious is simply a working hypothesis which proves to
work well ; and sometimes it is a fact from which there is no escape.
Sometimes it is merely a "negative concept which can neither be
described nor defined"; and sometimes "we are already familiar
with a whole series of positive distinguishing features which dif-
ferentiate the unconscious psychic material from the rest, the
conscious and foreconscious. " The unconscious is not merely phys-
iological— far from that! It is a kind of unconscious conscious-
ness, possessing the characteristics of consciousness when you need
them for the purposes of your argument, but not when they would
disturb the argument.

The Freudian confusion regarding the unconscious is in part
chargeable against the long-standing ambiguity of the term, "con-
sciousness," which has meant sometimes "awareness," and some-
times "objects of which one is directly aware."

From this grand ambiguity trouble has arisen continually. The strife between
' ' interactionism ' ' and ' ' parallelism ' ' : the conception of thought and conscious-
ness as stuff and things, and conversely, the conception of perceived objects as
figments of ' ' mind ' ' : are only details of the results, of this confusion. . . . We
eliminate at the start the metaphysical theories of epistemological dualism which
have played so pernicious a role in the history of the Anglo-German psychology.
Experience does not give us directly two worlds of objects physical and mental
. . . but merely a world of objects of which we are aware (pp. 117, 120, 121).

Though the author does not speak of this conclusion of his as
having any history, it seems rather reminiscent of things that have
been said by Wundt, James, and other representatives of the ob-
jectionable "Anglo-German psychology."

The ambiguity of the term " consciousness " is undoubtedly a factor con-

BOOK REVIEWS 103

tributing to the Freudian confusion over the " unconscious." . . . But this ver-
bal confusion although a great help to the theory of ' ' unconscious mind ' ' is not
its vital source. . . . The believer in ' ' unconscious mental processes "... might
state his claim as follows : In addition to mental processes, i.e., organic processes
involving consciousness (awareness), there are other processes, which while they
do not involve awareness, involve something which is more than mere physiological
process: something resembling consciousness, but not conscious. This " uncon-
scious mental ' ' factor is therefore an x, an unknown, and can not be pointed out
in any definite experience. Such an hypothesis might be made. One might also
hypothesize a y factor, a z factor, and an infinity of other factors, all equally
unknown, equally beyond experience " (pp. 125, 126).

Since, then, the hypothesis of an unconscious which is not purely
physiological is " removed from any possibility of verification,"
it is entirely valueless to science. "What its value or appeal may
be to those who eagerly embrace it the author does not stop to
inquire, but the answer is suggested in a highly critical review of
this same book by the psychiatrist, John T. MacCurdy, M.D.1 Dr.
MaeCurdy bases an argument for the unconscious, as against "phys-
iology," on a law of creative synthesis, which can be seen in opera-
tion throughout the realm of natural science. Any synthetic com-
bination shows properties that could not be predicted from the
known properties of the synthesized elements — as, for example, the
crystalline properties of common salt could not be inferred from
the known properties of sodium and chlorine. Analytical chemis-
try tells you of the elements composing the compound, but, to know
the compound itself, you must study it for itself, and not in terms
of its elements. In the same way, biological processes may be
analyzed into physical and chemical processes, but if for that rea-
son we neglected to study life processes as such, we should never
know much biology. In just the same way, mental processes are
composed of physiological processes ; but if we are satisfied to study
them only from the physiological side, we shall never know much
psychology. Psychology, the contention is, must stick to its own
order of facts, and to its own concepts, and not take refuge in
physiological interpretations. Therefore, it has need for the con-
cept of unconscious mental processes. The value of the "uncon-
scious," accordingly, is simply that it enables one to keep on using
psychological terms, even when dealing with unconscious proces-
ses.

I shall not undertake any criticism of this interesting conten-
tion, except to remark that it serves better as a justification for
the "co-conscious," in Morton Prince's sense, than for Freud's
particular brand of unconscious. In double personality there is
some evidence of a secondary synthesis of processes lying outside

i In an article entitled, ' ' Psychiatry and Scientific Psychology, ' ' in Mental
Hygiene for April, 1921, Vol. 5, pp. 239-265.

104 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPII Y

the main consciousness, and thus some reason for speaking of co-
conscious mental processes; but in the case of dreams, lapses, queer
impulses and fears, and iinanalyzed motives, I do not know that
anyone has seriously attempted to demonstrate the existence of
any synthesis additional to that which occurs in the conscious
process itself. The conscious process may show disturbance from
some source outside itself; but. unless it could be shown that this
outside source consisted of processes integrated into a total process
of the mental order, we should, even according to Dr. MacCurdy's
principle, regard it as physiological.

As against the unconscious in the sense of a storehouse of mem-
ories, Professor Dunlap puts the case with striking clearness:

An idea is not a thing like a written document which, after being in the active
files is taken out and stored in the transfer case. It is more like an act such as
snapping the fingers or striking a blow. I may snap my fingers ten times in suc-
cession: but no one supposes that the snaps have an individual existence after-
wards and are somewhere stored away as snaps which are no longer snapping. No
more does scientific psychology conceive of " ideas " as something which can be
stored away after they are through ' ' ideating. " In the one case as in the other,
there is a physiological basis which is modified by the act in such a way that the
act can be repeated at a future time (pp. 105-106).

Professor Dunlap, as the reviewer happens to know, has had
his eye on the psychoanalysts for many years, and his remarks
regarding them are by no means purely "academic." Some of
these remarks deserve quotation.

Reactions which later become a part of the general sex activity are found in
the child, and therefore pointed out as evidence of sex activity. It is as if one
should claim that the labored breathing produced by running to catch a street car
is sexual because the same labored breathing may occur during certain stages of
sex activity (p. 60).

As is readily seen, anything that can be dreamed of has a ready sex interpre-
tation. So that the telling of one 's dreams to anyone versed in the gentle art of
psychoanalysis is a matter in which your feelings of delicacy or prudence will dic-
tate if you realize the possibilities (p. 71).

This . . . characteristic is true in my opinion of all the cases in which the
Freudian analysis ' ' strikes oil. ' ' The situation which is discovered through
analysis is one which is perfectly well known to the patient, but the patient is
loath to confess it and does not realize its importance (pp. 79-80).

The psychoanalyst like the philosophical mystic is essentially tender-minded,
and can not endure the difficulties and disappointments of prosaic science. We
are not surprised, therefore, to find over and above the essential logical fallacy on
which the system is based, a characteristic nalvetl in reasoning and a character-
istic lack of orientation in facts (p. 93).

It is probable that psychoanalysts do produce cures, or at least marked alle-
viation of the condition, of certain cases. In other cases the results are less desir-
able. The question of vital importance is whether the harm done by the general
application of the method outweighs the good accomplished (p. 102).

Sometimes, a complex is built up by prolonged psychoanalysis. The patient,

BOOK REVIEWS 105

for example, is convinced that his neurosis is a result of the mother-complex; at
first he is astonished at the psychoanalyst's discovery but by the copious use of
symbolism, by the perversion of all the patient says and does, with that end in
view, he is finally persuaded that the complex originated in. him, and not in the
psychoanalyst. By constant contemplation of the complex and its magic relation-
ships, all the symptoms of the patient 's troubles become closely associated with it.
If now the psychoanalyst can exorcise the demon he has raised the patient may be
cured. ... In many cases, however, the demon refuses to be exorcised or if he
complacently leaves, returns shortly with ' ' seven worse than himself, ' ' and the
latter state of the patient is worse than the first (pp. 102-103).

Psychology has been culpably negligent in regard to the study of the desires,
and the one positive service which the Freudians have done is in emphasizing the
incompetence of our information (and also of their own information) on this
important subject (p. 159).

The psychologist who needs a little excitement should not fail
to read Dunlap's book, and follow it with some of the reviews of
it by psychoanalysts. Even MacCurdy, whose long review con-
tains much serious criticism, starts off by attempting to obscure
the issue with a dust-cloud of professional jealousies. He speaks
of an "antagonism at present existing between psychiatrists and
what we may term 'academic psychologists' . . . ." "Both the
psychiatrists and the psychologists insist that they are the ones who
should direct the study and treatment of those mental abnormali-
ties which lead to social unrest, economic insufficiency, and crime,
as well as to frank nervous and mental disease. ' ' And this in face
of Dunlap's statement: "The development of a sound psycho-
therapeutics will certainly not be the work of the general psy-
chologist. But when it is developed, it will be developed by
psychopathologists of thorough training in general psychology"
(p. 165). Later on in his review, referring to Dunlap's strictures
on the practise of psychoanalysis, MacCurdy exclaims: "How can a
college professor, presumably attending to his teaching and labora-
tory work, who has never had a medical education and has never
seen a patient except with a layman's eyes — how can he have col-
lected material justifying such sweeping conclusions?"

Observe, however, the reaction of an anonymous psychoanalyst
in the Journal of Nervous and Mental Diseases:

The work in question is just such as one would expect of a blind rat caught
in a maze — defeat, failure, going here and going there, misunderstanding, mis-
quoting, misreading, a tissue of stupid distortions, clumsy misrepresentations, and
silly evasions based upon a host of phobic prejudices. . . . The book, to us, is a
ludicrous defense reaction. Psychoanalysis he particularly singles out as a special
obstacle to science. Piffle! Nothing can obstruct science when it seeks to learn
about reality, not even Dunlap 's hobgoblin antics. The psychoanalytic hypotheses
are rather object lessons to make-believe scientists who entrenched behind their
academic chairs are screeching aloud their condemnation of many things they not
only do not understand, but of the very essence of which they seem fundamentally

106 JOURNAL OF PUILOSOVIl Y

incapable ever of understanding by reason of their emotional limitations. . . .
One would like further to characterize this unutterably stupid production, but
already too much space has been wasted in noticing it at all.

Certainly Dunlap has produced a very stimulating essay!

1 1 is second main discussion, on the "Reaction Arc Hypothesis,"
is more apt to arouse the psychologist. The reaction arc concept
is lh«> <>ld reflex arc concept, "transformed by scientific psychol-
ogy" some time within the decade. 1910-1920. Apparently the
transformation in question has been the author's own achievement,
and has consisted in bringing perception and the association of
ideas into line under the general conception of complete sensori-
motor reactions.

The reaction arc hypothesis is opposed to the old ' ' phrenologi-
cal" conception of consciousness as "dependent on the specialized
functions of certain groups of neurons set apart from the other
sorts of neurons" (p. 132). The function of any one neuron is the
same as that of any other neuron, viz., "to be irritated or stimu-
lated, and to irritate in turn another cell" (p. 130). "Mechani-
cally, the function of the nervous system is the production of
responses: that is, the action of effectors in certain ways, conse-
quent upon specific action of receptors. . . . Certain definite
responses, or reactions of the organism, are accompanied by, or
involve, consciousness. . . . From these facts, the construction of
the reaction-arc hypothesis is inevitable. Consciousness (aware-
ness) is the result of, or the accompaniment of, or a part of (the
phrasing is for the present immaterial)2 certain reactions involving
the activity of a complete arc from receptors to effectors" (pp.
133-134).

Seeing an object, for example, is a sensorimotor reaction, and
requires the activity of a "complete arc."

In the case of vision, experiments on animals, and human clinical cases,
make this point clear. Destroying the retinas; cutting the optic nerves; cutting
the optic tract behind the brain-stem; destroying the occipital lobes (of the cere-
bral hemispheres) to which the optic tracts lead; or cutting the connections
between the occipital lobes and the rest of the cerebral hemispheres: produce
the one and the same results — blindness — by interrupting the arcs from the visual
receptors to the effector systems, and destroying the possibility of a visual reac-
tion. There is no single system of efferent channels from the hemispheres which
the visual reaction need follow: hence, to block completely the visual reactions
by operation on the efferent side of the arc, all the efferent channels from the
hemispheres would have to be cut. This would cut off the possibility of not only
visual, but all reactions — and the patient would not survive (p. 135).

This last is certainly unfortunate, as it means that the "reac-
tion arc hypothesis" can never be verified. We must, it would
2 The reviewer would prefer to say, " an attribute of."

BOOK REVIEWS 107

seem, relegate this hypothesis to the limbo of hypotheses "which
are by their nature removed from any possibility of verification,"
and which are consequently valueless. "We shall never know
whether a person could see, with all the motor channels from his
brain blocked off ; and, since we can not know, why should we care ?

Still, though the reaction arc hypothesis can never be positively
verified, it might perhaps be disproved by some less drastic experi-
ment. Some deduction from the hypothesis might conflict with
facts. The author helps us on our way, for he deduces various
consequences of his general hypothesis, and insists, moreover, that
in thus applying it to various problems he does not need to intro-
duce any accessory hypotheses.

He applies the hypothesis to the case of the conditioned reflex.
Here we have two stimuli, originally giving two different reactions,
but, through simultaneous activity, the two arcs "become con-
nected in the cerebrum so that the current flowing in over the af-
ferent part of the one, may now flow out over the efferent part of
the other" (p. 143). Such interconnection of reaction arcs in
the cerebrum explains "all habit formation, including both the
development of perception, and the association of ideas" (pp. 143-
144).

In the development of perception, the child may see and smell
an orange simultaneously, and the arcs for the visual reaction and
for the olfactory reaction, becoming connected in the cerebrum,
enable the child later to make the olfactory response to the visual
stimulus.

When he comes to the association of "ideas," the author makes
use of the well-known scheme for the chaining together of a series
of movements into a skilled performance, such as dancing. The
reaction A, terminating in the contraction of certain muscles, ex-
cites the muscle spindles in those muscles, and thus initiates a
second, proprioceptive reaction. Along with this proprioceptive
reaction, there is simultaneously excited by an external stimulus
the movement B ; and the afferent part of the proprioceptive arc be-
comes connected in the cerebrum with the efferent part of the
reaction B, quite after the pattern of the conditioned reflex. In
this way, through the mediation of the proprioceptive arc, move-
ment B becomes attached to movement A, and no longer requires
its own original stimulus.

Now, since an "idea" is to be conceived as a sensorimotor reac-
tion, it must give rise to a proprioceptive reaction in the way just
explained, and this proprioceptive reaction (or the afferent half of
it, extending from the muscle spindles to the brain), must be the
intermediary between one idea and the next in an associated chain.

108 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOl'll Y

If ideas are dependent on reactions, and if ideas are capable of association,
it must be that the ideational reaction-arcs are of such a nature that the com-
pletion of one reaction may initiate another. Since reaction arcs terminate in
muscles and in glands, it must be that in one of these tissues lie the necessary
receptors of the thought-arcs. The receptors in glands are as yet conjectural,
and the glandular response is not of such a nature that we could assume it to
IK- the stimulus of reactions as prompt, as manifold, and as finely graded as
thought- reactions apparently are. The striped muscles, however, are provided
with a plentitude of receptors in the " muscle spindles," and the muscular
responses are quick, finely graded, and of great complexity, competent to initiate
reactions of an endless variety. The muncle-receptors are, therefore, in all prob-
ability, the beginnings of the thought-arcs (p. 147).

Here we have a very specific deduction from the general reac-
tion arc hypothesis, and it appears that this deduction can be put
to the test of facts. Since the muscle-spindle intermediary be-
tween two ideas is necessarily "finely graded, and of great com-
plexity," and also highly specific, in order to give the specific
sequence of "ideas," it certainly should follow that the amputa-
tion of an arm or a leg would break up many definite associations.
Loss of the muscle sense, as in tabes, should break up associations
of ideas, as it is known to interfere with skilled sequences of move-
ment. Dr. MacCurdy, in the review already mentioned, brings
forward still more striking evidence:

If thought originates in muscle perceptions — and he evidently means this
laterally — then destruction of the muscles must abolish ideas. There are many
nervous and muscular diseases in which muscle tissue disappears almost entirely.
In these thinking is usually undisturbed. It is possible for an individual to live
with his spinal cord divided in the neck so that there is no connection between
the brain and any voluntary muscle except those of the head and neck and the
diaphragm. Thinking is still possible and may be acute. In case it were urged
that thoughts were initiated by the vocal, mouth and neck muscles, it is easy to
point to diseases where these are atrophied or have their nerve supply cut off from
the brain (p. 255).

This appears like a complete disproof of the reaction arc hypo-
thesis as applied to the association of ideas. The only line of de-
fense which our author has prepared against such an attack is
briefly indicated in the following passage:

The reactions are ultimately abbreviated or short-circuited. . . . The com-
plete muscular reaction is necessary during the learning process, but is largely
eliminated, in the interests of economy, after the series have been thoroughly
mechanized (p. 153).

But against the adequacy of this defense it may be urged: (1)
that, according to the hypothesis, at least some imperfectly mechan-
ized associations must be lost by the amputation of a limb; (2)
that amputation, etc., should be a very serious handicap in the
formation of new associations; and (3) that in admitting that,

BOOK REVIEWS 109

after mechanization, a thought can function otherwise than as a
complete arc, the author has notably receded from the boldness of
his first position. At first he held that "ideas are dependent on
reactions," i.e., on complete sensorimotor reactions — since, accord-
ing to the reaction arc hypothesis, all mental processes are so
dependent. But now we learn that the complete reaction is largely
eliminated, and still the ideational processes occur. Apparently,
some deductions from his general hypothesis have seemed unaccept-
able to the author, and he has therefore introduced a qualification
which amounts to abandoning the hypothesis in its original clean-
cut form.

As a matter of fact, he did not succeed in holding fast to the
hypothesis even while applying it to the conditioned reflex and to
perception. He dealt not in complete arcs as his units, but in
half-arcs. The afferent half of one arc became connected in the
cerebrum with the efferent half of another arc. In the same way,
though he began his interpretation of the association of ideas with
the presupposition that he must deal in complete arcs, he had im-
mediately to split up his proprioceptive arc, and let the afferent
half of it function alone in mediating between one idea and an-
other. Any theory which dealt consistently with complete arcs
would have to seek the formation of new linkages in the periphery!

It is impossible to write a physiological psychology in terms of
the "complete arc" as unit. Learning, whether motor, perceptive,
or "ideational," requires a smaller unit. Facilitation and inhibi-
tion require a smaller unit. In the simplest cases of learning, such
as the conditioned reflex, the half arc seems to make a workable
unit. In reactions that involve a series of cerebral steps between
the sensory stimulus and the motor response (as in the case of see-
ing a signal, knowing what it signifies, and responding with an
appropriate skilled movement), the unit is smaller than a half arc,
and amounts to a single one of the cerebral steps. In our author's
fundamental statement, "that the function of any one neuron is
the same as that of any other neuron, viz., to be irritated or stimu-
lated, and to irritate in turn another cell," there is certainly
nothing that demands the "complete arc" as the unit. Rather,
the unit should be the stimulation of one neuron by another. This
is the single step in any psychoneural process; and there is no
reason compelling us to adopt any larger unit as the ultimate unit
of physiological psychology.

R. S. WOOD WORTH.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

110 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOVU Y

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

THE BRITISH JOURNAL OF PSYCHOLOGY. June 1921.
The Instinctive Behavior and Enjoyment: C. LLOYD MORGAN (pp.
l-30).-"If I were asknl: 'What are you driving at in this and so
much else that you have written on instinct! ' the reply would be:
'My aim has been to find its place, as defined, in the evolutionary
story of life and of consciousness.' ' The manner in which the
mind acts as a directive agency in determining the course of in-
stinctive behavior and the way in which the mind acts as an impulsive
agency, as the driving power behind the observed behavior must
both be included; otherwise one has only a description in terms of
observed facts which are merely generalizations that formulate the
plan of the facts. 7s a Fatigue Test Possible f B. Muscio (pp.
31— 46). -An essential pre-condition of experimentation designed to
obtain a fatigue test is the knowledge that different degrees of fatigue
are present at certain times. It is justifiable to experiment with the ob-
ject of finding a rapid and convenient fatigue test. It is recommended
that the term fatigue be absolutely banished from precise scientific
discussion, and that the problem to be investigated be defined as the
determination of the effects of different kinds and amounts of work
(activity) upon mental and physiological functions: that is, that the
kind and amount of work be correlated directly with changes in
psycho-physiological functions, and not (as at present) indirectly by
means of fatigue. A Preliminary Study of the Reproduction of
Hand Movements: C. RODRIGO LAVIN (pp. 47-52). -The problem was
to determine the most favorable conditions for the learning and re-
production of hand movements. The conclusions indicate that (1)
in the early stages of practise all of the subjects attended to the
form of a movement rather than to its extent; (2) the points of move-
ment most speedily and accurately learned were the beginning and
end, and wherever sharp changes of direction occurred; (3) different
forms of hand movement were very readily coalesced or ' ' condensed. ' '
Suggestibility with and without Prestige in Children: F. AVELING
and H. L. HARGREAVES (pp. 53-75). -The results show that general
suggestibility is greatly modified by the specific conditions and ele-
ments of the whole situation, which vary in individual cases, accord-
ing to experience of it and knowledge of it. There is no ascertained
tendency for suggestibility to go with other "general" factors such
as general intelligence, perseveration, oscillation, or motor dexterity.
There is small correlation between it and common sense regarded as
consisting largely of affective and conative elements; but none if
common sense is considered as a purely copnative quality. Recent
Work in Experimental ^Esthetics: EDWARD BUIAOUGH (pp. 76-99).-

NOTES AND NEWS 111

No work of an experimental kind has, to the writer 's knowledge, been
carried out since 1914, and what is meant 'by "recent" are experi-
ments undertaken between 1900 and 1914. It is the lack of experi-
mental work during the last six years which prompted the writer
to survey the earlier results. The writer emphasizes that until the
conceptions with which philosophies of art are wont to operate are
illuminated by actually and accurately observed experiences of many
persons, instead of being vaguely apprehended and rashly general-
ized personal introspections of their authors, little will be done by
interminable discussions of such topics. Critical Notice: G. UDNY
YULE (pp. 100-107). A review of the revised and expanded edition
of The Essentials of Mental Measurement by William Brown and
Godfrey H. Thomson. Publications Recently Received. British Psy-
chological Society Membership List.

Brierly, Susan S. An Introduction to Psychology. London : Meth-
uen & Co. 1921. Pp. 152. 5 s.

Dopter, M. Les Maladies Infectieuses pendant la Guerre (fitude
epidemiologique). Paris: Felix Alcan. 1921. Pp. 308. 9 fr.

Mandonnet, P. and Destrez, J. Bibliographic Thomiste. Le Saul-
choir, Kain, Belgium. 1921. Pp. xxi +116. 10 fr.

Moore, Jared Sparks. The Foundations of Psychology. Princeton
University Press. 1921. Pp. 239. $3.

Myers, Caroline E. and Garry C. Measuring Minds: An Examiner's
Manual to Accompany the Myers Mental Measure. New York
and Chicago : Newson & Co. 1921. Pp. 5.5.

Sellars, Hoy Wood. Evolutionary Naturalism. Chicago and Lon-
don: The Open Court Publishing Co. 1922. Pp. xii+343.
$2.50.

Smallwood, William Martin. Man — the Animal. New York: The
Macmillan Co. 1922. Pp. xiv+223. $2.50.

de Unamuno, Miguel. The Tragic Sense of Life in Men and in
Peoples. Translated by J. E. Crawford Flitch. (With an In-
troductory Essay by Salvador de Madariaga.) London: Mac-
millan & Co. 1921. Pp. xxxv +332. 17 s.

NOTES AND NEWS

A copy of the second edition of Moral Values and the Idea of God,
by W. R. Sorley has recently reached us. These Gifford Lectures of
1914 and 1915 were originally published in 1920, and were reviewed
in our issue of November 18, 1920. The author prefixes this second

112 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

edition with the following brief preface: "In preparing this edition
I have kept in view the criticisms of the book which have come into
my hands, but I have not introduced new matters of controversy.
The few errors which have been pointed out by others or discovered
by myself have been corrected silently ; and certain portions of the
argument, where experience has shown that there was a possibility
of misunderstanding, have been made clearer and more pointed in
statement. The only addition which needs to be recorded is a short
discussion on the relation of foreknowledge to freedom, a topic dealt
with too dogmatically in the first edition."

The Southwestern Philosophical Association held its second an-
nual meeting on December 28, 1921, as the guest of Occidental Col-
lege. Dr. Bernard C. Ewer, of Pomona College, presented a paper
on "A Dilemma in Ethics," and Dr. James Main Dixon, of the
University of Southern California, one on "The Philosophy of Sym-
pathy" as an expression of French and Scottish thinking. A dis-
cussion of Rivers 's treatment of instinct and of the unconscious was
offered by Dr. John Scott, of the University College of Cardiff,
Wales, and this year Mills professor at the University of California.
The following officers were elected for the coming year: President.
Ralph Tyler Flewelling, University of Southern California; Secre-
tary-Treasurer, Henry Nelson Wieman, Occidental College ; Member
of the Executive Committee, Bernard Capen Ewer, Pomona College.
The next meeting of the Association will be at Easter time.

The Philosophy Section of the Oklahoma Educational Associa-
tion met on Thursday, February 9, in Oklahoma City. Dr. Melvin
Rigg of Oklahoma City College presented a paper on the History of
the Logos Doctrine, which discussed St. John 's conception of Christ
as the Word of God, together with the antecedents of the Logos doc-
trine in Greek philosophy, and Hebrew theology.

The JOURNAL OP PHILOSOPHY has been unable for some time to
fill orders for complete files because of the lack of two early numbers,
Vol. II, No. 5, and Vol. Ill, No. 1 (March 2, 1905 and January 4.
1906). If any of our readers have copies of one or both of these
issues which they would be willing to part with, the JOURNAL would
be very glad to buy them at the rate of 50 cents a copy.

VOL. XIX, No. 5. MARCH 2, li,22

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

A SUGGESTION REGARDING ESTHETICS

IN the past esthetics has been approached from three different
angles — the critical, the philosophical, and the psychological.
On the whole these three methods of approach are fairly distinct,
and generally a book on esthetic subjects can be unhesitatingly
placed in one of these three classes to the exclusion of th<Tother
two.

Examples of the critical method of approach are in literature
such books as those by Matthew Arnold, Moulton, Brander
Mathews ; in painting those by Van Dyke, Berenson, Harold Speed ;
in music those by Dickenson, Prout, and the like. The approach
is personal. These men look at a work of art in the same way
that a newspaper critic does ; indeed, many of these men were news-
paper critics at one time in their lives, and have come to differ
from the general run of critics only by the superiority of their
judgment and power of expression. They are looked upon as ex-
perts like wine tasters. The public wants their opinion on art, and
they give it to the best of their ability. From the point of view
of the public it is a matter of faith and authority; from the point
of view of the critic a matter of long experience crystallized into
a sort of intuition.

It is entirely a personal matter. That does not mean that it
is a capricious matter, a question of mere opinion. The opinion
of a trained critic is never a mere opinion. It is the outcome of
long experience. What I mean by saying it is a personal matter
is that it is wholly a relation between a single critic and an inquir-
ing public. His judgment is what is wanted, and the basis of his
judgment is a secondary matter. His intuitive reaction is sought,
not the rational and scientific background for the reaction. Often
when a critic is asked why he holds an opinion, he finds it very
hard to explain. And that is no paradox, for a golfer can hit a
ball squarely and yet find it impossible to explain how he did it.
It is because a critic often does not know the reasons for his judg-
ment that he falls to ridiculing a work of art, concealing his em-
barrassment with laughter. The smaller the critic the truer this
is, for a great critic is willing to stake his reputation on his judg-
ment whether he can give reasons or not.

113

114 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

if a critic docs give reasons they are likely to be in the
nature of aphorisms, half truths half recognized as such, just one
remove from an immediate intuitive judgment. And in general
the more universal and sweeping the judgments a critic makes,
the less valuable; just the opposite from science where the more
universal the law the more valuable. The critical method of ap-
proach is not scientific, not disinterested, and dispassionate, accept-
in^ tin- authority and experience of nobody but only the logic of
the facts; but on the contrary is wholly a matter of personal ex-
perience and authority. It is, therefore, not a suitable method
for a science of esthetics.

Now, by saying that the critical method is not scientific, and
therefore that it is not applicable to esthetics, I am by no means
saying that it is a useless approach. On the contrary, if we should
ever have an established science of esthetics with a vast classifica-
tion of facts and verified laws, we should still want critics to be
doing then just what we are doing now. For a critic is to esthet-
ics a good deal what a doctor is to physiology. There is nothing
a doctor knows that is not to be found in physiology, yet doctors
have not outlived their usefulness. We still call upon them to
diagnose our ailments, and consider them much better for that pur-
pose than physiologists. And so in the future, if the future haa
in store for us a science of esthetics, we shall appeal not to an
esthetician but to a critic for a judgment about any new school of
art. And presumably the critic of this future will have studied
esthetics as the modern doctor studies physiology, and will be as
much superior to the modern critic as the surgeon of the present
is to the barber of the middle ages.

The second method of approach was philosophical. Examples
of this method are the esthetic writings of Kant, Hegel, Croce,
Bosanquet, and the like. The assumption behind this method is
that esthetics is a branch of philosophy inseparable from it, and
therefore to be treated philosophically. The first thing to do is by
a process of analysis to define beauty, and then we may draw the
consequences. The logic of this approach is quite convincing ; for,
it is argued, how can we know that anything is beautiful until we
first know what beauty is? It would appear that our first effort
should be to define beauty.

But in spite of the plausibility of this argument there seems
to be a quantity of evidence from external sources to show that
we can learn a great deal about a subject without waiting for a
definition of it, indeed that perhaps the definition has to wait until
we have learned this great deal about the subject. We have a
very respectable science of biology though we are still uncertain

A SUGGESTION REGARDING ESTHETICS 115

about the definition of life, and a very respectable science of
chemistry though we are still uncertain about the definition of
matter. Furthermore, we now feel well assured that our defini-
tions of life and matter never could have amounted to much prior
to our sciences of biology and chemistry which we developed with-
out finished definitions. Of course, we had crude definitions to
keep us from going completely astray, definitions that we were
willing to change from time to time as the facts seemed to indi-
cate, but both of these sciences have been developed without that
finished definition which philosophically seemed to be the first
prerequisite of science. Even mathematics does not follow the
philosophical method. The definitions of number and quantity
have undergone various changes as one discovery or another would
suggest, and only recently have been redefined. Even mathematics,
the so-called deductive science, developed without a perfect defini-
tion of its subject matter. That finished definition, judging from
the testimony of the sciences, is the last thing to be determined in
the development of knowledge rather than the first.

The science of esthetics, therefore, does not have to wait until
philosophy can give it a finished definition of its subject before it
can proceed to accumulate data. All it needs is some working
definition. A father does not keep his son at home until he can
send him into the world with a complete fortune; he gives his
son some pocket money and sends him into the world to make his
fortune. And now, of course, I do not mean that speculation as to
what that ultimate definition will be is valueless. Our curiosity
is impatient, and we wish to speculate about the complete nature
of things before we have complete knowledge. To see things as
a whole as well as possible is the function of philosophy, and that
is no little thing. But philosophy can still continue to seek the
true definition of beauty while the science of esthetics is plodding
in the dust of facts, and may perhaps be willing occasionally to
pick up some slight suggestion out of the dust. Philosophic inter-
est in the ultimate nature of life and matter does not seem to have
been damped by scientific activity in biology and chemistry.

The third method of approach was psychological. Of this the
work of Lipps, Him, Fechner, and a swarm of men whose articles
appear in psychological periodicals, are typical. The implied argu-
ment of all these men is that since the appreciation of beauty
is a conscious experience, esthetics is necessarily a branch of psy-
chology and obviously falls under the domain of the emotions.
When the psychology of the emotions is developed, it will then be
a simple matter to apply the general principles to the experience
of esthetic appreciation. Meanwhile, we can carry on a few simple
experiments on sensory appreciation, balance, symmetry, etc.

116 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

1 would be far from denying the value of these simple experi-
ments. They have given a great deal of important information,
but I believe any candid psychologist would be ready to admit
that the whole sum of information so gained or that ever will be
so gained would leave one only on the doorstep of esthetics. Sup-
pose we knew all that psychological experiment could tell us about
balance, symmetry, and linear combination, it would still be a
long distance from all these facts to the Amiens Cathedral. The
rest of it, the psychologist would say, lay in the psychology of the
emotions and the higher processes. Granted, and so esthetics must
wait until the psychology of the emotions is complete. Thus psy-
chology would tie esthetics to her apron strings with the same con-
vincing logic that philosophy would tie it to hers.

But how escape from psychology, it may be asked. Well, how
did psychology escape from philosophy? There is no greater fal-
lacy than the belief that the foundations of a science must be firm
before work can begin on the science itself. The metaphor is mis-
leading, for every material advance in the erection of the super-
structure brings about a corresponding advance in the making of
the foundations. A better metaphor would be of a tree, which
must have roots to stand, but whose roots grow with the growth of
the trunk and limbs. With such a metaphor in mind it would be
no paradox that a seedling science should require only a seedling's
roots, and not the broad and systematic radication of an ancient
and matured science. Esthetics is a seed dropped from the seed-
pods of psychology, and may sprout at once in independent soil.

Economics is also a seedling from psychology of such rapid
growth that it is almost overshadowing the parent tree. For eco-
nomics takes its departure too from conscious experience. It is
the science of a certain limited group of human desires — viz., those
that lead to exchange. And the first rootlet that fed the science
and held it in its place was the concept of the economic man,
which on analysis proves to be an assumption of the nature of
human desires. On that assumption the science grew to consider-
able size. The assumption has since proved false, but it served
to nourish the science while it was young.

A similar assumption is what esthetics needs in order to develop
into a science. We shall never get such a science if we wait for the
intuitive judgments of critics to become organized into a consis-
tent system: we shall never get it if we wait till philosophy gives
us a perfect definition of beauty : we shall not get it if we wait for
psychology to clear up the field of consciousness. The three tradi-
tional ways of approach to esthetics begin splendidly paved but
soon dwindle to ribbon roads and presently are lost in underbrush

A SUGGESTION REGARDING ESTHETICS 117

and tangle. Esthetics must build its own road if it would be
developed. And all that it needs for starting that road is a work-
ing unit.

Now, a working unit is a form of working hypothesis, and in
this case at least it should not be made too exact or confining, or
it will destroy its own usefulness. If the staging for a building
is made so solid as to resemble the finished structure, it will cut
out the light and hinder if not make impossible the erection of the
building for which it was to be a means. The working unit for an
independent esthetics should be sufficiently open, and free, yes,
and ambiguous, to allow as large a number of men to cooperate
under it as possible, and as large a number of pertinent facts to be
distributed under it as possible. The aim of a working unit is not
to bring exact results but to bring big results.

If there are people who think that big results can only be
obtained through exactness, these people are much mistaken. This
is a fallacy similar to the one mentioned earlier, the belief that a
dependent science can only be developed if the fundamental science
upon which it depends has been completed. Science does not build
itself up from preestablished exact units, but moves progressively
from inexactness to greater, and greater, and greater exactness.
Physics is not yet the exact science it will be. Exactness is derived
from inexactness. We lose all if we try to make our working unit
of esthetics exact at once, for the chances are we shall make it
exact in the wrong direction. We must be satisfied to begin with
an inexact unit.

Furthermore, in the early stage of a science it is highly ad-
vantageous to employ a unit that is easily understood, a more or
less common-sense concept. For in the early stages of a science
there is no established school to train men to a method and a vo-
cabulary. The men working in the science will be widely scattered
and largely out of communication with one another. If a too recon-
dite term is used by one man, it is likely to be passed over by the
others who will substitute some favorite term of their own, and
presently there will be no one unit, but the same chaos we now
have. A recondite term is like a word in a dialect : a common-sense
term has a universality and a consolidating power which is worth
more than all else in a science struggling for life.

A common-sense concept, not too exact, capable of embracing
many facts, and of bringing into at least seeming agreement many
men — these are the requirements of a working unit in esthetics.
Such a unit, I believe, has been groping its way towards recogni-
tion in the last few decades. It is the liking of a thing for itself in
contrast to the valuing of a thing as a means to something else.

118 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

It has been variously called "intrinsic," "disinterested," "inde-
pendent," "primary" value. It simply marks off the attitude
opposite to the practical attitude.

Nearly all prominent estheticians of the last century have this
concept at the core of their definitions. So with Bosanquet, Croce,
Santayana, Fechner, to mention only a few of the greatest. And
notice to what different philosophical schools these men belong.
These men differ from each other in their attempts to make their
definitions exact. They have in common the core of that inexact
common-sense concept of things valued for themselves independent
of all practical considerations. They feel, however, that this con-
cept is too wide and attempt to narrow it and make it exact. But
the moment they attempt to narrow it they are led one this way
and one that according to their personal predispositions and meta-
physical leanings. The consequence is that they all begin t<>
quarrel among themselves about the trimmings of their definitions
instead of getting down to work and accumulating facts under the
core of their definitions. If these men would let the trimmings go,
they could cooperate and work in harmony. Not that they should
totally forget their disagreements, for out of such disagreements
would ultimately come the possibility of bringing greater precision
into the working definition. But the emphasis should be thrown
on their points of agreement rather than on those of disagreement
if progress is to be made in an independent science of esthetics.
But, of course, none of these men had any such aim in mind. All
I wish to point out is that the unit I am proposing here is not
one I have arbitrarily made up, but one that already exists at the
bottom of most modern esthetic theory. And all that is needed is
to bring this crude core out into the light in all its starkness and
uncouthness, and in spite of its unprepossessing appearance to
accept it.

What we want at present is not a finished definition of beauty,
but something to gather facts about from which generalizations
may be made and perhaps laws determined, laws which in turn will
eventually refine and make precise the uncouth unit to which they
owed their discovery. The unit will circumscribe a field of experi-
ence which contains our esthetic facts, and that is all we have a
right to ask for in the beginning. If there is hope for a concrete
science of esthetics in the near future it lies in some such concept
as the one we have been considering. It assuredly does not lie in
criticism, or philosophy, or psychology.

STEPHEN C. PEPPER.

UNIVERSITY or CALIFORNIA.

ESTHETIC VALVES 119

ESTHETIC VALUES AND THEIR INTERPRETATION

THE paper of Mr. Pepper on a point in esthetics * raises a num-
ber of questions that would be interesting to discuss at length.
The following remarks are not offered as such a discussion and no
more is claimed for them than that they happen to be my opinions
at present.

Mr. Pepper puts excellently the contrast between esthetic criti-
cism and scientific formulation. Any critical estimate involves so
much of the critic's personal equation, Mr. Pepper thinks, that it
tends to be the reverse of scientific; it is not disinterested nor dis-
passionate. We should be suspicious of sweeping judgments in
esthetic criticism. But in science just the opposite is true, "where
the more universal the law, the more valuable. ' ' The critical method
of approach is, therefore, not a suitable method for a science of
esthetics.

This is nearly all true, but, I suspect, not for the reasons Mr.
Pepper has in mind. I agree that the method of "criticism" is not
scientific ; I agree, moreover, that it can not possibly be made so, no
matter how disinterested and dispassionate the critic might be. But
that is not because critical judgments are affected by a personal
equation, which, perhaps, they usually are. It is because the judg-
ment of criticism deals with an individual in its uniqueness, while a
judgment of the scientific type deals with a universal, i.e., with
something intended to be applicable to as many individuals as pos-
sible.

I am assuming, I think with Mr. Pepper, that criticism aims to
make us well acquainted with particular works, to bring us close to
them so that we not only recognize what they may have in common
with other works, but perceive also what is not duplicated anywhere,
unless it be in perfect copies. I do not claim that all criticism has
this function, but for the present I refer to the kind that does have
it. And this kind of criticism does seem to care only or chiefly about
the individual and to be indifferent to the type. And if the essence
of science is to be capable of statement in laws which are not imagi-
nary universals, but which convey a knowledge of certain constant
and repeating details of nature, criticism evidently can not be scien-
tific.

We can describe the nature of horses, and the nature of tuber-
culosis, but what exists are individual horses and individual sick
people. This, I suppose, is the natural subject matter of any science
of horses or science of medicine. One horse is, to be sure, like another
and yet just those respects in which one horse is not like another
i ' ' A Suggestion Regarding Esthetics, ' ' this JOUBNAL.

120 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

may be what "makes all the difference." In ethics rules are im-
portant, but we say often that a case must be judged on its own
merits. A science of ethics, however, must consist of rules or other
general statements. Yet, surely, a science of ethics exists, or ought
to exist, for the sake of its natural subject matter, just those in-
dividual cases that may show all manner of departure from type or
complication of type.

The phraseology of universals is no less essential to philosophy
than it is to science (admitting, for the moment, a difference). But
what is passed over is ignored just because it is not found in all
members of the type; and how significant or valuable this may be in
concrete human experience can be decided only by some other man-
ner of approach. Any method, then, which aims at propositions in-
tended to be true of indefinitely many individuals mast leave un-
noticed more or less of the actual content which another method
concerned with one thing at a time might pay full attention to. And
a science of esthetics, if a science at all, would be like other science
in this respect.

Is, then, a science of esthetics impossible? Candidly, I don't
know, but I suspect it is ; or, perhaps, I would prefer to say that we
already have it in the only sense that is worth insisting upon. For
the sake of what fruits would a science of esthetics exist? What is
its natural subject matter? Again I am not sure that I know, or
rather I would say that it may have various fruits and be about a
variety of things. That is a verbal matter; and provided the ques-
tions studied are not artificial questions, and the discussions not
confused by misunderstanding, it is a matter of no great conse-
quence. If, however, the study of esthetics is to lead us to esthetic
education, to experience marked by the possession of fine and organ-
ized esthetic values, and the constant activity of trained and discrimi-
nating senses, its purpose is not to lead us to something scientific
in the sense above indicated, but to the unique individual, to some-
thing not defined but perceived.

What escapes definition and coherent description in any work of
art is precisely what is unique, interesting, and possibly most valu-
able. A work that has none of this is "academic"; it embodies the
rules and nothing else. We might propose as a definition of the
academic : That which is made according to a rule — where the rule is
more obeyed than used. Of course, a science of esthetics may aim
to give us the academic, and perhaps it can not do anything else,
unless we consider that it should be a body of information useful
in producing esthetically valuable objects. But such objects are.
of course, individual, and a great deal of technical, scientific knowl-
edge is required for their production. Consider what an architect

ESTHETIC VALVES 121

needs to know, or a capable composer. A vast amount of science is
necessary that the world may contain what we call works of art. It
does not occur to anyone to say that this knowledge constitutes a
science of esthethics, but, after all, why should we not say so? It
is, at least, the effective knowledge that is indispensable if what we
call art is to be systematically created.

And now I come to Mr. Pepper's "suggestion," viz., that the
esthetic object as such is one that is liked without reference to any
utility and, perhaps, in spite of it. As Mr. Pepper rightly says, the
contrast between "intrinsic" value and valuable instrumentality, or
to use an old and honest pair of terms, between beauty and use, is
one of the commonplaces of the subject. But we have not yet seemed
to get anywhere from this point of departure. If the distinction is
to bear any fruit, it must be interpreted.

In this conceptual formulation, the beautiful and the useful are
very sharply discriminated, and if one is still at the dialectical stage,
it may seem that beauty and use must be separated in fact as they
are in definition. The experience of so many of us in finding art only
in museums is very misleading. Many, at least, of the treasures of
the great galleries were produced to be a part, and perhaps a very
important part of a church. An altar piece, on the altar where mass
is said, may or may not be beautiful, but while in its original posi-
tion it is preeminently "useful" ; subsequently removed to a mu-
seum, its utility is lost and its beauty and lack of use characterize
what is now classified as a work of art. Surely the problem of our
day is how to overcome the separation — how to promote a demand
that utilities shall be appropriately esthetic, and how to make esthe-
tic value pervade common things and their use, not artificially and
self-consciously, but simply and spontaneously. What knowledge
is it that will help us to do this ? I can not think it is any science of
esthetics as we are inclined to use that word, but also, I repeat, I
can not see why we should not call esthetic science all that science
that an artist in one field or another must have if his genius is to
have tools to work with. The same science may be used for other
ends, but what of it?

Thus far, I have spoken as though in esthetics one were always
dealing with art. That is as false as anything can be. I suppose a
new wire fence is usually a thing of esthetic delight to the farmer
who has just set it up. A good cow, a strong horse, a favorite tennis
racquet, are likely to be objects of esthetic affection. I hope I may
be pardoned for suggesting again 2 a translation of the beauty-utility
distinction into slightly different terms.

2 Cf. Some passages in an article entitled ' ' Value and Causality, ' ' this
JOURNAL, Vol. 15, No. 4, p. 85.

122 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Utility considers effects to be produced; it, therefore, envisages
the future. A type of value that is quite independent of conse-
quences will presumably be an interest in a present; witness the
eloquent conclusion of Pater's fine book, The Renaissance. The
present and the future are both objects of concern, and the future is
something to be concerned about, because, sooner or later, it will
not be future any longer but present, and life or experience is always
in a present. If the present is always merely a scaffolding for the
future, if it never has any value of its own, life can not be said to
have much success. Let the success of the present be all in dreams
of the future — that is indeed often the noblest and happiest pres-
ent— but all the present moments of any man make up all of that
man's life. If it were not for time and the future, I do not see how
there could be any such thing as consequences or instrumentality in
the natural sense. From this point of view, all values of the present
are esthetic values whether they pertain to works of art or to any-
thing else, and all values actually attained are attained in a present.

The translation of the beauty and use contrast into the temporal
contrast of present and future is not advanced here as of any im-
portance, least of all as of any importance for esthetics; but it may
be interesting nevertheless. Of that the reader must judge; he
should remember, too, that such contrasts are likely to be discrimina-
tions in analysis and not separations in fact. Whether or not the
temporal contrast is significant for esthetics, it is fundamental in
morals, in life. The puritan moralist despises the lover of beauty
because he lives too much in a present. The lover of beauty dislikes
the moralist who impoverishes life by postponing the enjoyment of
its fruits. To each of these the word ' ' good ' ' has a different meaning.
To a certain extent we could translate beauty and use into another
contrast, the individual and the group. No such translation should
be overworked or regarded as absolute, but with this proviso any such
translation, if based upon empirical relations, is likely to clarify
more or less.

Why should a distinction that has proved so barren as the dis-
tinction of the useful and the valuable useless nevertheless persist?
While the distinction as phrased may be too much in terms of a logi-
cal antithesis, it may yet represent something that is both real and
important. I think Mr. Pepper is right in indicating the distinction
as important, not as a dialectical major premise, but as a point of de-
parture, as something to interpret in terms of relevant experience.
So much tragedy in life is produced by esthetic appeals to the soul,
and so much dignity by other esthetic appeals. Fruits ripen, if you
like, in the future but they are enjoyed in the present; and when
they belong to what we call the past, it is the present that they

ESTHETIC VALUES 123

brighten or stain, and the future that they influence. And when
we say they influence the future, we mean that they influence a
present yet to come. As I have said the temporal contrast may not
be very relevant, if terms are used absolutely, but it is a distinction
that all empirical moralists and all directors of conduct must, one
may suppose, have to make continually.

And now, if I seem to abandon what I have so labored to express,
that, perhaps, only illustrates my thesis that life is continuous and
one moment plays into another, but that one moment may be dis-
tinguished from another. Interpret the distinction of beauty and use
in some other way; interpret it in as many ways as possible, since
any interpretation is the noticing of some feature or some relation;
in what is subtle and interesting.

In nature no factor is more important than the factor of timer
but of this logic takes hardly any account; and though time is an
important term in physics, it is so in a sense very different from that
which gives it such a role in the literature of human feeling. The
arithmetic of life insurance companies brings us closer to what time
means to those that live and grow old and to those that write his-
tory; to those, too, who have inherited the patrimony our ancestors
achieved.

For, in any case, the depth and solidity of the esthetic factor in
a person's life depend very much upon what kind of a world he is
permitted to live in, depend, that is, greatly upon the degree to-
which normal and sharable esthetic values have been brought into a
heritage for him or her by the past. A world rich in what is digni-
fied, simple and beautiful may not be more "useful" than another
in the usual sense of that now somewhat unhappy word, but it is a
great deal better. And in the larger sense of the word, and the truer
one, it is supremely useful, since it perpetuates itself. To possess
this patrimony and to transmit it with the addition of what we have
made it yield, not as a dead past but as something that binds one
generation to another and makes a single life out of the lives of many
men or of many nations, to hold together a community of the spirit,
not merely in space but in time, seems to me a large part of what
we may reasonably call our esthetic responsibility, something that
the study of esthetics ought to encourage and promote.

WENDELL T.
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

124 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

IMMEDIATE INFERENCE AND THE DISTRIBUTION
OF TERMS

IN tlu- interpretation of exclusive and exceptive propositions
there is a difficulty pertinent to the discussion carried on in
this JOURNAL1 by Professor Toohey and Professor Dotterer as to
the distribution of the predicate in the partial inverse of affirma-
tive propositions, and as to "immediate inference" and the distri-
bution of terms in general.

The exceptive proposition offers a privileged example of how,
in an actual situation within a limited universe of discourse, the
]>;u-tial inverse of a true proposition may well assert what is not
true. All but 8 is P, we are told, is correctly expressed by the A
proposition, All non-8 is P; and from this is correctly derived
Some S is- not P. It is agreed that we have no right to say No 8
is P- and examination of the meaning of All but 8 is P will con-
vince, I believe, that strictly taken it need not express the situation
from which alone Some 8 is-not P is justified. When Francis I
wrote home "All is lost but honor," he undoubtedly meant that
honor was not lost ; and in general we should rightly hold the man
who used exceptives to suggest what he knew to be untrue as at
least not a model of truthfulness. Yet it must be admitted that,
if Francis had lost honor as well as all else but preferred not to
say so, he would have told, not the whole truth to be sure, yet not
strictly an untruth; inasmuch as he had made no assertion about
honor but had merely held it apart from the assertion he did make.
And in fact, our exceptives frequently arise simply from ignorance
which is properly recognized in the limitation of our judgment,
or from a courteous, discreet, kindly, timid, or malicious reserva-
tion of statement. The conventional "present company excepted"
is notoriously untrustworthy in any positive implication. Or let
us agree that any triangle must be scalene, isosceles, or equilateral.
Then to say "scalene triangles" is to say "all triangles except

celes and equilateral triangles." And scalene triangles have
three sides. Substituting the equivalent term, we may say "All
triangles except isoceles and equilateral triangles have three sides"
— and, if we had to discover the number of sides of triangles by
inspection, we might well, after an examination only of scalene
triangles, make this assertion ; but it would be none the less false to
say that some isosceles or equilateral triangles do not have three
sides. In short, the exceptive proposition is a statement which is
said to be correctly represented by a proposition from which is
correctly derived a proposition which is not necessarily implied
i Vol. XVII, pp. 519-522; Vol. XVIII, pp. 320-326.

INFERENCE AND DISTRIBUTION 125

by the original statement. It appears, then, that either All non-8
is P does not adequately and simply express the import of All but
8 is P OT the process of inversion is in some cases illicit.

The case of the exclusive proposition is more illuminating;
since here the untruth, though of precisely similar nature, may be
taken as not the result of inversion, and in any case does not in-
volve the inversion of an affirmative proposition. None but 8 is P
is ordinarily represented, for syllogistic purposes, by All P is 8;
and the converse of this is Some 8 is P. If it be said that the ex-
clusive is more properly represented by No non-8 is P, then All P
is 8 is the obverted converse, Some 8 is P the partial inverse. But
here it is the partial inverse of an E proposition, and there is no
infraction of the rules of distribution. The possible falsehood,
however, remains as with exceptives ; for Some 8 is P is frequently
in actual cases not true. Admittedly we have no right to say All
8 is P ; and since no assertion is made of 8, wherein do we get the
right to speak even of a part of 8 ? Surely ' ' No admittance except
on business" ordinarily implies that some of those intent on busi-
ness are admitted, but since other rules unnamed or other existing
circumstances may well exclude all actual persons applying, we can
not with strict assurance say that anyone is admitted. And this
is not mere abstract quibbling, for the case is often actual because
of ignorance, discretion, or the mere inadvisability of including
all conditions in one proposition. I may offer a college course
which is truly described as elective (none but those who elect it
take it), and as open only to seniors (none but seniors take it) ;
and if there is no senior, or no one who desires it, or no senior
who desires it, it will be false to say that some who elect it take it or
that some seniors take it. It might be quite true that only a mathe-
matical genius can square the circle; it is certainly not true that
some mathematical geniuses can square the circle. In short, it
appears that either No non-8 is P is not a perfect expression for
None but 8 is P, or there is a loss of truth in obtaining the obverted
converse of E (here, All P is 8), or there is a loss in obtaining the
converse of A (here, Some 8 is P).

In general it appeal's that by the use of accepted methods of
interpretation we may from everyday assertions obtain propositions
which are seen to be untrue or possibly untrue when referred to
the actual situation from which the original assertion sprang and
of which the original assertion is true. The error at times shows
as a formal violation of the rule against going from an undistrib-
uted to a distributed term; but is broader and apparently not to
be solved by a solution of the difficulty about distribution, since it
appears where there is no evidence of that difficulty. It may

126 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

further be noted that, inasmuch as the error is real, it directly
impugns not the rule of distribution but the processes wherein that
rule fails.

Now Dr. Keynes, whose doctrine as to the distribution of the
predicate in the partial inverse of an A proposition Professor Dot-
terer seeks to amend and Professor Toohey rejects, seems to me
at least to point the way to the solution of the problem, though
not in his direct treatment of "validity of inversion" in the fourth
edition of his Formal Logic. His discussion in the third edition
seems to me the better, and the real clue to the larger problem is af-
forded by a footnote at the beginning of the chapter on Immediate
Inference.2 The usually accepted explanation is that of the fourth
edition, according to which in inversion of All 8 is P we tacitly
assume the premise Some things are not P. "The conclusion, Some
not-S is not P, may accordingly be regarded as based on this
premise combined with the explicit premise All S is P; and it will
be observed that, in the additional premise, P is distributed."*
Now the introduction of this assumed premise does seem to pro-
vide a proper distribution for P; yet, taken strictly, how does it
act as premise? It can not be combined with the other premise
in any possible syllogistic form to give the required conclusion.
And if the mere presence of a distributed term in an assumed
proposition gives us the right to distribute that term in the series
of transformations of the proposition with which we are working,
it gives us decidedly too much; for it would justify any distribu-
tion of that term and merely abrogate the rule of distribution alto-
gether. We could go simply from All S is P to All P is 8. Professor
Dotterer is quite right in pointing out that the distribution of a
term is not an absolute matter, but is relative to some other term
or terms. Distribution is a property of terms "in syntax." We
can not hunt around for any proposition in which a certain term
is distributed, and then proceed blithely to distribute it in some
other series of transformations. On the other hand Professor
Toohey is quite right in maintaining that to make a term distrib-
uted or undistributed relatively to some one other term and to
deny any pertinency to this distribution elsewhere is equally to
take all value from distribution. Within any series of transforma-
tions of a proposition or within any true syllogistic series (proposi-
tions connected by competent middle terms), we have the right to
speak of distribution or lack of distribution simply ; but not as be-
tween unconnected propositions. A distributed term, that is, is
distributed with regard to the other term in its proposition and to

» Keynee: Formal Logic, 4th ed., p. 126, n. 1; 3d ed., p. 93, n. 1.
* Ibid., 4th ed., pp. 139 ff.

INFERENCE AND DISTRIBUTION 127

the other terms in other propositions connected therewith by distrib-
uted middle terms. An undistributed term is undistributed with
regard to the other term in its proposition and to the other terms
in other propositions connected therewith by middle terms, distrib-
uted or undistributed.

But this is not all. With regard to its own contradictory, and
to at least some part of the contradictory of the other term in its
proposition if that proposition is universal, any term is always
distributed. For by the principle of contradiction the contradic-
tory of any term is excluded from the whole of that term; and,
since in all universal propositions at least some portion of the ex-
tension of the contradictory of the other term must coincide with
some portion of that of the contradictory of the term in question,
with regard to at least that portion of the contradictory of the
other term the term in question will be distributed. But, of course,
this is true only if there are contradictories to these terms. For if
there be no contradictory to the term in question, then it will not
necessarily be distributed with regard to any portion of the con-
tradictory of the other term. And if there be no contradictory to
the other term, it would be meaningless to assert distribution with
regard to some portion of it. And this is why the assumption of
the existence of the contradictory of the original predicate vali-
dates the partial inverse: not that we manufacture any premise
therefrom, but that, if that contradictory exist, the term by its
very nature will always be distributed with regard to it ; and that
obviously in the A proposition with which we start, if the contra-
dictory of the predicate exist, then the subject must have a con-
tradictory which in some part must coincide with the contradictory
of the predicate; and with regard to that part the predicate will
always be distributed — as it were by right of eminent domain. Now
abstractly a contradictory can be made to any term; but actually,
of course, we may have to deal with an all-inclusive genus, either
absolutely or as an exhaustive species within some explicitly limited
universe of discourse. The case, then, in the matter of the partial
inverse is this. The explanation does not lie in any premise, but
does lie in the assumption of the existence of the contradictory of
the original predicate. For if that contradictory exist, then the
predicate, being always distributed with regard to it, must also be
distributed with regard to whatever portion of the contradictory
of the original subject coincides with it; and somewhere within
the same universe these two infinites must at least partially coin-
cide. We have thus the right to say Some not-S is not P, since P
must be distributed with regard to some portion of not-S. But actu-
ally we may have as predicate an exhaustive species which allows no

128 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

existing contradictory, as if we say "All is lost but honor" when
really there is nothing not lost. In such a case, going from "All
things other than honor are lost" to "Some honor is not lost," we do
go from a lack of distribution to distribution, and from truth to
falsehood.

Now this is but an instance of the general principle given first
by Dr. Keynes in the footnote already referred to. "We proceed
on the assumption that each class represented by a simple term
exists in the universe of discourse, while at the same time it does
not exhaust that universe. This assumption appears always to have
been made implicitly in the traditional treatment of logic."

It is that assumption, together with the acceptance of the logic-
ally prior principle of contradiction which necessitates the distri-
bution of any term relatively to its contradictory, and together
with the nature of the relations expressed in categorical proposi-
tions which through the principles of contradiction and excluded
middle necessitates the coincidence of at least part of the con-
tradictory of one term with at least part of the contradictory of
the other term in all universal propositions, which validates the
partial inverse of the universal affirmative proposition. And it
is that assumption which is apt to give rise to error when the pro-
cedures based thereupon are applied to actual situations not con-
forming thereto; not only in the partial inverse of A, but, as we
have seen with exclusive propositions, in the partial inverse of E,
where the lack of conformity is in the assumption of the existence
of the original predicate or of the contradictory of the subject;
and, indeed, in other interpretations, even, conceivably, in so direct
a one as limited conversion or simple conversion or simple obver-
sion. The formal violation of the rule as to distribution is apparent
in one case only, not because of any peculiar invalidity of the in-
version of A propositions, but simply because for other reasons the
partial inverse of A is the only case in which an originally undis-
tributed term reappears distributed with regard to the contradic-
tory of the other term ; but there are several in which the contradic-
tory of an originally undistributed term is distributed. And
whence comes this right? From the fact, of course, that the con-
tradictory of a term is necessarily distributed with regard to that
term, and hence, in affirmative propositions, with regard also to at
least part of the other term, and, in negative propositions, with
regard to at least part of the contradictory of the other term. It
is thus (with one exception, the full contrapositive, which will be
noticed presently) that in the scheme of eduction contradictories
will be found distributed. In general: Any term is distributed
with regard to its contradictory and its contradictory with regard

INFERENCE AND DISTRIBUTION , 129

to it. When the term is put into a proposition, further results
follow from this. In all universal propositions, the term will be
distributed with regard to at least part of the contradictory of the
other term. If the universal be affirmative, the subject will be
distributed with regard to the whole of the contradictory of the
predicate. In all affirmative propositions, the contradictory of the
term will be distributed with regard to at least part of the other
term. If the affirmative be universal, the contradictory of the
predicate will be distributed with regard to the whole of the sub-
ject and will further be distributed with regard to at least part
of the contradictory of the subject. (Cf. the full contrapositive,
All not-P is not-S.) In all negative propositions, the contradictory
of the term will be distributed with regard to at least part of the
contradictory of the other term. An examination of the table of
results of obversion and conversion will substantiate these a priori
relations. In fact they are tacitly assumed in the principles of
obversion and conversion, and, having once accepted these princi-
ples, we need not, so long as we correctly apply them, bother about
particular distributions. But the whole structure rests upon the
assumption that the terms have existence within the same universe
of discourse and that neither exhausts that universe.

The really important question, then, is as to the justification
for this assumption. This is not the place for a complete discus-
sion of so profoundly reaching a question, but a few suggestions
present themselves.

In the first place, it must be admitted that the lack of con-
formity is real and not negligible. In the fluency of our state-
ments, we make many assertions taken as true relevant to a situa-
tion which rejects some formal transformations of those assertions.
And it must be admitted that obversion and conversion need some
more basic justification than a let-it-be-so. Yet this is not neces-
sarily a condemnation of immediate inference nor an indictment
of formal logic. We can not hope always to find a ready confor-
mity between usage and principle. If logic insists on becoming
complicated, it is therein not different from other sciences which
attempt to conform to the wanton wiles of the actual. Much of the
contemporary complaint against logic is really a complaint against
the waywardness of language — the complaint that people refuse
(for which, on other grounds, we owe thanks) to confine the opu-
lence of expression to the pigeonholes of logicians. The formality
of logic is of meaning, not of word; and all interpretation moves
under the threat of material fallacy, whose generic nature is equiv-
ocation. Logic may well be complete and valid, despite the diffi-
culties which expression makes for diagnosis.

130 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

The assumption that subject and predicate belong to the same
universe of discourse we may readily allow as just. It flows from
the very nature of judgment. It is true, of course, that sometimes,
when we come to take contradictories for the purposes of obvereion,
we fall into error through an unwarranted limitation of one term
with respect to the other ; but even here the one universe is part of
the other, and the error in extension is chargeable to faulty manipu-
lation on our part, not to any defect in judgment. When, above, I
used the illustration All equilateral triangles have three sides; Some
non-equilateral triangles have not three sides, it was doubtless appar-
ent that a more careful contradictory for the subject would have
avoided the falsehood ; yet the illustration there was proper, for, if
both subject and predicate were reduced to the limited universe tri-
angles, the falsehood would remain: All equilateral triangles are
three-sided triangles; Some non-equilateral triangles are not three-
sided triangles.

We may also, it seems, admit as just and necessary the assump-
tion that the terms do not either exhaust the universe. This, how-
ever, is a necessity not of the essence of the judgment but of the
essence of obversion; and, though obversion — negative statement —
is too natural and proper a mode of expression to be discarded or
seriously impaired by the chance of failure in limiting cases, we
must recognize the essential shortcoming of the process. In abso-
lute statements the limiting case is negligible ; we do not often deal
with completely exhaustive genus. The pinch comes because our
actual statements so often have to do with artificial, delimited uni-
verses. And here, so long as our assertion is of definite, positive
species, there is small danger; for, if one of the terms does exhaust
the universe, we are apt to have our eyes open to it, or at any rate
the derived statement will hide itself in the decent obscurity of an
infinite term. But where our assertion begins with an indefinite
negative, trouble arises; for that term reappears as a definite and
positive term, and either we know it does not exist or, more usually,
we know it does exist and infer from it a like existence for the other
term which may not exist. So, from All not-S is P, we get the
inverse forms Some S is not P and Some S is not-P; and, knowing
the actual existence of the definite S, we ascribe equal existence to
not-P, which, if P in the first place exhausted the universe, has no
existence at all. This is the source of the peculiar liability of exclu-
sive propositions to false interpretation. Even the contrapositives,
which enjoy a somewhat privileged position as it were because of their
kinship to the denial of the consequent, are vulnerable here.

If obversion lays itself open to actual error because of the assump-
tion that the terms do not exhaust the universe, conversion runs foul

INFERENCE AND DISTRIBUTION 131

of the more primary assumption of the existence of the terms. But
it may "be noted that this assumption involves less than at first
appears, and for affirmative propositions at any rate may be pretty
well justified. For it does not, of course, necessitate any special
sort of existence, certainly not physical existence, for the terms;
we can deal validly with propositions concerning chimeras, myths,
abstractions ; nor, further, does it necessitate even that the terms or
either of them be in the original proposition thought in extension
at all. All we need assume is that our terms have some meaning,
and that whatever sort of existence is implied of one can be truly
thought as inhering in the other within the same universe. And for
affirmative categorical propositions this seems an easily justifiable
assumption. If we accept the commonly accepted view that affirma-
tive categoricals imply the denotative existence of their subjects,
then, even though the predicate be thought primarily in pure inten-
sion, it must nevertheless be admitted as capable of extension at
least so far as the proposition asserts coincidence of that intension
with the extension of the subject. And if it be maintained that in
any certain proposition both subject and predicate are in pure inten-
sion, then no difficulty will arise, since after conversion no different
logical being can be asserted of either term than in the original
proposition belonged to both. Two troubles, however, are found. In
the psychology of understanding propositions, we commonly (and
correctly) grasp the subject and then infer of the predicate at least
potentially the same sort of existence we know the subject to have.
It thus sometimes happens that, beginning with a proposition the
subject of which has a limited sort of existence and the predicate
of which is an attribute belonging not merely to the subject but to
other subjects having much more complete existence, we arrive at
a converse according to which we are tempted to extend to the new
predicate the full-statured existence belonging to some other part
of the extension of the new subject. But inasmuch as the converse
of an affirmative is always particular, this error is always simply
one of presumption on our part, not of illicit import in the conver-
sion. The other danger arises from the frequency with which we
express what are properly hypothetical judgments in categorical
form. Here the partiality of the converse will not save us, for the
reduction required — the shift in relation as we pass from that of sub-
ject to predicate to that of predicate to subject — is not a matter of
quantity, from universal to particular, but is a matter of modality,
from apodeictic to problematic. So it is with rules, mandatory and
diagnostic. From the legend No admittance except on business I
know that if someone is admitted he must be on business. Now
perhaps I put this All admitted persons are persons on business;

132 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

but if I want to make persons on business the subject and tell what
I know of them, I ought to say, not Some business persons are
admitted, which will almost certainly be taken to mean more than
I know, but // someone is a business person, he may or may not be
admitted. *For what I really know about the predicate is not that
at least some of the class are also of the subject-class, but that at
least I can not deny the subject of any member of the predicate
class as such. When hypotheticals are put as categoricals, conver-
sion, even by limitation, is an affirmation of the consequent — and
inversion adds a denial of the antecedent.

As to negative propositions, the case is by no means so favorable.
Even with respect to the reference of the terms to one universe there
may be some hesitation. I should maintain, however, that negatives
as well as affirmatives presuppose some community of relevance and
in more than a barely formal sense. We may, to be sure, assent to
the medieval denial of the triangularity of virtue, but any meaning
which the proposition may achieve will depend upon the possibility
of actual predication in some sense. To deny an attribute is to imply
the significance of its possession. Our discussion of that part of
the assumption which asserts that neither term exhausts the universe
will also hold for negatives as well as affirmatives; though it may
be noted that it is chiefly with negatives that actual usage belies the
assumption, since our mast frequent dealings with exhaustive species
is when we deny of some subject an attribute which actually within
the limited universe in mind does not exist — whose contradictory,
that is, is actually exhaustive. Hence, again, the peculiar vulner-
ability of the exclusive proposition. Now this exhibits the real diffi-
culty as to negative propositions: can we assume that subject and
predicate have even by implication the same existential status? It
appears that one of the commonest forms of negative judgment is
the denial with respect to a subject thought in extension of a
predicate taken purely in intension and actually having no existence
within the universe of discourse. This lack of extensive implica-
tion is not, however, so facile as it seems at first sight ; for the normal
negative categorical directly and truthfully implies the coincidence
with the subject of some measure of the contradictory of the predi-
cate; even negatives, as we have seen, rest for their meaning upon
some community of relevance between the terms; and the actual
errors in negatives are once again a matter of restricted universes
or of falsely put propositions. Still, negative propositions are
especially prolific in interpretative error — error which practically
arises chiefly in this way : a negative proposition, having for subject
a negative, or "infinite," term and for predicate a term taken inten-

INFERENCE AND DISTRIBUTION 133

sively only, eventually becomes a particular affirmative proposition,
having for subject the contradictory of the original subject (that
is, a definite extensive term) and for predicate the original intensive
predicate. The truth of this depends upon the actual extensive exist-
ence of the original predicate, an existence which may be totally
lacking. This once again points to the exclusive proposition. Beyond
this, practical error is not apt to obtrude; since either the propo-
sition remains negative, or the predicate falls into its contradictory.

One point already mentioned might be urged further in defense
of the general assumption of obversion and conversion as regards
negative propositions. It may be maintained that negatives which
do not comply with that assumption are all properly not categorical
but hypothetical. This, of course, is so to define the categorical
proposition as to justify the traditional assumptions of "immediate
inference"; but it may be supported on other and prior grounds,
and, though it would mean a large and highly undesirable departure
from the usages of language, it might be none the less necessary for
theoretical rigor.

It should be noticed that, even if we make up our minds to this
step, we are not saying, as has not seldom been said, that logic con-
siders propositions as taken in pure extension. This doctrine would,
of course, avoid many real difficulties ; but it is not only extremely
undesirable because of its divergence from usage but unnecessary
for theory. We say merely that a proposition which has purely
intensive import is properly hypothetical, and, if treated as cate-
gorical, may develop false implications. For how may a predicate,
even of a negative proposition, be purely intensive — with no exten-
sive implication ? Only if the subject is really a condition not stated
as fulfilled; only, that is, if the obverse and converse relations be
problematic, not partial or contradictory.

To revert to the point of departure: it seems that if we accept
the assumptions which Dr. Keynes names and which are implicit in
the procedures of ' ' immediate inference, ' ' those procedures are valid
and without prejudice to the doctrine of the distribution of terms,
subject or predicate. And if those assumptions be refused, the harm
done is to "immediate inference," not to the doctrine of distribu-
tion. Nor does that doctrine itself involve the treatment of proposi-
tions in pure extension, much less any quantification of the predicate.
It does, to be sure, imply that all terms in categoricals have at least
the possibility of application, extensive or denotative; but all we
need know in order to say a predicate is distributed is that, if it be
taken as having application, the assertion made covers the whole
extent thereof.4 The distribution of terms, that is, is not a matter

* C/. Joseph : An Introduction to Logic, pp. 218 ff.

134 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

of the direct content of our judgment, but of what must be true of
the situation to which our judgment is relevant; hence its basic
methodological importance in real inference. Whether or not we dis-
tinguish between extension and denotation, and whatever the usage
we adopt, are immaterial to this question of distribution. Whether
we be speaking of the analysis of a genus into its species, or of the
individual instances of a species, our term is distributed if our asser-
tion is true of all the species or all the instances there are. If the
term be singular, then in any assertion made of it it will be dis-
tributed, even though it have no extension in the sense of component
species, since the assertion is taken as true of the only instance of the
term there is.

This brings me back to Professor Toohey 's paper, and especially
to one contention which seems to me to illustrate a very common and
harmful confusion:

There is an inconsistency in the logician treating the subject and predicate
of a proposition as classes — an inconsistency which is masked by the ambiguity
of the words All and Some. Each of these words may have a collective as weQ
as a distributive force. . . . The rules of logic are based on the supposition that
the subject term is used distributively, or at least that it is not used collectively.
The words " distributed " and " undistributed " can not be applied to a term
unless it is used distributively. In the proposition All the angles of a triangle
are less than two right angles, the subject term, " angle of a triangle " is dis-
tributed; for it is used distributively. . . . But in the proposition All the angles
of a triangle are equal to two right angles, no logician would speak of the subject
term, " angle of a triangle," as either distributed or undistributed. Now when
the subject and predicate of a proposition are considered as classes, the proposi-
tion can not convey any meaning unless both terms are interpreted in a collective
sense, and if they are interpreted in this sense, the words " distributed " and
' ' undistributed ' ' can not be applied to them, any more than they can be applied
to the subject of the proposition All the angles of a triangle are equal to two
right angles. The words " collected " and " uncolleeted " would not be alto-
gether inappropriate. If, then, the rules of logic presuppose that the subject
i? not used collectively, how can they be reconciled with a treatment of the propo-
sition which imposes upon both subject and predicate a collective sense f

Now I am not anxious to defend the treatment of terms purely
as classes, but I am interested to find a consistent usage for the words
"collective" and "distributive," which seem to me to be involved
in an evident confusion — especially in the text-books — which fre-
quently interferes in the discussion of "distributed" and "undis-
tributed," and which appears in the passage just quoted. I give the
accepted doctrine from the text-book nearest at hand :

A general term is a name which is capable of being applied to a whole group
of objects. ... A collective term, on the other hand, is a name applied to a
number of individual things when taken together and treated as a whole, as a*
' ' audience, " an " army. " It is important to distinguish carefully betweem
general and collective terms. A general term is a name which applies equally to

INFERENCE AND DISTRIBUTION 135

each individual of the group; or, in other words, it is used of the individuals
distributively. A collective name belongs to the whole, but not to the separate
parts of the whole. Thus we say that ' ' soldier " is a general name, and is used
distributively of each man in a regiment. ' ' Regiment, ' ' however, is a collective
name for it applies only to the whole group, and not to the individual soldiers.
Ambiguity sometimes arises from the fact that the English word " all " is used
in both of these senses. . . .5

Fortunately text-books are seldom critically read; but even the
uninferring sophomore, quite correctly in exegesis but most falsely
in fact, is hereby persuaded that that there is a necessary alliance
between "general term" and "distributive use," that no collective
term can be used distributively, and that "general" and "collective"
are contrasted and exclusive categories. Yet a moment's common-
sense will tell us (as, indeed, often the books themselves inconsist-
ently tell us) that the same term is frequently both general and
collective, that if "distributive use" is to have any value at all it
must be applied to collectives which alone can be used in any other
way. And is "all" . . . "used in both of these senses"? Does
"all" ever "apply equally to each individual member of the group"?
The whole orthodox doctrine is sheer confusion on the one hand;
between the individual members of a group of which the term is a
name and the members of a group of which the term names the mem-
bers, and on the other hand between distribution of meaning and
distribution of predication. Let us simply say : Every term is either
singular or general. Every term is either collective or not collective.
These distinctions are independent and knowledge as to whether a
term is singular or general tells us nothing as to whether it is col-
lective or not. Further, in regard to the meaning of terms by them-
selves : Every term, singular or general, collective or not, distributes
its meaning ("applies equally to each individual member of the
group") to each member of any class of which it may be a member —
e.g., every table is a table ; every Napoleon, Napoleon ; every army,
army. And no term, collective or not, distributes its meaning to
each member of the class which it is or of which it is the name —
e.g., no soldier is a regiment ("regiment" never applies to "sol-
dier") ; no angle of a triangle is all the angles of a triangle. In
regard to predication (terms in proposition) : Any collective term
may be used either distributively or collectively; i.e., the predicate
may be asserted of each member of the class or of the class as a
whole. This is simply not pertinent to non-collectives, since only col-
lectives represent a class.

Now the ambiguity of "all" is a matter of predication, not of
•leaning. We therefore agree that in logical propositions all quantity

°Creighton: An Introductory Logic, 4th ed., pp. 50 ff. The treatment here
is decidedly better than in most texts.

136 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

signs shall be used distributively. This is a mere convention for
case in handling plural quantity signs, which would otherwise, aa
collectives, be ambiguous. It is not a prescript to language, nor does
it prevent our accurately representing statements which come to us
with "all" or "some" otherwise used. And we can not say, as Pro-
fessor Toohey and others say, that "the rules of logic are based on
the supposition that the subject term is used distributively, or at
least that it is not used collectively, ' ' so long as we separate, as Pro-
fessor Toohey does, the quantity sign from the subject term. Col-
lectives, singular and general, used collectively and used distribu-
tively, are constantly found in proper logical propositions. Nor can
we say that "the words 'distributed' and 'undistributed' can not
be applied to a term unless it is used distributively." Every "all"
is not to be thought of as the prepositional quantity sign and excluded
from the subject. In Professor Toohey 's example, All the angles
of a triangle are equal to two right angles, "all" is not the quantity
sign but an integral part of the subject term. "No logician would
speak of the subject term, 'angle of a triangle,' as distributed or
undistributed," because "angle of a triangle" is not the subject
term; but "all the angles of a triangle" is the subject term, is col-
lective, and is distributed. We have the same thing in Any regi-
ment is made up of soldiers; where "regiment" is collective, general,
used collectively, and distributed. In Some regiments are clean-
shaven we have a general collective, used distributively, undis-
tributed; in The Fifth Maryland Regiment is famous, we have a
singular collective, used collectively, and distributed.

The most fundamental of Professor Toohey 's objections to the
distribution of the predicate I can merely notice, inasmuch as it is
aside from the question with which I have here been concerned, and
as it involves final questions of the nature of logic. The objection
is "that the use of the doctrine of the distribution of the predicate
involves a vicious circle. . . . The logician . . . first calls upon the
student's knowledge of the implication of propositions to prove the
doctrine, and then he bids the student call upon his knowledge of
the doctrine in order to find out the implication." Now formal logic,
truly, is not an empirical science; yet no matter how a priori we
make our construction of logical theory, it must appeal to experi-
ence to establish its appositeness to this world. And, moreover, it
may be doubted whether we could achieve a logic at all did we not
find for our analysis logical relations embodied in actual masses of
judgment which we recognize as valid ; and, at least in the process of
learning and teaching, the appeal to justifying results is not only per-
missible but necessary. If this be argument in a circle, we shall have

BOOK REVIEWS 137

to make the best of it; since it is a circle from which no human
thought can ever escape.

ALBERT L. HAMMOND.
JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY.

BOOK REVIEWS

La Philosophic moderne depuis Bacon jusqu'd Leibniz: Etudes

historiques. GASTON SOBTAIS. Paris: Lethielleux. 1920. Pp.

x + 592.

At once ambitious and valuable is the series of works which
Father Sortais is undertaking in these studies of the history of
modern philosophy. If succeeding volumes are comparable to this
first one in the series in fullness and explicitness of treatment, we
shall have in the series a veritable encyclopaedia of seventeenth
century philosophic thought — the century, of course, which created
the atmosphere and formulated the problems of that epoch which
is called "modern philosophy."

The first hundred pages of the near six hundred forming the
volume are devoted to certain sixteenth century precursors of
Francis Bacon who were concerned with questions of method and
authority — Pierre Eamus, Frangois Sanchez, Giacomo Acontio,
Everard Digby, William Temple, Nicholas Hemmingsen — men who
were feeling, in various lines, after philosophic and scientific methods
which could lead them away from the sterile scholasticism of the
period to a more natural and direct investigation of nature, and
whose speculative work constitutes an interesting parallel to the
series of scientific achievements which began with the theories of
Copernicus. With this preparation Father Sortais goes forward to a
study of the topic of his Livre I, which is I'Empirisme en Angleterre
et en France, devoting the remainder of the present volume to a
study of the life, work, and influence of Francis Bacon. As outlined
in his general plan, this is to be followed by other books devoted to
Reactions que provoqua cette poussee empirique; Deisme; the Phi-
losophic du Droit; the Revolution Cartesienne; Cartesianisme en
France; Cartesianisme a I'etranger; and finally, the Systemes plus
ou moins opposes au Cartesianisme: PhUosophie scolastique, Scep-
ticisme, Pantheisme de Spinoza, Sensualisme de Locke, Dynamisme
de Leibniz. This is at once an heroic and a fascinating programme,
in its very statement suggesting the dramatic turn which the au-
thor sees in the speculative effort of the century : first the thralldom
of empirical and mathematical method, later the uneasy struggle
of the mind to free itself from the too exclusive yoke of these

138 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

powerful instruments and to discover truths to which they might
lead but which they could not contain.

The method of the author is itself an interesting commentary
upon his subject matter. The contents are organized as only could
be by a man trained in scholastic method, with all formal explicit-
ness; but the work itself is largely in the nature of a running ex-
position of copious reader's notes, the exposition following the
materials with honest fidelity. Taken in connection with the full
and careful notes, sources and passages, this gives an encyclopaedic
value to the work which certainly assures its long usefulness. There
are, too, many paragraphs of appraisement and summary which
make the structure of the thought and the opinions of the author
at once evident, frank even in their perfectly legitimate bias.

Virtually the volume before us is a monograph on Francis
Bacon, giving first an account of his life and the motives actuating
the composition of his works; second, an exposition of the Bacon-
ian classification of knowledge, which is rightly stressed as the very
heart of Bacon's contribution; and lastly, a critical examination
of the philosophy and influence of the great empiricist. Full bibliog-
raphy, index, and analytic and synthetic tables of contents make
the book a most workable reference.

Of the general aim of the work of Father Sortais not too much
can be said in praise. Few students of the history of thought at
this hour will doubt that the European development has reached
one of the nodes of its changing course and that in a distinct and
dramatic sense a period has come to its close. It is time that we
should set about writing the story of this period — for it has never
yet been done, and in particular not for the nations and years in
which it received its essential color, that is, England and France
in the sixteenth-seventeenth centuries. The author is beginning
his work in the just locus, in time and space, and is treating his
affair with an expansiveness proportionate to its importance. On
the other hand, not he himself pretends that what he is giving is
more than a study in materials. He justly observes that the per-
spective must grow out of the slow analysis of the works of men in
relation to their times, and his volumes will, in a sense, be propae-
deutic to the vivid characterization of the thought of the Northern
Renaissance (for Bacon to Bergson comprise this) which some future
day will give.

Meantime for the picture of Bacon himself we may be thoroughly
appreciative. The influence of his classification of knowledge has
been very much greater than books have recognized, affecting the
whole encyclopaedic and educational, and hence investigative pro-
gramme of modern times: our reference books, catalogues and cur-

139

ricula are all essentially Baconian, and it may well be doubted if
the influence of the philosopher in this field of organization is not
truly speaking of far greater significance than his popularization
of the inductive method. We say "popularization" with intent,
for it is far less to Francis than to Roger Bacon that its emphatic
discovery is due. Indeed, it is the most striking weakness of Father
Sortais 's book that he suggests no relationship of the thought of
the two great Englishmen. The recent readings of the cipher
manuscript of Roger Bacon by Professor Newbold are throwing an
amazing light upon the discoveries of the latter. Further studies
of the history of the manuscripts of Friar Bacon bid fair to estab-
lish beyond cavil the continuity of the Roger Bacon tradition down
to Elizabethan times and in the very circles in which Francis Bacon
moved. It may, indeed, turn out that the Jacobean chancellor of
the seventeenth is but the perpetuated tongue — like the traditional
head of speaking bronze — of the half -heretical Oxford prisoner of
the thirteenth century. Of all this Father Sortais appears to know
not even what should have been guessed apart from the manuscript
discoveries, and the lack is likely to sail for a rewriting of his chap-
ters at some not distant date. And a knowledge of the strange
twinship of the two Bacons may go far yet to explain that curious
duality of Francis Bacon's character which Father Sortais (apolo-
gist for the chancellor as he often is), along with others, finds
therein. For we can not quarrel with his final picture: "The
physiognomy of Bacon, author of the Novum Organum and chancel-
lor of England, unconquerably evokes the antique image of Janus
bifrons. Hence, even with all indulgence, History, that it may
remain impartial, can only with reservation bestow upon him the
eulogy of greatness, for moral grandeur, which naught else may
supply, was wanting in him."

H. B. ALEXANDER.
UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

SCIENTIA. July, 1921. National Contributions to Geology
(pp. 1-12) : J. W. GREGORY (Glasgow). -Rapid survey of the history
of geology, bringing out its cosmopolitan character. La constitution
de I'individualite. II. L'individualite psychique (pp. 13-24) :
AUGUSTO Pi SUNER (Barcelona) .-A recommendation of behaviorist
psychology. Les idees nouvelles sur la suggestion (pp. 25-32) : C.
BAUDOUIN (Geneva) .-Suggestion, fallen into disrepute, has again
been rehabilitated by M. fimile Cone and his disciples, forming the

140 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

new school of Nancy in psychiatry. According to them all suggestion
is auto-suggestion and not subjection to another. It works subcon-
sciously but not automatically. A suggestion can not be suppressed
except through replacing it positively by another. Conscious fight-
ing against it often accelerates it. So suggestion must be distin-
guished from will, which proceeds by effort. In a way, this theory
is a scientific application of what is vaguely known under the name
of the influence of "morale." Problemes financiers d'apres guerre.
II. Pretevements sur le capital (pp. 33-54) : CORBADO GINI
(Padua). -A discussion of confiscatory taxation, especially of the
disadvantages of a tax on capital. Reviews of Scientific Books and
Periodicals.

Diderot. Entretien entre d'Alembert et Diderot, Reve d'Alembert,
Suite de 1'Entretien. Collection des Chef s-d 'CEuvre Meconnus,
with an introduction and notes by Gilbert Maire. Paris: Edi-
tions Bossard. 1921. Pp. 193. 12fr.

Goblot, Edmond. Le Systeme des Sciences: Le Vrai, 1'Intelligible,
et le R4el. Paris: Armand Colin. 1922. Pp. 259. 7 fr.

Guttler, C. Einfiihrung in die Geschichte der Neueren Philosophic
des Auslandes. Miinchen: Ernst Reinhardt. 1922. Pp. 221.
15 in.

Pound, Roscoe. The Spirit of the Common Law. Boston : Marshal
Jones Co. 1921. Pp. xiv + 224. $2.50.

NOTES AND NEWS

We have just learned of the death of Mr. L. E. Hicks of Berke-
ley, Calif., in November 1921. Mr. Hicks contributed a number of
articles on logic to the JOURNAL during the last few years.

Professor Ralph Barton Perry has recently begun his tour of
lectures at the provincial universities of France for the Hyde
Foundation.

VOL. XIX, No. 6. MARCH 1G, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

DEMOCRACY AND MORALS

IN an article by Cohen that appeared in the New Republic, March
17, 1920, and in the article by Sheldon in this JOURNAL, June
6, 1921, certain misrepresentations of Dewey's conception of de-
mocracy are so persistently ascribed to Dewey as to raise the question
whether Cohen, Sheldon and others are really criticizing the thing
to which alone Dewey applies that term, namely, moral democracy.
Since the Revolution it has been popularly assumed — i.e., by those
who do not reflect critically — that democracy means liberty, in the
sense of the absence of law and social control; fraternity, in the
sense of the absence of ranks and titles; and equality in the sense
of equal control exercised by all alike over the material and spirit-
ual resources of society. The readers of this JOURNAL surely do not
require proof that these "ideals," taken separately, are unnatural
and, taken together, are mutually incompatible. Liberty, so con-
ceived, is incompatible with equality as denned ; and since men differ
by nature in taste and capacity, fraternity as conceived by the revo-
lutionists can never be anything but an affectation. The rank of a
man is indeed but the guinea's stamp, and the man's the gold; but
the immortal Burns knew better than most that men differ in metal
and that merely stamping them does not always make guineas.

It is difficult for any student of life to enter sympathetically
and intelligently into the viewpoint and method of another, but
progress in the discussion of philosophical problems depends upon
our making the effort. The signers of this paper accordingly venture
to say that the key to Dewey's use of the term democracy is liberty,
rather than equality, but not the liberty of the revolutionists, not
liberty in the merely negative sense of the absence of restraint and
control. Liberty means the absence of arbitrary restraint, of un-
just control : liberty is opportunity to do right : but the moral mean-
ing of the word is, simply, opportunity for each and all to beat their
music out, to live the best life they are capable of, to make the best
contribution to the material and spiritual resources of society they
can. When one considers what an unformed mass of possibilities
each child is as it comes into the world, the applications of this
realistic conception of liberty are many and clear. All the activities
of science, for example, and all the social institutions that stimulate

141

142 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

and encourage them, are im-hulrd in this conception of moral de-
mocracy. In the words of President Lowell, "Is it or is it not
desirable that men in the community should yield as much intellect-
ual output as possible? If it is, how is it undemocratic in men any
more than in cowsT Do not let us be deceived. Let us remember
that after all the greatest asset of a community is not its mines, or
its soil, but its men ; and that it is for the interest of the whole com-
munity that every man should be developed to the utmost point to
which he can be developed." By moral democracy, Dewey means a
community in which each member finds heroic stimulation and en-
couragement to be and do his best. "The end, the right and only
right end, of man, lies in the fullest and freest realization of powers
in their appropriate objects. The good consists of friendship, family
and political relations, economic utilization of mechanical resources,
science, art, in all their complex and variegated forms and elements.
There is no separate and rival moral good ; no separate, empty and
rival 'good will' " (Dewey in Dewey and Tuft's Ethics). "Har-
mony, reinforcement and expansion are the signs of a true or moral
satisfaction. What is the good which while good in direct enjoyment
also brings with it richer and fuller lifet" Richer and fuller life
includes pure science, art, worship and contemplation, the develop-
ment and enjoyment of wealth, the making and administration of
law, and other enterprises. This is a circular definition, of course ;
for this philosophy is founded in the notion of inherent value, namely
in the notion of the inherent value of the experience of value. Con-
templation is accordingly either good, bad or indifferent; to say that
this philosophy has no place for contemplation is a misreading of it.
All political activities are tested by this question: Do they tend to
stimulate and develop the capacities of individuals in ways that ren-
der them available for the social good?

The good, according to this philosopher, consists of self-conserv-
ing and self-promoting activity, i.e., of activity that in its results
tends to reinforce and expand itself; and the similarity of this con-
ception to a possible interpretation of the Kantian maxim is obvious.
However, this abstract formula in its sweeping generality is prac-
tically useless: it gives little or no help to anyone confronted with
an actual moral issue. This consideration leads to the conclusion
that the real value of an act is unique, that each concrete moral
situation has its own good; and this means that moral values are
immediate and concrete, not abstract and conceptual. It does not
mean that the good is idiosyncratic or fanciful. The good of each
moral situation is as universal as an oak tree, as real as the first
president of the United States.

In a moral democracy, conflicts of claim occur naturally and in-

DEMOCRACY AND MORALS 143

evitably, and where they occur this ideal means that the parties
concerned refer their claims to a common good and cooperate in
achieving that. That Dewey recognizes the function of government
in settling such conflicts is evident in page after page of his ethical
discussions. Thus, he remarks that no other such instrument as the
courts with their juries was ever devised for mediating social order
and progress. Again, every right, civil or political, carries with it
a corresponding duty and the only fundamental anarchy is the lay-
ing claim to rights without acknowledging corresponding duties.
The enforcement of duties through law and its administration is
abundantly provided for in this theory of society. That Dewey
believes the acquisition and ownership of private property to be a
moral good, no student of his ethics can question. Like most modern
writers on politics he regards public judgment as a most important
sanction of law, but he recognizes the usefulness and necessity of
force intelligently applied.

In the light of these teachings of Dewey, so familiar that apologies
are in order for reciting them, what is to be said of Cohen's state-
ment that Dewey has deliberately chosen between the gospel of
mastery over nature and mastery over self and rejected the latter?
Cohen states that according to Dewey all ideas are and ought to be
"instruments for reforming the world," that Dewey uses the word
practical to mean tending to reform the cosmic scenery of human
life. According to Dewey, however, the human self is a part of
nature; a human community is as much a natural phenomenon as
a community of beavers. Dewey holds that the particular part of
nature that today most needs scientific treatment leading to "mas-
tery" over it is the part that never yet has received such treatment,
namely, the human community and especially the human self. He
reiterates exactly the opposite of the doctrine that Cohen ascribes
to him. He enforces the necessity of applying the organa of scienti-
fic intelligence to human nature in order that the manifold problems
of politics, economics, preventive medicine, international society,
etc., etc., can be solved through effective self-direction. It is to the
end of human self-mastery that Dewey teaches "reconstruction in
philosophy." The Baconian slogan, Knowledge is Power, as inter-
preted by Dewey, means that before man can hope to master the
social conditions (the "scenery" of Cohen) of human life, he must
take the pains to study and know them adequately. As the present
writers understand Reconstruction in Philosophy, that is the partic-
ular reconstruction the author of this book is talking about.

Cohen and Sheldon insist that Dewey teaches a gospel of equal
development for all. Sheldon writes, in his discussion of Dewey 's
late book: "Equal development is undesirable; it would indeed be

144 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

fatal to progress. It would render society as monotonous as the
desert; it would do away with the beautiful economy of the division
of labor, with individuality, with unique achievement. The social
democratic heaven of equal development would reduce personality
to nothingness" — as if all this had any bearing on Dewey's philos-
ophy! "We do not wish to make men equal through and through;
we do not wish the ordinary man to be capable of doing the work of
the expert ; equality should pertain only to certain elementary neces-
sities of life" (italics added). To the present writers this social
philosophy contrasts violently with that of Dewey and Lowell ; but
it is impossible for us to understand how anyone can ascribe the
dogma of equal development for all to Dewey. In his books on edu-
cation he warns against the standardization of school children. The
individual for Dewey has a duty to develop to the utmost his partic-
ular bent; but since it is good to grow competitively, handicaps
should be removed. Unless distinction is competitively gained, both
the individual and the community suffer.

Dewey writes that "regard for the happiness of others means
regard for those conditions and objects which permit others freely
to exercise their own powers from their own initiative, reflection and
choice." Perhaps this doctrine is what Cohen and Sheldon have in
mind as the doctrine of equal development for all. In Dewey's
thought the socially available capacities of each should find stimula-
tion and heroic encouragement in the ' ' conditions and objects ' ' that
make up his social and physical environment, and he has in mind the
brilliantly endowed just as much as the slow and dull. Those who
have heard Dewey in the lecture room are amazed to learn that he
wishes "the best endowed to put off their progress until the least
endowed have come up to their level." On the contrary, he has both
advocated and practised special individual training for the best
endowed as well as special training for the mentally retarded.

The misreading of Dewey on the part of Cohen and Sheldon is
due to a failure to understand what he means by moral democracy.
What he teaches is not equality of possessions either material or
spiritual, but equality of opportunity for each to make the best con-
tribution to the material and spiritual life of mankind that he is
capable of. Uniqueness of personal achievement is precisely the
thing that Dewey does believe in, teach, and practise. That
these two writers should ascribe to him exactly the opposite doctrine,
that they should say he teaches a levelling process in possessions both
material and spiritual, must strike every thorough reader of Dewey
as strange indeed. Democracy in Dewey's conception is perfectly
compatible with the meteoric achievement of a Shakspeare or a New-
ton : it is not incompatible with the mysticism of St. Francis or

DEMOCRACY AND MORALS 145

Luther : it is not incompatible with the achievements of those modern
captains of industry who have contributed enormously to the wealth
of society or with their enormous rewards for doing so. The de-
mocracy he teaches is fundamentally ethical. Democracy in the
sense of equal amounts of control over the spiritual and material
resources of society, democracy in the sense of mob-rule, democracy
as a levelling process, democracy in any sense that is a menace to
spiritual values or to unique personal achievement, is foreign to his
thought. Dewey is trying to forge an instrument that can be used
effectively in the solution of personal and social problems, the ob-
jective being a community in which each man shall find encourage-
ment to be contentedly and effectively himself.

Sheldon and Cohen both find fault with Dewey for not stating
just what conditions and circumstances will environ us in that
society, for not stating just what customs, laws and institutions are
supremely just, beneficent and efficient. If anyone only knew!
Surely the writers of these articles do not exact omniscience of the
ethicist! Or demand that he teach some particular economic doc-
trine ! Desires, inventions and changing circumstances condition in
detail the organization of the community from day to day: the con-
flicts, competitions and triumphs of men help to determine it: and
intelligence can not anticipate these in detail. "Democracy," says
a writer in the Atlantic, " is a gamble on the reasonableness of human
nature," but its method of achieving results is, within limits set by
the concept of democracy itself, competitive. If human beings are
essentially moral beings, as we assume they are, we must believe that
all customs and institutions ought to be educative in their effects on
human lives, that wealth and property ought to be subordinated to
personality in our scale of values, and that every man who can ought
to use his intelligence reverently and scientifically to forge a moral
future out of the given present. To this end, philosophy can reason-
ably be expected to furnish an adequate methodology. Democracy
exists only where communities daily conquer it anew, and it is part
of its working credo that the world evolves through that effort.

This we believe to be part of Dewey 's meaning, and we find it
antagonistic to nothing in civilization that we habitually regard as
precious. It is antagonistic to the belief that, before the determina-
tion of individual powers and individual distinction by competitive
behavior, "some men are born horses while others are born with
saddles to ride them. ' ' It affirms that no one should be prostituted
to the status of a mere tool of another 's will ; for the exhortation of
Kant is the acme of good sense, "Treat humanity, whether in thyself
or another, always as an end, never as a means." In Reconstruc-
tion in Philosophy, an elementary presentation, Dewey emphasizes —

146 JOURNAL OF PHlLOSOPll Y

perhaps he overemphasizes, if measured by the standard of a com-
plete and symmetrical system of philosophy — the instrumental theory
of knowledge ; but this means at most that those who study his teach-
ings will do well to read his logical discussions in conjunction with
his moral, educational and political philosophy. Whether he would
subscribe to the statement, we do not know, but some of his writings
suggest to us the doctrine that the inherent values to which concepts
are instrumental are ultimately inter al. moral values.

It is not so much Dewey 's philosophy as the facts of nature that
negate the idea of identical development for all and the idea of equal
participation in control over social resources. These facts of nature
are canvassed by Dewey in various writings, and his theory squares
with them. Pure science, art, worship and play are from his stand-
point normal activities of human beings, human functions that cer-
tain customs of modern life tend to pervert or suppress. We hire
priests to do our praying for us, professional singers to do our prais-
ing, ball teams and actors to do our playing, and scientists to do
our thinking; meanwhile, we devote ourselves to a mad scramble for
ability to buy things, or for a maximum of economic control, and
wonder at the poverty and barrenness of all our lives. Is it "danger-
ous" to call attention to the fact that the spiritual enterprise of
reconstructing and mastering the self is not an enterprise entirely
different from that of understanding and controlling "the cosmic
scenery" ? Sheldon sees fit to warn his readers because Dewey has
been studied and quoted by malcontents. The implications of the
warning are obvious to all who cherish the wisdom of Amos and
Socrates, and a solution of the question of the method of determining
the dangerous or safe quality of moral ideas can not be reached in
a summary fashion. The way of Dewey is to appeal to the process
of history and the long-run confirmation of ideas by consequences.
In his social philosophy Sheldon appears to favor medieval realism
and the logic of formal authority and the Index.

G. A. TAWNEY,
E. L. TALBERT.
THE UNIVERSITY or CINCINNATI.

DR. A. N. WHITEHEAD'S SCIENTIFIC REALISM

fcfc A N -ism," it has been well said, "i%by its inmost being always
-£j- in opposition," and the conditions which have governed the
development of current realism have undoubtedly given it, for good
or evil, a markedly protestant character; but the question whether
the defects of this general attitude outweigh its merits must here be
dismissed with the remark that not the least hostile influence oppos-

WHITEHEAD'S SCIENTIFIC REALISM 147

ing the new tendency has been the subjectivism aspect — whether
frankly such or masked as "idealist" — of contemporary science. It
serves no purpose, again, to discuss the reasons for this state of
things; the fact must just be accepted. But this suffices to give to
any exception from the general rule an unusual degree of impor-
tance; when therefore a mathematician and physicist essays "the
basis of a natural philosophy which is the necessary presupposition
of a recognized speculative physics"1 — reorganized, that is, in ac-
cordance with recent developments — when he approaches his subject
as an out and out realist, preluding his theory by an emphatic protest
against subjectivism, the course of his investigation at once assumes
the highest degree of interest.

Mark first of all the uncompromising emphasis of Dr. Whitehead's
protest. "There is now reigning in philosophy and in science an
apathetic acquiescence in the conclusion that no coherent account can
be given of nature as disclosed in sense-awareness without dragging
in its relations to mind. The result has been disastrous both to science
and to philosophy." 2 Even if philosophy is less apathetic than Dr.
Whitehead supposes, still this is sufficiently provocative; it raises
most of the questions at issue at the moment. What, e.g., is nature ?
Nature, for Dr. Whitehead, is what ' ' we observe in perception through
the senses; something which is not thought and which is self-con-
tained for thought." Nature is "independent of thought" in the
sense that it "can be thought of as a closed system whose mutual
relations do not require the expression of the fact that they are
thought about" (p. 3). In saying this Dr. Whitehead is fully aware
that his position is not, metaphysically, final. But he is not aiming
at "metaphysical doctrine"; all he desires is so to delimit the con-
tent of Nature that that content can be investigated and systematized
without confusing the inquiry by any references to mind, which,
whatever else it is, is not, primarily at least, nature. He posits no
metaphysical "disjunction of nature and mind" (p. 4), but accepts
their intimate relation and union; he merely wishes reflectively to
extend the unreflective attitude of everyday experience, which puts
"things" on one side and "mind" on the other, to scientific thought
in general.3

Nor can it be objected that such a procedure, when it does not
ignore the issues, simply begs the question. Problems remain in
plenty ; how, e.g., "factors" become differentiated from "fact" on the
one hand and from "entities" on the other (p. 13) ; the relation,

1 The Concept of Nature, by A. N. Whitehead, p. vii

2 Ibid., p. 27.

« P. 29: " adopting our immediate instinctive attitude towards perceptual
knowledge. ' '

148 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

again, between sense-awareness and thought (p. 14) ; the relative
logical priority of fact and factors; and many another. The point
here is that these questions must be assigned their proper position ;
their discussion must not be constantly introduced into the investi-
gation of Nature, as an "illegitimate importation into the philosophy
of natural Science" (p. 28) — as in short one of those metaphysical
red herrings which disport themselves in the ocean of thought.
Certainly epistemology is in one aspect a natural science on precisely
the same footing, e.g., as physiology; but 1 think that Dr. White-
head's treatment fully justifies his conclusions, despite any phil-
osophic comments which may quite justifiably be made on them ; and
it is then the realism of his developed position which appears to me
as important as it is unusual.

It is not, in the first place, a noumenal realism; both "real" sub-
stratum and "phenomenal" attributes are dispensed with, as depend-
ing on "a distinction which is no distinction at all" (p. 16) ; and with
these, again, "primary" and "secondary" qualities4 (p. 27) ; the
philosophy of science then becomes "the philosophy of the thing per-
ceived. Everything perceived is in nature. We may not pick and
choose. The red glow of sunset should be as much part of nature
as are molecules and electric waves. It is for natural philosophy
to analyze how these elements of nature are connected, refusing to
countenance any theory of psychic additions to the object known
in perception" (pp. 28, 29). There are not, in brief, two natures,
one "apprehended in awareness," and the other "the cause of aware-
ness"; "there is but one nature, the nature which is before us in
perceptual knowledge" (p. 40) ; and this "one nature," finally, ia
itself not merely apparent, as contrasted, i.e., with "conceptual
formulae of calculation" such as molecules and ether (p. 45).

Dr. Whitehead's adoption of such a definite standpoint, enforced
by the arguments set forth in the first two chapters of his book,
undoubtedly constitutes a weighty confirmation of the main conten-
tions of realism, doubly valuable and encouraging as coming from
an independent and (primarily) non-philosophic quarter. It marks,
it is to be hoped, a turning point in the course of discussion. Science,
hitherto a powerful, even if passive, ally of subjectivist ontology,
promises to transfer her support and allegiance to the opposite
camp.6 For Dr. Whitehead is by no means alone in his views,
although he has given them more precise and systematic form than

4 It may be of interest to point out that before Locke, to whom Dr. White-
head seems to assign this distinction, it had been endorsed by two great scien-
tists— Boyle and Galileo.

& Dr. Whitehead 'a psychology, as very briefly outlined on p. 188, seems to be,
however, unnecessarily subjectivist. I can not help thinking that his whole posi-
tion would be improved by the extension of realism to this aspect of the subject.

WHITEHEAD'S SCIENTIFIC REALISM 149

any of his collaborators. The investigators of radio-activity and its
developments are prepared to accord to electrons, atoms, and mole-
cules, with their mass properties and spatial configurations, a reality
that is continuous and truly consubstantial with that of the macro-
scopic objects of every-day experience.6 Realism of this type, again,
appears to me to accord with Platonic and Hegelian idealism, so
long as it does not explicitly question those presuppositions in virtue
of which, as realism, it exists. But these Dr. Whitehead, from his
scientific standpoint, is entitled to ignore; they lie, as he contends,
outside his province, and to force them into prominence only con-
fuses the issue; and confining myself in the main to the same point
of view — "endeavoring to exhibit the type of relations which hold
between the entities we perceive as in nature" (p. 45) — I should
like to consider his results. It is peculiarly difficult, however, for
those who are principally interested in philosophy to appreciate
the precise character of Dr. "Whitehead 's aim. He is concerned with
the known content of Nature, with its adequate description and
analysis; so that considerations of genesis, whether psychological or
epistemological, as also of logical priority, either do not arise at all
or enter into the discussion only indirectly and remotely ; and unless
this is constantly borne in mind his work can not be properly appre-
ciated.

1. There appears to be a fundamental difficulty at the outset,
in the explication given on pp. 13-15. ' ' There are three components
in our knowledge of nature, fact, factors, and entities. Fact is the
undifferentiated terminus of sense-awareness; factors are termini,
differentiated as elements of fact." Next, "the immediate fact"—
undifferentiated, that is — "is the whole occurrence of nature as an
event present for sense-awareness, and essentially passing. The ulti-
mate fact (undifferentiated), for sense-awareness is an event. This
whole event is discriminated into partial events. ' ' Thus, beginning
from nature, we have two parallel divisions of one and the same
total content, (a) as "fact" into "factors" and (&) as "event" into
"partial events"; and since both factors and events derive from the
same original totality — since all the factors make up the fact which
is again the whole event made up by events — then it would seem
that events and factors must be somehow equivalent to each other;
factors, i.e., must be events, and events, factors. But this is not the
case; for there are "other factors in nature which are not events." 7
But if this is true, then it would seem to follow either (a) that the
whole of events is not really a whole, because it omits some factors ;

« Cf. Nature, Nov. 6, 1919, p. 230.

7 Cf. p. 124 — ' ' other factors of nature which do not share in the passage of
events. ' '

150 JOURNAL OF PHlLOSOPlt Y

or (6) the whole is not an event, because it contains factors which
are not events. Both alternatives materially affect Dr. Whitehead's
theory of time and space, because these are "abstractions from
events."8

The obscurity on this point is increased when these factors
Avhii'h are not events become later on defined as "objects"; for
some objects at least are only intellectual abstractions. "Objects
for our knowledge may be merely logical abstractions . . . the
object ... is a mere abstract concept ... an abstract relation,
although it is there in nature" (p. 126). Obviously we have
travelled a long way from sense-awareness and its content; and I
recur to the subject later on in connection with "moments."

A somewhat similar ambiguity marks the more special treat-
ment of time in Chap. III. Again we find (p. 49), "in the first
place there is posited a general fact ; something is going on ; there
is an occurrence for definition." At first sight this seems to ac-
cord with the preceding statement already considered; we have a
totality which is an event, and which may be further distinguished
either into events or into factors; but the fact which was previ-
ously defined as the undifferentiated terminus of sense-awareness,
here comprises two "sets of entities, entities perceived in their own
individuality and other entities apprehended as relata." The
first are then "discerned," and constitute "the field directly per-
ceived"; the others are "discernible" and are in relation to the
discerned — directly perceived — field; and "this complete general
fact is the discernible and comprises the discerned." How then
can "fact," or "complete general fact," be undifferentiated T
There are two alternatives : (a) it falls apart into the two mutually
exclusive divisions of discernible and discerned; or (&) it is dis-
cernible and includes (comprises) the discerned, but if so, it can
only be discernible relatively to something discerned. Both alter-
natives therefore imply differentiation. "Fact," i.e., has lost its
primary undifferentiated character, as is further shown by its con-
stituents now being "relata in definite relations to some definite
entities in the discerned field." Thus the primitive absence of
differentiation has given place to definiteness of relation.9

2. But let us accept this distinction between discernible and

• Cf. p. 13 — ' ' in the course of analysis space and time should appear. " It is
important to notice Dr. Whitohcad 's attitude on this point as compared with Pro-
fessor Alexander 's theory of space and time. For him ' ' Space-Time is the stuff
out of which all existente are made. Existents are complexes of Space-Time "
(Proc. Ariel. 8oc., Vol. XVII, p. 417, and Space, Time and Deity). For Dr.
Whitehead, ou the other hand, ' ' space and time spring from a common root, and
the ultimate fact of experience is a space-time fact " (p. 132).

• " Discernible " again has two senses: a wider on p. 50 (" complete gen-
eral fact "), and a narrower on p. 53 (" general present fact ").

WHITEHEAD'S SCIENTIFIC REALISM 151

discerned. The next important point is Dr. Whitehead's exposi-
tion of the connection between Nature and sense-awareness. He
has carefully worked out the relations between sense-awareness,
mind and thought ; and if it were possible to do so I should refrain
from any further discussion; the subject pertains, as Dr. White-
head contends, to mind rather than to Nature.

But his position here has so important a bearing on his philoso-
phy of Nature that some comment is unavoidable. He seems to me
to have followed that perilous tendency which (as a reaction
against subjective idealism) attends all realism — that is to attach
undue importance to sense-awareness, as such. He tends to hypo-
statize sense-awareness, to isolate it overmuch from mind operat-
ing as a whole, somewhat as faculty psychology distinguished be-
tween will and thought and feeling. Consider, e.g., the assertion
(p. 14) "the immediate fact for awareness is the whole occurrence
of nature. ' ' 10 Obviously this can not be taken literally ; no one
can be sensibly aware of, or even perceive, the whole of Nature.
Given the conditions, Nature may be discernible or perceivable or
' ' awarable " ; " and then molecules, electrons and electric waves
are "parts of nature" (p. 29). They would appear therefore to
be "natural entities"; but on the other hand "entities are factors,"
and "factors are termini of sense-awareness," which "discloses
factors which are the entities for thought"; further, the relations,
"between natural entities are themselves natural entities — factors —
there for sense-awareness" (pp. 12-14). This is sufficiently defi-
nite ; 12 but plainly in two directions — with regard to Nature in
its entirety as in its minutest constituents — the two terms, sense-
awareness and perception, bear the widest possible meaning ; for in
both aspects Nature actually becomes known through sense-aware-
ness supplemented by conception, inference and calculation; but
in both aspects, again, Nature is real; for "scientific laws are
statements about entities in nature: molecules and electrons are
factors in nature" (pp. 45, 46).

But when Dr. Whitehead undertakes a more systematic analy-
sis of Nature, results vitally different are obtained as to the "enti-
ties posited for knowledge in sense-awareness." In Chap. III. we
find that what may be called the unit factor or initial datum of
these natural entities is a complex "event — a place through a

10 Cf. also, " the philosophy of science is the philoeophy of the thing per-
ceived. Everything perceived is in nature. Nature is that which we observe in
perception through the senses " (pp. 28, 29, 30).

11 Cf. p. 52, ' ' signified events include events in the past as well as the
future " ; an event being ' ' a place through a period of time. ' '

12 Ibid., " the complete general fact which is all nature now present as dis-
closed in sense-awareness. ' '

152 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

period of time" — a complex, i.e., within which space, time, and
other entities may be discriminated. The totality of simultaneous
events constitutes another fundamental datum, a "duration, a com-
plex of partial events"; and both events and durations possess, es-
-••ntially, "temporal thickness" — "a duration is a concrete slab of
nature, an essential factor disclosed in sense-awareness; not a mere
abstract stretch of time." It is, in short, a longer or briefer proc-
ess of nature just as it happens in time — filling up time as it were.

Contrasted with this is the "moment," as the content of "all
nature at an instant," with "no temporal extension" or thickness;
and then it is essential to the whole of Dr. Whitehead's developed
theory that while durations (including events), being "directly
yielded to knowledge by sense-awareness, ' ' are definite natural enti-
ties and "have all the reality that nature has," the moment on the
other hand "is not itself a natural event; in truth there is no na-
ture at an instant"; it is a nonentity; Dr. Whitehead, in short,
adopts what may be called a quantum theory of temporal nature.1'

Xow on what is this fundamental contrast founded? It is
based, consistently with Dr. Whitehead's acceptance of sense-aware-
ness as the criterion of natural content, on the evidence afforded
by that type of consciousness. "There is no such thing as nature
at an instant posited by sense-awareness. What sense-awareness
delivers over for knowledge is nature through a period. Accord-
ingly nature at an instant is not itself a real entity"; it is at best
"a very useful concept."

This course of argument seems to raise two serious difficulties.
In the first place, even if we accept the content of sense-awareness
as our criterion, the question of the real existence of moments is
determined by precisely the same method as is that of the real ex-
istence of electrons and molecules; that is, by a process of infer-
ence or reasoning.14 This process, no doubt, must begin from the
real data of sense-awareness; but it is impossible to maintain, in
either case, that the truth of the conclusion can be determined by
sense-awareness as such, no matter how wide a meaning be given
to this term. But Dr. Whitehead regards molecules and electrons
as real existent factors in nature ; moments, on the other hand, are
not natural entities. And his ground for this denial of reality is not
that it is irrational or inconceivable, but simply that it is not a
deliverance of sense-awareness — "there is no such thing posited by
But exactly the same may be said of electrons

"It may elucidate Dr. Whitehead's position to refer to Lotze's distinction
between empty time as " a creation of our intellect ' ' and ' ' the succession belong-
ing to (the operation of things) itself, which is the most proper nature of the
real. ' ' Metaphytic, I, pp. 350, 354.

" The exact logical character of this process is here immaterial.

WHITEHEAD'S SCIENTIFIC REALISM 153

and molecules. Sense-awareness combined with one course of reason-
ing gives us the idea of moments; these Dr. Whitehead regards as
unreal, ultimately because sense-awareness, delivering nature
through a period, does not posit them. Sense-awareness again, com-
bined with another course of reasoning similar in character though
differing in details, yields the idea of electrons; but these are real,
although sense-awareness (purely as such) plainly does not posit
these either. Thus the merely negative verdict of awareness is en-
dorsed in one case, but repudiated in the other.

But as I have already pointed out, Dr. Whitehead admits the
existence of natural factors — "there in nature" — which though
"not posited by sense-awareness may be known to the intellect —
not disclosed in sense-awareness but known by logical inference as
necessarily in being" (pp. 125, 126). These entities may be of
fundamental importance; e.g., "identity of quality between con-
gruent segments is generally of this character"; and the theory of
congruence occupies the whole of Chap. VI. Thus Dr. Whitehead
accepts the general principle that logical inference may contribute
to the determination of the content of nature; so that it appears
quite illegitimate to rule out the existence of moments simply on
the ground that they are not posited in sense-awareness.

I am not of course arguing that moments have real existence,
nor am I resorting to any metaphysical theory to decide the ques-
tion; I merely suggest that Dr. Whitehead 's arguments, as they
stand, are insufficient to establish the nonentity of moments. And
this leads to the second difficulty attending his position; for it is
by no means so certain as he assumes it to be that sense-awareness
does actually posit events or durations having temporal thickness
or persistence. Again I do not deny the existence, within the con-
tent of sense-awareness, of durations in Dr. Whitehead 's special
sense; but there are weighty considerations which he has ignored
which make it impossible to accept this durational character as per-
taining to nature itself merely on the evidence of sense-awareness.
For it is possible that the durational aspect of this content is
partially or even completely deceptive, and arises from the condi-
tions determining consciousness; conditions which are of course in
no sense metaphysical but purely natural, as Dr. Whitehead him-
self points out on p. 107. I do not assert that this durational
character is deceptive, but only that this possibility is not absolutely
excluded by Dr. Whitehead 's theory; so that duration may be an
added quality conferred by sense-awareness itself15 upon its con-
tent even while that content is at the same time a natural reality
(or a nature) wholly non-durational. It is true that Dr. White-
is Not, be it noted, by any other (ideal or conceptual) type of consciousness.

154 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

head refuses, on what are, I think, good grounds, "to countenance
any theory of psychic additions to the object known in perception"
(p. 29). But this does not exclude the possibility — I suggest
nothing more — of awareness or observation conferring its own dura-
tional character18 upon a durationless nature: and the same ap-
plies to the remarks on p. 187. That the duration does not wholly
pertain to Nature is a fact of elementary psychology; but it is
further by no means inconceivable that a completely non-dura-
tional nature may give rise by perseveration and after-imagery
within sense-awareness to a durational content. Were we to assume
indeed that electrons were perceivable, then their enormous veloci-
ties and infinitesimal dimensions would result in something closely
approaching if not identical with this state of things.17

These considerations in no way alter the problem of natural phi-
losophy. That is still, in Dr. Whitehead's words, "to discuss the
relations inter se of things known abstracted from the bare fact that
they are known" (p. 30). But knowledge must not be wholly iden-
tified with sense-awareness; rather must the latter be criticized in
the light of fuller knowledge in order to ascertain what distinctions,
if any, obtain between its special content and Nature itself. Dr.
Whitehead, however, prevents this being done by anticipation; for
the two conditions which he assumes18 for durations preclude in
advance any possibility of the reality of moments. "Nature," in
short, "is nothing else than the deliverance of sense-awareness"
(p. 185).

And fundamentally difficult though it undoubtedly is to regard
an event as a sequence or sum or group of instantaneous moments,
still Dr. Whitehead's later theory of "objects" seems to leave us no
other alternative. An event, as we have seen, has (essentially) "tem-
poral thickness"; and it also (as a whole) "passes." Still this in
itself does not, I think, prevent us from thinking of an event as con-
taining within itself constituents which, although they possess the
slightest possible temporal thickness, and are therefore not instan-
taneous, still do not themselves ' ' pass. ' ' There does not seem to me
to be anything illogical about this possibility; Dr. Whitehead, how-
ever, excludes it by definition. For any element in nature which
does not pass is- an object; and an object is not an event; the char-
acteristics of the two are mutually exclusive, in spite of their insep-

i« In fact Dr. Whitehead points out the ' ' passage of sense-awareness and of
thought "; i.e. of sense-awareness as an activity — " a procedure of mind " —
not as a content or terminus. But here again his distinction between passage
and duration seems quite arbitrary, or even to have a metaphysical basis! (Pp.
66-73.)

i* Cf. the express train illustration, p. 109.

« P. 60 ; that it is an assumption is obvious.

WHITEHEAD'S SCIENTIFIC REALISM 155

arable inter-connection (pp. 143, 144, 169). Now blue is one object;
a coat is another and an electron is a third ; and I think it is unde-
niable that all these have temporal thickness; by which (with Dr.
Whitehead) I do not mean "a particular second at a definite date"
(p. 149) but rather the temporal raw material given in awareness
out of which dates and seconds are obtained, it matters not how.
Thus objects, as such, have temporal thickness.19 Any constituent
of an event therefore which has any temporal thickness, no matter
how slight, and which does not pass, is not an event, but an object ;
so that the only possible ultimate events' proper must be instantane-
ous. As I have said already, Dr. Whitehead seems to me to avoid
this conclusion only by the prior assumption of properties of dura-
tion which exclude it in advance (p. 60). Still we may in a certain
sense speak of "an object at an instant" (p. 161) ; what then dis-
tinguishes this from an instantaneous event? Plainly the fact that
in obtaining temporal thickness it does not pass; or in other words
that the event, to be an event, must retain its passage even while it
assumes temporal thickness. To say that this reduces the event-
particle or the moment to an abstraction is no valid objection, for
' ' to be an abstraction . . . means that its existence is only one factor
of a more concrete element of nature" (p. 171).

The exact meaning of the passage however is somewhat uncertain.
' ' Each duration happens and passes. The process of nature can also
be termed the passage of nature" (p. 54). This seems to mean that
events come into being and pass away, which would constitute their
uniqueness; objects, on the other hand, do not pass. The idea cer-
tainly appears to imply activity; and on p. 185 passage is given as
an alternative for activity. This however would imply that objects
are never active. At the same time "the event is what it is, because
the object is what it is; each object is in some sense ingredient
throughout nature. The ingression of every electron into nature
modifies to some extent the character of every event" (pp. 144, 145,
159). It is obviously difficult therefore, particularly if electrons
are eternal, to regard objects as essentially inactive; so that this
equivalence between passage and activity is not easy to comprehend.

4. A few remarks in conclusion on the distinctive standpoints of
science and philosophy with regard to space and time may not be
superfluous. Science regards these entities as essentially measured
(or at least measurable) systems which together constitute the space-
time manifold. This means that the results of measurement are fully
as important as that which is measured, perhaps more important;

i» This seems to be supported by each object being ingredient — i.e., active,
operative, influential — throughout nature (pp. 145, 159). A musical tune, again,
is also an object.

156 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

in other words, the different time- and space-systems are as material
to thought as time and space themselves. Philosophy however takes
a somewhat profounder view ; for it time and space are in their own
nature more significant than the scientific systems; somewhat as the
monetary system of his own country is of primary interest to a
banker, while an economist is more concerned with currency as an
element in universal exchange. And now that the space-time mani-
fold has attained such prominence, it is well to remember that it is
no mysterious entity additional to time and space themselves, as
though it were something wholly different in its nature within which
these disappear or dissolve. Any such view would be to repeat the
error so often made in dealing with time and space by erecting them
into independent realities. The manifold is but the coexistence or
unity of space and time, which coexist within reality in their own
characters, like nitrogen and oxygen in air, not compounded into a
third wholly different substance like oxygen and hydrogen in water.
Regarded in this light, there is one subject of essential import-
ance— the uniformity of time and space throughout the universe,
as distinct, i.e., from any uniformity of time and space systems. As
to the latter, there can be no question; observers in different situa-
tions must employ separate though interrelated systems. We may
some day obtain both a common language and a general currency;
but it is impossible for a universal time and space system ever to
be constructed and employed ; the very conditions of physical reality
forbid it. But this still leaves open the question of the uniformity
of time and space; the latter, e.g., has been described as bent or
warped or condensed in the vicinity of matter. Are these and other
similar statements metaphorical or literal ? Mathematical devices or
descriptions of reality? Dr. Whitehead, being naturally concerned
with systems, leaves the subject in some obscurity, in spite of his
repudiation of Einstein's own interpretation (p. 165). "What a
being under the one set of circumstances means by space will be
different from that meant by a being under the other set" (p. 168) ;
so that English and Martian observers will obtain different results
from any one Earth land survey. But what is it that thus deter-
mines local differences in circumstances f In the end all circum-
stances resolve themselves into events. ' ' The concrete facts of nature
are events; event-particles are the ultimate elements of the mani-
fold" (pp. 167, 173). Why, then, the question becomes, are events
for A different from events for B ? *° Martians employ space natural

20 Or event- particles; but any truly final explanation must be in terms of th«
concrete events. It is assumed of course that A and B both have minds of one
and the same general type, otherwise the basis of difference is not, in Dr. White-
head 'B sense, natural.

THE SIGNIFICANT SYMBOL 157

to them — ' ' Martio-centric space in which that planet is fixed. Thus
the g-space for Mars is quite different from the p-space on earth"
(pp. 175, 176). This however must not be taken to mean that the
Martian manifold is necessarily different from ours, for space and
time denote only the relative systems — "are merely ways of express-
ing certain truths about the relations between events" (p. 168). If
then the manifold itself is uniform, what is the basis of the unavoid-
able differentiation among the systems? It is scarcely sufficient to
fall back on the "creative advance of nature" (p. 178), unless we
assume that this advance in itself necessitates a non-uniform mani-
fold,21 but this of course begs the question. Nor again does uni-
formity of the manifold necessarily follow from that of the momen-
tary spaces and timeless spaces of p. 194 ; for these may be no more
than mathematical or methodological devices.

But difficulties on points of detail such as those I have mentioned
are inevitable ; even were they far more serious, still Dr. Whitehead's
work constitutes a distinct advance in the discussion of ontology;
and if it could be supplemented from the strictly philosophic stand-
point, we should be much nearer a lasting and satisfactory realism.
There appear to me to be two marked parallel tendencies in current
philosophy — one towards absolutism, the other towards realism. But
absolutism has for long been misrepresented and therefore misun-
derstood; it has been presented at once as too subjective and too
abstract.22 I do not see anything which prevents realism from tak-
ing its place within a system of absolute idealism fuller and deeper
than any yet conceived. Vestigia nulla retrorsum, some one will say ;
but then the absolute is not a cave. Even if it were, we are in it
already.

J. B. TURNER.

LIVEBPOOL, ENGLAND.

A BEHAVIORISTIC ACCOUNT OF THE SIGNIFICANT

SYMBOL

THE statement I wish to present rests upon the following as-
sumptions, which I can do no more than state: I assume,
provisionally, the hypothesis of the physical sciences, that physical
objects and the physical universe may be analyzed into a complex
of physical corpuscles. I assume that the objects of immediate ex-

21 As distinct, i.e., from the systems. There must be some distinction, other-
wise we should have systems of measurement with nothing to measure; " a
measure-system measures something inherent in nature" (p. 196).

22 ' ' The Absolutism which comes in for rebuke at the hands of pluralist
critics is a fiction of their own imagination. ' ' Radhakrishnan, Eeign of Eeligion
in Philosophy, p. 407.

158 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOP11 Y

perience exist in relationship to the biologic and social individuals
whose environments they make up. This relationship involves on
the one hand the selection through the sensitivities and reactions of
the living forms of those elements that go to make up the object.
On the other hand these objects affect the plants and animals,
whose natures are responsible for them as objects, e.g., food e\
as an immediate experience in its relation to the individuals that
eat it. There is no such thing as food apart from such indi-
viduals. The selection of the characters which go to make up food
is a function of living individuals. The effect of this food upon the
living individuals is what we call adaptation of the form to the
environment or its opposite. Whatever may be said of a mechanic
cal universe of ultimate physical particles, the lines that are drawn 1
about objects in experience are drawn by the attitudes and conduct *
of individual living forms. Apart from such an experience in-
volving both the form and its environment, such objects do not
exist.

On the other hand these objects exist objectively, as they J
are in immediate experience. The relation of objects making up
an environment to the plants and the animals in no sense renders
these objects subjective. What are termed the natures of objects are
in the objects, as are their so-called sensuous qualities, but these
natures are not in the objects either as external or internal rela-
tions, they are of the very essence of the objects, and become rela-
tions only in the thought process. The so-called sensuous qualities
exist also in the objects, but only in their relations to the sensitive
organisms whose environments they form.

The causal effect of the living organisms on their environment 1
in creating objects is as genuine as the effect of the environment »
upon the living organism. A digestive tract creates food as truly
as the advance of a glacial cap wipes out some animals or selects
others which can grow warm coats of hair. An animal's sensitive-
ness to a particular character in ai«. object gives the object in its
relation to the animal a peculiar nature. Where there is sensi-
tiveness to two or more different characters of the object, answer-
ing to reactions that conflict and thus inhibit each other, the object
is in so far analyzed. Thus the width of a stream would be isolated
from the other characters of the stream through the inhibition of the
animal's tendency to jump over it. In the immediate experience in
which the animal organism and its environment are involved, these
characters of the objects and the inhibited reactions that answer to
them are there or exist, as characters, though as yet they have no
significance nor are they located in minds or consciousnesses.

Amon«z objects in the immediate experience of animals are the

THE SIGNIFICANT SYMBOL 159

different parts of their own organisms, which have different char-
acters from those of other objects — especially hedonic characters,
and those of stresses and excitements — but characters not referred
to selves until selves arise in experience. They are only accident-
ally private, i.e., necessarily confined to the experience of single
individuals. If — after the fashion of the Siamese Twins — two
organisms were so joined that the same organ were connected
•with the central nervous system of each, each would have the same
painful or pleasurable object in experience. A toothache or a
pleased palate are objects for a single individual for reasons that
are not essentially different from those which make the flame of a
match scratched in a room in which there is only one individual
an object only for that individual. It is not the exclusion of an
object from the experience in which others are involved which
renders it subjective ; it is rendered subjective by being referred by
an individual to his self, when selves have arisen in the development
of conduct. Exclusive experiences are peculiarly favorable for such
reference, but characteristics of objects for every one may be so re-
ferred in mental processes.

Among objects that exist only for separate individuals are so-
called images. They are there, but are not necessarily located in
space. They do enter into the structure of things, as notably on '
the printed page, or in the hardness of a distant object ; and in hal-
lucinations they may be spatially located. They are dependent
for their existence upon conditions in the organism — especially
those of the central nervous system — as are other objects in ex-
perience such as mountains and chairs. When referred to the
self they become memory images, or those of a creative imagina-
tion, but they are not mental or spiritual stuff.

Conduct is the sum of the reactions of living beings to their '
environments, especially to the objects which their relation to the '
environment has "cut out of it," to use a Bergsonian phrase.
Among these objects are certain which are of peculiar importance
to which I wish to refer, viz., other living forms which belong to
the same group. The attitudes and early indications of actions
of these forms are peculiarly important stimuli, and to extend a
Wundtian term may be called "gestures." These other living
forms in the group to which the organism belongs may be called
social objects and exist as such before selves come into existence.
These gestures call out definite, and in all highly organized forms,
partially predetermined reactions, such as those of sex, of parenthood,
of hostility, and possibly others, such as the so-called herd instincts.
In so far as these specialized reactions are present in the nature
of individuals, they tend to arise whenever the appropriate stimu-

160 JOURNAL OF PU1LOSOP1I Y

lu.s, or gesture calls them out. If an individual uses such a gesture,
and he is affected by it as another individual is affected by it, he
responds or tends to respond to his own social stimulus, as another
individual would respond. A notable instance of this is in the
song, or vocal gesture of birds. The vocal gesture is of peculiar
importance because it reacts upon the individual who makes it
in the same fashion that it reacts upon another, but this is also true
in a less degree of those of one's own gestures that he can see or feel.

The self arises in conduct, when the individual becomes a social
object in experience to himself. This takes place when the indi-
vidual assumes the attitude or uses the gesture which another indi-
vidual would use and responds to it himself, or tends so to re-
spond. It is a development that arises gradually in the life of
the infant and presumably arose gradually in the life of the race.
It arises in the life of the infant through what is unfortunately
called imitation, and finds its expression in the normal play life
of young children. In the process the child gradually becomes a
social being in his own experience, and he acts toward himself in a
manner analogous to that in which he acts toward others. Espec-
ially he talks to himself as he talks to others and in keeping up
this conversation in the inner forum constitutes the field which is
called that of mind. Then those objects and experiences which be-
long to his own body, those images which belong to his own past,
become part of this self.

In the behavior of forms lower than man, we find one individual
indicating objects to other forms, though without what we term
signification. The hen that pecks at the angleworn is directly
though without intention indicating it to the chicks. The animal
in a herd that scents danger, in moving away indicates to the other
members of the herd the direction of safety and puts them in the
attitude of scenting the same danger. The hunting dog points
to the hidden bird. The lost lamb that bleats, and the child that
cries each points himself out to his mother. All of these gestures,
to the intelligent observer, are significant symbols, but they are
none of them significant to the forms that make them.

In what does this significance consist in terms of a behavioristic
psychology? A summary answer would be that the gesture not
only actually brings the stimulus-object into the range of the re-
actions of other forms, but that the nature of the object is also
indicated; especially do we imply in the term significance that the
individual who points out indicates the nature to himself. But
it is not enough that he should indicate this meaning — whatever
meaning is — as it exists for himself alone, but that he should indi-
cate that meaning as it exists for the other to whom he is pointing

THE SIGNIFICANT SYMBOL 161

it out. The widest use of the term implies that he indicates the
meaning to any other individual to whom it might be pointed out
in the same situation. In so far then as the individual takes the
attitude of another toward himself, and in some sense arouses in
himself the tendency to the action, which his conduct calls out in
the other individual, he will have indicated to himself the meaning
of the gesture. This implies a definition of meaning — that it is an
indicated reaction which the object may call out. When we find
that we have adjusted ourselves to a comprehensive set of reactions
toward an object we feel that the meaning of the object is ours.
But that the meaning may be ours, it is necessary that we should be
able to regard ourselves as taking this attitude of adjustment to
response. We must indicate to ourselves not only the object but
also the readiness to respond in certain ways to the object, and
this indication must be made in the attitude or role of the other
individual to whom it is pointed out or to whom it may be pointed
out. If this is not the case it has not that common property which
is involved in significance. It is through the ability to be the other
at the same time that he is himself that the symbol becomes signifi-
cant. The common statement of this is that we have in mind, what
we indicate to another that he shall do. In giving directions, we
give the direction to ourselves at the same time that we give it to an-
other. We assume also his attitude of response to our requests, as
an individual to whom the direction has the same signification in
his conduct that it has to ourselves.

But signification is not confined to the particular situation
within which an indication is given. It acquires universal mean-
ing. Even if the two are the only ones involved, the form in which
it is given is universal — it would have the same meaning to any
other who might find himself in the same position. How does this
generalization arise? From the behavioristic standpoint it must
take place through the individual generalizing himself in his atti-
tude of the other. We are familiar enough with the undertaking,
in social and moral instruction to children and to those who are
not children. A child acquires the sense of property through
taking what may be called the attitude of the generalized other.
Those attitudes which all assume in given conditions and over
against the same objects, become for him attitudes which every
one assumes. In taking the role which is common to all, he finds
himself speaking to himself and to others with the authority of the
group. These attitudes become axiomatic. The generalization is
simply the result of the identity of responses. Indeed it is only
as he has in some sense amalgamated the attitudes of the different
roles in which he has addressed himself that he acquires the unity

162 JOURNAL OF PHlLOSOl'll Y

of personality. The "me" that he addresses is constantly varied.
It answers to the changing play of impulse, but the group solidar-
ity, especially in its uniform restrictions, gives him the unity of
universality. This I take to be the sole source of the universal.
It quickly passes the bounds of the specific group. It is the vox
populi, vox dei, the "voice of men and of angels." Education and
varied experience refine out of it what is provincial, and leave
"what is true for all men at all times." From the first, its form
is universal, for differences of the different attitudes of others wear
their peculiarities away. In the play period, however, before the
child has reached that of competitive games — in which he seeks
to pit his own acquired self against others — in the play period
this process is not fully carried out and the child is as varied as
his varying moods ; but in the game he sees himself in terms of the
group or the gang and speaks with a passion for rules and stand-
ards. Its social advantage and even necessity makes this approach
to himself imperative. He must see himself as the whole group
sees him. This again has passed under the head of passive imita-
tion. But it is not in uniform attitudes that universality appears
as a recognized factor in either inner or outer behavior. It is found
rightly in thought and thought is the conversation of this general-
ized other with the self.

The significant symbol is then the gesture, the sign, the word
which is addressed to the self when it is addressed to another indi-
vidual, and is addressed to another, in form to all other indi-
viduals, when it is addressed to the self.

Signification has, as we have seen, two references, one to the thing
indicated, and the other to the response, to the instance and to the
meaning or idea. It denotes and connotes. When the symbol is used
for the one, it is a name. When it is used for the other, it is a con-
cept. But it neither denotes nor connotes except, when in form at
least, denotation and connotation are addressed both to a self and to
others, when it is in a universe of discourse that is oriented with re-
ference to a self. If the gesture simply indicates the object to another,
it has no meaning to the individual who makes it, nor does the re-
sponse which the other individual carries out become a meaning to
him, unless he assumes the attitude of having his attention directed
by an individual to whom it has a meaning. Then he takes his own
response to be the meaning of the indication. Through this sympa-
thetic placing of themselves in each other's roles, and finding thus in
their own experiences the responses of the others, what would other-
wise be an unintelligent gesture, acquires just the value which is
connoted by signification, both in its specific application and in its
universality.

NOTES AND NEWS 163

It should be added that in so far as thought — that inner conver-
sation in which objects as stimuli are both separated from and related
to their responses — is identified with consciousness, that is in so far
as consciousness is identified with awareness, it is the result of this
development of the self in experience. The other prevalent significa-
tion of consciousness is found simply in the presence of objects in
experience. With the eyes shut we can say we are no longer conscious
of visual objects. If the condition of the nervous system or certain
tracts in it, cancels the relation of individual and his environment,
he may be said to lose consciousness or some portion of it ; i.e., some
objects or all of them pass out of experience for this individual. Of
peculiar interest is the disappearance of a painful object, e.g., an
aching tooth under a local anesthetic. A general anesthetic shuts out
all objects.

As above indicated analysis takes place through the conflict of
responses which isolates separate features of the object and both sep-
arates them from and relates them to their responses, i.e., their mean-
ings. The response becomes a meaning, when it is indicated by a
generalized attitude both to the self and to others. Mind, which is a
process within which this analysis and its indications take place, lies
in a field of conduct between a specific individual and the environ-
ment, in which the individual is able, through the generalized attitude
he assumes, to make use of symbolic gestures, i.e., terms, which are
significant to all including himself.

While the conflict of reactions takes place within the individual,
the analysis takes place in the object. Mind is then a field that is not
confined to the individual much less is located in a brain. Signifi-
cance belongs to things in their relations to individuals. It does not
lie in mental processes1 which are enclosed within individuals.

GEORGE H. MEAD.

UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO.

The Analysis of Mind. BERTBAND RUSSELL. London : George Allen
and Unwin. New York : The Macmillan Co. 1921. Pp. 310.
The book deals with that conception of the nature of mind which
is involved in regarding physical objects as constructs of appearances.
Thus it is in effect the logical sequel to views expressed by the author
in his Lowell Lectures, and in it he has given us what is the most com-
plete and balanced statement to date of the results of his philosophic
method.

Mr. Russell's central thesis is that all psychical phenomena are
built up out of sensations and images, and nothing else. This involves

164 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

•

a departure from his own piwiou> theory "that the essence of every-
thing mental is a certain quite peculiar something called 'conscious-
ness','* and more specifically a revision of his doctrine of knowledge
by acquaintance. Moreover since the physical as well as the psychical
is a construction of appearances, his most fundamental systematic
problem is that of distinguishing between mind and matter. In lec-
ture I (Recent criticisms of "consciousness"), and lecture VI (Intro-
spection), he shows that this must not be thought of as a substantial
dualism. His general position is a monism whose ideal is "that funda-
mental science . . . the true metaphysic, in which mind and matter
alike are seen to be constructed out of a neutral stuff" (p. 287).
This ultimate stuff, which presumably consists of the multiplicity
of appearances, is the common subject-matter both of physics and
psychology. But the latter science deals with it by means of causal
laws which have two special characteristics. In the first place, all
psychical phenomena are said to posseas "subjectivity." To thi<
term a very special meaning attaches, which may be made clear as
follows. Every particular of the kind considered by physics may
on the one hand be regarded as a member of a group constituting
a thing, as explained in Mr. Russell 's Lowell Lectures and elsewhere,
as well as in the present work ; on the other hand it may be a mem-
ber of a group constituting a perspective, a group of which in turn
make up a "biography." The most significant purely logical mark
of a biography is that it possesses a linear time-order, that is, it is
a group of entities which have direct time-relations (simultaneous
with, before, after) with respect to any one of themselves, as opposed
to the time order of the physical universe. The "local time" of the
theory of relativity occurs in biographies. And it is such a classi-
fication, which is also called classification by "passive places," that
Mr. Russell understands as the essence of subjectivity. But this is
not a complete designation of the nature of psychical phenomena,
for many such biographies will have nothing to do with mind. A
photographic plate might have a biography in this sense. An addi-
tional determining factor is needed for the specification of mind,
and this is provided by "mnemic causation." This means that the
nature of our experience of any event is not wholly caused by the
immediate, present occurrence of that event, but also by its past
occurrences in our experience. "This characteristic is embodied in
the saying 'the burnt child dreads the fire'. The burn may have
left no visible traces, yet it modifies the reaction of the child in the
presence of the fire" (p. 77). While Mr. Russell agrees that it is
probable that such phenomena can be explained by regarding the
results of experience as being embodied in modifications of the brain
and nerves, he points out that this is a theory only, and prefers to

NOTES AND NEWS 165

operate with the bare formulation of the observed facts. Thus "the
two most essential characteristics of the causal laws which would
naturally be called psychological are subjectivity and mnemic causa-
tion" (p. 307).

The bulk of the book is taken up with the detailed elaboration of
the theory above outlined in terms in its application to various
psychological and epistemological conceptions. A perception is the
appearance of an object from a place where there is a brain. Such
appearances undergo distortion owing to the intervening media of
the organic structure, and also stand in the nexus of mnemic causa-
tion. Sensations are the non-mnemic core of perceptions, and are
the elements common to both the mental and physical worlds.
Images differ from sensations in that their causation is wholly
mnemic, that is, they arise from past experience. Belief, which is
"the central problem in the analysis of mind" (p. 231) is analyzed
into content, which is a complex of images and sensations, and a
specific feeling called believing, which is "presumably a complex
sensation demanding analysis" (p. 251). In terms of belief are
defined memory, expectation, and assent, the differences between
them being not an affair of content, but arising out of the three
kinds of belief-feeling which may attach to any complex of images.
Imagination consists of images without belief. The study of belief
also leads to a formal theory of truth and falsehood. Emotions and
will are discussed in consonance with the general position of the
book, emotions being regarded as serial patterns of sensations and
images. Desire is treated as being a sort of analogue to force in
physics. Instinct and habit are also considered. The meaning of
words, and also that of images is explained largely with reference
to mnemic causation. In dealing with general ideas we are given a
very valuable analysis of vagueness and the generic image. The
discussion of introspection is notable for its penetration and lucidity.
In the final lecture there is presented a theory of consciousness. An
interesting point is the philosophical assimilation of the psycho-
analytic method. At the close of the book is an analytic table of
contents which is remarkable only for its lack of value.

The whole work, which displays its author's constructive insight
and analytic power to the best advantage, is of great methodolog-
ical interest as a thoroughgoing reconstitution of structural psy-
chology. Mr. Russell rejects behaviorism as an ultimate account of
the nature of mind, because it is based on a faulty philosophy of
physics, which fails to regard the universe as fundamentally a multi-
plicity of particulars. Perhaps the weakest spot is the treatment
of belief-feelings, which are somewhat dogmatically said to consist
of complex sensations, although no attempt is made to analyze these

166 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

complexes. This, Imwcvrr, is at the worst an error of omission,
and throughout w<- find an accuracy in defining and a directness
in attacking p'-miim- problems not usual in work of this character.
The cut in- discussion will be welcomed, not only as the latest author-
itative exposition of a point of view which has become very in-
fluential, but also as a highly significant contribution to modern
philosophy.

JAMES L. MURSELL.
COLUMBUS, OHIO.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF PSYCHOLOGY, July, 1921.
An Experimental Investigation of the Positive After-Image in Audi-
tion (pp. 305-325). HOMER GUY Bisnop.-There is no positive after
image of tone similar to the nature of the visual after-image. The
Influence of Color upon Mental and Motor Efficiency (pp. 326-356) :
SIDNEY L. PREssEY.-Experimental evidence suggests that there is a
slowing up of mental .work under dim light, but hues aside from
brightness show no effect. Bibliography. The Nature of the Affec-
tive Judgment in the Method of Paired Comparisons (pp. 357-369) :
M. YoKOYAMA.-The method of paired comparisons can no longer be
considered as a typical laboratory setting for the study of affections.
A Study in Logical Memory (pp. 370-403) : SARAH D. MACKAY
AusnN.-After from two to four weeks repetitions of both logical
and nonsense material proved of greater value than cumulative
repetitions. In Aid of Introspection (pp. 404-414) : HORACE BID-
WELL ENGLiSH.-Introspection is approved as a psychological method.
Several rules are given. "Any one with a good memory and a sincere
desire to improve can learn to introspect in a way which will be of
distinct scientific usefulness." Minor Studies from the Psychological
Laboratory of Cornell University. An Experimental Study of Cuta-
neous Imagery (pp. 415-420) : CATHERINE BRADDOCK.-Cutaneous
images come up rarely if ever. The Integration of Punctiform Cold
and Pressure (pp. 421-424) : S. TuNQ.-The simultaneous stimula-
tion of pressure and cold spots was felt as wet-cold. The H<
Color-Blindness Apparatus and the Normal Equation (pp. 425-428) :
M. WINFIELD AND C. STRONG.-Variation from the normality in color
combination approvals is insufficient evidence for normality an 1
abnormality. The After-Effect of Seen Movement When the Whole
Visual Field is filed by a Moving Stimulus (pp. 429-441) : WELLING-
TON A. THALMAN.-The after-effect is observed when the whole visual
field is filled by an objective moving stimulus the chief conditioning
factor of which is duration. Book Revieirs: J. B. Pratt, The religious

NOTES AND NEWS 167

consciousness: a psychological study: E. S. AMES. S. Bernfeld,

Da-s jiidisohe Volk und seine Jugend: S. FELDMAN. A Note on,

"Vocality" (pp. 446-447) : GILBERT J. RICH. Consciousness in the

Siamese Twins: E. G. B.

Dewey, Evelyn. The Dalton Laboratory Plan. New York: E. P.
Button & Co. 1922. Pp. vii -f 173.

Leon, Xavier. Fichte et son Temps. Vol. I. Etablissement et Pred-
ication de la Doctrine de la Liberte; Le Vie de Fichte jusqu'au
depart d'lena (1762-1799). Paris: Armand Colin. 1922. Pp.
xvi -f 652. 30 fr.

McCall, William A. How to Measure in Education. New York:
The Macmillan Co. 1922. Pp. xii -f 416.

Moore, Jared Sparks. The Foundations of Psychology. Princeton,
N. J. : University Press. 1922. Pp. xix -f 239. $3.

Poyer, Georges. Les Problemes Generaux de THeredite psycholo-
gique. Paris: Felix Alcan. 1921. Pp. 302. 15 fr.

Eeyburn, Hugh A. The Ethical Theory of Hegel: A Study of the
Philosophy of Right. Oxford: The Clarendon Press. 1921.

Pp. xx -f 268.

NOTES AND NEWS

A meeting of the Aristotelian Society was held in London on
January 16, Dr. F. C. S. Schiller, President, in the chair. A paper
on "Plato's Theory of et'/cacrta" was presented by Mr. H. J. Paton.
In Plato 's account of the Line and the Cave in the Republic he dis-
tinguishes two sub-divisions of opinion (el/caa-ia or intuition and
Trwrri? or belief) and two sub-divisions of knowledge ( Siavoia or
mathematical reasoning and vowa-is or philosophical reasoning).
This must be understood as implying a difference of objects in each
of the four sub-divisions, just as the objects of opinion and knowl-
edge are different — the changing individuals as opposed to the un-
changing universals. The parallelism or analogy between the ob-
jects of the two main divisions and those of the sub-divisions is meant
to be taken seriously throughout. In particular the objects of the
elxaa-ia or intuition are the many appearances, whether given in
what we call sense or memory or imagination, from which we pass
to the objects of TTIO-TK or belief — the solid bodies of the ordinary
consciousness and of science, things relatively permanent and re-
latively intelligible in comparison with their many appearances,

168 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOI'Jl Y

although e!ian^in(.r and unintelligible in comparison \\ith the really
permanent and really intelligible fiSij or universals. It is a com-
plete prror to regard ciKao-ta and its objects as of no metaphysical
importance, and an und'Tstandin:/ of the nature of this section is
mres-ary if \v«> are to grasp Plato's u'fneral theory of knowledge.
Even Plato's theory that art must be classified under this first
cognitive activity of the spirit is in iis essence sound in spite of
the fact that some of the conclusions which he derived from it were
mistaken.

The annual meeting of the Western Division of the American
Philosophical Association this year will be held at the University
of Nebraska, Lincoln, Nebraska, on Friday and Saturday, April
14 and 15. As usual, members will have opportunity to present
papers — not exceeding twenty minutes in length — on any topics of
their selection. It is proposed however that one afternoon session
be devoted to Logical Aspects of Critical Realism with Professor A.
W. Moore as leader of the discussion. All who feel especially in-
terested in the recent volume, Essays in Critical Realism, or any
of its problems, are invited to participate. It has been suggested that
the papers of one other session relate to the problem of The Nature
of the Self, the topic being taken broadly as covering methodological
aspects of the Mind-Body Problem, especially Interactionism as it
has recently been presented, and the relations of Mechanism and
Teleology as pertaining to the nature of the self. Should the papers
offered warrant doing so, this suggestion will be followed in arrang-
ing the program. A list of references on this subject may be ob-
tained from the Secretary, Professor G. A. Tawney, University of
Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio. It is essential that the Secretary be
notified of the titles at an early date. Abstracts of all papers to be
read should be in his hands not later than April 7, and fifteen to
twenty copies of each abstract would be highly desirable for distribu-
tion.

A group of scientific men and women from Russia now living in
the United States have organized themselves into the "Russian
Academic Group. ' ' Their first annual meeting was held on January
12. The purpose of the organization is threefold: (1) to study the
social, economic and industrial problems involved in the develop-
ment of Russia; (2) to bring about a closer contact between the
scientific and educational institutions of America and Russia; and (3)
to help in the reconstruction of the academic life of the Russian
universities and to bring relief to their faculties and students.

VOL. XIX, No. 7. MARCH 30, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

THE METAPHYSICAL STATUS OF SENSATIONS

" When the eye and the appropriate object meet together and give
birth to whiteness and the sensation of white, which could not have
been given by either of them going to any other, then, while the sight
is flowing from the eye, whiteness proceeds from the object which com-
bine* in producing the color; and so the eye is fulfilled with sight, and
sees, and becomes, not sight, but a seeing eye; and the object which
combines in forming the color is fulfilled with whiteness, and becomes
not whiteness but white, whether wood or stone or whatever the object
may be which happens to be colored white. And this is true of all
sensations, hard, warm, and the like, which are similarly to be regarded,
as I was saying before, not as having any absolute existence, but as
being all of them generated by motion in their intercourse with one
another, according to their kinds." (Plato: Thecetetus, pp. 156-157,
Jowett's translation.)

IF one ever needs excuse for quoting Plato, it would do in this case
to plead that the doctrine contained in the passage is brilliant,
thorough, and sound. The history of philosophy, in its meandering
course, has brought forth no improvement upon the statement put
into the mouth of Socrates by his great pupil. One need not agree
with all the positions of Plato in even the dialogue from which the
above passage was taken in order to enter fully into the
proffered analysis of the metaphysical status of sensations. Socrates
is making no pretense of originating a new doctrine : he is expound-
ing that of Protagoras. Indeed he seems to accept as true everything
which Protagoras says about sensation, except that it is knowledge.
This doctrine of sensation, however sound, becomes, when coupled
with the supposition that sensations are cognitive of the world be-
yond, involved in grave difficulties ; and the followers of Protagoras
through the centuries are responsible for all the copy-theories of
sensation which have so led philosophy astray. But in this present
paper there will be no occasion to discuss knowledge; rather the
effort will be made simply to comment upon and compare with less
satisfactory modern analyses that doctrine of the nature of sensa-
tions which Protagoras formulated, Socrates accepted, and Plato so
beautifully put into words. And if the points commented upon
seem trivial and commonplace, the writer might reply that he wishes
they were so well understood and so widely taken for granted that

169

170 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

further restatement would be unnecessary. As so often is the case,
metaphysics is needed only because there is so much bad metaphysics.

Sensation is a natural event which takes place in the world
under certain ascertainable conditions. We have good reason to
believe that objects existed long before they were perceived by even
the first organisms endowed with organs sensitive to stimuli from
those objects ; and we have good reason to believe that a catastrophic
destruction of all organisms would leave those objects in undisturbed
existence. Sensation is an event which happens in its setting, but
does not produce nor control that setting. The setting consists,
for the purposes of analysis, of three significant elements or aspects.
First, there is the object such as a stone, a cloud, a bon-bon, or an
open fire on a wintry day. Secondly, there is the animal organism,
with its end-organs of various sorts, end-organs which might under
different circumstances have become other than they are but happen
to be as they are, end-organs such as the eye, the ear, and the various
special structures in the skin. Thirdly, there is the medium of com-
munication between object and end-organ, the physical contact
and pressure of the stone against the organ of touch, the vibrating
ether between the cloud and the eye, the physical contact and chem-
ical change which ensues when the bon-bon is dissolved upon the
tongue, or the air-waves between the fire and the organ of heat.
We know more about the structure of the end-organs than did
Plato, and also about the mediums by which objects affect the end-
organs. But Socrates did not need to know the details of all the
species of processes involved in sense-experience, in order to formu-
late correctly the definition of the subsuming genus ; and he allows
adequately for the growth of scientific knowledge when he says that
the various kinds of sensations are "generated by motion in their
intercourse with one another according to their kinds." Perhaps
no loss of accuracy in discussing sensations will result if vision is
selected for special treatment; for similar things could be said
about all other kinds of sensations.

The absence of one or more of the three elements of the setting
in which sensations occur will of course make sensations impossible.1
A dazzling sun may shine with unparalleled splendor for countless
ages; but there will be nothing seen unless the electro-magnetic
vibrations starting out from it chance to strike upon the sensitive
retina of some physiological organism. A strong eye, well con-

i That sensations may arise under other conditions can not of coarse be
dogmatically denied. Yet the only sensations of which we know anything are
generated in the way here discussed; and we have no reason for believing in
any others.

THE METAPHYSICAL STATUS OF SENSATIONS 171

structed in all its parts and properly related to a healthy organism,
may search the uttermost reaches of space ; but there will be nothing
seen unless there is some object within the radius of its range and
some unimpeded physical force to stimulate the eye. In a world
where no interactions took place between the various things of which
that world might be composed, there would be no sensations; and
even in a world where the requisite interactions take place, there
must yet be properly formed end-organs before those influences pro-
duce sensations. If the nature of the object or the nature of the
medium of communication were changed, it might well be that the
end-organ would have to go through compensating changes before
sensations would once more occur; and any change in an end-organ
beyond a very slight one would probably forever put a stop to sensa-
tions through it, unless the other elements of the setting were altered
or those elements chanced to have other activities formerly uncon-
nected with sensation-processes and yet suited thereto in connection
with the altered end-organ.

The part of Plato's doctrine of sensations which is important for
metaphysics and logic remains to be noted. There is no suggestion
in Plato that sensations are a new sort of entity which half conceals
and half discloses the world which the organism faces — not that he
specifically denies that such is the case, but that such a consideration
is irrelevant to the subject-matter under examination. The followers
of Protagoras who regarded sensations as knowledge might well be-
come involved in such a distressing problem. But not Plato. For
him sensations are not cognitive, and there is no need of determining
whether the sensation is a "copy" of anything else. A sensation
like an explosion of gunpowder is an event, with natural causes and
effects; but it no more mirrors the conditions of its occurrence than
an explosion mirrors the chemicals and the spark which set those
chemicals off. The sensation-process is a complex process, in which,
by virtue of the total situation established by object, medium, and
end-organ, the object and the end-organ are temporarily of a dif-
ferent nature than before the situation was established. That is, the
eye becomes a seeing eye, and the object becomes a white object.
There would be no objection to calling the white object or the white
alone by such terms as idea, impression, or psychic state, provided
that no improper inferences were drawn from that term. Neither
the white object nor the white is any of those things, however, if by
those terms is meant a, separate and distinct existence. The object
seen is the object which was really there before it was seen, even
though it was not then white and did not stand in the situation in
which it later came to stand. There seems to be no warrant for

172 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

calling objects white unless they are seen; but the white object seen
is the same object which the eye for some reason singles out from
the total environment. As Plato puts it, the eye becomes a seeing
eye and the object becomes a white object; and Plato would cor-
rectly add that no further entity or existence was involved in the
process. The same eye may be the organ of many different sensa-
tions in which the same object is seen in many different shapes and
colors; for the same object seen may be seen by the same eye in
many different positions and under many different conditions. And
since the nature of a sensation depends upon the total situation of
object, medium, and end-organ, the nature of successive sensations
will vary. No sensation "grasps" the whole nature of the object.
But what is seen is real in so far forth under the circumstances, no
matter whether it would be unreal under other circumstances.2

There is a certain sense in which men stand in the egocentric
predicament, viz., that they can not have sensations of objects with
which they are not brought in contact according to the conditions
of object, medium, and end-organ. But since knowledge is not a
matter of sensations, taken singly or in complexes, there is no ego-
centric predicament about the cognitive experience. Also since in
sensation-processes they come into contact with the natural, the
objective, the real world, there is no egocentric predicament about
the metaphysical status of sensations. The world as sensed is ipso
facto a different world than the world as not sensed, just as the end-
organ in action is different than the end-organ not in action. But
it is important to determine what the difference is from an examina-
tion of what goes on, and not to settle such questions by a definition
of what a metaphysical difference might be. Certainly as we observe
the facts, there is no problem of the existence of an external world.
There may well be problems as to the nature and the qualities of the
seen objects in some of their unseen relationships which are not
directly observed. We may well ask such questions as the following :

2 Lest there be misunderstanding as to the meaning of real in the above
paragraph, it might be noted that the term refers simply to what is " there,"
i.e., to what exists at any moment. No supposition of always and forever en-
during is implied. Becently Mr. C. A. Strong wrote: "If we say that data
are real, we are forced to say that physical things are not real, while, if we say
that physical things are real — as I think we must — we are forced to conclude
that data, as such, are not real." (Essays in Critical Realism, p. 225.) But the
bewildering dilemma clears up when Mr. Strong explains at the end of his para-
graph, in a phrase which seems to have been added at the last moment to meet
the objections of one of hia co-authors, that real means ' ' continuously existent. ' '
Such usage, if unusual, has ample historical precedent, but b not the meaning
of the word in this paper.

THE METAPHYSICAL STATUS OF SENSATIONS 173

What color would the object be in a mist? What would the object
look like under a microscope? Could we see the object through a
certain intervening substance ? Could we see the object from a cer-
tain distance ? What is the chemical constitution of the object ? At
what rate do the atoms of which it is composed vibrate ? Etc. etc. But
we could not legitimately ask whether there is "really" an object
there ; for it is given as ' ' there. ' ' We could not legitimately ask wheth-
er it is "really" white; for if we know what the question means, we
will know that in one sense it is white and in another sense it is not,
and if the question means neither of these things, there is no such
thing as being "really" white. We never have the task of getting
from the realm of "psychic states" into the world of physical
existences, but simply the task of getting from the world as it is
partially perceived to the world as it is more largely inferred to be.3
The problem of knowledge is the practical one of how to go from
incomplete information to more complete understanding. That
problem can not be said to involve a dualism, in any of the ordinary
or historic senses of that word; it involves only a dualism between
the less and the more, both of which are contained in the same total
system of reality. We do not infer what things are like on the basis
of "psychic states" or "ideas wholly in the mind"; but we infer
what things are like in their entirety from those of their qualities
and relations which we do directly perceive. Objects do not cease
to be objects in becoming seen any more than they cease to be objects
in becoming eaten. That, I take it, is what Plato meant when he said
that the object "becomes not whiteness but white." At least, whether
Plato meant that or not, it can be said that in vision objects do not
themselves become, and do not produce as a sort of by-product, what
are usually called "psychic states," but become seen objects. And
sensation presents us with no difficulty except that of discovering
from incomplete presentation of the world we confront certain other

s Two statements in the recent Essays in Critical Eealism deserve comment
here. Mr. Strong said: " The world as sense-perception presents it and the
world as it is by no means coincide " (227). In one sense this is quite true;
for the object seen is not at all times and apart from perception exactly what
it is seen to be in vision. But in another sense the statement is false; for the
world as sense-perception presents it is a part of the world as it is, though a
small part. Mr. A. K. Eogers said in the same volume: " The world of science
is distinctly not the world of immediate perception " (151). This is true of
physics and astronomy to a large extent; for those sciences are interested in
certain aspects of the world not presented in sensations. But it is not true of
optics, acoustics, and such sciences. And it is entirely false if it is meant
that there is any metaphysical difference between the world of science and the
world of immediate perception.

174 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

aa yet unobserved and perhaps permanently unobservable items in
which we may happen to be interested. Metaphysics and episte-
mology can not properly be concerned with an alleged hiatus between
two different sorts of existences, but with the distinction between
and the differences in the things as seen and the same things as not
seen, all of which exist in one continuous realm of being. Men come
into limited contact with things through sensations and need to
know lots of facts about their world which can only be discovered
indirectly, on the basis of analogy, of inference, of hypothesis and
experimentation. In other words, in addition to the knowledge which
may be directly derived from such sensations as those of vision, we
must have recourse to such welkguided reasonings as are furnished
to us by such sciences as optics, physics, and chemistry.

II

The view of sensations thus outlined, whether or not it is to be
found in Plato, is a realism or naturalism. But it differs from,
though it has certain sympathies with, two commonly accepted the-
ories, by contrast with which its significance would perhaps be more
obvious. The first of these is behaviorism ; the second is a dualistic
realism represented by the modern tradition which comes from Locke
and Kant, and which has recently been restated, in an effort to mini-
mize the dualism, by the "critical realists." Though no effort will
here be made to review those alternative views of sensation in any
detail, the contrasts may be helpful.4

The position defended in this paper is in one sense of the word
itself a behaviorism. We do not get sensations by passively waiting
like the wax for the imprint of the seal. We would not call the
images in a mirror sensations (that is, the sensations posseased by
the mirror). An eye, however complete in all its parts, would prob-
ably not see objects, if it were detached from the organism of which
it is an integral part. Unless there is reaction by as well as action
upon the eye, vision does not occur. In other words, the eye must
be the end-organ of some physiological unit of response, since it is
probably safe to affirm that the eye taken by itself could not respond
at all. Sensations, as the term has been used in this paper, are cer-
tain qualities such as blue and red, sweet and sour, hot and cold;
but these qualities appear only in connection with a certain process

« A paper to follow this paper will examine the claim of the * ' critical
realists " to have overcome the difficulties of the traditional epistemological
dualism through their new doctrine of the datum as a logical essence. But for
any such examination, a preliminary constructive statement seemed advisable
of the point of view from which criticism would be brought.

THE METAPHYSICAL STATUS OF SENSATIONS 175

which involves object, medium, and end-organ, and the activity of
all those elements is jointly necessary. None of the qualities which
are revealed by the process can be taken to invalidate the process,
to throw doubt upon the reality of the fact that there has been such
a process, to deny the reality of the conditions under which the proc-
ess takes place. The description of the sensation-processes from the
standpoint of the organism is what behaviorism has to tell us about
sensation, and is accepted as valid and convincing by the writer of
this paper.

None the less the standpoint of this paper is opposed to much
contemporary behaviorism. The chief reason why behaviorism has
not been even more widely and unanimously adopted in America
than has been the case, and why the present writer finds it partly
unacceptable, is that behaviorists have often denied the reality
of obvious facts in the interests of the simplicity of their theories.
When behaviorism arose shortly after 1890, largely as the result of
the impetus given to psychological studies by William James, many
philosophers were found describing the mind as a mere series of
the sense-qualities which the processes of sensation bring into exis-
tence. It was quite natural therefore that a reaction from this in-
complete description should take place, and that not simply the mind
should be described in terms of the processes of sensation and the
like, but the very existence of the sense-qualities should be neglected
and in more extreme cases denied.5 At least, whether natural or not,
such did take place. Preoccupied with an analysis of the actions
of the nervous system, behaviorists had nothing to say about the
qualities which the objects have in sensation. Called to account for
this neglect, they feared that they were being summoned once more
to study merely these qualities; and knowing to their own satisfac-
tion that what they had discovered about the mind could never be
stated in any mere list of such qualities, however complete, they
asserted that the mind was activity, not quality at all. Furthermore,
fearing a renewal of the epistemological futilities of which modern
philosophy has given such frequent instances, they were prompted
to deny the existence of ' ' psychic states ' ' ; and since their adversaries
assured them that the qualities revealed in sensation were "psychic
states, ' ' they denied the very existence of the qualities altogether.

8 Mr. J. B. Watson only harms his own cause by his impossible identifica-
tion of colors or other qualities of an object with a physiological process. E.g.,
he recently quoted Dunlap with approval to the effect that " the so-called
visual image is only an associated eye muscle strain (muscular ' sensation ')."
Cf. The Dial, Vol. LXXII., No. 1, p. 101, Jan., 1922. This is only a new form
of the traditional materialistic fallacy.

176 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

To a certain extent the dispute has been merely verbal. If any
one chooses to call the sense-qualities which appear in the course
of the sensation-processes by the name of mind, there should be
no objection — though care would have to be exercised to keep from
various of the traditional errors which have accompanied that termin-
ological practise during the last three centuries. Similarly if any
one chooses to call the activities of the organism in sensation and the
like by the name of mind, again there should be no objection.
Though we can discover no reason why certain qualities should
appear exclusively in connection with certain processes, yet such
seems to be the fact. If either thing were singled out as that in
terms of which alone mind is to be defined, the behaviorist has cli
the better element. For the sense-quality is the quality of the object :
it is neither within the body nor within the confines of a mental
realm distinguished from the physical world. And the error of the
behaviorist is decidedly less disastrous than that of the upholders of
the ' ' psychic states ' ' ; for their error is the enthusiastic one of youth
in overstating a new discovery, and involves no distortion of reality
in so far as their positive, if not their negative, arguments are con-
cerned.

Yet the issue has often gone further than a verbal dispute. The
behaviorists, assured from their own studies that the thing they
called mind was a certain set of activities of the physiological organ-
ism, and assured by a long and important tradition that sense-quali-
ties did not exist outside the mind, had to deny that there were any
sense-qualities at all. Mind for them was not a receptacle: it was
not a place in which anything could be located. Of course their
denial of sense-qualities was an error. But the trap which led them
into the error was their acceptance of the supposition that sense-
qualities are "psychic states." If they erred, it was due to their
trusting the word of those philosophers who, in Humian fashion,
treated the mind as a series of states of consciousness and denied the
objectivity of sense-qualities. They are not to be much reproached
for their error; for the premise which they furnished from their
own experimental work was true, whereas that supplied by their
fellow-philosophers, if true at all, was true only in a limited and
unusual sense of the words. Those who are worried over the material-
istic tendency of behaviorism have only themselves to blame; the
error of behaviorism can be corrected only upon the supposition
of the objectivity of sense-qualities.

The time has come to locate the error of behaviorism more fairly.
The denial of the existence of facts which every man perceives
every day of his life is preposterous. The existence of sense-qualities

THE METAPHYSICAL STATUS OF SENSATIONS 177

does not have to be proved, because it is given as an immediate fact
of experience. Similarly the existence of the activities of the nervous
system does not need to be proved any further than behaviorists
have done. "What we need is to learn what various people mean by
terms such as mind, and then state the well-proved conclusions
in terms the meaning of which may be clear to all. No one probably
would question that object, medium, and end-organ are all essential
to that sort of activity of the physiological organism which we may
then agree to call the process of sensation. Since mind is usually
contrasted with object, we would do better not to call by the name
of mind the sense-quality which the object assumes during and
as a result of the process of sensation; for the sense-quality is a
quality of the object. Avoiding thus the term mind for the mere
existence of sense-qualities, we should recognize none the less their
existence. That sense-qualities are perceived and living processes
are carried on by the same organisms should not blind us to both
sets of facts. The behaviorists have neglected or even denied the
former; their opponents have neglected and nearly always denied
the latter, and then have drawn impossible conclusions from what
they have mistakenly denied as well as from what they have truly
affirmed. It is theoretically possible that some other cause than
the sensation-process might give rise to sense-qualities, in which
case no one surely would wish to speak of a mind as present. But
it is actually the case that there are a number of biological and
physiological processes which seem to go on without any sensations,
any consciousness, any prevision of the future; and yet even in
these processes we feel that we have something akin to what we
mean by mind. Thus, though it is not the purpose of this paper
to define mind, it can at least be said that the term seems to be
best used for those of the living processes which have assumed a
certain quality and a certain form.6

e A word of warning to the critics of a revised behaviorism may be timely
here. Those who treat the mind as a matter of activity or relationships are
usually called materialists. But that characterization is not always correct. It
would be correct if the relations were altogether spatial, if the activity were
that of gross motion such as waving arms and legs about in space. But usually
the relationships and activity referred to are ideal, they can be described only
in terms of meaning, anticipation of the future, inference, judgment. Mr.
Sellars remarked that knowledge is not " a real relation between the knower and
the known." (Essays in Critical Realism, p. 206.) I have not been able to
puzzle out what he is intending to say. But his words would seem to mean
either that knowledge did not exist or that the only real relations were spatial
and material. I do not wish to be unfair. Yet I can not help but think that
he tends to equate reality and matter, and to be by implication more material-
istic than many behaviorists.

178 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

III

The opponents of behaviorism have almost unanimously treated
sensations as "psychic states" existing in the mind and having no
objective status. In fact this treatment has become so customary
that it is often taken as an incontrovertible axiom which needs no
proof. Each consciousness is then cut off from the rest of the world
by an absolute break. And the world of nature, the objective world,
is not known directly.7

The proofs for the subjectivity of sensations are mostly indirect,
i.e., they consist in showing that sensations could not be objective.
There are three such proofs which have frequently been offered from
Locke to the "critical realists," and there is an implicit principle
or metaphysical axiom usually assumed. These must be reviewed
before the thesis of this paper can be taken as acceptable.

The arguments can be briefly summed up: (1) that different
people looking at the same object have different sensations, and the
sensations are therefore not really in the object but only imagina-
tively projected there; (2) that objects seem to have contradictory
qualities and hence the qualities must be, not in the object, but in
the mind; (3) that the qualities we discover are different from what
we know on other grounds to be the nature of the objects and hence
can not be in the objects at all.8 Now all these arguments are
good as a refutation of "naive realism" which supposes objects to
be at all times just what they are seen at any one moment to be —
though it may be doubted if the most naive man-in-the-street ever
held such a position. But none of them militates against the argu-
ment for the objectivity of sensations as set forth in this paper.
(1) Different people looking at the same object of course have dif-
ferent sensations, which proves that the sense-quality is not in the
object taken alone and absolutely, but which does not prove that
the object may not have the various different qualities relatively
to the different situations in which it stands to different organisms.
Relativity is not subjectivity; and in these days of relativity, when
even physicists talk in such terms, the old thoughtless identification
of the relative and the subjective requires revision. If sensations
are relative to medium and end-organ as well as to object, the con-

7 E.g., in Essays in Critical Eed'ism, it is said that psychology deals with
" subjective data " (31), that the sphere of the psychologist is " the psychical
aa such " (208), that a sensation, apart from its reference, is but " a pure
state of our sensibility " (234), that " perception is not direct " (103), etc.
Cf. also pp. 11, 28, 164, 192, 197, 217, et passim.

• For the most recent statement of these arguments in compact form, con-
sult Essays in Critical Eealism, pp. 8, 15, 133, 224, 226, etc.

THE METAPHYSICAL STATUS OF SENSATIONS 179

ditions of observation would assist in determining what quality
would be seen. Under identically the same circumstances the object
has identically the same quality. (2) The contradictory qualities,
being also a matter of diverse points of view, signify nothing in
the way of subjectivity. For the contradictory qualities are not
in the object taken alone. The trouble here seems to arise from
considering qualities as distinct and separate entities, like a lot
of marbles which small boys carry around in their pockets. The
sense-qualities of objects are relative to the point of view. And
unless it is contradictory to suppose that there is more than one
point of view in the universe, it is hard to see why it is contradic-
tory to suppose an object to have successively to the same organism
or simultaneously to different organisms a number of different quali-
ties. (3) The fact referred to in the third argument is not a
point against the theory of this paper, but part of the position
defended. But the inference from that fact betrays a non sequitur.
Because an object does not have eternally and unchangeably a cer-
tain quality observed in sensation, is no reason why it may not have
that quality in case of being related in a certain way to a certain
perceiving organism. It is a long jump from the discovery that
the qualities observed in sensation are not the qualities which the
object has apart from sensation, to the conclusion that the qualities
are not qualities of the object at all but "psychic states" in the
mind. Before such a conclusion could be defended, one would have
to find such a "mind" as could contain qualities, which kind of a
"mind" is not revealed by experience; and even then, one would
need some experimental evidence for the location of qualities there
instead of somewhere else. No one has ever successfully essayed
this task. Rather such a supposition is defined as an axiom and
accepted as authentic before experience is examined, and experience
is then made to fit into this scheme at any cost.

In addition to these arguments which are restated in various
forms, there is an alleged metaphysical principle which is supposed
to prove the subjectivity of sensations. Instead of going to expe-
rience to find out whether we can really see and touch objects, the
advocates of subjectivism adduce an a priori proof against such
direct contact between observer and object.9 Mind and matter are
so regarded that contact between them is deemed impossible.

9 E.g., Mr. E. W. Sellars said that the claim to have the object immediately
present is " impossible," and his reason is that " it would involve the leaping
of spatial and temporal barriers in an unnatural fashion " (Essays in Critical
Eealism, p. 200). The quite sufficient answer to Mr. Sellars and all the other
critical realists who reject the contact of observer with object is contained in
the wise words of Mr. Santayana in their own volume: " The standard of
naturalness is nature itself " (p. 167).

180 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

The trouble here seems to be with the conception of cause. The
assumption seems to have been made that one thing can not cause
another thing unless we can mulct-stand how the act of causation
takes place. But causation, however natural a matter, is not a
logical procedure. A person who looked at the greenish-yellow
gas called chlorin with its disagreeable odor and poisonous effect
upon the lungs and then looked at the whitish metal called sodium
which discolors so quickly as it oxidizes when exposed to the air,
might never suspect that those two substances, combined in certain
proportions, would give another substance indispensable to living
organisms and delicious for the seasoning of food. We can dis-
cover certain facts which we can not account for; yet metaphysics
should not be regarded as a process of accounting for the universe
but as a statement in general terms of what the universe happens
to be. Similarly we may be unable to explain why certain kinds of
matter, organized in a certain way, make living beings and end-
organs and nervous systems; and we may be unable to explain
why under certain circumstances these living beings can perceive ob-
jects. We are entitled to seek explanation of these facts in the sense
that we may search for the detailed analysis of the processes involved,
but not in the sense that we may formulate a principle which will
account for things being as they are instead of otherwise. However
unrelated to logical processes they may be, natural processes are
none the less real, i.e., take place ; they do not wait for the logician
to justify their occurrence. Causation is not anything to be ex-
plained en masse, but to be accepted and to be used as an explanation
of what happens to and around us. Nature is more resourceful
than the mind of a rationalist. Antecedent intelligibility is not a
measure of natural possibility. What is, is possible. If we do
perceive objects, then we can. Metaphysicians should start with na-
ture, not with axioms ; and their principles should be generalizations
from the facts, not regulations by which they, like traffic police-
men for the universe, endeavor to determine the directions in which
things must go.

Doubtless many advocates of the existence of "psychic states"
would reject the false metaphysical axiom discussed in the preced-
ing paragraph. But if they carry out that rejection and eliminate
its implications from all their theories, what antecedent likelihood
is there that objects have not "really" the qualities which they
are found in experience to have, and that we do not, in spite of
every indication, "really" come into immediate contact with ob-
jects? Thus the way is opened for a return to a naturalism which
takes the universe at face-value, gives credit to whatever it finds

TRUTH AS CORRESPONDENCE 181

and seeks for as much more as it can discover, and recognizes the
setting in which living, perceiving, and thinking go on. Naturalism
in this sense is far from materialism ; 10 for it regards the material
world as the "natural basis" which finds its "ideal fulfilment" in
the achievement of the goods which the structure of reality makes
possible.11 And thus from the slime of the sea-bed may arise beings
who sing songs, build cathedrals, erect shrines to the saints, and
dream of the kingdom of God. But the full meaning of naturalism
is too much to attempt to define in a closing paragraph. It is per-
haps enough if something has been said to reinforce Plato's con-
tention that in vision the eye becomes a seeing eye, and the object
becomes a white object.

STERLING P. LAMPRECHT.
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS.

TRUTH AS CORRESPONDENCE : A RE-DEFINITION

FTlHE purpose of this article is. to show that by an accurate ob-
-L jective definition of the concepts involved it is possible to
define truth in terms of correspondence, and at the same time avoid
the well-known dialectical difficulties of the theory of error. Many
attempts along this line have been made, but they have proved
abortive. The advocates of what Joachim calls the coherence theory
have found them altogether too easy to puncture. Granting that
a true statement is one that corresponds with facts, they say, how
are we to deal with false statements'? We can not claim that they
correspond to nothing at all, for this would imply that they were
meaningless, which is not the case. And we can not say that they
correspond with the wrong facts, for how can we determine their
legitimate reference? In spite of the seeming finality of such ob-
jections, the correspondence theory of truth still survives. And
it survives because of its obvious scientific common sense. But to
a really striking degree epistemology has failed to put it on a
sound logical basis. Propositions, assumptions, and other strange
and doubtful entities have been invented to mediate between judg-
ment and reality, and they are all conspicuously futile.

The correct solution is not by means of any of these ingenuities.
It is found by taking an objective point of view in regard to the
knowledge situation, and the factors entering into it. Our funda-

10 The word naturalism has not in this paper at all the same meaning as,
for example, in Professor Perry's Present Philosophical Tendencies.

11 These phrases are borrowed from Santayana's Life of Reason.

182 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

mental a&sumption is that knowledge is a function of reality. And
our problem is so to define this relationship as to avoid the diffi-
culties so often pointed cut in connection with other correspond-
ence theories of truth.

To begin with a study of the terms of the relation, what are we
to understand by knowledge! Objectively considered, we may take
knowledge to consist of speech-reactions. That is to say, it is a
particular type of behavior. At first sight this may appear very
paradoxical, but only because philosophy has paid little attention to
the point. For it is by no means repugnant to the common sense
of man. Humanity has inevitably perceived the necessity of in-
venting adequate means for keeping permanent records of speech-
reactions. A page of writing is just as much a record of reactions
as is the tracery on the smoked cylinder by which the subject of a
psychological experiment shows his responses to the flashing of
lights, the tones of bells or other stimuli. But the writing is an
exceedingly complex and ingenious record of highly complex re-
sponses, whereas the tracery on the smoked surface is a relatively
simple, two-dimensional affair. Thus the type of behavior known
as language has evidently been given very great weight by the
common consent of man, and the difficulty of regarding knowledge
as language is sensibly diminished.

There are, however, two objections, one systematic, the other
psychological, that must be met before we can proceed. In the
first place it may be said that we are defining knowledge in terms
of something that is not knowledge, and that this involves a re-
flexive fallacy. For if we say that all knowledge is speech, it may
seem that we are making one of those assertions about all proposi-
tions that are forbidden by the Theory of Types. But this is not
a case of defining one entity in terms of another. We do not have
knowledge on the one hand and speech on the other. From the
objective point of view we have nothing but speech. The whole
material of logic itself is nothing but speech-reactions.

But, in the second place, it may be said that we are arguing far
in advance of the known facts. It is by no manner of means
established that all cognitive processes are essentially language-
processes. This is true enough, but there is no lack of negative
evidence in support of our contention. Within recent years ex-
tensive attempts have been made both in this country and in Europe
to demonstrate the existence of so-called imageless thought. The
fate of this research is quite instructive. In laboratories of marked
sensationalist tendency, imageless thought was never discovered,
while in laboratories of an anti-sensationalist turn, it was. Such

TRUTH AS CORRESPONDENCE 183

an outcome can hardly fail to cast serious reflections on the whole
method of introspective psychology. And specifically, it is relev-
ant to our present discussion in that it suggests the impossibility
of dealing with cognition in terms of impressions. Knowledge
would seem to be an affair of reactions. And the only kind of
behavior that can well be regarded as knowledge is speech. Of
course when we come to the positive side of the question, and try
to show that in every case of cognition a speech reaction is present,
the difficulties are immense. Oftentimes the responses will be ex-
ceedingly subtle. There will be no evident motions of the vocal
organs or the hands. There will perhaps be not even any palpable
muscular innervations. The only changes may be in the cortex,
where we have at present no means of observing them. But the
decided weight of argument seems to be on the side of the supposi-
tion that from the objective point of view, cognition appears as
language.

But must we not admit that types of behavior other than speech
are cognitive in function — such for instance as pointing or draw-
ing geometrical figures? When I reply to the question, "Where
is the book?" by pointing, is this response not essentially knowl-
edge from the objective point of view? Hardly, for it would seem
very much more in accord with the probable psychological facts
to suppose that the cognitive part of the proceeding would be
found in some such suppressed, implicit speech-reaction as: "The
book is where I am pointing." Again, it has been proposed that
we try to communicate with hypothetical rational inhabitants of
Mars by means of a figure of the Theorem of Pythagoras done
large in canals on the Sahara desert. Would not the behaviors
involved in planning and executing such a figure be essentially
cognitive? Not so, for the essential meaning, the knowledge con-
veyed by such a figure, both to ourselves and to the Martians,
would consist in the speech-reactions of which it would be the
stimulus.

An apparently serious difficulty in regarding knowledge as
consisting of speech reactions is found in the phenomena of quali-
tative perception. When I look at a red object, and see before
me a patch of red, there seems to be something very direct and
immediate in the situation. I seem to have what Bertrand Rus-
sell calls "knowledge by acquaintance." In such respects it ap-
pears, prima facie, that cognition is a matter of impression rather
than reaction. But what actually happens? An ethereal vibration
of a certain frequency impinges upon the retina, and presumably,
a certain kind of stimulus travels up over the optic nerve. Does

184 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

this constitute knowledge? It is difficult to say that it does. So
far, it would appear, we have nothing at all but various metabolic
changes. Of course the inner secret soul or consciousness of the
subject may register something. But the outside observer knows
nothing of all this. Still less does he know that the impression is
one of redness. Indeed the very members of the subject himself
are not aware of it at this stage. If we insist on stopping here,
the whole business becomes a little secret between his cortex and
his soul. Indeed, it is only when the stimulus goes across into
response that it becomes anything at all. If the subject is a bull,
and charges, we say that he is infuriated. If he is a man, and says
"That is red" we say that he has knowledge. Even in the experi-
mental psychology of sensation, where we might expect to find
pure impressions if they exist anywhere, all the data are in the
form of speech-reactions, the reports of the subjects.

Knowledge then, as a set of propositions or judgments, is some-
thing that possesses physical reality. It has a position in space
and a duration in time. Certainly the mere geometrical relations
of a piece of knowledge, a speech-reaction, are not of the first im-
portance. Its structural correlations with the responding organism
are the truly significant considerations. It is these which science
must analyze. But to point out that a judgment has the same kind
of ponderable reality as a chair is far from being a waste of time.
It instantly banishes many of those vague and mystifying difficul-
ties which have led epistemology into endless and futile dialectical
mazes, and goes far towards clearing up the whole discussion as to
the nature of truth.

This brings to our attention the second element in the cognitive
situation, the object of knowledge. And here it would seem that
we must inevitably take up the position which Bosanquet and the
idealists have called "naive realism." The object of knowledge will
be the thing of physics, the thing, that is to say, which by possess-
ing mass, momentum and so forth satisfies the requirements of,
and is intelligible to physical science.

Bertrand Russell has several times discussed the relation of the
things of physics to consciousness. In general, ignoring minor
differences, his theory is that physical objects may be regarded as
aggregations of sense-data. In this respect, of course, he is simply
making a refinement upon the position of Hume. It is notable
that this point of view admittedly culminates in solipsism, which of
itself would be enough to suggest that it must be based on some
radical error. For philosophers have almost always felt that solip-
sism is in the nature of a reductio ad absurdum, even when they
have not seen their way clear to avoiding it.

TRUTH AS CORRESPONDENCE 185

The fundamental objection to defining physical things in terms
of sense-data is that the existence of sense-data themselves is very
doubtful. Of course it is allowed that sense-data are not found in
a pure or uncombined condition, which, though it certainly raises
serious difficulties, may not be fatal to Russell's theory. But this
is by no means all. A thoroughgoing objective psychology denies
that the patch of color of a given shape and size which is a constitu-
ent of the aggregate of data which makes up the thing according
to Russell, is anything at all in and of itself. Unless the stimulus
issues in response, unless it affects the behavior of the organism
in some definite manner, we have no reason to believe that it exists
as a stimulus at all. It is with responses that we are always con-
cerned. Thus it is impossible to admit of sense-data as ultimate
notions for epistemology. And the paradoxical issue of the at-
tempt to reconstruct the things of physics as groupings of sense-
data, the fact that it directly involves such a position as solipsism,
is due to employing fictions as ultimates.

It would be very much better to regard the things of physics
as classes of reactions. Indeed it might be suggested that this was
the way out if the notion of sense-data proved untenable. But
this would at once wreck the geometrical scheme by which Russell
constructs the world of physics out of appearances. If we admit
sense-data as he understands them, it is possible to suppose a rela-
tion of congruence between them. And in terms of this, and one
or two other concepts, such as larger and smaller, and shielding, it
is not difficult to derive direction and line. This done, we define
a thing as the class of all lines (which themselves are classes of
sense-data) which converge at a given locus. But with responses
the case is altogether different. It is out of the question to set
up such relations and to derive such a scheme in this case. There
is a sense in which the thing might be regarded as the class of all
responses in regard to it. But inasmuch as all such responses are
occasioned by stimuli, we can never escape from duality. The
conception of a class of responses may conceivably have a value,
but the principle of Occam's razor can never get rid of entities
called things, which are the causes of the stimuli issuing in these
responses.

Thus it would seem that the adoption of an objective point of
view not only results in giving up knowledge by acquaintance, but
also commits us to a naive realism in regard to the objects of knowl-
edge. For those objects appear merely as the things of physics.
Beyond this point analysis can not be pushed.

But it will be said that this completely ignores so-called ab-
stract knowledge, which purports to deal not with ponderable in-

186 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

dividual things, but with universals. Univereals, however, can
always be regarded as classes of things. And Russell's theory of
incomplete symbols shows that the class concepts are nothing but
symbolic conveniences. In other words, we deal with universals
by means of nominalism. Millenniums of adjustment have so re-
fined human speech-reactions, that it is possible for us to use the
convenience known as abstract thought.

The result of our discussion so far is that in the cognitive
situation we have a relation set up between two classes of physical
objects. On the one hand we have the specific object known as a
speech-reaction; on the other, anything else, to which the speech-
reaction somehow refers. Philosophy has usually dealt with the
cognitive situation by revising its conception of the object of
knowledge. The tendency has been towards a monism in favor of
knowledge as something at any rate non-physical. The idealist
has tried to show that the understanding makes nature. The
empiricist has tried to show that nature may be regarded as made
up of sense impressions. Common to both is the attempt to show
that nature participates in the very essence of consciousness. Our
own position here is the precise converse of this. It is a monism
in favor of physical reality. It claims that knowledge itself is
part of nature, that it is a specific phenomenon among phenomena.
When we regard knowledge as a set of speech-reactions, the mysteri-
ous gap between mind and matter is evidently closed. It is true
that there is still a duality between knowledge and the things
known. But the crux of truth problem becomes the analysis
of the relations between two physical things, between speech-reac-
tions, and the things to which they refer.

Coming then to a study of the relation of knowledge to its ob-
ject, it will be well to remind ourselves of the central difficulty
with which our account must cope if it is to be successful. The
discussion of correspondence theories of truth has definitely shown
that their great weakness lies in their inability to explain how a
particular piece of knowledge, a particular proposition, as it were,
selects the particular fact in terms of which its truth value is to
be determined. It has been claimed that apart from some such
notion as the intention or internal meaning of a proposition, it is
impossible to understand error. For if error is failure to cor-
respond with something, we need some intention whose frustration
shall constitute failure.

How then is every judgment uniquely related to the specific
fact for which it stands? Let us begin with what have been called
judgments of perception. Redefining this notion in our own terms,

TRUTH AS CORRESPONDENCE 187

such judgments are those where the stimulus of the speech-reac-
tion is that to which the judgment has reference. I see a colored
patch, and respond by saying "that is red." I see my desk light
burning, and the muscles of my vocal organs are innervated to
make the assertion "the light is burning." In such cases the rela-
tion between the judgment and its object seems sufficiently clear.
It is the relation of response to stimulus. The object is the cause
of the judgment, the causal nexus taking an intricate path through
the nervous ganglia. So far everything is simple enough. But
as soon as we pass from judgments of this type we find a much more
complex situation. Let us take two examples.

Suppose a friend of mine has assured me that he turned out
my desk light. Then, when I enter the room and find it burning,
my reaction may take the form of asserting "he's a liar." The
stimulus comes in over a different cortical set, and issues in a dif-
ferent response. Or again, take the judgment "Julius Caesar
crossed the Rubicon." Here the stimulus will probably be letters
on a printed page. In both instances the immediate stimulus is in
a sense irrelevant. How then is the judgment related to its object?

The general principle of explanation in both cases is the same.
When I see the light burning and react with an assertion about
my friend, the total stimulus is not merely the impact of the
ethereal vibrations upon my retina. It is this impact and in addi-
tion the words of my friend. And my neural set is such that I
react with regard to the latter but not the former. And when I
assert that Caesar crossed the Rubicon, I am reproducing the origi-
nal reaction made by observers two thousand years ago, who saw
him splash through the stream and found in the sight a stimulus
to the response, "He has crossed the Rubicon!" The situation is
that of the psychological investigator who tabulates the results of
experiments he has never personally made. He is dealing with re-
sponses whose stimuli have never gone across his own nervous
system. But the whole significance of these responses is their rela-
tion to just these stimuli.

As has been pointed out, this is nothing but a very general ex-
planation. But to demand very much more would not be reason-
able. Little is known as yet of the means by which the nervous
system makes selections from and performs integrations upon the
vast number of stimuli which come in all the time. But psychology
and neurology are decidedly justified in assuming that this enor-
mously complex mechanism performs the task somehow. This as-
sumption is the only hope of any sort of scientific explanation of
our mental life, and it provides an excellent programme for re-
search. It is the best we have. Without it we are reduced to sheer

JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

miracle. And for philosophy the advantage of dealing with the
relation between knowledge and its objects along this line is that
it keeps us in touch with the best scientific developments, and at
least gives us the assurance that we are dealing with facts rather
than fiction, even though our detailed knowledge of those facts
may be very partial.

Thus to sum up, every judgment is uniquely related to its ob-
ject by virtue of the fact that it is a response to which the object
in question has been or is the stimulus. A judgment may not be
immediately occasioned by the presence of the object to which it
refers — for instance it may be occasioned by a printed record.
This is due to the organization of our neural mechanism, which
enables us to effect vast economies in living. But always we can
push back to an ultimate stopping place where the stimulus and
the speech-reaction are brought together in time and space.

This analysis makes it possible for us to define truth in terms
of correspondence, and at the same time to give an account of error.
Fundamental to this account is the notion of a normally function-
ing nervous system.

For a judgment is true when it is the response of a normal
organism to a given stimulus. Suppose I say "Napoleon's tomb
is in Paris." Let us assume that 1 have read these words some-
where. Pushing back along the chain of recorded responses of
which the printed symbols that I saw were the last, I come finally
to the place where the original observer, who started the whole
series, stood. I am directed to a particular locus, and there I re-
ceive a stimulus that issues in the response, "Yes, Napoleon's tomb
is in Paris." And this it is which constitutes the truth of the
judgment. But suppose I read "Napoleon's tomb is in Berlin."
Then I am directed to another locus, where I receive another stimu-
lus, which issues in the response "No, Napoleon's tomb is not in
Berlin." This means that the original judgment was false. The
chain of recorded responses always directs us to some specific locus.
This is the function of what has sometimes been called the inten-
tion or "internal meaning" of the judgment. And the notion of
internal meaning has been used to wreck the whole correspondence
theory. In and of itself, the notion seems to be quite inadmissable.
The supposition that every judgment has ultimately two kinds of
meaning is one to be avoided if at all possible. Such difficulties
as these, and their accompanying dialectical objections to the cor-
respondence theory of truth vanish as soon as we bring to light a
mechanism which secures correlation between judgments and their
objects.

THE COMPLEX DILEMMA— A REJOINDER 189

It is impossible to arrive at a satisfactory account of the objec-
tive reference of judgments so long as we consider nothing but the
judgments themselves. In and of themselves they are merely physi-
cal facts. They are no more and no less mysterious than so many
chairs and tables. They are simply complexes of nervous discharge
and muscular tension and relaxation. If we desire to understand
their epistemological function, we must not consider them alone.
To do so is to commit a fatal abstraction. We must take into con-
sideration the entire structure in which they occur — the organic
structure stimulated by contacts with objects outside itself, and
responding to these contacts in a thousand various ways, some of
which make up what we call knowledge.

In closing, it may be well to say a word as to the bearing of
this point of view upon epistemology as a whole. Bertrand Rus-
sell is responsible for introducing into philosophy a technique which
in a measure deserves to be called scientific. By applying the
notions and methods of symbolic logic it is undeniably possible to
get a very sharp definition of certain issues, and consequently to
arrive at definite solutions of detailed problems. But the differ-
ence between modern science and philosophy is something more
than a mere matter of technique. It is a difference in point of
view. Science is objective, and philosophy, in large measure, is
subjective. Russell's own distinction between knowledge by ac-
quaintance and knowledge by description is essentially subjective.
Philosophy can not become truly scientific till it becomes objective
through and through. And a most important step in this direction
is to adopt an objective point of view in studying the knowledge-
situation.

JAMES L. MURSELL.

PAINESVILLE, OHIO.

THE COMPLEX DILEMMA— A REJOINDER

I REGRET that absence from the country has prevented my giv-
ing earlier attention to Professor Brogan's criticism1 of my
article on the complex dilemma,2 since it contains a serious misrepre-
sentation.

The "exact meaning" of my criticism of the dilemma is said to
be contained in the following dilemma: "If the minor and the con-
clusion are exclusive alternatives, the argument is fallacious ; and if
the minor is exclusive and the conclusion is non-exclusive then the
argument is redundant. But either the minor and the conclusion

1 This JOURNAL, Vol. XVIII, pp. 566-7.

2 Ibid., pp. 244-6.

190 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

are exclusive, or the minor is exclusive and the conclusion is nou
exclusive. Therefore the argument is fallacious or redundant."
And Professor Brogan adds: "It is perfectly obvious that the minor
premise here is false, because it overlooks the possibility that both
the minor and the conclusion may be treated as being formally non-
exclusive alternatives. If this treatment is given, the complex
dilemma is neither fallacious nor redundant."

The reader who cares to refer to my article will see that these
remarks are wholly misapplied. So far is it from being true that I
did not consider the last-mentioned possibility, that I showed ex-
plicitly that in that case the argument reduces to a familiar form of
sorites. When Professor Brogan concludes that "the non-exclusive
interpretation of disjunction is required for the complex dilemma,"
he is merely restating my own contention.

There is one point in the criticism which is well taken. The
example of a complex destructive dilemma, which I quoted from
Whately and Jevons, was badly chosen for my purpose. As under-
stood by Whately it was merely redundant, and as interpreted by
Jevons it was entirely correct. It is not quite accurate, however,
to say of Whately that, like Jevons, he "carefully and explicitly
defended the non-exclusive interpretation of 'or'." Whately held
that in most cases the exclusive interpretation is called for, but that
sometimes (depending on the context) the alternatives are to be
taken as non-exclusive. Accordingly, in his account of the dilemma
two types appear. On the one hand, it is explicitly recognized that
the minor is sometimes not a strict disjunction; and on the other
hand, in the construction of various examples, care is evidently taken
to make the minor a strict disjunction. This is the case with the
example which I quoted. It is also the case with the following.
"Either they [the blest in heaven] will have no desires, or have them
fully gratified." "He [JSschines] either joined [in the public re-
joicings], or not." Furthermore, there is no suggestion in Whately 's
account that where the minor is thus clearly intended as a strict dis-
junction, the conclusion requires a different interpretation.*

This point is historically of some importance, because it is tc
Whately that the theory of the dilemma in its present form is directlj
due ; and it is probably to the imperfect clearness of his account that
the current misunderstanding of the topic is to be traced.4

THEODORE DE LAGUNA.

BRYN MAWR COLLEGE.

» Elements of Logic, London, 1848, pp. 108-110.

« Thus Bain, who draws upon Whately, interprets the disjunction strictly,
without suspecting that he has modified his borrowings in any way. Cf. Logic,
London, 1910, Vol. I, pp. 119, 121.

BOOK REVIEWS 191

BOOK REVIEWS

The Reign of Relativity. Viscount HALDANE. London : John Mur-
ray. 1921. Pp. xxiii + 430.

Lord Haldane's volume is a clear and timely presentation of the
general standpoint of objective idealism in the light of the science
and culture of today; it falls readily within the comprehension of
all seriously interested in philosophy, but without any sacrifice of
essentials or evasion of difficulties. It is unfortunate that the mean-
ing of relativity, like that of idealism itself, has become — quite apart
from the scientific theory — extremely vague and confused. Hal-
dane's own use of the term is best described as the explication of the
principle of "degrees of reality." "The distinction between ap-
pearance and reality becomes one of degrees towards full compre-
hension. Conceptions mould the experience in which they are ap-
plied. Through our conceptions we isolate, but we isolate only
special aspects of reality. ' ' These aspects, that is, never represent so
many "separately existing and independent realities";1 but sepa-
rateness is repudiated not in any subjective fashion, but with refer-
ence to experience and to reality as a whole.2

It is especially noteworthy, in view of recent discussion, that
this initial position is conjoined with an unambiguous realism; for
realism can find its fullest development, I think, only in an alliance
with an idealism as truly objective as itself.3 The question is
obviously too wide for consideration here; but Haldane's position
is perfectly definite. "What is before us is there, and is independent
of the particular onlookers who are present along with it." Thus
subjectivism is excluded; and with it goes all false abstraction;
for "it is discoverable for us only by means of observation and
experiment, and not by a priori reasoning. . . . The conception of
an electron may or may not be final, but it indicates what is recognized
as a real complex of actual objective factors."4 On these points
Lord Haldane, to a marked degree, endorses Dr. Whitehead's con-
tentions in his Concept of Nature.5 But this agreement is qualified
by the criticism that Dr. Whitehead's final conclusion is, from the
strictly philosophic point of view, too absolute, inasmuch as he " can
hardly claim to iave excluded nature from the imputation of the in-

i Pp. 36, 35.

2<< It is a relativity that is not subjective, in the sense that things are
only to each of us what they appear to be " (p. 37).

3 ' ' The difference between idealism and realism disappears in the larger
outlook that embraces the difference itself " (p. 137).

* Pp. 36, 47. Cf. p. 211 — ' ' The world is actual and independent of its
observer. ..."

s Cf. this JOURNAL, Vol. XIX, No. 6, pp. 146-157.

192 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

gression of mind into its constitution" (p. 81). I think, however,
that the difference here is cutin-ly one of standpoint ; Dr. Whitehead,
"abjuring metaphysics," as the scientist is entitled (if not indeed
compelled) to do, regards natural phenomena as, primd facie, outside
or beyond the observer's mind; but this in itself does not imply any
discontinuity between mind and nature as interpreted by the more
inclusive philosophical standard.

From this basis Haldane develops his doctrine of relativity in
the sense that, universally, "Knowledge is foundations! of reality,"
so that ' ' we must take account of all the degrees and levels at which
it appears and interpret them according to their places in the en-
tirely. . . . Knowledge is foundational of both apprehension and
what is apprehended. " 6 At the first glance this seems to confirm the
too general impression that idealism is essentially logical and ab-
stract— a matter of intellect or of discursive thought. But it is an
outstanding merit of this volume that such an erroneous interpreta-
tion of idealism is emphatically disclaimed. "Knowledge" has the
fullest possible significance. It is equivalent to mind, or to ex-
perience, as one continuous, immanent, and infinitely diversified
whole. It is "ultimately one and indivisible. . . . Mind, in the
fullest meaning, is foundational to reality. . . . We have to inter-
pret knowledge in no narrow sense. It will have to extend not only
to notions but to feelings." Experience consists in short of "the
dynamic activity of mind . . . dynamic and not static, and is in its
real nature subject yet more distinctly than substance."7

The principle of relativity, thus interpreted, is classical. But
Haldane gives it a thoroughly independent and individual considera-
tion in its bearing upon science and religion, society and art, which
should do much to clear away the distortions and misunderstandings
which inevitably gather around every great historic system. Both
the exponents of idealism and its more recent opponents are sub-
jected to vigorous and effective criticism, which may be summarized
in the contention that, alike in the case of Bosanquet, Pringle-Pat-
tison and the New-Realists, the full implications of the finitude of
knowledge are not realized and developed ; but this more controver-
sial feature of the volume is best left to the consideration of the
writers concerned.

The lengthy section dealing with the recent development of the
purely scientific theory of relativity is naturally of special interest.
The outline of the theory itself is as free from technicality as Is
possible in dealing with a subject so abstract, and should be helpful

« Pp. 124, 137.

' Pp. 126, 128, 147, 155, 166.

BOOK REVIEWS 193

to those who still find it as a whole obscure. But when we turn
from exposition to interpretation it seems to me that Haldane, though
to a far less degree than previous writers, tends to read too much
into the theory in both its scientific and philosophic aspects. Its
strictly scientific importance is so fundamental that some degree
of overstatement — for which, however, its originators are not them-
selves responsible — was inevitable, and here a reaction is to be ex-
pected. Haldane 's objectivist standpoint safeguards him from the
tendency to argue that scientific relativity implies philosophic sub-
jectivity; "there is not one system of space-time in contrast with
which others are subjective" (p. 402) ; and he employs Einstein's
results merely by way of illustrating his general principle (p. 39).
But still he appears to me to err almost as seriously in another direc-
tion, inasmuch as he omits to distinguish definitely enough between
space and time, as such, and spatio-temporal measurement systems,8
and therefore fails to recognize sufficiently that in passing from the
latter, with which the scientific theory is concerned, to the former,
which are the main objects of philosophical speculation, we are
dealing with vitally different aspects of the real whole. The con-
sequence is that he falls here into the error against which he con-
stantly warns us — "the blunder of confusing our categories" (p. 37) ;
and similarly he interprets the purely scientific conclusions too liter-
ally, without due allowance for what may, from the analogy with
Kant's general method, be called the als o~b element in the entire
theory. Its principles, that is, are very largely methodological ; they
are adopted, and they are valid, only for certain abstract purposes of
mathematical calculation and physical theory, so that (at least as
matters stand at present) it is illegitimate to regard them as true
apart from certain fundamental qualifications necessary when a
wider range of phenomena is considered. This applies, e.g., to the
treatment of gravitation on p. 57.

Another somewhat perplexing feature of Haldane 's position is
his emphasis on the discontinuity of our categories. A consistent
relativism demands, I think, an ideal continuity; and much, if not
indeed all, of the value of Einstein's methods lies in the fuller
continuity which they import into physical theory. Continuity is
indeed clearly recognized. The result of the development of knowl-
edge "has been accomplishing itself continuously" (p. 417), although
the categories which we actually employ are as a matter of fact

8 This fundamental distinction, curiously enough, receives due emphasis from
the scientists themselves. Cf. this JOURNAL, XVIII., pp. 214, 215. Also Ed-
dington, Nature, Feb. 17, 1921, p. 804: " Worldwide time is a mathematical
system; it has not any metaphysical significance."

194 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

seriously lacking in interconnection. But idealist logic would, I
think, regard this defect as due merely to our limited knowledge.
Haldane, however, seems to regard discontinuity not only as oc-
casional and transitory, but even as essential. He speaks of "levels
or degrees in knowledge which have relations to each other, but
are not reducible to each other. For they are ultimate. . . . The ac-
tual exhibits itself in orders irreducible to each other. ... A living
being that knows seems to belong to an order quite different in kind
from that of one that lives without knowing. . . . Mechanism and
life belong to different orders neither of which is explicable in the
terms that belong to the other."9 If this is literally true any con-
tinuous and progressive development of knowledge would surely
be impossible; but when we consider its actual character, what we
seem to find is an unceasing growth in continuity which goes on, in
principle, without limit ; 10 unless of course we define our categories
to begin with so that they become mutually exclusive, and ' ' mechan-
ism," e.g., means "non-living" while "life" means "non-mechani-
cal." Haldane bases his idealistic relativity on "The Hegelian
Principle" (chap. XV) ; and I welcome his plea for the closer study
of Hegel, together with his protest against the prevailing miscon-
ception of his system. "No philosophical doctrine has been more
misrepresented or given to the world in a more distorted form than
has been Hegelianism in current literature" (p. 344). But the
basal principle of Hegel's Logic is the continuity of the transition
from category to category ; " so that if we are to take the state-
ments just quoted as really typical, there seems to be a fundamental
discrepancy between Haldane 's position and that of Hegel; the
latter, however, appears to be more firmly established by each ad-
vance in the content of knowledge.

But there is ample room for differences of opinion here, and
Lord Haldane would be the last to expect complete unanimity. His
volume, taken as -a whole, is a very valuable and weighty contribu-
tion to philosophical literature.

J. E. TURNER.
LIVERPOOL, ENO.

»Pp. 128, 132, 147, 161.

10 Cf. p. 415. ' ' The capacity of man to interpret is unlimited in its range,
because the range of mind is unlimited in its power of framing general con-
ceptions." But does not this in itself imply that categories are not (in prin-
ciple of course) ultimately irreducible?

11 Cf. McTaggart, Studies in the Hegelian Dialectic, sees. 112-114, and
Commentary, sec. 12.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 195

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

SCIENTIA. June, 1921. Ten Great Epochs in the History of
Mathematics (pp. 417-428): DAVID EUGENE SMITH (New York).-
Attractive little sketch of the history of mathematics from a partic-
ular point of view. La contribution que les divers pays ont donnee
aux progres de la physique. II. Physique energetique et physique
electronique (pp. 429-442) : ABEL KEY (Paris). -On the basis of the
earlier discovered thermodynamic laws was built up in the late
nineteenth century a science of energetics, a physics without hypo-
theses either atomic or kinetic. But it was on the whole infertile in
new discoveries, and atomism came back to its own again with the
electron theories of the twentieth century. All the different branches
of physics — and chemistry as well — have now reached a new syn-
thesis and system, one science instead of a group of partly analogous
sciences ; while the work of developing it has become even more truly
international than ever before, though the English still think in terms
of concrete models, the Germans in abstract mathematics, and the
French and Italians pursue a middle course. La constitution de I'in-
dividualite. I. L 'individuality physiologique (pp. 443-452) : Au-
GUSTO Pi SUNER (Barcelona) .-Every biological individual is capable
of reproducing itself, and is unique not only in outward form but
also in chemical constitution. Problemes financiers d'apres guerre.
I. Dettes publiques et charges fiscales (pp. 453-472) : CORRADO
GINI (Padua). -Excellent survey of the usual means now employed
to raise the national revenue, with the merits of each. Reviews of
Scientific Books and Periodicals.
Levy-Bruhl, Lucien. La Mentalite Primitive. Paris: Felix Alcan.

1922. Pp. 537. 25 fr.

More, Paul Elmer. The Religion of Plato. Princeton: University
Press. London : Oxford University Press. 1921. Pp. xii + 352.
Piccoli, Raffaello. Benedetto Croce: An Introduction to his Phi-
losophy. New York : Harcourt, Brace & Co. 1922. Pp. xi + 315.
Reyburn, Hugh A. The Ethical Theory of Hegel : A Study of the
Philosophy of Right. Oxford: Clarendon Press. 1921. Pp.
xx 268.

NOTES AND NEWS

The Aristotelian Society met in London on February 6, 1922,
Professor Wildon Carr in the chair. Mr. A. H. Hannay read a paper
on "Standards and Principles in Art," a synopsis of which follows:

The problem of standards and of objectivity in art is usually

196 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

debated on the basis of the alternatives of standards-and-objectivity
or no-standards-and-subjectivity ; and no third possibility is envis-
aged. Neither alternative being satisfactory, the position is a
stalemate. Mr. Bal four's attitude in his Romanes lecture is typical.
It is true that the standard and rule must be rejected. They involve
a vicious circle and enjoy only a counterfeit stability. No mediating
criterion can be set up. Each new and individual work of art
carries with it its own individual and original awareness. This view
however does not necessitate a lapse into subjectivism, if it is realized
that the awareness or taste is itself a striving for objectivity and
Tightness. The very search for standards is itself the outcome of
this incessant quest for right taste. While this particular search
has proved fruitless, it is a half truth to say that nothing can be
achieved by means of reflection, definition and analysis. Beauty is
not entirely unique and indefinable. It is a process, a constructing,
and can be differentiated from other processes, such as history,
science, philosophy. Actually, modern criticism is full of psycholog-
ical analyses which definitely involve reflective principles. These
however are distinct from the old standards, inasmuch as they do
not pretend to anticipate the individual content of works of art.
Nevertheless the same question arises regarding them as regarding
standards. Do they precede, accompany or follow upon esthetic
creation and appreciation? And if they follow upon it, what is
their value? It is the commonly accepted view that they are a
later product. This view has been stated very lucidly and trench-
antly by Benedetto Croce and is very plausible. Yet history does
not confirm it and it does not explain the fact that criticism clarifies
taste and is expected to do so. Croce 's own admirable criticism is
a good instance. It is therefore suggested that the process imagina-
tion-principle is not a passage from one independent activity to
another, but a development requiring from the start both activities
and in which a modification in one means a modification in the other.
The critic emphasizes the universal element while the artist empha-
sizes the individual element ; nevertheless the critic attains a clearer
consciousness of the value and significance of the individual work
of art.

VOL. XIX, No. 8. APRIL 13, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ROMANTICISM VS. THE WORSHIP OF FACT

ECENTLY a noted writer reiterated the ancient but fallaci-
ous charge of subjectivism against the romantic attitude.
The dispute normally arises in the following way: The romantic
endeavors to escape from the world of the actual into that of fancy,
or more specifically into the realm of esthetic and speculative im-
agination. The critic, however, interprets this attitude as an un-
willingness to submit to outward fact and accuses the romantic of
a desire to withdraw into a world of his own creation.

The indictment rests on a confusion between the actual and the
real. The critic begins with a fallacious identification of the real
with the actual and then goes on to describe any breaking loose
from the latter into the world of imagination as a detachment from
the objective and a. retreat into the subjective. But it is only a
vulgar preference or extreme naivete that could lead one to limit
reality to the actual ; over and above the actual, there is the field of
subsistence, of ideal entities, of forms, of possibilities; and the
romantic imagination is not vain dreaming but an extension of the
area of knowledge itself beyond perception into the realm of these
ideal essences.

It was the distinctive merit of Leibniz to have pointed out with
clearness that besides the actual there is also the world of possibili-
ties, inhabited by entities that are real though not existent. Leib-
niz, in commenting upon the common-sense view that "heavy bodies
really exist and act, but possibilities or essences anterior to exist-
ence or apart from it, are imaginary or fictitious" urges that
"neither these essences nor what are called eternal truths regard-
ing these essences are fictitious but that they exist in a certain re-
gion (if I may so call it) of ideas, that is to say, in God Himself." 1

Now, the romantic escape from the actual is but a transfer of
residence into the realm of possibilities. Indeed, romanticism is
to art what pure logic is to thought; both are other-worldly, and
differ only in the fact that, whereas the former is seeking beauty,
the latter is in quest of intellectual values in the universe of all
possible worlds. Hence, far from being subjectivistic, romanticism
is a projection of the self into the objective ; far from being a flight
i Quoted from the Essay on the Ultimate Origination of Things.

197

198 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

into the void of the unreal, romanticism is a sharing, along with
God, in the contemplation of the vast landscape of all possible
worlds.

It is the "realist" himself that must be charged with subjectivism.
For, by insisting that attention be confined to the actual, the realist
manifests a limitation of interest to himself and to his immediate
surroundings. After all, the world of actuality has no intrinsic
advantages over the world of possibility ; we come to like the former
quite unreflectively because we find ourselves in it, as we like our
brothers and sisters, or our country. To be transported into the
possible is to be taken out of ourselves and our own, and the realist,
refusing as he does to leave the borders of his spiritual birthplace,
betrays an intellectual provincialism; his mind remains untrav-
elled. But the romantic temperament is adventuresome and free,
launching bold expeditions into unexplored regions of possibility,
all the while going about, not in the fashion of a Baedecker tour-
ist, but immersing itself in the new regions and investigating them
with an open mind, unhampered by the prejudices of the little bit
of actuality into which it has been born.

The realist suffers from inertia of mind; he is too indolent to
move about. But romanticism is the mind become active and rest-
less, for fancy is like blazing coal in the engine of the soul. Thus,
the realist's world is poor and narrow, devoid of the wealth and
variety of the romantic scenery. And if the poet's dictum that
"he does not England know who only England knows" be true,
then, by analogy, the realist knows not even his corner of actuality
well, because he has not contemplated it in the light of other pos-
sibilities.

The fundamental, though tacit, assumption of the defenders of
realism is that actuality possesses worth as such and that roman-
ticism is at a great disadvantage for its neglect of the actual.
Anselm, even Leibniz himself, maintained that actuality is a requisite
of perfection and the transition from possibility to realization an
absolute gain. Now, for one thing, Kant has refuted Anselm by
showing that actuality adds nothing to possibility. In fact, there
is something essentially accidental about actuality. Abstractly,
any causal law is as possible as any other; yet one is realized and
the others are not. There is no reason why dead people should not
talk, but they don't; there is no reason why the sun should rise;
it simply does rise and keeps on rising, inexplicably, every morn-
ing. Existence is therefore lacking the dignity bestowed by neces-
sity.

Moreover, do we not all admit that distance lends enchantment —

ROMANTICISM VS. THE WORSHIP OF FACT 199

distance in time, distance from the present, in other words, remote-
ness from the actual? The past is beautiful because it represents
that portion of reality which has gone out of time into eternity.
That spatio-temporal reality is at best a poor affair, is evidenced by
the fact that reason in the guise of science is engaged in a con-
tinued effort to patch things up, to fill up vast gaps by correspond-
ingly vast assumptions, introducing the hypothesis of uniformity to
explain away the apparent diversity, sewing up the ragged edges
of events with the thread of causal law, trying to compensate for
the coarse exterior of the stream of happenings by constructing
behind apearances a conceptual world of points and atoms, so much
so that virtually the larger part of what common-sense and science
call reality is nothing but intellectual construction.

But may not actuality claim a certain "robustness" and "con-
creteness" denied to the world of pure ideas? Even that is doubt-
ful. The robustness of the actual is of a hectic hue and deceptive
like the color on a feverish face or the energy exhibited by one who
is intoxicated. For the more penetrating and intense the intellect-
ual vision, the more does the actual fade into a shadow, as Plato
came to see, until, in the mystical experience, it dissolves into an
illusion. The claims of fact upon our attention are not of intrin-
sic merit but of dominion; we must take notice of the immediate
situation because, if we do not, we suffer. And yet it is into this
sea of fleeting, chaotic existence that Bergsonian mysticism invites
us to plunge — stripped bare of all clothing of intellectual elabora-
tion— to be drawn below by fickle currents, away from the fresh
and free atmosphere of creative thought.

In sum, existence is an evil and creation the original sin. Leib-
niz himself recognized that a possibility can never be realized as
such because the receptivity of the world is limited. To realize is
to weaken, to dilute the ideal. That, as J. S. Mill complained, a
heretic becomes a tyrant as soon as he enters into power — in other
words, that one ceases to care for freedom as soon as one has at-
tained it — is a vivid instance of the vicious effect of attempting to
transfer the ideal from the realm of possibility to that of fact. The
question instinctively arises, why there should be a world of ex-
istence at all. If we look at the process as a passage from the pos-
sible to the actual through the mechanism of creation, then the prob-
lem before us is indeed insoluble. But the situation is simplified
if we take existence as granted and regard the universal process
as one of a gradual liberation of the possible from the existent. To
this view, the law of the dissipation of energy lends strong support.
Obviously, matter obstinately resists extinction, yet the availability

200 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

of energy for work constantly diminishes; in other words, its abil-
ity to embody new forms and ideas is gradually being reduced.
Spurts of new life and the formation of new combinations indicate
desperate efforts on the part of the actual to extend its hold upon
the ideal; but with the eventual cessation of work, foreshadowed
by the so-called law of degeneration, the dominion of matter over
form will come to an end, and the realm of possibilities will no
longer suffer encroachment from the actual.

In line with this tendency are all the noblest aspirations of man
as embodied in art, in religion, and in philosophy. In these, the
soul proclaims itself an exile in the actual and voices a profound
yearning to escape from the immediate in time and in space.
Romanticism, then, as we have defined it, is not by any means an
isolated movement. Philosophy and poetry constitute preeminent
instances of the soul liberating itself from fact under the stimulus,
in the one case, of intellectual and in the other of esthetic imagina-
tion. Even science, as we noted above, is not a mirror of fact, but
an intellectual embroidery upon it. And as philosophy expresses
the romanticism of the intellect, so does the attitude of faith repre-
sent the romanticism of the will. For what is this undying optim-
ism in the face of failure, this pathetic devotion to hopeless causes,
this faith in the eventual doing of justice when injustice rules un-
checked, this belief in human beings and confidence in their un-
limited progress, but a vast construction of the moral imagination
upon the very facts of failure?

In the long run, life can not be left wholly out of account;
after all, life is one of the many dreams and the actual world one
of the infinite possible worlds. We should therefore school our
minds to conceive the actual sub specie possibilitatis — to use it in-
deed as a stepping-stone into the domain of possibility. For the
enlightened soul inhabits a world whose area embraces the actual
but extends far beyond it into the subsistent, and its home is the
entire universe of being.

RAPHAEL DEMOS.

CAMBRIDGE, MASS.

IN the presentation of a scientific theory for philosophical con-
sideration, it is of primary importance that the fundamental
bases of the theory be brought prominently, and indeed unequivo-
i Certain objections to J. E. Turner 's article ' ' Some Philosophic Aspects of
Scientific Relativity," this JOURNAL, Vol. XVIII, No. 8.

RELATIVITY, OLD AND NEW 201

cally to the fore, and that the points at which it departs in its vital
essentials from previously held theories relating to the same phe-
nomena stand forth in unmistakable relief. From this standpoint
I can not but take exception to Mr. Turner's presentation, as well as
to some of his conclusions.

In his second paragraph Mr. Turner wisely says "... the term
'relativity' itself accounts for much of the prevailing confusion,"
and further, "Even its widest later applications are concerned only
with the relative velocities of systems and observers, and with the
mathematical and other scientific (but not philosophic) implications
of these. . . . The theory has ... no bearing on the subjectivity of
Time and Space." The first quotation would suggest that an ex-
planation of the term "relativity" in its application under discus-
sion is desirable, and this I shall endeavor to supply. The second
is true only if ' ' philosophic ' ' is used in a very narrow sense. Philo-
sophy, certainly if it "holds an inalienable lien on the whole of ex-
perience" is concerned with other aspects of time and space than
their subjectivity and objectivity. While relativity may throw no
additional light on the question of the degree of objectivity possessed
by the metrical time and space which are mathematically treated, it
introduces changes in our ideas as to the relations between them, to
motion, and to things in time and space, which, even if not "revolu-
tionary," are profoundly different from the classical conceptions.
Revolutionary is an hyperbolical word, but the theory of the relations
between space and time required by modern physics must command
philosophical attention, though it be characterized by a more modest
adjective.

The idea of "relativity" in physics is by no means modern, but
has been assumed in Newtonian mechanics almost axiomatically in
the case of uniform motion. This "Newtonian Relativity" is the
relativity of the "man in the street," and in everyday language is
nothing more than the statement that if a person walks four miles
per hour from the rear platform to the front platform, of a trolley
car running twenty miles an hour, he will cover ground at the rate
of twenty-four miles an hour ; and further, if a boy standing on the
track in front of the car throws a stone at a speed of one hundred
miles an hour, it will hit the passenger at the speed of one hundred
and twenty-four miles an hour. This seems axiomatic to the non-
scientifically inclined, and in the language of physics defines space
as a region in which Euclidean geometry is valid. In such a space
figures may be moved about and rotated without change of size or
shape, either while moving, or after having changed their relative

202 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOI'JI Y

positions; velocities are directly additive, and by combining a suffi-
cient number of finite velocities, we may exceed any specified velo-
city. If we have a record of the motions of our passenger in the
trolley car relative to the car (as for instance the spots that he
tapped on the floor with his cane, which he is in the habit of swing-
ing every second as he walks) we can obtain a record of his positions
relative to the track by adding to the distance of each spot from the
rear platform, the quantity obtained by multiplying the time of that
spot by the velocity of the car, and laying off the total distance so
computed from the position of the rear platform when the car
started. If we denote the distance from the rear platform of the
car by x' and that from the station by x we find that x' = x — vt (1)
where v is the velocity of the car. The position of the passenger
between the rails, and the height above the rails are not affected by
the motion of the car, and there is no discrepancy between the pas-
senger's watch and the clock in the station, provided that they
agreed at the start. These facts are described by the equations
y' = y, (2), z' = z (3), and t' = t (4). The important features of
this transformation, for our present discussion are:

(a) Distances are unaltered.

(6) Directions are unaltered.

(c) Velocities are directly additive.

(d) The time is entirely independent of the space transformation.

(e) No forces are introduced in one system that were not present

in the other.

It seems inherent to our sense of physical things that they should
be describable from two systems of reference, i.e., from the car and
from the ground, in such a way that certain properties which we
feel to be fundamental should remain unaltered in the two descrip-
tions. In the transformation from one system to another which we
have just described, i.e., one in which the two systems of reference
have a uniform velocity relative to each other, these properties are :
length, direction, mass and force. It is important to notice that no
velocity is invariant. The velocity with which the passanger is
covering the ground is the sum of the speed with which he walks in
the car, and the speed of the car.

The above discussion covers ''Newtonian relativity" in its es-
sentials. It is something so familiar that we almost instinctively
feel it, and the quantities that it leaves invariant we have hitherto
regarded as fundamental in physics, and, in fact, as "objective"
in the same sense that "things" and any relations between things
are objective. So deeply was the idea of the invariance of these
quantities embedded in our physical concepts that when new forces

RELATIVITY, OLD AND NEW 203

were introduced in cases in which the motion was not uniform, we
did not regard it as a violation of the principle, and we called such
forces "inertia forces," although the question, "Uniform relatively
to what? " was lightly avoided. But while the above discussion
is in accord with everyday thought, certain physical phenomena
are not in accord with it.

Within the last hundred years, the results of various experi-
ments have forced us from this delightfully simple and "self-evi-
dent" relativity. These experiments are of two general types.
One type shows that whether we are moving toward, or receding
from a ray of light, it approaches us with the same relative velocity.
From the point of view of classical mechanics this conclusion is
little short of astounding, but it is arrived at by direct physical
measurement, and must be accepted, at least pending the results of
further experimental investigation. It also appears that this is
not due to the medium which transmits light (if such there be)
being carried along with us as we move.

The other type of experiment shows that the dimensions of
particles moving with velocities approaching that of light, vary in
a certain way according to the velocity of the system from which
they are measured. An electron suffers a contraction in the direc-
tion of its motion relative to the system of measurement, and its
mass increases as a certain function of its velocity. Computation
also shows that, accompanying these transformations, there must
be an increase in the units of time on the moving electron, relative
to the units on the observing system. These phenomena were
known as "The Lorentz-FitzGerald Contraction," and it was first
shown by Einstein that they depend not on any peculiarity of elec-
trons, but on the very act of measuring by a means of communica-
tion, between object and observer, the velocity of which is invari-
ant.

The revision of the Newtonian principle of relativity to account
for these experimentally observed facts has been effected by Ein-
stein in his "Special Theory of Relativity." He has shown that
all these phenomena are capable of explanation if we drop the as-
sumption of the invariance of our supposed fundamental physical
quantities, and proceed on the assumption of the invariance of the
velocity of light. When we do this the stability of our old con-
stants flies to the winds. The length of our trolley car becomes
shorter when it is in motion relatively to us than when it is station-
ary, and the passenger's embonpoint suffers even more so, provided
he is walking towards the front of the car; also his velocity over
the ground is a little less than the sum of his walking speed and

204 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

the speed of the car. The equations of this transformation which
take the place of (1) and (4) in the Newtonian theory are

and

(6).

In this transformation none of the properties considered under
the former transformation holds, with the exception of (e). The
point that might be characterized as "revolutionary" is that the
space and time transformations are not independent. Now it is
true that in previous physical theory four independent coordi-
nates have been used to describe an event, three to establish a posi-
tion in space, and one to signify the time of that position ; but the
distinction between space and time has always been definite. The
characteristics of space remained invariant in time, and those of
time were invariant in space. Under such conditions it was of no
utility to complicate the discussion by saying that an event was
specified by four coordinates in a four-dimensional space-time, al-
though this conception could have been used by any one so inclined.
The sense in which this conception is used in the theory of relativity
is, however, far more fundamental.

Consider, for instance, our observation of a cube. Disregard-
ing the effect of binocular vision, a cube may appear to us as a
variety of plane figures, according to our line of sight. From one
position it appears as a square, from another as an hexagon with
three lines from alternate vertices to the center. It may also ap-
pear in irregular shapes, with varying lengths of edges and differ-
ent angles. We further observe that these shapes change as we
change our position relative to the object under observation. Now
we might formulate a set of laws which would tell us how this plane
figure alters its size and shape as we observe it from different
distances and directions, but they would appear rather compli-
cated and arbitrary. Equations (5) and (6) are laws so formu-
lated. However, with a certain amount of mathematical insight,
we might postulate a three-dimensional object which is invariant
to the transformations caused by observing it from different direc-
tions, namely the cube, and say that the variety of plane figures we
see are views of this invariant object from different directions.
Equations (5) and (6) say just this, except that the four-dimen-

RELATIVITY, OLD AND NEW 205

sional space-time in which we view the phenomena from different
angles, depending on our velocity relative to the phenomena, is not
Euclidean. It is homaloidal, and may be made to correspond to a
Euclidean space of four dimensions by substituting for time a vari-
able proportional to it, but whose square is negative. In mathe-
matical analysis such a variable is technically termed "imaginary,"
and the use of "imaginary" in this sense is responsible for Mr.
Turner's statement that "... the 'four-dimensional world of
Minkowski' is not a universe which is more truly real than the
spaciotemporal world of perceptual experience." The use of the
"imaginary" in this connection is entirely unnecessary, and is
indeed only a mathematical artifice to simplify certain aspects of
the theory, just as certain vectors are represented by complex num-
bers which have an "imaginary" part, in computations involving
alternating currents. We may say that Minkowski 's world is Eu-
clidean and four-dimensional, but that our sense of perception of
the fourth dimension as time can not perceive it in kind with the
other three dimensions, but must perceive a different function of
it, i.e., -^-lu, where "u" is in kind with the three spacial
dimensions, or we may say that we perceive all four dimensions as
similar in kind, and that Minkowski 's world is non-Euclidean. In
either case the percept-concept is non-Euclidean, and the argument
has the metaphysical possibilities of the question as to whether
we are looking up if we are standing on our heads and looking
down. The four-dimensional world is more real than the spatial
world of three dimensions in exactly the same sense that the cube
is more real than the multitude of variously shaped plane figures
we observe when looking at it from different positions. It is the
invariant that we are compelled to regard as fundamental in seek-
ing that interpretation of results which involves the least number
of arbitrary assumptions. In the same sense that it would be ex-
ceedingly arbitrary to regard the plane figure which changes size
and shape as we change our position, as the fundamental entity, it
is arbitrary to regard the figures of spatial points which change
shape according to equation (5) as fundamental, when the changes
may be perfectly interpreted as a revolution of an invariant in
four-dimensional space.

We must, therefore, take direct issue with Mr. Turner's state-
ment that "These methods and principles, however, do not affect
in the remotest degree the philosophic problems of objective real-
ity, the pros and cons of which remain what they were before.
..." Both scientists and philosophers are in danger of falling into
a pitfall of verbal quibbles when they attack the question of what

206 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

is objective. If by "objective" is meant an unknowable reality
underlying phenomena, it is hard to see how any physical facts
could throw light on tin- question of such an objective reality. Ami
if by "objective reality" is meant the ordinary perceptual experi-
ence of common-sense objects, that is only altered by the Lorentz-
FitzGerald contraction, and this would seem to be Mr. Turner's
position. But if by "objective" is meant either a rationalized ex-
perience, or a world independent of the awareness of a percipient
(in the sense in which the neo-realists use independent), such an
objective reality is profoundly changed by the "Special Theory of
Relativity"; for it transfers the question from the three-dimen-
sional world of spacial points to the four-dimensional world of
space-time. In our efforts to narrow the results of physical per-
ception to what appears most likely to be connected with an objec-
tive reality, we postulate that it must depend as little as possible
on the personality of the observer and the point of observation.
This certainly gives the invariant world of four dimensions a
stronger position than one composed of three dimensions that vary
as we observe them under different conditions; and it would seem
that the position hitherto occupied by the three-dimensional cosmos
must now be taken by Minkowski's "world" of four dimensions.

Before leaving this part of the discussion I can not refrain from
voicing an objection to Mr. Turner's exposition of the transforma-
tions in terms of sound. The transformations of the ' ' Special Theory
of Relativity" owe their characteristic significance to the in variance
of the velocity of light relative to any observer. Mr. Turner's con-
genitally blind observers could ascertain their velocities relative to
the medium which transmits sound, without difficulty, and could also
detect the relative velocity of another source of sound. Further,
if we grant them a sufficient degree of hyperesthesia, they could
detect the Lorentz-FitzGerald contraction, but of course they would
not interpret the constant "c" as the velocity of light. Indeed it is
not necessary to the special theory of relativity that the velocity of
light should be exactly the fundamental invariant velocity "c."
The point is that such a maximum exists, and the velocity of light
is so close to it that we have as yet detected no difference. For the
blind observers to draw Mr. Turner's conclusion that "what is
heard is real, and the audible differences in the firing rates of the
two guns actual and ultimate," it would be necessary that they be
congenitally lacking in other respects than eyesight. Mr. Turner's
footnote in this connection regarding the in variance of the velocity
of light is analogous to the introduction of the Prince of Denmark
as epilogue.

RELATIVITY, OLD AND NEW 207

To proceed to the "General Theory of Kelativity," it will be
recalled that the transformation to a uniformly moving system made
no change in the property (e), i.e., no forces were introduced into
one system that were not in the other, although the question "Uni-
form relatively to what?" was avoided. Newton saw the difficulty
and dodged it by saying in effect, "Relatively to the fixed stars."
Now if we try to express the relations between the two systems in
such a manner that they are of the same form even though the
systems be accelerated, we find that the forces are not invariant,
and indeed depend entirely on the way in which we measure the
phenomena in question. The general theory states the character-
istics of a phenomenon relative to any set of quantities we may
choose to measure it by, and shows that the special theory holds only
in space free from the effects of gravitating matter. In the presence
of gravitating matter the quantities that are invariant are still
further reduced, and objective reality in the sense in which three-
dimensional objects have been regarded as real becomes still more
elusive. The four-dimensional manifold of space-time is not homa-
loidal, but "curved," and its curvature is determined by an operator
called a tensor, whose value for any point is dependent upon the
distribution of matter. This curvature must be regarded as having
a certain objectivity. By suitably choosing our conditions of obser-
vation in any one place, we can remove it locally, as for instance we
can lose weight for a few seconds in an elevator that starts to de-
scend, but our elation is short lived, or would be should we get on
a pair of scales as the elevator approaches a landing. Removing;
the effect in one location augments it in the remainder of the con-
tinuum.

Among the physical concepts formerly considered fundamental,
the only ones that still remain invariant are the concept of ' ' action, ' '
which is of the dimensions of energy times time, and the thermody-
namic function, "entropy." From the new standpoint, qualities
that we have hitherto regarded as theoretically being able to increase
without limit, are definitely limited. Thus we have a maximum
velocity " c, " and a definite extent of space which may be computed
as a function of the mean density of matter. There also appears
to be an upper limit to the density of matter or energy. These re-
sults are due, not as Mr. Turner says in concluding "to the funda-
mental role, already alluded to, played by light and vision in normal
experience, ' ' but to the discovery that there is a fundamental velocity
that is invariant, and which happens to be very near the velocity
of light; so near in fact that the two are quite generally regarded

208 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

as identical. My reason for stating it in this way is to emphasize
the point that is not the fact that this velocity is that of light, but
that it is invariant that leads to the theory of relativity.

H. A. W ADMAN.
NEWPORT Niws, VA.

AN HISTORICAL ANTICIPATION OF JOHN FISKE'S

THEORY REGARDING THE VALUE

OF INFANCY

JOHN FISKE is universally credited, and justly, with making an
important contribution to the theory of evolution. I refer to
his theory regarding the meaning and value of the prolonged period
of human infancy in comparison with the briefer infancy of the
lower animals. Without questioning Fiske's independence of other
sources in developing his theory, I would like to call attention to an
obscure essay published nearly forty years before Fiske's first book
appeared, an essay in which the two points regarding the value of
infancy made by Fiske are made in a strikingly parallel manner.

A few months ago Mr. George W. Robinson, Secretary of the
Harvard Graduate School, showed me an old volume which he had
found in a second-hand book-store; and he called my attention to
an essay in it which, as he thought, was similar to writings by Fiske
many years later. This volume is entitled The Friend's Annual; or
Aurora Borealis, It consists of essays written by "Members of the
Society of Friends" and was published in England in 1834. Among
the essays is one covering six pages (pp. 152-57) entitled "On the
Helpless State of Infancy," which is signed simply with the initials,
V. F.

The purpose of V. F., writing before the acceptance of evolu-
tionary views, was to show the ' ' graciousness of Providence" in
establishing the long period of helpless human infancy. The pur-
pose of Fiske was to support the evolutionary theory by showing
the significance of a lengthened infancy as a factor in bridging
the gap between brute and man, and to account for the evolution
of human intelligence and morals. Indirectly, however, Fiske was
attempting to "justify the ways of God to man" by pointing out
the goodness of the Power manifested in the evolutionary process,
and for this reason the similarity between Fiske's theories and
V. F. 's become all the more striking. According to Fiske, as is well
known, a long period of infancy is valuable, first, in giving time for
educative influences to work upon the plastic brain and in making

JOHN FISKE'S THEORY OF INFANCY 209

possible thereby a high development of the mind, and, second, in
making necessary a greater degree of parental co-operation than is
the case among the lower animals in caring for the young, who are
dependent, in the case of human beings, for several years at least.
Thus, according to Fiske, a long, helpless human infancy manifests
its purpose in the resulting development of the domestic virtues,
and in the general education of each new generation which is made
possible by a long period of plasticity. The unknown author of the
essay in The Friend's Annual, after discussing the relatively short
infancy of most forms of animal life, and the lack of any high degree
of parental care except in the higher forms of life, turns to man, and
in the following sentences embodies the gist of both points made by
Fiske :

"Thus gracious hath Providence been to man, in rendering the
ties of parental and filial affection so much more permanent in this
His noblest work, than in any of His inferior creatures. And this
is, in itself, a sufficient answer to the objections and complaints of
those ancient and modern philosophers (Pliny and Buff on), who
have delighted to vilify human nature, on account of the helpless
condition of man in his state of infancy and childhood. ; because this
very helplessness, by demanding the constant and long-continued
attention of parents, gives rise to, and renders habitual, the tender
charities of domestic and social life" (pp. 154-55).

"This helpless condition, then, in which it hath pleased our
Maker that we should be introduced in the present state, exhibits
many marks of benevolent and wise design. ... It ought to be
regarded with thankfulness, as necessary to the formation of that
strong and durable affection between parent and child, which is one
distinguishing feature of the human race, and a mark of its superior
character" (p. 157).

"But this is also a beneficial and wise appointment in another
important respect. It is admirably adapted to the circumstances
of man, considered as a rational and moral being, designed to be
trained to usefulness in the present life, and to the cultivation of
those religious and virtuous habits, by which he is to be fitted for
another. It is necessary to such a being, that maturity of under-
standing and bodily strength should be gradually acquired, by the
slow development of his corporeal and mental faculties" (p. 155).

In the writings of Fiske there are to be found ideas which are
strikingly similar to portions of V. F.'s essay. For example, com-
pare with the last part of the first paragraph quoted above from
V. F. the following from Fiske (Excursions of an Evolutionist,
p. 316) : "Infancy extending over several years must have tended

210 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

gradually to strengthen the relationship of the children to the
mother, and eventually to both parents, and thus gives rise to the
permanent organization of the family."

It does not seem likely that the circulation of The Friend's An-
nual was wide or that a copy was ever seen by Fiske. I have been
unable to find another copy than the one in Mr. Robinson's pos-
session. The obvious similarity of thought and expression simply
shows how hard it is to be wholly original in the sense of thinking
and saying what no one ever thought or said before.

WESLEY RAYMOND WELLS.

LAKE FOREST COLLEGE.

THE TWENTY-FIRST ANNUAL MEETING OF THE AMERI-
CAN PHILOSOPHICAL ASSOCIATION— EASTERN
DIVISION

rriHERE are two kinds of people who attend philosophical meet-
J- ings : those who go because of the papers to be presented ;
and those who go in spite of them. Probably by temperament,
training or moral convictions most American philosophers belong
consistently to one or the other of the two classes. Probably most
of them, that is, are impervious alike to disillusionment and to
agreeable surprise, and so continue either to regard the programme
prepared by the executive committee as the Mecca of the annual
pilgrimage; or to deplore it is a necessary evil — something by no
means warranting the expenditure of railroad fare. But undoubt-
edly there is always also a small minority capable of the human
grace of change of heart. A few pessimists turn optimistic; a
few optimists arrive at the delayed and gloomy conclusion that
philosophy in America has gone to the dogs.

If many were moved to unwonted enthusiasm over this year's
oblation to the spirit of Philosophy, confirmed cynics will prob-
ably insinuate that the fact may be explained as due to the un-
precedented brevity of the ceremony. After all, nobody minds
even extreme twinges of boredom or of pain provided they be brief
enough; and to be served with but three formal sessions, duly
punctuated by unusually delightful social gatherings, might cre-
ate the illusion of enjoyment merely by contrast with the prolonged
boredom to which one was accustomed. Any defender of the
Poughkeepsie sessions would have to admit that they were brief.
But he would still maintain that they were also intrinsically inter-
esting and important. Presumably the chief task of the present

AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL ASSOCIATION 211

reviewer is to indicate what there was about the twenty-first con-
gregation of philosophers to call for special praise.

There were ten papers promised, nine given, and the first
ground for favorable comment on so limited a programme was the
variety of the interests represented. The list of topics dealt with
in the papers themselves included: the nature of religion, the na-
ture of the good, the nature of a physical thing, the nature of phil-
osophy. Subjects as wide asunder as Kemp Smith's commentary on
Kant and the superstitions of popular philosophy were criticized;
while by one writer the concept of civilization, by another, the
concept of experience was displayed for analysis. In the course of
the discussion attendant upon the formal presentations, the points
of view of absolute idealism, of extreme pragmatism, of moderated
pragmatism, of positivism, of agnosticism, and of several degrees of
realism were picturesquely exemplified. The papers would have
possessed some value if they had done no more than thus demonstrate
the actual range of current philosophical opinion.

What might have been supposed to rank among the less signifi-
cant of the contributions proved one of the most brilliant — Profes-
sor Meiklejohn's remarks on Smith's Commentary. If commen-
taries themselves savor of the parasitic — subsisting, vulture-like
upon the carcasses of other men's ideas — a commentary upon
a commentary should be but the parasite of a parasite. But,
at least in the case of Professor Meiklejohn's acute and epigram-
matic criticism, the double negative took on the character of a
genuine positive. The paper was important not as an elicitor of
wide and varied discussion — it was replied to merely by Professor
Cohen — but as a little gem of analysis and exposition. Estheti-
cally, it had the effect of a philosophical lyric, if one will grant
the substitution of logical for poetical poignancy, and dialectial
cohesion for a merely emotional unity. By deft manipulation of
Kemp Smith's premises, Professor Meiklejohn demonstrated that
Smith's attempted annihilation of Kant came to naught, reducing
to the protest that Kant didn't mean what he said he meant. He
denounced in particular as highly questionable Smith's method of
arbitrarily selecting out of a paragraph one set of Kantian propo-
sitions, forcibly taken out of context, and rejecting as improper
intrusions of a different date another set actually interwoven with
the first.

Another paper which fell into the midst of relative silence was
that of Professor Cohen on Myth and Science in Popular Philoso-
phy. One part of the audience agreed so profoundly with Profes-
sor Cohen's contentions that they found nothing to say in the way

212 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

of criticism or qualification. Another part experienced such thor-
ough disapproval of the spirit and ultimate implications of what
he expressed that nothing short of a pitched battle would have
promised satisfaction. It was not a mere sense of the pres-
ent incompleteness and unwarranted dogmatism of science that Pro-
fessor Cohen gave voice to. The spirit of his polemic was cynical —
as if he felt actual glee in the weaknesses and deficiencies he dis-
covered— and the intention of it seemed to be to throw in question
as all equally childish and superstitious the best-grounded hypoth-
eses of modern thought. It was as they concerned the concept
of evolution that his comments were perhaps especially to be de-
plored.

They were to be deplored chiefly for the improper use to which
they might be put, all the more dangerous by reason of his own
great learning and ingenuity. He was directing his attacks against
all undue certitude, all forms of superstition, and it is certainly
not to be supposed that he intended for a moment to lend support
to anything like the Mosaic account of creation as an alternative
to the Darwinian. And yet there can be no doubt that the popular
effect of any somewhat ambiguous criticism of the doctrine of nat-
ural selection is always the lamentable one of reinforcing doubt of
science from the standpoint of religion. With fanatics in the state
of Kentucky bent on controlling biological instruction out of con-
sideration for church dogmas, and with certain otherwise admir-
able New York papers giving voice to the bigotry of those for
whom the theory of organic evolution is an a priori impossibility,
scientific doubts need to be couched carefully if they would not
mislead. As an example of wise caution, the procedure of Pro-
fessor Bateson in his address on Evolutionary Faith and Modern
Doubts before the American Association for the Advancement of
Science at its December Meeting in Toronto may be cited. He said
at the close of his paper: "I have put before you frankly the con-
siderations which have made us agnostic as to the actual mode
and processes of evolution. When such confessions are made the
enemies of science see their chance. . . . Let us then proclaim in
precise and unmistakable language that our faith in evolution is
unshaken. Every available line of argument converges on this in-
evitable conclusion. The obscurantist has nothing to suggest which
is worth a moment's attention." Any one in the ranks of science
or philosophy failing to make such specific confession of positive
faith should take heed lest he be unwittingly counted among the
obscurantists rather than as merely an exponent of an esoteric
type of skepticism.

AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL ASSOCIATION 213

The only other paper of the afternoon session with Professor
Cohen was that of Professor Montague entitled The Missing Link
in the Case for Utilitarianism. As always when problems of ethics
are introduced, the discussion that followed was fast and furious.
The theory put forward was that, whereas Mill rightly felt that
there are different kinds of happiness, some being incommensurably
superior to others, he need not have abandoned the utilitarian prin-
ciple that happiness is the sole measure of good, if he had recog-
nized dimensionalities of happiness. This concept of dimension-
ality, so Professor Montague contended, while doing full justice
to the fact that no number of pig contentments could equal a So-
cratic contentment, still makes possible the avoidance of any other
quality than happiness in the hierarchy of goods. The difference,
then, between a simple pleasure and virtue would still remain
quantitative, one being a good, the other a permanent ground for
unlimited further goods. The discussion was participated in by
Professors Cohen, Brown, Bakewell, Pratt, Fullerton, and others.
Some acute criticisms were offered by Professor Fullerton in partic-
ular, and Professors Cohen and Pratt suggested analogies for the
elucidation of Professor Montague's theory. It can not, however,
be said that the case for utilitarianism was finally settled, one way
or the other.

In two other papers at the close of the sessions on the follow-
ing day the problem of the good was reopened, first by Dr. Stephen
Pepper under the title: Primitive and Standard Value, and then
by Dr. C. E. Ayres in exposition of the theme: Before Good and
Evil: Civilization. Again there was animated argument, particu-
larly with regard to the point of view apparently shared by the
two speakers, that standards of good and evil are quite empirical
affairs, the product of group habit and ultimately the outcome of
instinctive behavior. Mr. Ayres, in particular, appeared to think
that a kind of majority vote was the final criterion of the good.
Professors Pratt, Montague and others attacked the notion that
standards are devoid of objective validity, as Mr. Pepper had con-
tended, and Professor Overstreet, in a brief but very eloquent
speech, set forth what is probably the most defensible view in the
whole matter : that the good is not an absolute in the sense in which
possibly mathematical truth is, but is relative to consciousness,
without, however, being entirely individual and variable. The
good, that is, is to be defined by reference to the ideal maximum
development of human valuation.

There remain to be considered the first four papers on the pro-
gramme: that by Professor French on The Metaphysical Value of

214 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

the Religious CoiKcimitncss; that by Professor W. K. Wright on
:ti>.ns and K.rfurnncc; that by Professor Sellars, entitled
Does a Physical Thing Possess Attributes? and finally Professor
Creighton 's paper on the Form of Philosophical Intelligibility.
This last took us back to the chief topic of the previous annual con-
ference which was mainly concerned with the problem of the nature
and function of philosophy. Professor Creighton defended the
idealistic standpoint that things can be truly known only in rela-
tion to the whole, and that the significant inquiry is as to values
rather than existences. He noted the two important points of dif-
ference between science and philosophy resulting from these two
doctrines, and insisted that it is only by the cooperation of imagina-
tion with reason that philosophic knowledge — knowledge of the
concrete universal — is made possible.

It was in connection with the discussion of Professor French's
paper, however, that the implications of absolute idealism were
brought out with most startling clearness by Professor Creighton.
Professor French had stated that the essential core of the religious
consciousness was the faith that the ideal is real. This had elicited
from Professor Montague a violent protest against the confusion
of religion and ethics, and an affirmation of the essentially unethi-
cal consequence of any religious doctrine to the effect that "all's
right with the world." To which Professor Creighton responded
that the ethicist was being confused with the reformer — an indi-
vidual to be tabooed by the truly ethical and religious. Essenti-
ally unethical in his opinion is not the regarding of the world as
perfect, but rather the regarding of it as anything else — and the
consequent striving to make it other than we find it.

This position is of course the traditional one for believers in the
absolute, and there was nothing really novel in the defense of it nor
yet in the defense of its opposite. What was picturesque and really
valuable was the clear-cut presentation of the irreconcilable view-
points as summed up in the protest and counter-protest from the
floor. We are so pervasively occupied in elaborating the minor
aspects of our respective philosophies, that it is wholesome and re-
freshing now and then to see their crucial dogmas baldly exhibited.
There was no resolution of the two viewpoints — as there can not
be; but at least no ambiguity was left as to the utter opposition be-
tween them.

Professor Wright dragged into the arena for reconsideration
the pragmatist coupling of situations and experience. Though at
first hotly defending an orthodox pragmatic view he finally, under
the goad of questioning, expressed a tentatively agnostic attitude

AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL ASSOCIATION 215

which would be quite unobjectionable to many outside the pragmatic
persuasion. A genuinely objective world of values, truths and rela-
tions was practically admitted by him as logically implied by the very
doctrine of pragmatism itself.

To his own query as to whether physical things possess attri-
butes, Professor Sellars, disclaiming the possible imputation that
he spoke for all critical realists, replied in the negative. A lively
debate between him and speakers from the floor followed his pres-
entation of the view that what might be called structure — identi-
cal, apparently, with space-time predicates — constitutes a so-called
physical thing as it is in itself. Professor Fullerton pressed his
question as to why any one should be more sure of the objective
reality of primary qualities than of secondary; and others vari-
ously defended, on the one hand, a more radically realistic view
than that promoted by Professor Sellars, and on the other, a more
agnostic or subjective. The consensus of opinion seemed to be that
mere "structural" entities such as Professor Sellars defended as
the stuff of the objective universe, were as highly questionable
things as Berkeley had found "substance" to be.

Of the brilliant presidential address by Professor Sheldon en-
titled Soul and Matter there was, of course, no discussion. If there
had been opportunity, rather lively debate might have been an-
ticipated. For Professor Sheldon, after a telling enumeration of
the kind of considerations which lead to dissatisfaction with tradi-
tional materialism, proceeded to defend a doctrine of souls, but
souls interpreted after an unusual manner. It was a creed of soul-
substance that we were offered; not, however, a soul-substance di-
visable and capable of taking on varying configurations. The soul,
according to Professor Sheldon, must be regarded as possessing at
once all the attributes it would possess as a material thing and as
a psychical — in other words, it is a psychic substance, a kind of
monad, an ultimate, indivisible, spiritual unit which is yet a genu-
ine substance and in no wise a mere form or force.

The annual dinner which preceded the President's address took
place in Main Hall of Vassar College where all meals were served
to members of the Association, and where likewise the reception
given by President and Mrs. McCracken was held on the first even-
ing. Very much was gained in the way of comfort and informality
by having the association housed in one building, with only a few
steps to take to Rockefeller Hall where the formal meetings took
place. There was consequently ample opportunity for that inti-
mate interchange of ideas which to many affords more pleasure
and profit than does any amount of public discussion. Probably

JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

few if any permanent conversions from one philosophic allegiance
to another ever occur in this way, but at least sometimes there takes
place an enlargement of vision in which the splendid range and
variety of possible viewpoints becomes manifest. Effort after sym-
pathetic envisagement of theories opposed to one's own then ceases
to be distasteful, since truth is seen to bo something far less simple
and easy than an affirmation of one creed or its bare contradiction.
Perhaps this recognition of a reality so rich that it generates a
multiplicity of doctrines is more than anything else the goal of
philosophic convocation.

HELEN HUBS PABKHUBST.
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

BOOK REVIEWS

The Principles of Sociology. EDWARD ALSWORTH Ross. New York :
The Century Company. 1920. Pp. xviii + 708.
In a letter published by Professor Ross as a foreword to his Sin
and Society in 1907, Theodore Roosevelt said: "It is to Justice
jHolmes that I owed the pleasure and profit of reading your book
on Social Control. The Justice spoke of it to me as one of the
strongest and most striking presentations of the subject he had ever
seen." A writer to whom Justice Holmes and Theodore Roosevelt,
not to mention a host of others, acknowledge their debt may justly
lay claim to being a power in the intellectual life of America. By
all that large public, therefore, who have known Professor Ross
through his Social Control, Social Psychology, Sin and Society,
Changing America,, not to mention his Changing Chinese and South
of Panama, this, his latest and most ambitious work, will be gratefully
received.

The Principles of Sociology is a bulky volume of over seven hun-
dred pages and is evidently intended to be the author's magnum
opus. We are told that he was seventeen years in gathering the
material through a first-hand study of conditions in China, Russia,
South America and the United States while three and one half years
were occupied with the actual writing of the book. The book shows
those qualities that made for the success of Professor Ross's earlier
works, namely, marvellous Belesenheit, a wealth of interesting illus-
trative material amassed by a keen and far-traveled observer, a zeal
for facts combined with a phobia for the philosophical and a style
which in journalistic vividness hardly attains the level of earlier
works such as Sin and Society.

BOOK REVIEWS 217

William James, in a striking characterization of Herbert Spen-
cer's philosophy, calls "his whole system wooden, as if knocked
together out of cracked hemlock boards — and yet the half of Eng-
land wants to bury him in "Westminster Abbey. Why? " Because
"the noise of facts resounds through all his chapters" (Pragmatism,
p. 39f.). Ross like Spencer is factually minded. He is most skilful,
hi selecting striking, interesting and apposite illustrations. If bare,
brutal, unvarnished facts could settle all moot questions Professor
Ross would be the most convincing of writers, for he is primarily
an eager, earnest, indefatigable and for the most part unprejudiced
chronicler of social facts as he sees them. He makes small demand
upon either the history of thought or the implications of social evolu-
tion for the interpretation of these facts. Groups, social forces,
class conflicts, social processes are studied as they present themselves
in contemporary society. Professor Ross's "system of sociology,"
in so far as it can be traced, is composed of generalizations deduced
from present-day and for the most part American society. Facts
are drawn from the treasure house of the past mainly to illustrate and
support this pragmatic interpretation of the present. The result
is that Professor Ross is forced to adopt in many instances short-
handed not to say dogmatic solutions of moot questions. The ab-
sence of any comprehensive principle of interpretation likewise places
the writer more or less at the mercy of the welter of factual details.
This appears in the tendency to multiply social principles and proc-
esses. Part three, which contains two thirds of the book, enumer-
ates some thirty-odd distinct social processes which are discussed
in as many chapters.

The book seeks to be comprehensive. Professor Ross tells us that
his work contains "a system of sociology" where "system" is used in
the philosophical sense of "a way of making some aspect of reality
intelligible." The book acquires an ethical flavor when the writer
avows "an over-mastering purpose and that is — to better human
relations." We detect the note of the social reformer when it is
claimed that the book is "intended to help people to arrive at wise
decisions as to social policies." The main object of the author
however is undoubtedly to present a scientific account of the facts
of society. Now all these phases of sociology are important and
naturally enlist the interest of students. But from the point of
view of methodology the uncritical intermingling of them in a
treatise on sociology can hardly further the scientific phase of the
subject. In any young and growing science such as sociology it is
easy to pass from the role of scientist to that of moralist or of social
reformer but the effect is confusing. There is possibly a place for

218 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

a comprehensive work on sociology that would give us a synthesis
rather than a fusion of these points of view. It is conceivable that
a part of such a work could be devoted to the critical and scientific
presentation of the facts, another to the theoretical interpretation
of these facts either from the metaphysical or the ethical point of
view, and still another to suggestions for the social reformer as to
the effective combination of fact and ideal in programmes for social
betterment. But it is difficult to see how sociology is ever to become
a science without keeping clearly in mind the differences between
these phases of the subject.

Professor Ross's comprehensive and suggestive book is a fusion
rather than a synthesis of social fact, social theory and social
reform. The result is that strict justice is hardly done in the book
to either one of these phases of the subject. Let us consider for a
moment Ross's place in and his contribution to social theory. This
book is the culmination of years of study, embodying the mature
conclusions of a scholar of encyclopedic learning and wide experience,
yet it adds little or nothing to the theory of society though claiming
to be "a system of sociology." There are to be sure abundant
evidences that Professor Ross has in the background of his thought,
though implicit and fragmentary, the makings of a philosophy of
society. But this "system" contains little not found in his contempo-
raries or predecessors. For Ross, together with the majority of Amer-
ican sociologists, leans towards a voluntaristic conception of society as
opposed to the intellectualism of Comte and the biological material-
ism of Spencer. To be sure earlier writers such as Ward and Gid-
dings were profoundly influenced by Spencer but drew away from
him towards a more voluntaristic point of view. Ward, who was the
dean of American sociologists, broke with Spencer when he insisted
that the state, which to Spencer was anathema, is the brain of society
and conceived of sociology as the science dealing primarily with the
evolution of the social will. For Giddings society is not, as Spencer
asserted, an organism but an organization of a number of individuals
who by virtue of their "like-mindedness" embody a common will.
But neither Ward nor Giddings quite emancipated themselves from
Spencer's influence. Ward, who brought to sociology the training
and mental attitude of the paleobotanist, found "almost as many
parallels between social and chemical processes as there are between
sociology and biology" (Pure Sociology, p. 71), while Giddings was
wedded to the materialistic monism of Spencer. "All social energy"
he tells us, "is transmuted physical energy . . . the original causes
of social evolution are the processes of physical equilibration which
are seen in the integration of matter and the dissipation of motion"

BOOK REVIEWS 219

(Giddings, Principles of Sociology, pp. 363f.). A decided impetus
towards a more psychological and voluntaristic conception of society
was given by Professor Small with his doctrine of interests suggested
by Ratzenhofer. To resolve all social forces back into interests, as
does Small, to find in interests the clue to social evolution and the
key to social problems is to plant sociology firmly upon a psycho-
logical and voluntaristic basis. Civilization thus becomes synony-
mous with socialization, culture a matter of the disciplining of elemen-
tary human nature rather than of the conquest of natural forces. Out
of these basic ' ' interests ' ' arise the social ends that condition society
and social progress becomes a matter of the criticism, the evaluation
and the realization of these ends. It is thus a distinct contribution
on the part of Professor Small to have introduced the idea of value
into sociology and in particular to have stressed the intimate connec-
tion between sociology and ethics. Small's contribution suffers how-
ever from the vagueness inseparable from the idea of interest, a term
too broad, too many-sided and too unscientific to provide a satisfac-
tory basis for the science of sociology, a fact which Small seems to
recognize in his later work The Meaning of Social Science, where
interest is no longer emphasized.

Professor Ross, with his facile pen, his large reading public and
his wide learning, is admirably equipped to give final formulation to
the drift of sociological thought in this country. He is
evidently in sympathy with these voluntaristic and psy-
chological tendencies in American Sociology. "The immediate
causes of social phenomena," he says, "are to be soughs
in human minds . . . nothing is gained by viewing them as a mani-
festation of cosmic energy" (p. 41). Following McDougall, he
finds that the instincts "are the mental forces which maintain and
shape all the life of individuals and of societies" (p. 42). The
instincts or "original social forces" give rise to "derivative social
forces" or "interests." We look in vain in the work however for
an elaboration of these suggestions into anything bearing a re-
semblance to a philosophy of society, nor do we find such a system
in Ross's other works. In the discussion of the genesis of society
(ch. ix), for example, we would expect some attempt to point out
the relation of the social forces of instinct and interest to the dif-
ferentiation of the social process into groups. (Professor Ell wood
has done this in suggestive fashion in his Sociology in its Psycho-
logcal Aspects, Ch. VII, "The Origin of Society"). This Ross
does not attempt and thus leaves us without any adequate explana-
tion of the why or the how of the vast proliferations that have
characterized the social process from its very inception. Owing to

220 JOURNAL OF PUlLOSOPll Y

this distrust of the speculative and theoretical and in spite of the
imposing array of terms and principles to describe social phenom-
ena the book often gives the impression that we are still dealing
with the impulses, contacts and interests of individuals. The writer
fails to impress upon the reader that there is a social as opposed
to an individual reality, as is done so skilfully in the works of
Cooley. Even in the last part, devoted to "sociological principles,"
these principles are merely generalizations drawn from the facts.
There is little attempt to relate these principles to each other or
to a general voluntaristic point of view. The discussion of "Antici-
pation" (ch. 44), for example, a characterization of the growing
purposefulness of society, is obviously related to the teleological
implications of the basic social forces of instinct and interest and
yet no attempt is made to indicate this relation. The last principle
of "Balance" (ch. 47), defined as follows: "In the guidance of
society each social element should share according to the intelli-
gence and public spirit of its members and none should dominate"
(p. 693), is a meaningless truism without further light as to our
ideal of what society should be. This unwillingness to think things
through even at the risk of landing in philosophy makes the book
often tedious reading in spite of its wealth of concrete and piquant
details.

Ross's Principles of Sociology will hardly take its place as a
permanent contribution to social theory, it will hardly be in de-
mand as a compendium of social facts scientifically arranged nor
yet as a handbook for the reformer, though philosopher, scientist
and reformer may find here both information and inspiration. The
book will be prized for its wealth of information, its suggestive in-
sights into phases of social reality and its vivid style. It is a ques-
tion, however, whether Professor Ross's fame will not be furthered
less by this bulky volume than by his earlier more incisive if less
ambitious writings such as Social Control, Sin and Society and
Changing America. It may be that his most lasting contribution
will not be as a social philosopher but rather as the brilliant ana-
lyst of a changing world order and the fearless castigator of our
modern high-power sinners.

JOHN M. MECKLIN.

DARTMOUTH COLLEGE.

General Principle of Relativity: H. W. GARB. London: Macmillan
&Co. 1920.

Space and Time in Contemporary Physics: MORITZ SCHLICK. Trans-
lated by H. L. Brose. Oxford University Press. 1920.

BOOK REVIEWS 221

On Gravitation and Relativity: R. A. SAMPSON. (The Halley Lec-
ture.) Oxford University Press. 1920.

Carr states in his preface that he deals only with the philosophical
and historical aspects of the principle of relativity (the main ideas
were developed in a course of lectures on "Historical Theories of
Space, Time and Movement," delivered at King's College in the spring
of 1920) ; but in fact, as one reads the book, one finds that a large
proportion of it is actually devoted to an exposition, of course in
popular language, of the mathematical and physical aspects of the
Einstein theory, mainly the special theory of relativity.

This exposition is well written, but it will hardly make the theory
clear to a reader who is not already familiar with it ; and a number
of actual misstatements can be pointed out. On page 35 it is stated
that "in an infinite series no two members are next one another,
for between any two there is always another." This is stated as a
general proposition and of course is not true; some infinite sets
have next members like the series of integers. Others do not enjoy
this property like the continuum of points of a line.

On page 138 the author is evidently confused by the concept of
event, since he talks about an infinite set of events as if it were a
single event, which is just as bad as not differentiating between a
single point and a curve.

The statement on page 77 dealing with the Einstein principle of
equivalence refers merely to the trivial fact that when A moves to-
ward B, B may be regarded as moving toward A; the true principle
in fact has nothing to do with the special theory of relativity but
deals with the connection between gravitation fields and acceleration
fields.

The best part of the book is the historical accounts of "Atoms
and the Voids" in Chapter 3 and of the "Vortex Theory" in Chap-
ter 4, precisely the parts that have least to do with Einstein.

The general theory of relativity which is at the basis of Einstein's
solution of the problem of gravitation is hardly touched on by the
author — in spite of the title of the book. The concepts of curvilinear
coordinates, curvature, and tensor, can not be grasped without
a good deal of serious mathematical thinking, and without them it is
impossible to understand the Einstein theory.

The last chapter of Carr is entitled "In What Sense is the Uni-
verse Infinite ? " It does not make clear the fundamental fact that we
must distinguish between the infinity of space and the unbounded-
ness of space. This essential point is very well presented in the ninth
chapter of Schlick's book (a chapter added to the second edition).
Another fine chapter of Schlick's deals with the "Inseparability of
Geometry and Physics in Experience." On page 73, however, the

222 .KH'RNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

reader is left entirely in th<- dark as to tin1 di>tim-tion between spher-
ical and elliptical spaces. If the reader relys on etymology or what he
has picked up in elementary college mathematics, he is bound to
have an entirely false impression of the true state of affairs and
Schlick's discussion will not help him out of his difficulty. Schlick
goes much further than Can* in both mathematics and physics, but
neither goes far enough to reach a clear statement of Einstein's law of
gravitation.

Sampson's brief lecture is more interesting for its classical quo-
tations and sarcastic point of view than for the light it throws on
Einstein.

For the philosopher who wishes to get in closer contact with
relativity, the reviewer would recommend Einstein's popular
book, Eddington's Space, Time and Oravitation, and Bern's Rela-
tivitatstheorie Einsteins. For the mathematical reader, who wishes
to reach the fundamentals, there is no rival to Weyl's Raum, Zeit,
Materie, which has not yet been translated into English. (Weyl and
Eddington have now been translated into French, with valuable ad-
ditional material.) The most interesting exposition of Einstein
written by a philosopher, is that contained in Viscount Haldane's
new book, The Reign of Relativity, his attitude toward mathematics
being finely expressed as follows:

"What I have ventured to say must be taken as pretending to
record no more than it does, the impressions of a non-mathematician
about what the mathematicians are saying to each other when they
enter the borderland of philosophy and speak about it among them-
selves. The impression is that of a stranger in whose presence they
talk, but who, although keenly interested in learning from them, is
but imperfectly acquainted with a language which to them is one
of second nature. They may, therefore, be gentle with him if his
accent seems strange and his capacity to do justice to their words
appears inadequate. His reason for listening and in his turn making
comments does not appear to be an irrelevant one. They are in a
territory that is occupied in common, and forbearance on both
sides is therefore necessary. I do not believe that the fundamental
conceptions are as obscure as some of the mathematicians take them
to be. The reason they seem so is that they are concerned with mat-
ters which involve consideration of a more than merely mathematical
character. For the rest I am not lacking in admiration for the
splendid power of the instruments the mathematicians possess, and
the wonderful results they have achieved with them; instruments
which impress me not the less because it is beyond my powers to
wield them." EDWARD KASXEB.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 223
JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF PSYCHOLOGY. October,
1921. The Stimulus Error (pp. 449-471) : EDWIN G. BORING -Re-
cent researches have shown that the observational attitude toward the
stimulus may lead to equivocal correlations of stimulus and response
that are unscientific. In the two-point limen experiments the use
of introspective data is advocated. The Illusory Perception of Move-
ment on the Skin (pp. 472-489) : ANNA KEELMAN WHITCHURCH.-
The perception of cutaneous movement was obtained by the succes-
sive stimulation of two separate points with optimum results for
durations of 150 sigma and an interval of 100 sigma. Some Quali-
tative Aspects of Bitonal Complexes (pp. 490-518) : CARROLL C.
PRATT.-After a defining of smooth, simple, complex, homi-sonorous-
ness and other terms used in describing bitonal presentations, agree-
ment was noted in the reports on the octave, fifth, fourth, tritone,
sevenths and seconds, while there was much divergence for the thirds
and sixths. On Arterial Expansion (pp. 516-518) : G. N. HARTMAN
AND D. L. McDoNOUGH.-The combination of the sphygmomanometer
with the plethysmograph appears to give a better determination of
arterial elasticity than does the present medical clinical method.
Functional Psychology and Psychology of Act (pp. 518-542) : E. B.
TiTCHENER.-Functional Psychology has its roots in the Aristotelian
empiricism and has taken on color from many of the related sciences
without adopting the modern conception of science. Church History
and Psychology of Religion (pp. 543-551) : PIERCE BuTLER.-Modern
psychology, if it were more descriptive, could be of great service to
religious history. The religious genius, his disciples, and the ad-
herents to the system, all need psychological study. Death-Psychol-
ogy of Historical Personages (pp. 552-556) : ARTHUR MAcDoNALD.-
The fear of death disappears as death comes on. 794 death-bed ex-
periences are tabulated and described. Minor Studies from the
Psychological Laboratory of Tale University. An Experiment in
Time Estimation Using Different Interpolations (pp. 556-562) :
LLEWELLYN T SpENCER.-Reproduction gives more accurate results
than a statement in terms of standard unit. Minor Studies from the
Psychological Laboratory of Cornell University. The Involuntary
Response to Pleasantness (pp. 563-570) : G. H. CoRWiN.-Pleasant
stimuli produce relaxation with a certain degree of expansion and
pursuit on their withdrawal when intensely pleasant. The Integra-
tion of Punctiform Warmth and Pain (pp. 571-574) : R. S. MAL-
aruD.-Warmth and pressure may fuse but this fusion never gives
the impression of wetness. Book Reviews (pp. 575-587) : Wilhelm

224 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

\\ViiuIt. Erlcbtcs und Erkanntes. E. B. T. L'amne psychologique :
H. P. W. Margarete Hamburger, Vom Organismus der Sprache und
von der Sprache des Dichters. Zur Systematic der Sprachprobleme :
J. GLEASON. 0. Lipman, Abziihlende Methoden und ihre Verwen-
dung in <l<r psychologischen Statistic: L. B. HOISINOTON. Frank
Tannenbnum. The Labor Movement: H. G. BISHOP. Carveth Read,
The Origin of Man: W. B. PILLSBURY. Charles Pratt, The Psy-
chology of Thought and Feeling: W .B. PILLSBURY. Psychological
Periodicals. Brief reviews of the following are presented: Zeit-
schrift fiir Psychohgie, Bd. xxxiv-lxxxvii. Archiv fiir die gesam-

Psychologie, Bd. xxxix-xl. Psychological Review, Vol. xxvii,
Nos. 1-6, Vol. xxviii, No. 1. Notes. On the Plan of the Physiolo-
gische Psychologic : E. B. T. Experimental Psychology in Italy:
E. B. T. The Psychophysiology of the Condemned: E. B. T. Locarno-

of Insects: E. C. S. George Trumball Ladd: E. B. T. Index.

Keyser, Cassius J. Mathematical Philosophy : A Study of Fate and
Freedom. Lectures for Educated Laymen. New York: E. P.
Button & Co. 1922. Pp. 466.

NOTES AND NEWS

The first volume of a series of translations and reprints, to be
known as Psychology Classics, will shortly appear. The series is to
be edited by Knight Dunlap, and published' by the Williams &
Wilkins Company in Baltimore. The first volume, which is now in
press, contains a translation, by Miss Istar A. Haupt, of Lange's
monograph on The Emotions, with reprintings of James's article
"What is an Emotion?" from Mind, and his chapter on "The F.mo-
tions" from the Principles of Psychology. In order to facilitate
the preparation of future translations and reprints, the royalti-'s
from these volumes, together with an equal amount contributed by
the Williams & Wilkins Company, will be deposited with the Treas-
urer of the Johns Hopkins University, the fund so constituted to
be used solely for the defraying of clerical and other necessary
expenses of such preparation. The editor requests suggestions con-
cerning future volumes, and cooperation in their production.

Professor William Ernest Hocking, Alford professor of natural
religion, moral philosophy and civil polity, and Professor Alfred
Marston Tozzer, professor of anthropology, have been appointed the
professors from Harvard University for the second half of the year
1922-23 under the exchange agreement between Harvard and the
Western Colleges.

VOL. XIX, No. 9 APRIL 27, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

THE IMPLICIT DUALITY OF THINKING

TN psychology as in politics it often happens that the dust of con-
flict obscures the fact that the contending parties hold doctrines
in common which are more important than the points at which they
differ. Such is the case in the problem of the origin of thinking.
All parties to the controversy can be brought to agree on a matter
which dwarfs the issue between them, but which has received only
scattering recognition. Whether the basis of thought is in images,
or in conflicting motor responses, or in language reactions, the fact
remains that thinking is always implicitly dual, and that this implicit
duality of thinking ought to be taken into account in every philo-
sophical world-view.

I

It is not difficult to bring this out if one takes the view that
thinking is essentially a process of relations or interactions of
images — the class of images being not otherwise specified. Every one
admits that perception is selective ; I perceive an object always in a
milieu, against a background. The background, while I may pay no
attention to it as such, is the indispensable condition of my seeing
the object. If at any moment I widen my field of vision, I then
include something which a moment ago belonged to the background ;
but there is at the new moment a residual or a new background,
which is the condition of my seeing what lies within the new field.
The point is, not that I actually see the background at any moment,
but that I am able to see it ; the duality is not explicit, but implicit.
We may say that at any moment I see an object, a, by reason of the
fact that I am able to see a background, not-a. Professor Sheldon
has mentioned this fact, which might serve as a psychological start-
ing-point for a metaphysical discussion of duality. As he puts it,

Human attention is selective; we fix the eye on one spot and the sur-
roundings pass more or less out of the visual field. But we do not thereby
deny the actuality of what is beyond the fringe of vision. We ignore it,
we exclude it from our sight, but there is objectively no exclusion. Here
is a matter whose importance, so far as we know, philosophers have never
recognized. They are wont to justify their exclusive partisanships by re-

225

226 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

f err ing to the narrowness of the field of attention; but they altogether
overlook the fact that this narrowness is not at all of a denying sort, but
is just an ignoring. . . .*

He does not, however, develop this into a psychological approach to
the problems of duality — a line of approach which the present paper
aims to explore.

The first step, according to the view we ere now considering, is
that from perceptions to images. It is not necessary, for our pur-
poses, to become involved in the interminable discussions at this
point — for, if one admits at all the existence of images, one is
obliged to admit that they are distinguished just as perceptions are
distinguished, in the midst of their attending conditions. Every
theory of attention and even of consciousness 2 implies this duality ;
the wonder is that a fact which is so plain in psychology can have
been so easily underestimated in logic and metaphysics. If we say
that thinking is a play of images, we ought to keep consistently to
the principle that every thought-image, a', implies a possibility of
thinking not-a'. But it is of course true that many now hold that
thinking ought to be described in other terms than those of a play of
images.

When one turns to these recent writers, it is not difficult to see that
for those who regard thinking as the result of a hesitation or conflict
between rival motor responses or tendencies, it must be an affair of
dualities. According to Professor Dewey, "Thinking takes its de-
parture from specific conflicts in experience that occasion perplexity
and trouble. " 8 It should be noted that it is the duality implied in
this starting-point of thinking which chiefly concerns us; Dewey
often emphasizes a duality which from our present point of view is
subordinate. Thus he says,

The conflicting situation inevitably polarizes or dichotomizes itself.
There is somewhat which is untouched in the contention of incompatibles.
There is something which remains secure, unquestioned. On the other
hand, there are elements which are rendered doubtful and precarious.
This gives the framework of the general distribution of the field into
" facts," the given, the presented, the Datum ; and ideas, the ideal, the con-
ceived, the Thought.*

Such a dichotomy may be developed in each of the rival tendencies,
in the course of the "location and definition"5 of the "felt diffi-

i Strife of Systems and Productive Duality (1918), pp. 475-476.
» Jan*w, Principles of Psychology (1890), VoL I, p. 139.
» Beoonttruction in Philosophy (1920), p. 138.

* Studies in Logical Theory (1903), p. 50.

• How We Think (1910), ch. VI.

THE IMPLICIT DUALITY OF THINKING 227

culty," or the "development by reasoning of the bearings of the
suggestion. ' ' But the fundamental duality is found in the fact that

diverse anticipated ends may provoke divided and competing present re-
actions; the organism may be torn between different courses, each inter-
fering with the completion of the other. This intra-organic pulling and
hauling, this strife of active tendencies is a genuine phenomenon.6

Thinking thus conies to be viewed as a special case of the inhibition
of certain reflexes by other antagonistic reflexes.

This condition of implicit duality is not essentially altered if
one adopts the view of Professor Watson that thinking is a result
of language habits, although, owing to later substitutions, it need
not always take place in terms of words ; 7 for language itself in-
volves an act of selective attention on the part of the speaker, and
an attempt to secure an act of selective attention on the part of a
listener. Its motivation, from the animal cry all the way to the
most highly developed type of discourse, is the partial or complete
transfer of a selective adjustment from one member of a group to
another member or other members. In its developed forms its
function is often to throw the weight of the speaker's experience
to one or another of the competing tendencies of the listener.

Articulate language, and above all the language of philosophical
discussion, differs so much from animal cries that it is easy to lose
sight of inherent limitations of this kind ; but detailed consideration
of these differences shows, we think, that these limitations persist.
The first difference between animal cries and articulate language is
in the fact that in the latter parts of speech have been developed,
and expression is in the form of more or less complete sentences.
This development, in the sub-human and human groups, can be
reconstructed with a good deal of plausibility if one pictures a
progressive series of separations from the objects which are of
interest to the groups and the actions in which the groups are en-
gaged. For the animal group, we may suppose that the objects and
actions are present, and factors of immediate experience. When
the objects are thus present, and actions upon them are in the atten-
tion of every member of the group, there is no need of an elaborate
language reaction ; if any sound at all is required to reinforce ges-
tures, it is sufficient to give the sound corresponding to that which
in a human group would be known to us as an interjection, a demon-
strative pronoun, or an imperative.8 We may suppose, further, that

« Essays in Experimental Logic (1916), p. 366. Italics mine.
7 Behavior (1914), ch X.

s In this and the preceding paragraph I am under some obligation to Pro-
fessor Pierre Janet, whose very suggestive lectures I heard in 1912.

228 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

sometimes while the object is still present, attention is to be directed
to it in some specific way, or that while the action is still current,
it is to be modified without being terminated ; these situations would
call forth signs corresponding to our adjectives and adverbs. Some-
where here, we suppose, is one of the differences between sub-human
and human groups — the latter are of course able to react much more
easily to this type of situation. The difference is still more marked
in the next type to be considered, in which the object is absent or
out of attention, or the action has given place to some other action ;
the object must now be named, or the action specified — hence the
appearance in language of nouns and verbs. In some such way, we
may suppose, the primitive tendencies which issue as cries are ex-
panded into articulated sentences. The sentence is "the significant
unit of language,"9 and results from the discharge of a nervous
reflex. But nothing in the structure of a grammatical sentence
does away with the original implicit duality. We may say that
every sentence of the simple types thus far considered is spoken as
the result of a selective adjustment or conflict of tendencies, and
has the effect of a transfer of tendencies from a speaker to a listener.
Language for us consists principally of sentences containing nouns,
verbs, adjectives and adverbs, the status of which is not changed
when they are called by their logical names of terms, relations and
qualities.

Other differences between the sentences used by primitive men
and those used at the later stages of culture are found in the facts
that the later stages are marked by abstractions, generalizations, and
the metaphorical use of terms. An abstraction may be defined as the
use of a term in something less than its full complement of qualities
or relations, or the use of a quality or relation apart from its term.
Generalization is, as Dewey says, the positive side of the same func-
tion ; 10 it is the use of a term, or relation, or quality, in a setting
other than that from which it was derived, and often with an im-
plicit reference which goes beyond any setting that has been speci-
fied. The metaphorical use of terms involves the substitution of
one group of relations for another group, often only remotely re-
sembling the first. All these processes are variations in the use of
terms, relations, and qualities, but they do not affect the funda-
mental conditions by which terms, relations, and qualities become
evident to us.

According to Dewey a false abstractionism results when the func-

• Cf. B. Bosaaqnet, Logic (1888), VoL I, p. 40.
10 Seconttruction in Philosophy (1920), p. 151.

THE IMPLICIT DUALITY OF THINKING 229

tion of the detached fragments is forgotten.11 "We should add that
a still more fundamental route to a false abstractionism would be to
forget the function of the language reflex and the thinking1 process,
and that any attempt to perform an abstraction which removes the
content of our thinking from the conditions of implicit duality in
which it originates is false because, regardless of its content, it re-
mains in origin and form still subject to the conditions which it
attempts to deny.

More misleading even than false abstractions are the false general-
izations which often seem, and sometimes profess, to remove the
content of our thinking from the conditions of implicit duality. It
is true that generalizations often have a reference which extends
indefinitely beyond the settings in which they originate or are em-
ployed. There may be no fixed limit to the applications of general-
izations about redness, for example, or justice. But the very condi-
tion of generalizing at all is that one is able to contrast redness with
not-redness, or justice with not- justice; and the only thoroughly
valid generalizations are those that recognize the fundamental im-
portance of such contrasts. It is by this recognition that general-
izations like the law of contradiction and the principle of the implicit
duality of thinking are able to save themselves from the criticism
which they are entitled to make of other notions.

It is obvious that the remaining difference, as above noted, be-
tween primitive and highly developed language, namely, the meta-
phorical use of terms, with its substitution of one group of relations
for another, is a secondary rather than a primary process, and has
to do with variations of the content of sentences or judgments rather
than with their form. "We may say, then, that the more highly
developed language reactions, like the primitive language reactions,
conform to the principle of implicit duality. There is some ques-
tion as to whether thinking originates in language reactions; but
there is no question that much of our most significant thinking pro-
ceeds in language forms. The point for us is that whatever portion
of our thinking takes place in language forms may be regarded as
implicitly dual; and — summing up now all that has been said up
to this point — that whether the language reaction theory or any other
theory of the origin of thinking now current is adopted, the same
result as regards implicit duality is reached.

II

The generalization with which we are now concerned is to the
effect that, if what is implicit in them were made explicit, all state-

« ma., p. 150.

JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ments would be reduced to the form "a' as against not-a'." Rec-
ognition of this principle would modify a number of ideas employed
in philosophical discussions, both of the past and present; to some
of these ideas we now turn.

The first point to notice is that at any particular moment there
are marked differences between a' and not-a'. They may be said to
be mutually exclusive — although this statement may have to be
qualified later, when more adequate account is taken of the work of
Sheldon.13 For our present purposes it will suffice to say that no
matter how trivial in content the term a' may be, it, together with
not-a', exhausts the possibilities of the universe. Sometimes the
contrast between the two terms cuts through the midst of our ex-
perience, as when, for example, we say "life" and "not-life," or
"true" and "not-true." At other times the contrast between the
two terms marks the very limits of knowledge — it is in fact only
another way of saying that our knowledge is limited. The most
picturesque example of the limits of our knowledge is one which is
sometimes mentioned in more or less popular writings on astronomy,
when one attempts to say what lies outside the universe which
astronomy investigates. The answer is, the Beyond. Now of such
a Beyond we know nothing, except that it is there — and the term
"nothing" is a synonym for such "there-ness." "Nothing" does
not mean the absence of everything, nor even the absence of every-
thing relevant to the subject of interest or discussion ; for the pres-
ence and relevance of things not otherwise taken into account is,
according to the principle of the duality of thinking, basic and in-
dispensable. Another way of stating the principle would be to say
that everything is present, and relevant. Nor is "nothing" es-
sentially the sign of a substitution,18 nor of the absence of a sought-
for reality whenever we find the presence of another ; 14 these are but
special cases, in which the limits of knowledge, more or less self-
imposed, are capable of being extended at the next moment. "Noth-
ing" is, in general, whether one is dealing with the limits of thinking
or not, the term which denotes that at any moment there are some
conditions which remain, at least until the next moment, unanalyzed.
It is the term for the that-ness which at any moment excludes what-
ness — for external relations which at any moment exclude internal
relations. We may point to it, but we can not analyze it, nor can
we discuss it except in negatives. For us it is denotative, and not
connotative.

i» Strife of Systems, Chapters XII and XIII.

i»H. Bergaon, Creative Evolution, tr. Mitchell (1911), p. 283.

" Ibid., p. 273.

THE IMPLICIT DUALITY OF THINKING 231

One can say of Kant, without intending any disrespect, that
his Ding an Sich was the limiting ease of "nothing."

We can not understand the possibility of such noumena, and whatever
lies beyond the sphere of phenomena is (to us) empty. . . . The concept
of a noumenon is, therefore, merely limitative and intended to keep the
claims of sensibility within proper bounds ; therefore it is of negative use
only. But it is not a mere arbitrary fiction, but closely connected with the
limitation of sensibility, though incapable of adding anything positive to
the sphere of the senses. . . . Our understanding thus acquires a kind of
negative extension. ... In doing this it immediately proceeds to pre-
scribe limits to itself by admitting that it can not know these noumena
by means of the categories but can only think of them under the name
of something unknown.1*

And recognition of the principle of the implicit duality of thinking,
with its contrast of connotative and denotative knowledge, would
account for later attempts to approach the Absolute, the Uncondi-
tioned and the Unknowable, although it would not necessarily justify
the detailed construction of such systems. In particular, as here
presented, it avoids the duality of subject and object.

Of contemporary writers the one who is most at variance with the
idea of "nothing" as above treated is Professor Bradley. Al-
though forced, by what we should interpret as the working of the
principle of implicit duality of thinking, to make a distinction be-
tween truth and reality, Bradley maintains that in reality this
duality eventually disappears. Truth differs from reality in that,
for the former, "there remains always something outside and other
than the predicate, so the predicate may be called conditional."16
But reality is not subjected to any such outstanding condition — for
any added reality would be simply "more of the same."17 "An
outlying field is here unmeaning. ' ' 18

Since our positive knowledge is here all-embracing, it can rest on noth-
ing external. Outside this knowledge there is not so much as an empty
space in which our impotence could fall. . . . The opposite of reality is
not privation but absolute nothingness.19

Once more :

It is senseless to attempt to go beyond [the known area of the uni-
verse] and to assume fields which lie outside the ultimate nature of real-
ity. If there were any reality quite beyond our knowledge we could in

IB Critique of Pure Season, tr. Midler (1915), pp. 208-209.
IB Appearance and Reality (1893), p. 544.
" Ibid., p. 536.
isj&id., p. 537.
" Ibid., p. 537.

232 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

no sense be aware of it; and if we were quite ignorant of it we could
hardly suggest that our ignorance conceals it And thus in the end what
we know and what is real must be coextensive and assuredly outside of
this nothing is possible.20

The principle of implicit duality of thinking, if applied in criticism
of Bradley, would indicate that there is a difference between false con-
tradictions and true ones; the latter are those based upon the dis-
tinction between the connotative and the denotative components of
our knowledge. When this distinction is recognized, it is seen that
ignorance is not at all inconsistent with awareness, and that an
"outlying field" is anything but unmeaning. "We may even admit
that our positive knowledge rests upon "nothing external," but we
regard this expression as a true substantive, and as the equivalent
of a "something external" which is not otherwise specified. We
should say that there may at any time be additions to our world;
but to go further, and say that they will be "more of the same"
would be to apply connotative standards gratuitously and arbitrarily
to what as yet we know only denotatively.

Of all the attempts made to qualify the realms beyond the limits
of knowledge, one of the most common is found in the term "in-
finite." It will be remembered to what formidable length Royce
built up from Dedekind's conception of the infinite, his argument
that the Absolute is self-representing.21 Sheldon has shown that
when infinity is thus taken to be that which can be put into one-one
correspondence with its own part,

the only reason why the part has always enough in it to furnish a cor-
respondent for every new element discovered in the whole is that the part
itself has an endless (i.e., infinite) number of elements. . . . The notion
of ... ever new elements to draw upon in order to eke out the corre-
spondence is not deduced from the notion of correspondence.22

Sheldon goes on to explain the contradiction in terms of the indispen-
sable duality of internal and external relations ; it seems to us, how-
ever, that discussions of the infinite which imply duality may be
stated more simply if put not so much in logical, as in psychological
terms. Perhaps the degree to which psychological elements persist
in the term "infinite" is not always adequately recognized.

From a psychological standpoint it would be plain that an in-
finite regress is not to be identified with regress to an infinite ; the
first expression refers essentially to an effort or a progress, the
second to its completion. But the infinite is not the final term of a

«o ibid., p. 516.

si The World and the Individual, First Series (1900), p. 510 ff.

« Strife of Syttems, p. 431.

THE IMPLICIT DUALITY OF THINKING 233

series ; it is a word used either to describe the act of proceeding in a
series or to indicate the fact that the proceeding has been abandoned
when it might have been continued. When it is used to describe the
act of proceeding in a series, it is synonymous with the word "in-
definite," or "indefinitely"; an example is seen when the infinite of
the calculus is regarded as ' ' the large-at-will, ' ' or the infinitesimal as
"the small-at-will" — both of which definitions show how much of
psychology adheres to mathematics at these points.

Sometimes the word "infinite" is used in another way, so that it
is more easily mistaken for a term ; this confusion seems to be involved
in the work of Dedekind and the argument of Royce. What actually
happens is perhaps more understandable if stated psychologically.
Let us say then that there is a progress, sustained for a longer or a
shorter period, from one member of a series to the next in a given
order, and so on. But in the nature of the case such ordered prog-
ress will not be followed out forever; sooner or later one will have
other things to do, or one will simply become tired of the monotonous
repetition, and abandon it. One indicates that such an abandonment
has occurred, by using the term "infinite"; it is the sign that one
does not care to pursue the detailed series any farther, at least for
the present, but that the series may be pursued farther if it is desir-
able later on. Since the word "infinite" implies that the operation
may be resumed, it is easy to confuse it, in a realm where ' ' one does
not care, ' ' with a term marking the resumption, or even the comple-
tion of the series. To say that in the number series the whole may be
put into one-one correspondence with one of its parts, is really to
say that two series, about the precise extent of both of which one
does not care, may be conveniently assumed to be equal in number of
terms ; but, in a realm where one does not care, any number of other
assumptions are equally legitimate.

In other words, the problem of the infinite, like the principle
of the implicit duality of thinking, may be approached from the
psychological side; and when thus approached, it may be seen that
the two are essentially only different ways of stating the same thing,
or describing the same fundamental condition. The finite is a con-
notative, and the infinite is a denotative concept. Anything which is
a matter of connotative knowledge we can, if allowance is made for
the imperfections of our methods and attainments, analyze and
discuss and develop with some show of results ; but anything which
is a matter of denotative knowledge we can only indicate, or point
toward, or qualify by its negative reference to that which is familiar
and near at hand. This division of knowledge into connotative and

234 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

denotative might be turned to account if there were any call to
multiply the literature on the Zenonian puzzles or the Kantian antin-
omies. According to Professor Montague, "most great antinomies
turn on a situation in which the finite as given in perception clashes
with the infinite as demanded by conception";2' we might modify
this statement to say that the infinite is less often demanded by con-
ception than implied by both perception and conception.

We may mention briefly one antinomy which seems particularly
amenable to treatment in terms of the principle of implicit duality —
this is the one which concerns the notions of beginning and ending.
Beginning and ending are correlative terms, like parent and child —
one always implies the other. A beginning of anything is always the
ending of something else, and vice versa. The terms are used to
mark at any moment the point of contact of our connotative and our
denotative knowledge. Sometimes these limits are fixed by the im-
perfections of our senses or instruments; sometimes they are fixed
by convenience, or the interplay of our interests. There is a dis-
tinction between our connotative and our denotative knowledge in
the fact that of the former we may know both beginnings and end-
ings; of the latter we may know either beginnings or endings, but
not both. This is only another way of saying that our connotative
knowledge is essentially finite while our denotative knowledge is,
in the proper sense of the term, essentially infinite.

Ill

Let us note very .briefly some of the consequences for logic of a
view such as the foregoing. Sheldon has emphasized, from the point
of view of a dualistic system, the ambiguity in the use of the word
"not," which sometimes means the relation of otherness or exclusion
between terms, sometimes the denial of a suggested judgment.24 I
hope to work out a point or two in this connection in a later paper.
The chief point to be noted now is that the law of contradiction
ought to be stated in terms of exclusion as well as of denial, and
ought to be stated positively as well as negatively. We should say
not merely, "It is impossible for the same thing both to be a, and
not to be a," or "a is not not-o," but also, "a is known to be a"— or
even, "a is a" — "by reason of its exclusion of not-a."

Another consequence for logic follows from the fundamental
relativism of the dualistic view. It is that any so-called logical
universal has an essentially limited reference, and that, strictly

» The Antinomy and its Implications for Logical Theory, in Studies in the
History of Ideas (1918), p. 239.
«« Strife of Systems, p. 471.

THE IMPLICIT DUALITY OF THINKING 235

speaking, the only universals which are valid throughout the whole
range of our experience are those which allow for the fact of duality.

IV

In conclusion, let us indicate very briefly some of the effects
which a recognition of the principle of the implicit duality of think-
ing might be expected to exercise upon some of the philosophies cur-
rent at the present time. It is obvious that recognition of the prin-
ciple would modify the arguments of absolute idealism in the
direction of relativism; there is one idealistic argument, or pre-
supposition, which we should expect would be particularly affected.

This is the point which is perhaps most vital in absolute ideal-
ism— that reality and experience are coincident.25 According to
the view here put forward, this point might — at least in a sense — be
granted, but without leading to the consequences which the absolute
idealists draw from it. In other words, if our experience can be
thought of as denotative as well as connotative, we may say that
reality and experience are coincident, but that there is no need of
going beyond our experience to an Absolute experience. One may
here quote Eoyce against Boyce :

That all differences rest upon an underlying unity ... is the very
thesis which ... we are trying to make more concrete. ... In knowing
Asia, I, in some sense, already know these other objects. Even now, I, in
some sense, mean them all. Whoever denies this, after all, by implication,
affirms it.26

The principle of the implicit duality of thinking might be said to
have much in common with pragmatism, because it provides room,
in the region of denotative knowledge, for indefinite growth. That
which is known only denotatively is always at hand to be transformed
into that which is known connotatively — no one need weep for more
worlds to conquer. The principle need not be thought of as intro-
ducing a cleft in reality, for such a cleft as it introduces is constantly
shifting, and, normally, shifting in an outward direction.
The duality is, as Sheldon has it, productive, and creative. It makes
possible a growing cosmos, and growing men.

Taken in connection with neo-realism, the principle of the implicit
duality of thinking would help to emphasize how many and how
varied are the things which subsist, but to which nothing in the
objective world, so far as we know, corresponds. Thinking proceeds
by conflicts, antagonisms, inhibitions, repressions; and the mind is

*« Cf. Boyoe, The Conception of God (1902), p. 30 ff., and The Beligious
Aspect of Philosophy (1885), p. 339.

**The World and the Individual, Second Series (1908), pp. 56-57.

236 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

the most marvellous of all kaleidoscopes. It may even be that these
subsistential things are of more importance than the term "repres-
sion" indicates; they may, as for the Freudians, drag the whole mind
in their direction, or, as for Professor Santayana, impart to the
whole the dimension of ideality.

Any dualistic view is of course a step away from monism, and
in the direction of pluralism ; and, on the other hand, it is noticeable
that a good deal of so-called pluralism is not inconsistent with a
fundamental dualism.

One of the most important consequences of the recognition of the
principle of the implicit duality of thinking would be that it would
make it easier than it has sometimes been made for any one so dis-
posed to point to the limitations, and, as one might go on to say,
the insufficiency of ordinary discursive reason, and to insist that
there must be some more direct way to reality, which avoids reason 's
implicit contradictions. Surely, one may say, the contradiction takes
place within experience; why may not experience just as easily and
just as naturally reconcile it, or transcend it ? This is the view which
leads toward intuitionism arid mysticism. Professor Bergson has
one passage which indicates that, for him, intuition might perform
such a function.

Concepts . . . generally go together in couples and represent two
contraries. There is hardly any concrete reality which can not be ob-
served from two opposing standpoints, which can not consequently be sub-
sumed under two antagonistic concepts. Hence a thesis and an antithe-
sis which we endeavor in vain to reconcile logically. . . . But from the
object, seized by intuition, we pass easily in many cases to the two con-
trary concepts; and as in that way thesis and antithesis can be seen to
spring from reality, we grasp at the same time how it is that the two are
opposed and how they are reconciled.27

The most notable recent writer on mysticism is Professor Hocking,
who also has some passages suggesting that the world which reason
dichotomizes may be unified in a way more fundamental and ade-
quate to the needs of life. He says that contrasts disappear in wor-
ship— the otherness of God and man ceases to be the whole truth of
their relationship."

Distance without fusion becomes individualistic and sterile; fusion
without distance is formless, sentimental and oppressive. We want our
living to add to its objectivity this unifying consent Consent, and that
union with the object so curiously uncommandable by direct effort, flows
through and around all our deliberate thought-work, lifting and floating

«f An Introduction to Metaphysics, tr. Huhne (1912), pp. 39-40.
»• The Meaning of God in Human Experience (1912), p. 343.

THE IMPLICIT DUALITY OF THINKING 237

it on the tide of a more central relationship with our world. Reflective
thought, it appears, is too purposive, active, self -distinguishing, self -pre-
serving, and at the same time too individual and unfree in its result, to
do justice to the meaning of worship.29

It should be noted that no one should expect direct results from
arguing about intuitionism and mysticism, for their presupposition
is that all arguments are indirect. And one must expect also, that
since the attempt is made in the argument to do justice to what the
discursive reason knows only as the denotative, much of the content
of such indirect arguments as are forthcoming must be negative and
even arbitrary. But at the same time the awkward predicament
which embarrasses all anti-intellectualist systems — that of being
obliged to employ the intellect to formulate and communicate their
views — is partially relieved by the principle of the implicit duality of
thinking, with its recognition of denotative knowledge, and its leg-
itimization of certain contradictions.

We have left until the last any connected view of the work of
Sheldon, on which we have frequently drawn, and with which we
have frequently found ourselves in agreement; the idea in leaving
the work until the last has been that in connection with it we might
mark a transition to a possible future paper. In general, Sheldon
has drawn a powerful indictment of the warring philosophies, and
has, we think, taken some very necessary steps in the direction of a
reconciliation. Among these is the recognition of duality as a meta-
physical principle. But his applications and illustrations, it seems
to us, need careful scrutiny. Any relation between terms may be
expressed as a duality ; but the duality may in some cases be a better
example of logic than of metaphysics. Thus, the relation of an
object to its background,80 and a subject to its attribute,31 and a
mixture and its constituent parts,32 and the members of a species and
their individual variations,33 are all reducible logically to the dual
formula, although they may not represent the same metaphysical
principle, or at least their metaphysical relationships may involve
other principles. Sheldon himself recognizes that there may be other
fundamental principles ; 3* it seems to us that at least one such prin-
ciple is that which Professor Spaulding calls ' ' creative synthesis, ' ' 35
and that this ought to be combined with the principle of duality, and

2» Ibid., p. 344.

so Strife of Systems, pp. 475-476.

si Ibid., p. 436.

32 Ibid., pp. 466, 487.

ss Ibid., p. 458 ff., 502.

s* Ibid., pp. 511, 512.

ss The New Bationalism (1918), p. 448.

238 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

perhaps one or two other principles, in an organic way, to yield a
better metaphysics. Admission of the principle of creative synthesis
in/to one's metaphysics would make relations dependent for their
character as external or internal upon the stage of development
reached — thus, for example, some at least of the external relations
of atoms might become internal relations of molecules into which
the atoms were combined. This would not do away with Sheldon's
argument, but would place it in a different setting. When several
such settings for his dualities have been supplied, it may be that
reality will not appear to be so freely and arbitrarily dual as he
finds it to be. Freedom may be found to consist in the genera-
tion of new things '• rather than in the quick shifting back and forth
between the terms of a duality.87 All this, however, lies beyond the
scope of the present paper. It is mentioned here in order to indi-
cate what seems to us to be the fact that duality, especially as evi-
denced to us in the implicit duality of thiniking, is a metaphysical
principle of prime importance, but does not by any means exhaust the
content of metaphysics.

GEORGE P. CONGER.
UNIVERSITY or MINNESOTA.

THE t OF PHYSICS

/•CONSIDER the equation E==f(x, y, z, *0) when f0 = 0. This
\*J represents what may be called a snap shot and is supposed
to show the relation of E to a frame of reference x, y, z, at any
given instant. But what does t = 0 mean ? "We can no more stop
time than we can stop the revolutions of the earth. The time that
we live is entirely independent of our manipulation of t. The mo-
ment we posit an instant A in time, real time has already flowed on
past A.

Let us consider the room in which we exist as our frame of
reference x, y, z. Our position in this room can be defined by cer-
tain lengths LI, L2, Lst relative to this frame of reference. Inas-
much as we and the room move with the earth through space, our
frame of reference has a motion of course relative to some other
frame of reference away from the earth, but we ignore this motion
because it can not affect our actions and say we are at rest in the
room, meaning thereby only that there is no relative motion be-
tween us and the room which constitutes our frame of reference.

We define our position at rest by giving certain values to

«« Cf. ibid., p. 500.

« Strife of Syttemt, pp. 474-476.

THE t OF PHYSICS 239

If1} L2, L3, relative to the room. Now suppose we move about in the
room. This is a common real experience which we can get volun-
tarily, i.e., we can control our motion in the room. But mathe-
matically this means that we can alter, as we please, the values of
Llt L2, L8, up to the limits of the room. We can move along the
axis OX and then we can move back again to the point of depart-
ure and produce the original values of Llt L2, La. This is a real
fact in experience and so the mathematical handling of Llt L2, L3,
does represent something real in experience.

Now in mathematical physics t is treated just as we treat L;
that is, it is increased, decreased or made equal to zero. But the
important point to note, the basis of the philosophical error in
mathematical physics, is that this method of handling t does not
correspond to anything real in experience. It took time to move
along OX. When we retrace our steps in space it takes still more
time ; we can not reverse time. When we moved back along OX we
decreased L, but surely we did not decrease time. In experience
we actually can do something which is properly represented by
saying L is decreasing to zero, but we can never do anything which
will allow us to say the same thing of time. The only thing we
can say of time is that it is always increasing and is entirely inde-
pendent of our action. This is a very important point. In mathe-
matical physics t is treated just as L is treated, but whereas our
mathematical treatment of L means something in experience, the
same treatment of t has no meaning at all in experience. The t of
physics is not real time at all.

A similar misunderstanding arises with regard to our mathe-
matical treatment of motion. We say for instance we are going to
describe a motion from A to B. But if the motion is from A to B
either, (1) it has stopped at B, or (2) it has gone beyond B. In
the first case the motion has ceased and so all we can describe is
what is left behind in existence by the motion, namely the space
passed over by the motion. In the second case nothing we can say
about AB can relate to the motion because by the hypothesis the
motion is not there but somewhere else, namely beyond B. What
we describe in every case is space and not motion. If we attempt
to treat motion mathematically, that is quantitatively, if we cut it
up into parts, we really substitute for the original motion a series
of motions plus a series of rests, which is not the same thing at all
as can be shown easily as follows. If we move across the room
without stopping we get a certain experience. If we move across
the room in steps of three feet stopping between steps we get an
experience wholly different qualitatively. This must be so, other-

240 JOURNAL OP PHILOSOPHY

wise we could not tell what we were doing. But if we add the
spaces passed over by the steps the sum will just equal the space
passed over originally, i.e., mathematical treatment applies only to
space, never to motion.

Consider another case. If we ask you to describe a picture but
move it about very rapidly, you will say immediately: "Hold it
still. How can I describe it if you keep moving it about?" Just
so, how can you? But do you not see that a still time (t = 0) is
not real time at all f

The trouble is due to the fact that in experience we get a per-
cept of real time due to memory and on this as a basis we create an
artificial concept of time which we know as the t of physics. It is
inevitable that in practise we treat this symbol t quantitatively
just as we do L. This does not mean that we hold t to be actually
the same space as is represented by L, but it does mean that the only
possible way mathematics can treat anything is the way it treats
L, that is quantitatively, and to this way we apply the term "spa-
tial."

The t of physics is the fourth dimension of experience lived as
real time, but treated mathematically as if it were space. This is
only to put into a short sentence the idea that Prof. Bergson has
elucidated so clearly, so thoroughly, and so beautifully in his book
Time and Free Will.

Now in physics we can give this t any values we please and
handle it as we handle L in mathematics, but we must always re-
member that this t, while created originally from our direct ex-
perience with real time, is subsequently handled in a way that has
no relation to real time at all since real time can not be increased
or decreased by us nor can it equal zero. These characteristics
apply only to space. Now there is no fault to be found at all in
setting up a symbol t to represent a concept based upon our per-
cept of real time. We have to do it, otherwise we could have no
mathematical physics; only we must be very careful in drawing
conclusions from equations in which t exists regarding our experi-
ence in real time.

All description is made upon the assumption that t = 0 while
we describe, and hence physics ignores real time, which, of course,
never equals zero. Philosophically it is the idea of the absence of
change during the description that is represented in physics by fc ;
t0 means that we are going to describe something at one instant of
time, but manifestly this is impossible since any description re-
quires more than one instant of time to make it. Why then does
physics workt It works because the moment we act upon any of

THE PARIS PHILOSOPHICAL CONGRESS 241

its description we necessarily have to bring back into the phenom-
enon the real time which is missing in the description, since we
live in real time and not in the t of physics.

A. A. MERRttiL.
PASADENA, CALIFORNIA.

THE PARIS PHILOSOPHICAL CONGRESS

IT was the writer's great pleasure to attend the joint meeting of
members and friends of the French, British, Belgian, Italian
and American Philosophical Associations which was organized by
the French Association and held in Paris in the holiday week
of 1921.

The meeting began on the forenoon of December 27, with an
address of welcome by Monsieur Xavier Leon, president of the
French Association. Professor Brunschvicg pronounced a very
simple and very eloquent testimonial in honor of the French col-
leagues who had died during the past seven or eight years. In the
afternoon came a general session for the section of psychology and
metaphysics at which Professor Bergson presided. Mr. Wildon
Carr made a very interesting and persuasive distinction between
the old idealism of Berkeley and the German tradition, and the
new idealism represented by Croce and Gentile, but most adequately
by Gentile. After an interval of discussion, Mr. Carr was followed
by Professor Schiller, who argued that every fact is an instance of
value, and that science can not, therefore, ever be dehumanized.
Mr. Carr and Mr. Schiller spoke in English, and Professor Bergson
summarized their theses in French.

At six that afternoon there was a reception to the foreign dele-
gates at the Rapprochement Universitaire, rooms that correspond
a little to an American faculty club.

Next day, December 28, began the meetings of the four special
sections : logic and the philosophy of science, psychology and meta-
physics, history of philosophy, ethics and sociology. These meet-
ings were held in different rooms so that one hearer could not
possibly listen to more than a few of the papers presented. I was
assigned to the section for the history of philosophy and thus heard
the interesting and very learned paper of Monsieur Dapreel from
Brussels on Socratisme et Platonisme — one of the themes proposed
by the French Association. Professor Dapreel's conclusions and
evidence were to be published in book form by the end of 1921.
There was an active discussion, by Monsieur Robin, professor of
ancient philosophy at the Sorbonne, and Monsieur Croiset, who
presided.

242 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

In the afternoon came a general session for the section of the
history of philosophy, with a communication by the writer on the
relations of science to philosophy as recently conceived, and by
Signore Enriques on the Kantian theory of judgments a priori in
its relation to the historical development of contemporary science.
The address of Signore Enriques was made doubly interesting by
the discussions of Langevin, Brunschvicg and Lalande.

The meetings of the four special sections were continued every
forenoon for the three following days, and I regret my inability to
give an account of them. Of particular interest, however, was the
Seance generate for the section of logic and philosophy of science
presided over by Monsieur Painleve" of the Institute. The topic
was The More Recent Forms of the Theory of Relativity. The
theme was introduced by Miss Wrinch from England, and debated
with extraordinary power and vivacity by Professor Langevin and
Monsieur Painleve", Langevin arguing in defense of the relativity
theory and Painleve" arguing without compromise against it. A
more brilliant occasion of this sort can hardly be imagined than
this general session was.

Later in the afternoon there was "tea" for the delegates in the
salons of the Sorbonne, offered by the rector and his associates of
the university.

On Friday afternoon came the general meeting for the section
of Ethics and Sociology, Professor Bougie presiding. The pro-
gramme included two papers, one by Monsieur Clardon on The
State and the Nation, and one by Monsieur Vermeil on Construc-
tive Principles and Political Experiences of Contemporary Ger-
many— both of them themes of poignant interest to the French
thinkers of today.

Professor Charles Andler had been invited to discuss the ques-
tion of German methods and experiences, and his treatment of the
issues raised was as interesting and as remarkable as such a discus-
sion could well be. In this field of social and political philosophy
a visitor felt the atmosphere tense and sustained in which opinions
became suddenly exciting and important. This singularly interest-
ing meeting was continued the next day.

On Friday evening came the banquet offered by our French
colleagues to their visitors, and on Saturday afternoon, a reception
at the home of Mr. Xavier Le"on. This brought the official pro-
gramme to a close, but Monsieur Lalande, a day or two later, en-
tertained those visitors who had not left Paris.

The whole meeting was superbly organized, and particular
appreciation is due to M. Xavier Le"on for his untiring labors. The

BOOK REVIEWS 243

Sorbonne is a place of great dignity and much beauty, admirably
fitted for an occasion like this one. The hospitality of the Paris
philosophical faculty touched all of us, I am sure, very deeply,
by its quality and by its manner — an entire simplicity combined
with perfect cordiality and dignity.

The discussion from the floor by the French philosophers was
marked by an amenity together with an incisive thoroughness rare
to the not less friendly but more lumbering Anglo-Saxon. The
American delegates were J. M. Baldwin, W. G. Everett, T.
de Laguna, R. B. Perry and the writer. An old friend, R. F. Alfred
Hoernle, was present as one of the English group. The Americans
presented the following papers: De Laguna, A Nominalistic Inter-
pretation of Truth; Everett, The Content and Organization of the
Moral Life; Perry, Forms of Social Unity. Mr. Baldwin was to
have spoken on the Reality of Value and the Value of Reality, but
he was unable to be in Paris. Professor Hoernle spoke on Berkeley
as a Forerunner of Recent Philosophy of Physics.

I must not forget the remarkably interesting description by
Dr. Pierre Janet of a case he had been studying for a long time.
His address had the title Les deux formes de la volonte et de la
croyance dans un cos de delire psychastenique.

Brief abstracts of all the papers had been printed, and it is
expected that the papers themselves will appear in a special num-
ber of the Revue de Metaphysique et de Morale.

W. T. BUSH.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

BOOK REVIEWS

The Philosophical Writings of Richard Burthogge. Edited with
introduction and notes by MARGARET W. LANDES. Chicago : Open
Court Publishing Company. 1921. Pp. xxiv -f- 245.
Richard Burthogge is one of the group of interesting minor
writers of the late seventeenth century, whose works have been quite
inaccessible for many years to most students of English thought. It
is thus a pleasure to have his major philosophical writings made
available in a well-printed edition. Once more the student of philos-
ophy is made indebted to the Open Court Publishing Company.

The three works of Burthogge which are reprinted in this new
volume are Organum Vetus & Novum, or a Discourse of Reason and
Truth (1678) , An Essay upon Reason and the Nature of Spirits, dedi-
cated "to the learned Mr. John Lock" (1694), and Of the Soul of the
World, and of Particular Souls, in a Letter to Mr. Lock (1699). The

244 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

first and third of these works are printed entire ; the second, being
tediously long and in large part unimportant, has been abridged and
is given only in so far as it has any light to throw on Burthogge's
epistemological positions. The notes at the end of the volumes are
mostly explanatory of the literary and personal allusions in the
text rather than critical of the historical and philosophical issues
raised ; but they are based on careful research and are quite accurate
(except where in note 23 Burthogge is inadvertently said to refer in
1678 to Locke whose work did not appear until twelve years later).
The introduction to the volume is the least satisfactory part of the
book, not that it asserts any unsound thesis, but that its emphasis
is misleading in regard to Burthogge's historical relations. The
chief point in the introduction consists in an examination of certain
ways in which Burthogge anticipated Kant. There seems to be no
good reason for selecting Kant rather than Sir William Hamilton or
Cousin or even Herbert Spencer. Though the comparison of Bur-
thogge and Kant holds good, it is unfortunate, as an introduction to
this particular volume, for two reasons. First, it suggests the old
discredited method of treating English classic philosophy as a prep-
aration for German thought. Secondly, it also implies that Bur-
thogge was the only British writer who thus anticipated Kant, though
Locke to whom Burthogge was so closely related anticipated Kant in
every one of the same respects with one exception. The chief histori-
cal problem of the relations of Burthogge and Locke receives scanty
notice.

Of the Soul of the World and of Particular Souls is largely
concerned with the fantastic pantheistic animism which Burthogge
developed, under the influence partly of the Cambridge Platonists
and partly of Malebranche. Its historical importance seems to lie
mainly in the fact that it illustrates the way in which Malebranche
was usually understood, or rather misunderstood, on English soil.
The numerous English misinterpretations of Malebranche were due to
the great difference between French idealism and English idealism.
It would not be much amiss to sum up the difference by saying that
French idealism was Platonic and English idealism was Neo-Platonic.
What is meant by that characterization is that French idealism was
concerned with certain logical relations and moral standards, and
English idealism was concerned with the proof of a certain kind of
spiritual substance or stuff. The Cambridge Platonists, Burthogge,
and even Berkeley confused logical and metaphysical questions, and
endeavored to combat materialism by establishing a different kind of
substance than that known as physical. No better illustration of the
English inability to understand French idealism could be found than
John Locke's two essays on Malebranche himself and upon Norris,

BOOK REVIEWS 245

the one real pupil of Malebranche in England (c/. Locke's Works,
edition of 1823, Vol. IX, pp. 211-255, and Vol. X, pp. 246-259).
Burthogge's idealism rejects "the seeing of all things in God," and
substitutes therefor the being a fragment of the world soul.

The other two works reprinted in this volume are primarily
concerned with Burthogge's logical and epistemological positions,
and are the ones most worth reading to-day. The main historical
problem which they raise is the relation between Burthogge and
Locke; for though the many points of resemblance are easy to see,
the question of independence or indebtedness of one to the other
is baffling. It may be profitable to list the points of resem-
blance. In Burthogge's work of the year 1678 the following
points are made which later appear in Locke's Essay: that "full and
free assent" such as Lord Herbert's consensus gentium is no guaran-
tee of truth (36-37) ; that "anticipations" such as the alleged innate
ideas owe their seeming indubitability, not to their having been
divinely planted in the mind, but to their having been acquired early
in experience and become deeply fixed by habit (37-38) ; that to be
"clear and distinct" is not, as Descartes supposed, equivalent to
being true (34) ; that "enthusiasm" is likely to lead men astray in
thinking (16) ; that all the objects of human thought have their locus
only in the mind and do not exist independently (12-13, 24-25) ;
that our notions as well as our sense-experiences are real, not in that
they mirror the nature of external objects, but only in that they are
' ' grounded ' ' in those external objects ( 17, 39 ) ; that truth is harmony,
congruity, or proportion of things with each other as they exist
in our minds (40-41, 44) ; that faith may pass beyond but can not
contradict reason (19) ; that there are certain truths which are self-
evident as soon as the mind attends to them (39) ; that in many
affairs the human mind can not reach certainty, but must be content
with probability (46). In no case would it be safe to affirm that
Locke borrowed these positions from Burthogge; for many of these
positions were contained in the earlier drafts of Locke 's Essay which
go back as early as 1671, and others which were incorporated in the
second and fourth editions of Locke's Essay are discussed in his
correspondence with Molyneux without the slightest suggestion of
dependence upon any writings of other authors. In the case of such
positions as the relation of faith and reason, or the self-evidence of
certain truths, or even the dependence of notions upon sense-expe-
rience, it is probable that Burthogge and Locke were both influenced
by a current attitude of their time; but it is difficult to find any
such current attitude to explain other positions shared by the two
men. The historical question here involved requires further careful
study; and though Locke still may be considered to have made the

246 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

most noteworthy statement of the subjective theory of knowledge,
he can perhaps no longer be considered to be quite such an innovator
in philosophy.

Burthogge's later work of 1694 is clearly and confessedly de-
pendent upon Locke to whom he dedicated the essay. The subjec-
tive epistemology of the earlier work is restated more in Lockian
fashion, though Burthogge maintains one point in which he differed
from Locke, namely the activity of the mind in sensation (76-77).
Attempts to describe the nature of substance are, however, made
by Burthogge in this work, as by Locke in the Essay, though they
were not made in the earlier work of 1678 and are obviously in-
consistent with the epistemological position already adopted. For
example, the substance of water is supposed to consist in itself
of "little parts" of a certain magnitude and size, figure and shape,
kind and motion, even though exact knowledge thereof is impossible
(83-87) ; that is, water is treated as an atomist would treat it, as
possessing objectively what Locke called the primary qualities.
Again, two kinds of substance, matter and mind, are regarded as
proved from the two different kinds of effects which they arouse in
the mind of one who perceives them (91). Or again, Descartes 's
resolution of corporeal substance into "mere" extension is rejected,
and matter is treated as a substance which has extension as an attri-
bute (96). Still again, the whole physiological explanation of sensa-
tions as due to impressions coming in through the end-organs from
an external world is adopted quite realistically (127). Thus Bur-
thogge under Locke's influence departs from idealism towards dual-
ism, and takes a stand in his metaphysics which is utterly unwar-
ranted by his theory of knowledge. Such influence may be regarded
as unfortunate; but it is none the less real. No problem remains
unsolved in connection with this later work as in the case in the
relation of Burthogge's earlier work to Locke's Essay.

STERLING P. LAMPBECHT.

UNIVIBSITT or ILLINOIS.

Nietzsche, sa Vie et sa Pensee: Vol. II. La Jeunesse de Nietzsche
jusqu'a la Rupture avec Bayreuth. CHARLES ANDLER. Paris:
Editions Bossard. 1921. Pp. 469.

It would be unfair to readers of the JOURNAL were a lengthy
delay in review of these volumes (Vol. Ill is before me also) to
result from very recent changes in the personal plans of the reviewer.
Seeing that this would be inevitable were full review in question,
and that, as in the case of Volume I (cf. this JOURNAL, Sept. 1,
1921), such review must needs await completion of the work, I sub-
mit some account of M. Andler's progress, pour servir.

BOOK REVIEWS 247

Volume II contains an Introduction, and three Books — the
"Shaping of Nietzsche"; the "Preparation for the Book on
Tragedy"; the "Attempt to Reform Wagnerism." But these titles
offer little indication of the variety and suggestiveness of the con-
tents.

The Introduction gives Andler an opportunity to state his manner
of approach, and to issue a warning about the two Nietzsche ' ' tradi-
tions"— that of Wiemar and that of Basle — lions in the path. Book
I consists of two chapters ; on " Forebears and Adolescence, ' ' and the
"University and the Influence of 0. Eitschl" respectively. The
pictures of Saxon culture, of the Lutheran rural clergy (reminding
one forcibly of Scotland), and of the unique school at Pforta, are
admirably drawn. There is a splendid pen-portrait of Ritschl. It
affords an illuminating clue to the humanistic German "man of
science" in the mid-nineteenth century — the zeal of thine house hath
eaten me up. Book II opens with an equally informing presenta-
tion of social and cultural conditions at Basle when Nietzsche arrived
upon the scene; a town with a distinctive atmosphere of its own,
like so many Teutonic centers from of old — Francke 's Halle, Kant 's
Koenigsberg, Goethe's Weimar, Schelling's Jena, for example. Fol-
lows a charming account of the "Idyl of Tribschen" — Nietzsche in
the 'bosom of Wagner domesticity. Chapter I concludes with the
events attendant upon the war of 1870, and I am glad to see that
Andler treats Nietzsche's physical mischance as an incident.
Chapter II describes Nietzsche's intercourse with five intimate
friends — Paul Deussen, Heinrich Bomundt, Carl von Gersdorff,
Erwin Rohde, and Franz Overbeck — saying something about reper-
cussions; and stresses the influence of the family circle, making
some pointed remarks on the sister, now famous, thanks to the
brother's reflected glory, but not always to be taken, for this mere ac-
cident, an pied de la lettre. Chapter III is devoted to an intensive
account of the intimate soul-relations between Nietzsche and Wagner,
in which Andler takes care to hint (Sect, ii) the subtle part played
by Cosima Wagner, the "Corinne-Ariane" of the Empedocles Frag-
ment. Some reading between the lines is necessary here ; but section
i of Chapter V ("The Foundation of Bayreuth," some 70 pp. later)
serves to make matters plainer. Chapter IV is specially noteworthy
for its analysis of the sources of the Birth, of Tragedy — in the Roman-
tics (Fr. and W. Schlegel, and Fr. Creuzer), in O. Miiller, Fr.
Welcker, J. J. Bachofen, and Fr. Liszt. The summary (pp. 272 f.)
points the moral well (cf. pp. 289 f.). As just indicated, chapter
V, concluding Book II, pictures Tribschen at its warmest ; an exhibi-
tion (the most intimative among not a few) of German Schwarmerei

248 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

nigh incredible to the phlegmatic (and barbarous!) Anglo-Saxon.
In short, Romanticism rampageous, ante-Bismarck Kultur in
excelsisl

Book III raises issues even more interesting. We see Nietzsche
just beginning to free himself, and to sense problems destined to re-
turn for judgment till the last. Chapter I deals with "Nietzsche's
First Scientific Studies" — not Wissenschaft, but natural science.
The physicists Boscovich, Pouillet, and Mohr, the chemists Kopp and
Landenberg, and the cosmologist Maedler, furnished much food for
thought. But the main spell seems to have been exerted by J. K. F.
Zollner, the Leipzig astronomer, who attacked his fellow physicists
much as Nietzsche had attacked his fellow philologists ; and who met
a similar reception — witness Wilamowitz's famous or infamous
Zukunftsphilologie (pp. 291 f.). His "scandalous" 'book, tiber die
Natur Kometen, a contribution rather to the literature of panpsy-
chism than of astronomy, posed the question of the "unconscious,"
then clamant. It jumbled the terminology of physics and psychol-
ogy, transforming facts observed in the bodily order into experiences
of the soul, making possible a reversion to pythagoreanism (pp.
318-20). Although Zollner essayed to explain the rise of industry
and of science, together with the reasons for social decadence, he
forgot the office of art, dear to Nietzsche, because with art lay the
potency of the future. In fine, Nietzsche's contact with physical
science rendered it necessary for him to expand Wagnerism ration-
ally. Nor was he to stop at physics and chemistry.

Darwin's fermentum cognitionis, known to Nietzsche through the
several reactions of F. A. Lange, Oscar Schmidt, and Nageli, involved
other issues. At this juncture, personal contact with L. Eiitimeyer,
the paleontologist, professor of zoology and comparative anatomy at
Basle, a "philosophical spirit" in a day when the riches of observa-
tion and experiment had atrophied generalization (p. 332), exerted
decisive influence, causing Nietzsche to substitute for the individual-
istic struggle for existence a genetic, and neo-lamarckian, elan vitale.
This "prime vital energy" may portend much, mayhap even the
birth of a supreme race. For, as Eiitimeyer had the hardihood to
suggest, "Notre squelette porte en lui les possibilites d'une evolution
vlterieure, autant que toute autre forme du squelette vertebre" (p.
343). Hence Nietzsche's preoccupation thus early with the possi-
bility of an ascent to a higher type of humanity. Here, then, is a
mystic positivism and, to the extent of its mysticism, it demands a
reckoning with religion.

Accordingly, chapter II deals with the "unseasonable" essay on
D. F. Strauss. The friendship with that "vieitte fitte fanatisee"

BOOK REVIEWS 249

(p. 352), the pontificating bas-Ueu, Malwida von Meysenbug; the
marked influence of the views of Paul de Lagarde (Gottingen) about
Protestantism, Catholicism, and Judaism; and of Franz Overbeck's
Vber die Christlichkeit der heutigen Theologie (p. 368 f.) added to
the ferment. As Nietzsche saw things now, Cosima Wagner
threatened to corrupt her husband, Strauss to corrupt the German
people — the one by reactionary faith, the other by equally reac>
tionary science. So Nietzsche agonizes. The tract on History re-
sults and, with that on Schopenhauer as Educator, he passes beyond
Wagnerism, to begin the "Renaissance of tragic philosophy in
Germany" (p. 416). Wagner must be constrained to reconstruct
his universe of values, or a final break can not be averted. Chapter
IV diagnoses the symptoms which led to the break, and brought
Nietzsche's "L'affranchissement" (the title of the chapter). Suffice
it to say that association with Jacob Burckhardt, another member
of the stimulating circle at Basle, supplied a decisive factor. The
volume closes with a (brief appendix on Nietzsche's philological writ-
ings, exploited recently by Ernst Howald in his Friedrich Nietzsche
und die klassische Philologie (1920).

It were superfluous to praise Andler's breadth of knowledge,
presented with the unique talent of his people for clear and crisp
exposition. The 'book marks another step in an indispensable guide
to Nietzsche's Odyssey of the spirit. Similar review of Volume III
will follow soon.

E. M. WENLEY.

UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN.

The Psychology of Everyday Life. Pp. ix -f- 164. The Psychol-
ogy of Industry. Pp. xi -|- 148. JAMES DREVER. London :
Methuen & Co., Ltd. 1921.

These two books are written for the general reader in that
happy popular style which is the peculiar gift of the British and
the despair of Continental writers. Here and there a striking ex-
pression makes a scientific fact stand out with the vividness of a
poetic phrase, as, e.g., "Experience is itself living." "The world
of make-believe is a self -created world."

In the first volume nearly all the major points of modern psy-
chology have been touched upon, though rather lightly it must be
confessed. His treatment of the emotional life is rather better than
that of some other subjects and he seems particularly fortunate in
his application of the psychological theories of Freud to this phase
of conscious life. The motive in writing the book is the belief,
"that for all those arts and sciences which are concerned with the
human factor in the world process in any of its phases the science

250 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

of psychology is as fundamental as is the science of physics for all
those arts and sciences which are concerned with physical proc-
esses." (P. v.)

The second volume might be classed as applied psychology and
treats of the topics pertaining to industry and commerce, such as
the intelligence and fitness of the worker; the function of mental
engineering; the problem of fatigue; economy of learning and
working; and the theory and art of salesmanship. Standard tests
and experiments are described and interpreted from the author's
standpoint, which he tries to keep strictly psychological in distinc-
tion from that of the economist or the social philosopher.

These books might well be read by every teacher of psychology
by way of learning how the subject may be related to life in a way
to attract and benefit the average student. Their chief appeal,
however, must be to those persons whose work is principally that of
dealing with human relationships such as the educator, the social
worker, the minister, the lawyer, and the employer of large num-
bers of his fellow men.

L. PEAEL BOGGS.

URBANA, ILL.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

MIND. October, 1921. The External World (pp. 385-409) :
C. D. BROAD. -A discussion of the meaning of sensible appearance
in the light of recent realistic theory, the essence of which is "that
whenever I judge that something appears to me to have the quality
q there must be an object with which I am acquainted which really
does have the quality q. This object is the sensum." The sensum,
sensation, and the physical object must be distinguished. Some
Explanations (pp. 409-429): S. ALEXANDER. -A reply to criti-
cisms of Space, Time, and Deity. Literary Truth and Realism, The
Aesthetic Function of Literature and its Relation to Philosophy
(II) (pp. 429-444): P. LEON. - Criticism of expressionist and
other views of art and a "re-statement, from the point of view of
literature, of the old formal view of art. ..." Discussion. The
Meaning of "Meaning" (pp. 444 417) : F. C. S. SCHILLEB. Criti-
cal Notices. W. E. JOHNSON, Logic, Pt. I: J. GIBSON. D. Faw-
cett, Divine Imagining: J. S. MACKENZIE. Viscount Haldane, The
Reign of Relativity: H. WILDON CARR. New Books. Eugenic Rig-
nano, Psychologic du Raisonnement : F. C. B. Adolf o Levi, Scep-
tica: A. E. TAYLOR. Graham Wallas, Our Social Heritage:
V. M. BENECKE. J. J. Putnam, Addresses on Psycho-analysis: E.
PRIDEAUX. Wm. Brown, Psychology and Psychotherapy: W.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 251

WHATELY SMITH. J. Larguier des Bancels, Introduction a la Psy-
chologic: JAMES DBEVEB. Robert Briffault, Psyche's Lamp: A
Revaluation of Psychological Principles as Foundation of all
Thought: L. S. S. J. O'Callaghan, Dual Evolution: L. J. RUS-
SELL. Aristide Gabelli, II Metodo di Insegnamento nelle Scuole
Elementari d'ltalia; Bertrando Spaventa, La Liberta d' Insegna-
mento; M. Casotti, Introduzione alia Pedagogia: B. BOSANQUET.
L. Cazamian, L' Evolution Psychologic et la Litterature en An-
gleterre: I. A. RICHARDS. Felix Weltsch, "Gnade und Freiheit":
JAMES LINDSAY. Joseph Jastrow, The Psychology of Conviction:
C. W. V. James Drever, The Psychology of Industry: B. M.
Drs. Ferenczi, K. Abraham, E. Simmel, E. Jones, Psycho-analysis
and War Neuroses: E. PBIDEAUX. Knight Dunlap, Mysticism,
Freudianism, and Scientific Psychology: J. W. S. The Works of
Aristotle, Vol. X: Politics, by Benjamin Jowett; Oeconomica, by
E. S. Forster; Atheniensium Respublica, by Sir F. G. Kenyon:
A. E. TAYLOR. Antonio Aliotta, L'Estetica del Croce e la Crisi
dell' Idealismo Moderno: H. W. C. Giovanni Gentile, Giordano
Bruno e il Pensiero del Rinascimento : J. L. M. Pasquale Gatti,
L'Unita del Pensiero Leopardiano: A. E. TAYLOR. E. Cunning-
ham, Relativity, the Electron Theory, and Gravitation: C. D. B.
A. A. Robb, The Absolute Relations of Time and Space: C. D. B.
W. Tudor Jones, The Training of Mind and Witt; and The Mak-
ing of Personality: F. C. S. S. De Witt H. Parker, The Princi-
ples of Aesthetics: I. A. RICHARDS. Ch. Lalo, L'Art et la Vie
Sociale: I. A. R. Philosophical Periodicals. Notes. <( Common
Sense and the Rudiments of Philosophy": CHARLES E. HOOPER.
A French Historian of the Philosophies of the Middle Ages: Fran-
gois-Joseph Picavet (1851-1921) : M. P. RAMSAY.

Dilthey, Wilhelm. "Weltanshauung und Analyse des Menschen seit
Renaissance und Reformation. (Gesammelte Schriften, II
Band.) Leipzig: B. G. Teubner. 1921. Pp. xi + 528. $7.20.

NOTES AND NEWS

The third International Moral Education Congress will be held
at Geneva on July 28, 29, 31 and August 1 of the current year. The
object of these congresses, of which the first was held in 1908 in Lon-
don and the second in 1912 at the Hague, is to serve the cause of
moral education, both inside and outside of schools and universities,
irrespective of religion and nationality. The special theme of the
forthcoming congress will be international good will and the ways
of promoting it. The teaching of history will receive much attention.
The official languages will be French, English, Italian, German and

252 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Esperanto. Papers giving a general survey of a subject may fill
about 30 minutes; shorter and more technical ones may fill 10.
Papers will be followed by discussion. There will be a reading room,
to contain as much as can be brought together which bears upon
the purpose of the congress. One exhibition will be of books for
young people, handbooks and newspapers of a kind to avoid. Only
about thirty papers can be printed, owing to the cost of publication,
but it is hoped that these will be of high merit, and that the congress
will make a serious contribution to a field in which knowledge and
cooperation have never been more needed. The chairman of the
executive council is Sir Frederick Pollock.

A meeting of the Aristotelian Society was held on March 6, 1922,
Professor J. S. Mackenzie in the chair. Professor S. N. Dasgupta
read a paper on "The Logic of the Vedanta," a synopsis of which
follows : The earliest Upanisads, forming the concluding part of the
Vedic literature, were completed certainly before 500 B. C. The
main doctrine found in them is that self is the ultimate reality.
This self is not the Ego but pure consciousness, which was regarded
as supremely unchangeable. The early Buddist philosophy sought
to prove that everything was changing and that there was nothing
which could be regarded as permanent. The nihilistic school of
Buddhism as interpreted by Nagarjuna and Aryadeya (100 A. D.)
demonstrated, by critical and dialectical reasoning of the type which
Mr. Bradley has used, that our ordinary conceptions of experience
are absolutely relative and are therefore indefinite and indefinable.
The idealistic Buddhists accepted this position and held that all
wordly experience is due to mental construction. The Vedanta,
as explained by Sankara, and as interpreted by Sriharsa and Mad-
Lusuilana Sarasvati and others, held that pure consciousness, as
revealed in immediate experience and as distinct from its particular
form and content, is self-contained and absolutely real. Particular
forms are relative and mutually interdependent. They are definable
either as being or as non-being for they participate in the nature of
both. They are the modifications of separate logical category called
the indefinite and have the same sort of logical status as illusions.
They appear as existent by virtue of their relation with pure con-
sciousness which is absolutely unchangeable and self-contained and
immediate. Everything which has any form or content is thus a
joint manifestation of the indefinite. The nature of all that is rela-
tive is that it has being in some sense and it has no being in another,
and it can not therefore be regarded either as positive or negative.
This necessitates the acceptance of the indefinite as a separate log-
ical category which explains the logical status of all that is relative.

VOL. XIX, No. 10 MAY 11, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

THE FORM OF PHILOSOPHICAL INTELLIGIBILITY 1

"TT~NDER this title I wish to call attention to an aspect of a very
^ old and familiar problem — that of the nature of philosophy.
We habitually assign to philosophy the task of "explaining" the
world, or of rendering experience "intelligible." Now is it pos-
sible to specify more exactly what is involved in this requirement?
What is it to explain or to render intelligible in the philosophical
sense, and what is the form or logic in which philosophy can be re-
quired to attain rationality? It would seem necessary to under-
stand as clearly and definitely as possible what type of explanation
philosophy may properly be expected to furnish before any discus-
sion is in order regarding its competency to fulfill its task, or con-
cerning the relative value and pertinency of various systems.

The central position that the problem occupies logically is not,
however, its only claim to consideration. The failure to discrimi-
nate between different forms of explanation has frequently given
rise to practical misunderstandings regarding the fruitfulness and
value of philosophical study itself. It would be hard to find a better
illustration of the fact that discontent and disillusionment often
have their sources in unreasonable expectations and impossible de-
mands. Complaints are brought against philosophy — not merely
by outsiders, but by its professed students as well — for a strange
variety of reasons: because it does not give us demonstrations like
mathematics, or new facts like the natural sciences, or esthetic en-
joyment like poetry, or a technique for transforming education and
social life in accordance with the demands of the age. Or, again,
the demand is that philosophy shall furnish a statement of the most
general relations of existence, analogous to but more inclusive than
the fundamental principles of mathematics. Now I do not say that
all these requirements are artificial and suggested merely by external
analogies — though I think that some of them undoubtedly are — nor
is it necessary to assume that on examination they would appear
mutually inconsistent. They have been mentioned only to illustrate
the variety of the demands that are made upon philosophy, and to

1 Bead before the Eastern Branch, of American Philosophical Association
at Vassal- College, December 29, 1921.

253

254 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

suggest the corresponding necessity from a practical point of view
of such an inquiry as is suggested by the title of this paper.

In considering this question it is helpful, I think, to make an
attempt to distinguish genuine philosophical problems from those
that are artificial. Of course such a distinction can not be made
in any external fashion by setting up a preliminary definition. In
philosophy, more than in any other type of inquiry, the formulation
of the problem and its answer can never be sharply separated. To
succeed in asking a reasonable question is already in some measure
to see one's way to an answer. One must begin, then, by attempt-
ing to appreciate rightly the objective situation and its demands. A
genuine philosophical problem is one that is objectively grounded
and does not spring merely from the associatively directed fancy of
a subjective interest. There must underlie it an order of experience
that is already fundamentally organized in accordance with rational
principles, and it is from the demands of this experience that philos-
ophy as a consciously directed activity must proceed. It will of
course be necessary to bring up for further examination and criticism
principles previously received; but in doing this philosophy must
rest its case upon an order of experience that is taken, at least
provisionally, as reasonable and secure. Thus, while one may
reasonably question the validity of any particular fact or phase of
experience, one can not intelligibly question the validity of experi-
ence as a whole. The beginning of all philosophy consists in an
acceptance of the world-order of our own time and civilization, and
from these roets all its genuine problems spring.

These considerations when applied help to protect us against a
good many pseudo-problems that are popularly supposed to be the
special interest of philosophy. It is not the business of philosophy,
as Lotze was fond of remarking, to prove that the world exists or
to demonstrate how it is made. Philosophy has not to show us how
to make a world, but to help us in understanding the actual world
in which we find ourselves. The genuine problems of philosophy
are natural problems, not reached by any artificial straining, but
generated by the demands of a human life to know itself and to
become at home in its world.

There is always a special danger that when philosophy is carried
on largely by schools and schoolmen it may become artificial through
too great an emphasis upon formal completeness and the require-
ments of technical demonstration. It would be quite in order to
raise the question, "Are we Scholastics? " Scholasticism has of
course its merits, and I am not arguing in favor of dilettantism, or
lack of earnestness and seriousness in carrying on philosophical in-
quiries, but against making what is merely technical and abstract

PHILOSOPHICAL INTELLIGIBILITY 255

the end and goal. It is of course to .be admitted that for certain
preliminary inquiries in philosophy technical methods and a rigor-
ously defined terminology are necessary. But two things should be
borne in mind: first, that such technical inquiries are a part of
philosophy only in so far as they directly or indirectly throw light
upon some genuine problem, and, secondly, that the philosopher
by profession is not thereby set apart from his fellows and dedicated
to some precious but obscure inquiry in which they have neither
part nor lot. The important matter is to rid thought of abstractions
that are not instrumental to concrete knowledge, and as little to
accept our problems ready-made from the schoolmen of the present
day as from those of the past. Philosophy, as criticism that is based
upon life, has first of all the function of showing the irrationality
and illegitimacy of many questions, both contemporary and tradi-
tional.

But the mere resolve to occupy one's thought with the concrete
is not enough : it is also necessary to proceed to it through criticism,
i.e., though a natural dialectic of thought. That way is long and
difficult, and is in general the path which the classical systems of
philosophy have tried to follow.

On the other hand, I can not help thinking that in some of the
present-day movements that advertise themselves as "new" and
"scientific" there is plainly marked a tendency to turn away from
one form of abstraction in order to take refuge in another. The
desire to direct philosophy into more fruitful channels doubtless
underlies the effort to assimilate its procedure to that of the special
sciences. The traditional form of philosophical inquiry, it is said,
is neither logically convincing nor practically fruitful, while con-
temporary science offers an example of an increase and systematiza-
tion of positive facts that represent a solid achievement both on
account of its certainty and of its service to society. Hence arises
the demand that philosophy shall be reformed by the adoption of
the scientific method, and made to yield conclusions that are rigidly
demonstrable and capable of fruitful application.

Now one may sympathize in large measure with the motives of
these reformers without being ready to accept their somewhat
pessimistic diagnosis of the condition of philosophy or approving
the remedies they propose to employ. That philosophical inquiry
should be carried on with systematic thoroughness and with the
utmost attention to real facts and willingness to follow where the
argument leads, no one would wish to deny. Indeed, only on these
terms is philosophy true to its name. But this is not to assert that
it must abandon its own problems and procedure and seek for a
place among the sciences. Here again I would suggest the possi-

256 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

bility that dissatisfaction with historical philosophy has its source
in a misunderstand'! 11 LT in regard to the form of intelligibility at
which its representatives have aimed. May it not be true that the
historical systems seem to certain persons to have little value just be-
cause they themselves are interested only in a different type of prob-
lem, and that this fact explains why they seem to themselves to have
received a stone when they asked for bread T

Apart from religion, there are three consciously directed ap-
proaches through which the mind may be said to attempt to render
the world familiar to itself — those of science, of philosophy, and of
art. In ordinary life these interests are not clearly defined and
differentiated, and in every normal individual they are all present
and influence each other in some degree. But however intimate
their relation in the life of any individual, it is essential that one
form of problem should not be confused with another. The form of
intelligibility that philosophy seeks, and in some measure attains, is
not that of science and not that of art, nor is it any admixture of
the two, though it has relations with both. Leaving for the present
the nature of art out of account, we may consider some of the funda-
mental distinctions between scientific and philosophical explanation.

One or two preliminary remarks are, however, necessary to avoid
misunderstanding. In the first place, the distinction between these
two modes of inquiry does not exclude, but rather provides for,
mutual aid and supplementation in practise. The effort to explain
the world is a human undertaking and is carried on by human beings,
not by the abstractions we sometimes name "the philosopher" and
' ' the scientist. ' ' To ensure genuine progress in any field it is neces-
sary that the two forms of inquiry should take note of each other,
even that they should interpenetrate each other within the same mind.
I have tried at various times to state and illustrate my understanding
of necessary connection between them, and of the nature of the dialec-
tic by means of which they are connected. At present I wish to
insist that it is only by keeping clear the essential differences that
the true relation between them can be understood.

The general question regarding the relations of philosophy and
the sciences has, then, many aspects which must at present be left
out of account. What I wish to emphasize is that the demands
of explanation in the two fields are not identical, and that a com-
plete explanation in one set of terms has no immediate relevancy
as an answer to a question raised from the point of view of the other
inquiry. The scientific explanation of why Socrates is sitting in
prison awaiting the execution of his sentence, stated in terms of the
contraction of the muscles of his legs and the revolutions of his
bones in the socket joints does not furnish the kind of explanation

PHILOSOPHICAL INTELLIGIBILITY 257

that is demanded. What is required is to supply the context in
terms of the personality and moral character of Socrates. It is not
a mere difference of substituting a teleological for a mechanical
explanation, as might appear from the illustration. That the form
of philosophical intelligibility always does involve teleology, is, I
think, true. Nevertheless it is necessary to carry the matter further
since there is a superficial type of teleological explanation that has no
claim to the title of philosophy, just as there are causal explanations
that can not properly be regarded as scientific.

It may throw additional light upon the question before us to
ask what legitimate demand of our intelligence remains unsatisfied
after the scientific account is complete. What is still lacking to
comprehension ? It may be said that the sciences make us familiar
with the general framework of reality and furnish a kind of inven-
tory of the different types of things contained therein by exhibiting
how they may be thought of as compounded in certain uniform
ways of simpler events or elements. The laws expressing the rela-
tionships of these elements are at the same time, as Bacon points out,
rules by means of which they may be constructed. Now although
this type of explanation is indispensable, and may even seem to
satisfy all justifiable demands in regard to certain fields of reality, it
does not give us any insight regarding the nature of the significant
individual things by which we are surrounded and in relation to
which we live. On the contrary, it obliterates all real individuality
and reduces everything to identical elements or events. It yields
knowledge in the form of general concepts that do not directly apply
to concrete individual wholes, but to the abstractly simplified rela-
tions of ideally defined units.

Now conceivably in the realm of what we call nature it might be
possible by substituting poetry and other forms of art to dispense
entirely with the philosophical mode of inquiry. I have a friend
who sometimes remarks, "I never feel any need of philosophy.
When I turn from mathematics I fall back on poetry." That atti-
tude seems comprehensible, as I have said, so far as the realm of
outer nature is concerned, though even there I believe it would not
be difficult to show that experience involves a relation to actual indi-
vidual wholes whose nature demands comprehension in intellectual
and not merely in imaginative terms. However that may be, it is
certainly true that human nature and the world of social and histor-
ical life have always formed the central interest of philosophy, and of
these the attitude in question simply renounces all critical and co-
herent knowledge. For the sciences based on the logic of mathemat-
ical calculation recognize no individuals and can furnish no insight

258 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

into the reciprocal human relations that constitute the social and
historical life of man.

What we seek under the name of philosophy is an understanding
based on reflective criticism and observation, of the individuals and
types of individuals that make up the world we live in. This
process of reflection, it is evident, must both presuppose and issue
in a knowledge of the self. I know of no better description of
philosophy than as the most fully integrated effort of man to estab-
lish relations with his world and thus to attain to the familiarity
and confidence that come from understanding.

Where shall we look for a realized exemplar of that kind of
intelligibility! Philosophy, as Hegel loved to say, can not be real
as mere desire for knowledge, but only through recognizing itself
as knowledge already implicitly realized. If science does not give
us the form of knowledge we seek, where is it actually to be found t
In the classical systems of philosophy, doubtless. But it seems to me
that a familiar illustration of the kind of insight that constitutes
philosophy may be drawn from the understanding that we have of
that part of the world with which we are most familiar, such as the
circle of the home, or the life of a small community whose members
have known each other long and intimately. In such situations the
spirit of the whole is comprehended as the common life of which all
the individuals partake, and in terms of which their relations to
each other seem natural and reasonable. This kind of understanding
is of the essence of logic, though it is rarely drawn out into a system
of abstract propositions. But at its best it holds within it, as it were
in solution, the result of countless observations and analyses, and is
thus supported by all kinds of lore — historical, scientific, psycho-
logical— constituting a richness of concrete detail that has been
harmonized and blended into the form of immediate familiarity.
The depth and significance of the immediacy are proportional to
the attention and insight that have gone into processes that have
led up to it. Such understanding does not come by nature, or
through mere unreflective contact, but is the product of accurate
observations and of well-disciplined and sympathetic imagination.
It is no blind oracle pronouncing ambiguous conclusions, but has its
witness within it and is able to supply the context that renders its
judgments intelligible. It may accordingly be said that this type
of knowledge is philosophical in the degree in which it attains
systematic completeness of view in concrete form. It comprehends
individuals of different orders in the form of a significant and con-
crete unity by supplying the context that gives to them the form of
a self-subsisting whole.

Objection may, however, be raised against accepting this familiar

PHILOSOPHICAL INTELLIGIBILITY 259

type of knowledge as an illustration of the true form of philosophical
intelligibility on the ground that the latter must rest upon rigorously
demonstrated propositions that command universal consent. Uni-
versality and necessity, we have been often told, is the true form of
philosophy. There is a truth in that statement, but the philosophi-
cal form of universality and necessity is not that which belongs to
abstract propositions. Science is a system of abstract propositions,
but the demand for this type of demonstration in philosophy rests
upon a confusion of ideas. Eigorous logical proof of the type
demanded by science is always purchased at the cost of abstraction,
as is most clearly illustrated in the case of mathematics; the more
complete the abstraction from reality the more compelling is the
nature of the formal demonstration. Just because philosophy is oc-
cupied with the relations of concrete individuals and systems of
individuals, the logic of general propositions can not be its final test
or form of truth.

The difficulty is still likely to be urged, however, that what is
not expressible in propositions that can be formally demonstrated is
but subjective opinion, and can never furnish a common basis for
life or society. This would be a serious objection if it were true.
But it rests, I think, upon a misunderstanding of the nature pf
knowledge as a process of systematic concretion, a movement from
the abstract to the concrete. In the first place, demonstration of
the type described by formal logic has its place and function only
within this total process. It always presupposes an objective world
of fact upon which the common intelligence of individuals rests.
The abstract method can operate only in so far as it is supported by
a concrete basis of organized fact. One could infer nothing in a world
of mere assumptions. And secondly, in actual reasoning there is al-
ways the further question after the formal correctness of a conclusion
has been accepted — the question, namely, as to what application it has,
i.e., how it enters concretely into the world of reality and modifies
or further defines our knowledge of the nature of the individual
systems that compose it.

The common experience which forms the basis of a common
social life is, even on its intellectual side, wrongly conceived as of the
inflexible type suggested by the literal identity of identically formu-
lated propositions. It is comparatively easy to agree upon a com-
mon formula; but no matter how carefully the words have been
defined in the abstract, the attempt to apply the formula is sure to
reveal differences of personal opinion. Such formulas have an
important function as instruments in attaining a common under-
standing, and they serve too as a nucleus about which common feel-
ings grow up. But neither practical life nor philosophy can rest

260 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

in such abstract forms of agreement. The conditions of a common
life demand differences no less than identity. Without such dif-
ferences there would be no knowledge, nothing but the dead level
of opinion that is without life or movement. If this is true, the ob-
jectivity of philosophy is not something guaranteeing a common
platform of truth that is once for all defined and demonstrated. It
is rather the concrete basis of an understanding developed through
the give and take of a common life.

If the logic of philosophy is of the character that I have en-
deavored to sketch, it is evident that the oft-repeated criticism that
it obscures differences and issues in a block universe is based upon
a failure to distinguish clearly between its goal and that of the
sciences. It is the logic of science that has an eye only for uni-
formities, while that of philosophy seeks out and maintains differ-
ences. The latter, however, does not rest in discrete or isolated points
of view ; for the principle of individuality when rightly understood
leads on to a system of individualities. The individual, that is, just
because it is not a mere particular but possesses character or sig-
nificance, is a member of a world or system of individuals. Every-
thing however depends upon rightly apprehending the nature of the
universal that at onces unifies and individualizes its members. That
is, neither aspect of the individual reality must be taken apart from
the other. If we say that the individual is the synthesis of the
particular and the universal, we must remember that these aspects
have no meaning apart from each other, they are not elements exist-
ing separately out of which we have to compound the individual
whole. The universal is not something to be pictured existentially,
either as a connecting link, or a common element in different individ-
uals. Philosophy is indeed speculation or seeing, 'but its light must
not be confused with representation in the form of imagery. As
reason, i.e., the integral mind in its totality and completest effort
after the real thing, it has the form of universality and freedom.
That is, it is not bound down and controlled, as in the ordinary
routine of practical life, by the first form of particularity and hard
isolation, but sees beyond these and comprehends their true reality
and significance in terms of its own system of concrete truth.

The conclusion we have reached, then, is that the philosophical
form of intelligibility is that of a concrete universal which expresses
the inwardness and essence of individuals through the grasp of their
constitutive relations. Just because modern science is not concerned
with significant individuals, but with abstract aspects taken as bare
"existences," its universal is barely conceptual or nominal. A
scientific law is regarded as simply a generalized formula or abbre-
viated record of correlations between certain abstract aspects of real

PHILOSOPHICAL INTELLIGIBILITY 261

things. The whole purpose of the inquiry is to obtain a summary form
of representing facts so as to afford a convenient and economic means
of dealing with them practically. "The existential point of view"
is neither that of common-sense nor that of philosophy: it is an
artificial simplification which has its own logic and its own justifica-
tion, adopted and maintained by scientific procedure in accordance
with carefully defined assumptions. It may fairly be characterized
as an external form of representation, indispensable for its own pur-
poses but as contributing nothing directly to philosophical under-
standing. Like Descartes 's material bodies, scientific phenom-
ena may be said to have no insides. In dealing with them the mind
moves, that is, on the plane of external existence and represents
or pictures the relations between them in terms of a logic derived
from space. The statement said to have been made by the late
Lord Kelvin that he could understand a theory only when he was
able to represent it in a drawing, illustrates well the point I have
in mind. This seems to be the form of intelligibility toward which
all the sciences look as their ideal.

But philosophy in its own domain has no concern with the bare
form of existence. To achieve the form of intelligibility at which
it aims it is indeed necessary that the mind shall understand the
truth that is contained in this abstract standpoint, but it has also to
free itself from the domination of existential imagery in order to
rise to freedom and universality. It is, however, important to note
that freedom from imagery is not identical with withdrawal from
what is actual and concrete. The real world is the world of
significant individual wholes constituted by reflective experience;
not that of the superficial and conflicting impressions of practical
life.

J. E. CREIGHTON.
COENELL UNIVERSITY.

MEASURES OF INTELLIGENCE AND CHARACTER

of the most important questions that arise in connection
with the widespread use of the intelligence examination is:
What part does intelligence, as measured by such a test as the Army
Alpha, play in success in an occupation? The report of the psy-
chological examining in the U. S. Army provides valuable material
pertaining to this question. The median intelligence for various
occupations is given, together with the range of the middle fifty
per cent. (Mem. Nat. Acad. of Sci., 1921, XV, pp. 819 flf.). The
range of intelligence within a given occupation is great and the
overlapping among the occupations is also great, so that for pur-

262 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

poses of vocational guidance the occupations included in the study
would have to be classed into about three groups, such as the pro-
ft-Nsional, the clerical and skilled labor, and the labor class. For a
finer classification other criteria must be adopted.

Two important indicators might be obtained from such data,
namely, the minimum intelligence needed for a given occupation;
and that degree of intelligence that one needs in order to be better
than the average person engaged in the occupation. The value of
this second indicator rests upon the assumption that the greater the
intelligence of the individual the greater his success in any occupa-
tion. The data do not show whether or not this is the case. If in-
telligence were the only condition of success, then degree of success
might be prophesied from degree of intelligence. But other de-
termining factors must at least be sought.

The views expressed by the fourteen psychologists who recently
contributed to a "Symposium on Intelligence" conducted by the
Journal of Educational Psychology (1921, Vol. 12, Nos. 3, 4, and
5) show the increasing importance which is being attached to the
so-called character traits. Although, in every case but one, defin-
ing intelligence so as to exclude the character traits, a plea was
made for recognition of their significance in determining success.
Even in college work where intelligence is considered a prime re-
quisite, an important place is being assigned to these traits. The
limit of correlation to be expected between an intelligence test and
performance in college is probably between -|- .60 and -f- .65.
Other conditions of success are physical health, interest, aggressive-
ness, social qualities, etc., in short what are usually comprised in
the term "character traits" (with the possible exception of physi-
cal health).

The statement has been made recently that there are certain
kinds of work for which the optimum degree of intelligence is not
the maximum degree, for example, in the case of messenger boys,
sales-clerks and even elementary school teachers; and that to seek
for the highest intelligence available may represent misguided ef-
fort. Such a view need not imply, I believe, that a low degree of
intelligence is in itself really better for a given job than a higher
degree of intelligence would be, but rather that one is more likely
to find along with a low degree of intelligence those character traits
that make for success and satisfaction in certain kinds of work.
One might, for example, expect to find the traits that bring success
as a scrub-woman or automatic machine tender and leading to
satisfaction in these simple forms of manual labor accompanying a
low rather than a high intelligence.

The study by Bregman (Journal of Applied Psychology, 1921,

MEASURES OF INTELLIGENCE AND CHARACTER 263

V, 127-151) of sales-clerks and clerical workers shows that with a
given group of applicants the more successful sales-clerks come
from those that get a relatively low score in her series of tests;
while the more successful clerical workers come from the group
that gets the relatively high score. That is, these tests show a nega-
tive correlation with sales ability and a positive correlation with
clerical ability. The tests used to make this distinction between
sales-clerks and clerical workers are those commonly used as parts
of intelligence tests, such as completion of sentences, tests of in-
formation and the various kinds of association tests. When their
scores are combined they give somewhat of an intelligence rating.
Now, is a relatively low intelligence required for success as a
sales-clerk, or does one succeed in spite of low intelligence, because
of the presence of other than intelligence traits, — the character
traits?

Otis (Journal of Applied Psychology, 1920, IV, 339-341) found
a zero correlation between success as a mill worker and perform-
ance in his intelligence test. He concludes his report thus: "In-
telligence is not only not required in a modern silk mill for most
operations but may even be a detriment to steady efficient routine
work. What qualities are required remains to be sought. Whether
they are measurable is doubtful. They may be stolidity, patience,
inertia of attention, regularity of habits, etc." The question may
be asked: Is intelligence really a detriment in such occupations,
or is it merely likely to have accompanying it certain character
traits not suited to the task?

If the degree of intelligence possessed by an individual is to be
taken as the indicator of the presence of certain desirable or unde-
sirable character traits the correlation between the two must be
high. A survey of the available material on the relation between
intelligence and character traits shows that the correlation is posi-
tive but that it will probably not go higher than -j- .50. This cor-
relation of -f- .50 accounts for the fact that one can find desirable
character traits in persons of very low intelligence. If the presence
of one can not be taken as the sign of the presence of the other,
then both must be measured. It is quite important to find out the
upper limit as well as the lower limit of intelligence for a given
kind of work merely as a matter of economy of intelligence. But
the need for simple character tests is just as great or even greater.
The rate of labor turnover in certain types of work may well be
expected to be greatest among the workers of high intelligence,
until a measure of the other necessary traits is used along with the
intelligence measure in selecting them. The following quotation
from Fernald (J. of Abnormal Psychology, 1920, XV, 4 ff.) illus-

264 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

trates well the importance of measuring both intelligence and
character in vocational work:

"Two adults, sane personalities, may be contrasted. The one,
A, is a confidential clerk who has forged his employer's signature
at least three times. He passes 'adult' intelligence tests with credit.
His literary and aesthetic tastes are commendable and his thought
mechanisms as discovered by tests and also as discerned in ordi-
nary social and business intercourse are efficient and trustworthy.
In conversation he does not justify forgery ; but admits it is never
justifiable. Yet his love for fast living, fine clothes, automobiles,
costly companionship, etc., have occasioned his failure by forgeries
executed most skillfully. His knowing, inventing, associative and
reasoning capacity is not at fault; but his capacity for resisting,
for denying himself gratification and for acting on the promptings
of his own good foresight are at fault. His weakness is one of be-
havior and in the field of character, and is not one of thinking, and
so in the field of intelligence.

"The other personality, B, is a farm 'chore boy,' an imbecile
as determined by intelligence tests (I. Q. 39), whose conduct record
is good. He milks cows, carries wood and water, etc., under direc-
tion and is in his contracted sphere of activity an economic success.
He is well disposed toward his environment and habitually reacts
acceptably to stimuli within his comprehension capacity. His
weakness is a paucity of knowing, inventing, association, thinking,
etc., a failure in the field of intelligence and not in character. The
findings of intelligence tests only in these two cases are that A is
of at least ordinary intelligence while B is an imbecile. The find-
ings of character study only are that A is legally an offender, an
economic parasite and a social menace, while B is law abiding, a
producer and no menace. Consideration of both fields of inquiry
affords a far broader and more illuminating and therefore true
basis of comparison than is available from the consideration of
either field alone. In fact, conclusions drawn from investigations
in either field to the exclusion of the other are misleading."

If measures of both these qualities are necessary for practical
purposes, there would be an advantage in having a test that would
measure both together — a measure of efficiency or adequacy or com-
petence. Such a test would make unnecessary any sharp distinc-
tion between what is intelligence and what is not, and would arouse
less criticism when applied in business and industry. The layman
can not readily make such a distinction, while his crude inference
that the more stupid one is the better he can do a certain job is
likely both to arouse opposition and to introduce certain complica-
tions into the work of testing. The distinction is probably an arti-

MEASURES OF INTELLIGENCE AND CHARACTER 265

ficial one, anyway, depending upon which of the many definitions of
intelligence shall be accepted. In the "Symposium on Intelli-
gence" mentioned above there was at least one psychologist who
defined intelligence broadly enough to include what are ordinarily
called character traits. Thus Freeman says, "I conceive intelli-
gence to be a somewhat more inclusive capacity than is implied
when it is used for a name for our present tests. . . . The mental
capacity designated by the term intelligence seems to me to in-
clude besides the elements which are usually measured by our
tests, certain other types of capacity which they measure not at all.
. . . The characteristic which I am referring to is sometimes called
temperament or moral character."

Thorndike, in an article on "Intelligence and its Uses" (Harp-
er's Magazine, 1920, CXL, 227-235), keeps the layman out of dif-
ficulty by speaking of three intelligences that every one possesses,
the abstract intelligence, the mechanical intelligence and the social
intelligence. This last includes many, if not all, of the so-called
character traits. The definition of intelligence as the "capacity
for adaptation or adjustment to environment" would seem broad
enough also to include the character traits. Fernald, in the article
quoted above, suggests that intelligence may vary in degree, giving
what are called grades of intelligence, and in quality, giving what
are called character traits.

With some modification of content, method of administration,
and with supplementary scoring such a test as the Army Alpha
might be made to yield measures of neatness, accuracy, speed of
decision, freedom from inertia, assurance, willingness to take a
chance, tenacity or perseverance, honesty, etc. The total score
from such a test would give a measure of efficiency or competence.
By proper weighting of the different ingredients of the total score,
measures could be provided for different occupations. Thus, an
occupation for which a low degree of intelligence is adequate, but
which requires honesty and steadiness could be measured by the
efficiency test with the intelligence components and the character
components given suitable weights. The result could be expressed
in a total score for the occupation. It would be still more desirable
to express the efficiency in the form of a profile, in which each com-
ponent of the test, e.g., ability to follow instructions, arithmetical
ability, ability to work with symbols, range of information, honesty,
assurance, etc., could be separately reported and measured against
a standard or pattern for any occupation.

Such a combined measure of intelligence and character, if used
for vocational purposes, would prevent the waste of high grades of
intelligence in positions where it is not needed and would enable

_v>>; JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

those of low intelligence to be located where their capacity would
be adequate and where their character traits would make them
successful. There may be many places in our business and in-
dustrial system where Fernald's case B would fit very well, and
where an individual of a much higher intelligence might find the
monotony intolerable. To refuse an occupation in business and
industry to all persons with an intelligence under seventy per cent,
of normal without examination of their character qualities may
some time appear to be one of the greatest of human and economic
wastes. In the individual of low intelligence but stable character
qualities, may lie a partial remedy for the restlessness induced by
extreme specialization and automaticity of work.

A. T. POFFENBERGER.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

TWO correspondents, Professors Wilmon H. Sheldon of Yale Uni-
versity, and W. A. Merrill of the University of California,
have written me that "integration" has nothing to do with gradior,
as I assumed it to have in my article ' ' The Need of a New English
Word to Express Relation in Living Nature." (This JOURNAL,
August 18, 1921.) And since Merrill is a Latinist by profession, there
seems nothing for me to do but to admit that at least I was "wrongly
advised" as he considerately puts it. What makes the error the
more troublesome to me is the fact that I do not remember the
source of my advice, nor, so far, am I able to relocate it.

Professor Merrill also informs me that while the Latin ferre
sometimes means, as I stated, bearing in the sense of producing,
the producing is not the kind I meant. It never means producing
in the sense of biological reproducing, I understand him to mean.
It appears, consequently, that the etymological part of my effort
to justify conferentiation as the new word of which our language
is in need, was quite unfortunate.

It is, however, a satisfaction to be told by Professor Merrill that
he sees no objection to the word I propose if I think it is needed ;
for, he says, "The etymology is of no importance, as no one thinks
of an automobile as a self -mover. ' '

Perhaps, then, I ought to be sorry that in this instance I did
not follow, as according to my rule I should have done, the familiar
advice Mr. Lincoln is said to have given in a lecture to law students :
Never try to prove anything you do not have to, because you may
thereby be driven into trying to prove something you can't.

But there is an aspect of the use of words which goes much deeper

THE WORD INTEGRATION 267

than the question of the appropriateness of old words adapted to
new needs. That is the question of the origin of new words. Their
origin I mean, not in the linguistic sense, but in the psycho-biological
sense; the sense, to wit, of the mental and physical needs to which
the words correspond.

The word integration illustrates the point as well as any other.
In defining this word the dictionaries note, of course, its relation to
integrare and then to integer. And the verb integrate, it is usually
mentioned, is related to the past participle integratus. Integer
means whole or undivided, in the sense of being untouched or un-
hurt. And integrare means to renew or restore ; and the participle
integratus means renewed or restored.

Now in order that a thing may be untouched or unhurt, some-
body or something which might touch or hurt the thing is clearly
implied. A toucher or hurter is somewhere near by. Likewise a
restoration necessarily implies somebody or something to do the
restoring. The point is that integration relates to something being
done, to an action — it implies a doer, an actor.

This reasoning is, I suppose, about the same that a philologist is
likely to use in treating of the nature of words. But here comes
in a consideration which, though of great interest to the student of
human psycho-biology, does not, so far as I know, appeal greatly
to philologists or at least to linguists. I refer to the usefulness of
words in the sense of biological adaptation.

So far as I have noticed, when the linguist speaks of the use of
words he has in mind the way they are put together to make spoken
and written language, it being taken for granted that language is
the human way of expressing ideas, feelings, etc. But to the modern
biological naturalist, that is to say the naturalist whose hold upon
the present-day conception of the nature and origin of the living
world reaches clear through and all around the conception, words
are among the innumerable agencies devised by the human creature
to aid him in his stupendous task of maintaining himself upon the
earth in progress and happiness. Words, and especially written
words, are vital utilities to man, just as nests are vital utilities to
birds. But just wherein is this utility of words — the original and
primeval utility, I mean? In enabling men the more securely and
clearly to fix in their minds, and the more easily to communicate with
one another, the ideas engendered in their minds through their ex-
periences with nature round about them. Viewed thus the verbal
remains of extinct languages are as revelatory of the remote past of
the human mind as the skeletal remains of extinct races and species
are of the remote past of the human body.

Now as to the facts of nature upon which rest the ideas expressed

268 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

by the word integer and its kindred. It is the verbal forms, integrare
and integrate, that are specially interesting from the standpoint
of what I wrote about in my article.

Everybody knows to some extent, but only the naturalist knows
systematically and profoundly, that there are two very distinct
ways in which things are restored or made whole, these depending
upon who or what the restorer or whole-maker is, and upon how the
job is done. One of these ways is that of man working with his
hands under the guidance of his mind; the other is that of nature
working with the innumerable means at its disposal.

I have tried in another place (The Probable Infinity of Nature
and Life, p. 33) to bring out this distinction between the creations
of nature and art, in substance as follows: The human being has
two ways of creating things. One way is by the use of its hands
and brain. The other is by the use of its generative organs. The
first way produces statues and paintings of other human beings.
The second produces real other such beings. And by no possibility
can the one way be substituted for the other.

Men restore automobile tires by half-soling them ; and they make
whole pumps and houses by manufacturing the parts and then as-
sembling these and putting them together properly. Nature re-
stores the humidity of the atmosphere by bringing into it in a
finely divided state, water from the sea; and she makes whole crys-
tals of salt in saturated solutions. But restoration and whole-mak-
ing by these methods are far from all the methods by which restora-
tions and whole-makings are accomplished. For nature restores
worn muscles and brains by the assimilation of nourishment, and it
restores branches of trees and tails of lizards when these have been
lost by accident or otherwise. Further she makes whole new oaks
out of acorns and whole new roosters out of hens' eggs.

These last-mentioned ways of restoring and whole-making biolog-
ical naturalists have studied deeply and broadly, especially during
late decades. And beyond question one of the most important re-
sults of their studies has been to make more definite and penetrating
than before man's perception of the difference between living
nature's way of restoring and whole-making and, on the one hand,
not-living nature's way of doing these things, and on the other
hand, man's way of doing them.

It is, apparently, just because we moderns have perceived these
differences so much more clearly than the peoples from whom we
have largely adopted and adapted our language perceived them,
that we find involved there an idea requiring for its expression some
such newly adapted word as conferentiation.

Professor Merrill makes a remark in his letter which indicates,

THE WORD INTEGRATION 269

I believe, not only how far our predecessors had gone toward such
perception, but also how much they fell short of the distance later
generations have gone in the same direction. ' ' The thought is com-
mon in ancient philosophy," he writes, "of breaking up the whole
into parts and recombining them into something else — also whole,
but a new one. Thus Lucretius (iii, 847) says that if the matter
of our bodies were to be recollected again it would mean nothing
because the chain of consciousness would be broken. ' '

From the passage of The Nature of Things here referred to, and
from others that could be pointed out, it seems to me clear that while
Lucretius perceived distinctly enough the uniqueness of living bodies
as contrasted with the elements of which they are composed, he per-
ceived very dimly if at all the essentially transformative processes
involved in organic genesis. Lucretius was, I think, far behind
Aristotle in this. But even Aristotle knew, of course, only in the
most crude and general way, the commonplace facts with us moderns
of metabolism, growth, and development.

If Professor Merrill is right, as I do not doubt he is, in saying
that ferre has no reference to production in the sense of organic
genesis, then even differentation is really outside the pale of living
nature so far as etymology is concerned. "Arguing from the Latin
directly," he says, "I should say that differentiate means to take
apart . . . with an accessory notion of 'carrying away.' ' Accord-
ing to this the actor, the taker-apart, would seem to be man acting
with hands and brain. It would be man in his role as artist or
artisan. And only by adaptive modification could the word be made
to express the diversification which characterizes organic develop-
ment. However, differentiation has been used and the use has be-
come universal, in the terminology of organic genesis. By adapta-
tive modification it has become thoroughly naturalized in the realm
of living things. To this there is not, as I understand, the slightest
objection.

By parallel reasoning conferentiation could be naturalized in the
same realm to express the unification which characterizes organic
development. And the biological importance of providing differ-
entiation with its natural organic mate, is that the effort which has
been widely made of late to pair differentiation off with integration
is resulting in ideas that are not only confused but are genuinely
harmful, owing to the fact that integration is already bound to dis-
integration as its natural inorganic mate.

One practical consequence of the general employment of integra-
tion in this inconsistent and inorganic sense, I tried to bring out in
my essay. That consequence is the deterring effect such use has
upon perceiving the real nature of the action of bodies or of parts

270 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

of bodies on one another in order to make the resultant new body
truly organic or living. This action is so deeply reciprocal that
(quoting) "while producing determinative change in [each of] the
bodies, at the same time [it] leaves the individuality of these not
only identifiable and unimpaired, but even improved relative to their
former states." The sentence from which this is quoted begins "It
is that relational action in living bodies which, while producing"
etc. (as above).

It now seems to me that instead of conceiving this "relational
action" as operating "m living bodies," as though it were merely
an incident to such bodies, we must conceive it to be of the very
deepest nature of these bodies. Except for this peculiar reciprocal
action apparently no body could possess any of the attributes of life.

I wish now to invite attention to another injurious effect almost
sure to result from a general use of integration as the linguistic mate
of differentiation. Since integration has long been generally ac-
cepted as the antithetic mate of disintegration, the common utiliza-
tion of it in the terminology of human affairs would almost inevi-
tably tend to set it in opposition to differentiation in the sense of
inhibiting it. Or, otherwise stated, since all differentiation involves
change, the tendency would be to make the principle of integration
act as an inhibitor of any change. With the conservative type of
mind, the idea of integration could easily become a new and power-
ful brake upon the wheels of human progress, since it would be the
most natural thing in the world Jfor such minds to believe any
change whatever that did not chance to be to their personal liking,
to portend disintegration rather than progress.

WILLIAM E. RITTER.

LA JOLLA, CALIFORNIA.

BOOK REVIEWS

Russian Dissenters. FREDERICK C. CONYBEARE. Cambridge: Har-
vard University Press. 1921. Pp. 370.

Perhaps no group of Christian believers are more deserving of
study for their psychology and their rites than are the Russian dis-
senters. Few indeed are the religions of Western Europe or America
that are as picturesque or as removed from the common thought of
the world. Yet it may be added that few considerable numbers of
Christians have ever received less attention at home or abroad.
Hitherto in English the chief source has been the descriptive account
of them in M. Leroy-Beaulieu 's Empire of the Tsars and Russians,
and for this reason we welcome the closely historical treatment of
Professor Conybeare.

BOOK REVIEWS 271

Although the author modestly states that his work is a compila-
tion, yet we can not help feeling that his knowledge of Bogomilism
and the allied cults has enabled him to present admirably the strik-
ing similarities between these and the Kussian sectarians. It is the
more remarkable, therefore, that the book does not discuss the pos-
sible direct contacts between Russia and the Bogomils in the early
centuries and the first organized antiecclesiastical organization of
Eussia, the sect of the Strigolniks which appeared in Pskov in the
fourteenth century. Similarly we miss any description of the
Judaizers, who were able to place on the metropolitan see of Holy
Russia in 1493 a man who was almost a convert to the Jewish faith.
We should also like to know the opinion of Professor Conybeare on
the Armenian Martin whom later stories (probably apocryphal) re-
garded as the originator of the rites of the Old Believers.

Unfortunately the righteous indignation of the author at the
stupid and tyrannical government of the Tsar has led him to be
unjust to the Orthodox Church. He rightly emphasizes the dislike
and the dismay with which the peasants greeted the centralizing policy
of Moscow. He does not emphasize the cause of that policy. To him
the Tartar invasion means that a savage people had wiped from the
earth a peaceful and developing native civilization (p. 26). This
has been a popular idea since the World War and the Russian Rev-
olution. Centuries of bloody Civil War in Russia which culminated
in the sack of Kiev in 1169 and the accounts of the old Russian slave
trade luridly deny that the source of all evil lay in the autocracy.
It may well be argued that it was only the policy of autocracy,
bribery and servility inaugurated by Moscow with the blessing of
the Church that succeeded in unifying Russia and saving Moscow
from that permanent foreign control which ruined Kievan Russia
for centuries. The Troublous Times and the occupation of the
Kremlin by Poland in 1610 again brought Russia to the verge of
ruin and rendered necessary the changes of the century, although
the unhappy country did not have the trained leaders to undertake
the work.

In the rough manner of his time Nikon endeavored to carry out
needed reforms. If we read the virulent denunciation of the Pa-
triarch on p. 19 and the criticism of his reforms on p. 42, we notice
a contrast. Nikon fought to free the clergy from a humiliating posi-
tion as the slave of the mir. He fought against a narrow nationalism
which hated the Latins, loathed the Kievan monks and despised the
Greeks. Awakum and his followers were far less concerned that
Nikon used a poor Greek manuscript than that he used a Greek
manuscript at all. One of the chief problems was the decrees of the

272 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Stoglav Council. This supported the contention of the nationalists,
but is it "monstrously critical" for the Orthodox to doubt the
validity of decrees passed in 1551 and invoked for the first time in
1642 f The innovations of the Old Believers probably arose in the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. It is hard to see how they could
have originated during the period when all the higher ecclesiastics
were themselves Greek, and the Church was absolutely an exotic
growth (p. 3).

The same unwillingness to recognize anything but might as on the
side of the Orthodox is a sad blemish on the entire work. The
"jaundiced narrative" of Ivanovski (p. 115) denies the moral ex-
cellences of the thief and forger Bishop Epiphanius. The four
bishops who succeeded him were so obviously of an unsatisfactory
character that the author forbears to mention them.

The author has gone too far in his endeavor to deny or defend
suicide by fire. The teachings of Avvakum (quoted in Anderson,
Raskol and the Sects, p. 130) recommend it. The stikh of the
Woman Alleluia ascribed this teaching to Christ himself (Porfirev,
History of Russian Literature, Vol. I, p. 355). Finally M. Leroy-
Beaulieu cites a number of modern instances (op. cit., Vol. Ill, p. 320).
It would be interesting to explain the purpose of Ivanov in starting
one holocaust after another (p. 154). It is more reasonable to
assume that he was seeking to make martyrs of his disciples or dupes.

The chapter on marriage is very full but again the author's
enthusiasm for the sectarians leads him to veil in many words what
may seem to be an unpleasant condition. The key to the entire
question is to be found on p. 193. "The 'marriageless' sectary may
not approve of unions concluded for the whole of life, but find it a
burden. He aspires to another type of conjugal relationship, a type
which more nearly approximates to the ancient Slavonic free union,
dissoluble by the will of either party. He has scanty regard for the
Byzantine type of family which has only gained currency in Russia
during the last few centuries." Nestor and the early chroniclers
declared that the early pagan Slavs practised free love and had no
conception of family life. The Orthodox sacrament of matrimony
and the life-long monogamy seem to have been inseparably connected
in the minds of the Russians and the loss of one necessarily destroyed
the other. Certain of the sectarians were able to develop the old-
fashioned Protestant conception of marriage and were able to bring
order into their life. Others endeavored to satisfy their consciences
in various ways and we learn that many of the Raskol were living in
relationships which even their own code would not approve (p. 209).
These relationships were tolerated and we need only mention the

BOOK REVIEWS 273

demoralizing influence of such manners. What part does this play
in the rumors of various marriage innovations since the Russian
Eevolution ?

Turning to the second part of the work, we note with regret that
Professor Conybeare did not make use of the recent work of Bonch-
Bruyevich, Materials for the History and Study of the Russian Sects
and RaskoL In this there is published a large collection of the songs
of the Dukhobortsy. We may add that many of the scholars of
Russian religion, such as Vladimir Anderson, group the Dukhobortsy
together with the Khlysty, and many of their documents, edited by
Bonch-Bruyevich, testify to their belief in this similarity. They are
certainly more closely related than are the Dukhobortsy and the
Stundists. Finally Professor Conybeare does not mention the spirit-
ual dynasty of the Dukhobortsy, one of their chief characteristics.
Aylmer Maude in his work, A Peculiar People, describes in detail the
via dolorosa leading to the emigration to Canada. He also reveals
his disgust at the trickery of Tchertkoff and the leaders of the Dukh-
obortsy toward those who were helping the poor Russians. This
omission relieves the author of mentioning the naked pilgrimages and
other events1 which present the "true soul of the Russian peasant"
in a less favorable light.

The account of the Mystical Sects could also be improved by the
use of the work of Bonch-Bruyevich. Their denial of the unique deity
of Christ gains for them a certain amount of approval, though we
should like to hear more of the succession of Christs among them.
Professor Conybeare mildly remarks that some of their Christs may
impose upon their followers (p. 343), but he really disapproves of
no sectarian save the "obscene fanatic" Selivanov. This man was
once a member of the Khlysty or "People of God" as they prefer
to be called, and the violence of the Skoptsy can easily be interpreted
as a reaction from unrestrained license in the parent sect. In this
connection we may mention the career of Shchetinin. This man
(the subject of a long study by Bonch-Bruyevich) founded the sect
of the Chemreki, which was an acknowledged branch of the Khlyst
movement. He openly preached religious immorality and main-
tained his position for some years. There have been many similar
teachers, notably the famous Rasputin, who operated in Russian court
circles. Apologists for the sectarians have usually denied that these
men represented any element of the Khlysty, but in such a case they
should group them as representative of a certain tendency perhaps
connected with the Slavonic free union.

i The most recent of these was a threat by the God-man, Peter Verigin, to
kill all the children of the community as a protest agadnst the Canadian govern-
ment. (New York Times, February 21, 1922.)

274 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

The author again has not sufficiently emphasized the importance
which mystic anarchy has had on the entire movement. Most of the
sects which have been opposed to the government of the Tsar were
opposed not because it was autocratic, but because it was a govern-
ment. The refusal of military service, the refusal of the oath of
allegiance, the refusal to pay taxes, all recur with monotonous regu-
larity in the accounts of these sects. The World War brought them
to the attention of this Government (see the article of Dean Stone
in the Columbia University Quarterly, Vol. XXI, p. 263). Their
opposition to secular government does not render them opposed to
autocratic rule by their Christ-ruler, and in the course of time it will
probably be seen that these sects are less of a trouble in an autocracy
than in any form of democracy.

We may well compare the Russian sectarian movements to a sea
with certain main currents. On the surface of these currents are
various waves which rise and fall in constant changing struggle.
These waves are the individual sects. None of them has ever formu-
lated any definite code; none of them, save the Austrian Hierarchy
of the Popovtsy, has maintained a clear and distinct history similar
to that of the leading Protestant sects of Western Europe. Most of
them form sympathetic but disorganized groups with no external
discipline and any movement is liable in different places to produce
all types of leaders, from the pious efficiency of Denisov to the
savagery of Selivanov. For this reason it is as impossible to approve
their principles as a movement as it is to condemn their excesses as
a sign of general decadence.

In conclusion we may say that the book would have been far
more valuable had the author not been so animated with the belief
that it is "the heretics and dissenters [of both hemispheres] who
will point the way [to unity] and by their example shame formalists
into true charity" (p. 258). He has brought together a great mass
of valuable material, but his constant tendency to champion the cause
of the dissenter and to omit or deny any aspects which do not preju-
dice us in his favor weakens the book. The reader should most
certainly supplement this work with that of M. Leroy-Beaulieu, who
has described the defects of the Orthodox Church of Russia no less
severely, but has endeavored at the same time to write impartially
of the different sectarian movements and to evaluate their real signi-
ficance for Russia and civilization.

CLARENCE AUGUSTUS MANNING.
COLUMBIA UNIVEHSITT.

BOOK REVIEWS 275

Bibliotheca Chemico-Mathematica : A Catalogue of works in many

tongues on Exact and Applied Science, With a Subject Index.

Compiled and annotated by H. Z. and H. C. S. 2 Vols. London :

Henry Sotheran and Co. 1921. Pp. 964.

These two volumes are made up of three booksellers' catalogues
and an index. They form, however, one of the most available bibli-
ographies of the history of miodern science. In each of the three
catalogues the authors are arranged in alphabetic order, and natur-
ally a great many of the books entered are of little general interest.
But the full and elaborate index, giving also the dates of the differ-
ent works referred to, is a highly useful key to any one interested
in the history of science. As is to be expected under the circum-
stances, the collection is very uneven as regards completeness. Thus
there are no entries on Brownian movement, on the theory of quanta
or on the algebra of logic, and almost nothing on statistical methods.
Even when the bibliography is rather full as in theoretic physics, some
of the very great and epoch-making treatises, like that of Bocovich
which united the work of Newton and Leibniz, are missing. On other
topics, however, such as the history of alchemy, the modern theory
of solutions, or the history and theory of electricity, the lists are
more adequate.

The many annotations to the titles, giving biographic and
historical information, are as a rule rather interesting and lively.
' ' The pioneers of science have never been of the dry as dust order. ' '
Students of philosophy may be surprised to learn that the com-
mon sense realism of Reid was originated by D. Abercrombie 's Acade-
mia Scientarum or History of Natural Sciences, 1687 ; and it is in-
structive to learn that the authorship of a book on the Varieties and
Uncertainties of Aries and Sciences landed Agrippa von Nettesheim
in prison. As these annotations are generally based on secondary
sources, some of them are rather misleading. Thus it is not true
that the phlogiston theory retarded the progress of science. Like
other false hypotheses it led to a great deal of new investigation and
hence to the progress of science.

Perhaps the most interesting feature of these two volumes is the
large number of plates giving portraits of the greatest of the scien-
tists and facsimiles of the actual texts of the older books. The most
cursory examination of these illustrations will give one an extraordi-
narily vivid sense of the intellectual vitality of previous centuries,
and dispell the fashionable but foolish idea that before Darwin
or Newton the world dwelt in utter scientific darkness.

The annotators, H. Zeitlinger and H. C. Sotheran, have not al-
ways made the most of their opportunities. I am tempted to give
two instances. Colenso's Algebra is entered without noting that it

276 JOURNAL OP PHILOSOPHY

is by the same Bishop Colenso who upset the old biblical theology
in England by his book on the Pentateuch in which his mathematical
reasoning created great distress for those who regarded every story
in the Bible as literally true. Colenso thus lost his bishopric on
account of his mathematical proclivities. The second case is the
entry of W. Carpenter's pamphlet on, Water not Convex, the Earth
not a Globe, 1871. This is part of a famous law-suit. A wager hav-
ing been made that the convexity of the earth could not be proved,
Alfred Russell Wallace proceeded to do so with optical instruments
on the water-level of a canal. The loser of the wager, however, re-
fused to pay the bet. W. Carpenter was the dissenting referee, and
his pamphlet illustrates how hard it is for experimental evidence to
prevail over general convictions.

MORRIS R. COHEN.
COLLEGE or THE CITY or NEW YORK.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

JOURNAL OF EDUCATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. September,
1921. An Experimental and Statistical Study of Reading and Read-
ing Tests: ARTHUR I. GATES (303-314). -First of three installments.
Conclusions and summary in the November issue. Constancy of the
Stanford-Binet I. Q. as shown by Retests: HAROLD RUOG and CECILE
COLLOTON (315-322). -An examination of the reports of Terman,
Cuneo, Garrison, Poull, Wallin, Fermon and Stenquist was made.
The conclusion drawn is that "much confidence can be put on a
single I. Q. if the examination is made by experienced and well-
trained examiners who use rigorously the standardized procedure for
giving the test. ' ' Recent studies, except those of Fermon and Sten-
quist, closely confirm Terman in his earlier statements. The com-
parison of the findings of Fermon and Stenquist with those of other
studies throws great doubt on the validity of the examining which
was done by their workers. Constancy of I. Q. in Mental Defectives,
according to the Stanford Revision of Binet Tests: LOUISE E. POULL
(323-324). -126 inmates of the Children's Hospital on Randall's
Island, New York City, were retested. The interval between the
first and second tests varied from six months to three years; age
of subjects from 4 to 28 years ; the I. Q. of the first test varied from
20 to 90. The subjects as a group did not deteriorate, the average
change was an increase of -f 1.28. The question of the constancy
of I. Q. is not settled. A large percentage of the cases shows varia-
tions which operate to change the classification and in cases above the
obvious imbecile type, only observation and retesting can discover

NOTES AND NEWS 277

the individuals who require permanent supervision or institutional
care. Mental growth and the I. Q.: LEWIS M. TERMAN (325-341).-
The work of Dr. Doll is examined. "His own conclusions are so often
either contrary to his facts or else irrelevant to them that verification
is always necessary. ' ' The article is continued in the October issue.
Department for Discussion of Research Problems. Notes on Articles
in Educational Psychology in Current issues of other Magazines.
Special Review of Mrs. Burgess's Monograph on Silent Reading.
New Publications in Educational Psychology and Related Fields
of Education.

Root, William T., Jr. A Socio-Psychological Study of Fifty-three
Supernormal Children. (Psychological Monographs, Vol. XXIX,
No. 4.) Princeton, N. J. : Psychological Review Co. 1921. Pp.
134.

Spiller, G. A New System of Scientific Procedure : Being an Attempt
to Ascertain, Develop, and Systematise the General Methods
Employed in Modern Enquiries at Their Best. London: Watts
&Co. 1921. Pp.441.

NOTES AND NEWS

To the Members of the American Philosophical Association, Eastern
Division:

At its Annual Meeting, December 30, 1921, the American Philo-
sophical Association (Eastern Division) appropriated a considerable
part of its available funds for literary aid to European universities
and scholars. The vote on the resolution was unanimous. The great
need for books and journals on the part of foreign scholars impov-
erished by the war and its consequences impressed the Association
when it was brought to the attention of the Meeting. From the
editors among its membership it learned also of the many requests
from abroad for gifts of current journals — requests which the
several reviews have often met, but which as a whole their resources
do not allow them to satisfy. Finally, it was felt that this was a
form of international cooperation which all could approve.

The Association appropriated two hundred dollars — one third of
its balance — for this purpose. In the discussion of the motion, the
hope was also expressed that additional gifts of money or books
might be received from individuals. The management of the fund
was entrusted to the Committee on International Cooperation, which
met immediately and appointed Professors Woodbridge and Cohen
a sub-committee to take direct charge of the work. Arrangements

278 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

have now been perfected for the forwarding and distribution, with-
out cost, of whatever we may be able to give. It is very desirable
that any of our members who feel able to contribute, or to spare
books or journals from their libraries, should communicate with the
sub-committee so soon as may be convenient. In particular, it is
desired to collect works representative of the more recent phases of
American thought. In case of doubt, the sub-committee will be
glad to answer concerning the suitableness of any suggested dona-
tions. Checks may be drawn, and books forwarded to Professor
Frederick J. E. Woodbridge, Columbia University, New York City,
New York.

A. C. ARMSTRONG, Chairman,
FREDERICK J. E. WOODBRIDGE,
MORRIS R. COHEN.

To the Editors of the JOURNAL OP PHILOSOPHY :

In the interest of the freedom of discussion so essential to philos-
ophy, I wish to protest most respectfully against the position of
Dr. Parkhurst's animadversions on the paper I read before the
American Philosophical Association. To question the evidence for
that which is generally taken for granted is surely one of the func-
tions of a philosopher, and this I tried to do to the best of my ability
in reference to the popular belief in universal evolution, in the sub-
conscious mind, and in induction as the essence of scientific method
(I was very careful to discriminate, as Dr. Parkhurst does not, be-
tween universal evolution and Darwinian natural selection). If
my questionings are based on ignorance or misapprehension, Dr.
Parkhurst and other friends of these doctrines can readily correct me
and thus render a great service to science by guarding others against
similar errors. But to ignore my actual arguments and to deplore
them "chiefly for the improper use to which they might be put" by
obscurantists in Kentucky or in a New York newspaper, seems to
me to introduce or revive a most unwarranted and dangerous res-
traint on the freedom of philosophic discussion. Surely the danger
from misuse by temporarily popular obscurantists (and what utter-
ance of man is guaranteed against such misuse?) is much less serious
than the danger from philosophers suppressing their opinions, even
before their colleagues, lest obscurantists misuse such expression.
Would not such a policy be itself literally the veriest obscurantism?

Similarly, because philosophy has nothing to gain by introducing
into its discussions the passionate intolerances of the marketplace,
it seems to me unfortunate to have philosophic papers characterized
in moral terms such as "cynical," etc. In view of the uncontradicted

NOTES AND NEWS 279

agreement (expressed by Prof. Pratt) which my paper received at
its reading, a reasonable respect for our fellow-philosophers' power
to express their dissent makes it doubful whether many besides Dr.
Parkhurst felt a disapproval so intense that "nothing short of a
pitched battle would have promised satisfaction." But in any case
the interest of philosophic clarity would have been better served by
refuting rather than merely condemning my contentions.

Finally, Dr. Parkhurst sets up the authority of Prof. Bateson.
Bateson is undoubtedly a great authority on biologic variation, but
not on philosophic discussion. In any case I may retort that it is
possible to have faith in experimental science and have little use for
the concept of evolution — witness the work of our leading experi-
mental biologist, Jacques Loeb, whose condemnation of the scientific
use of the concept of evolution is much more drastic than anything I
ventured to say. I might similarly cite the position of our leading
anthropologist, Professor Boas, with reference to social evolution.

It is too bad that we live in a world in which the advanced scien-
tific thought of sixty years ago has not yet penetrated to some of
the multitude. But we must not suddenly become panicky on ac-
count of this, and limit our own freedom of thought and expression
and prevent intellectual progress. Whatever the Mosaic cosmology
may be to the multitude, it is undoubtedly a mjyth to most philos-
ophers. But the refusal of philosophers to recognize the mythical
character of popular doctrine of universal evolution, has led to
unjustifiable dogmatism by dulling the critical edge of the sense
for evidence. Dr. Parkhurst may call this view skepticism or even
obscurantism, but I see no reason for making it esoteric.

Respectfully yours,

MORRIS E. COHEN

The New York Branch of the American Psychological Associa-
tion met on Monday, April 24, in Schermerhorn Hall, Columbia
University. The following papers were read :

Dr. F. Lyman Wells : A Method of Memory Examination adapted
to Psychotic Cases.

Dr. Beardsley Ruml: Notes on Applied Psychology.

Dr. Clara F. Chassell: A Test of Ability to Weigh Foreseen
Social Consequences.

A meeting of the Aristotelian Society was held on March 20,
1922, Professor G. Dawes Hicks in the Chair. Professor R. F. A.
Hoernle read a paper on "Some Byways of the Theory of Knowl-
edge," a synopsis of which follows:

280 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

In the attempt to give scientific precision to their language,
some philosophers have introduced into the theory of knowledge
a new distinction, viz., the distinction between first-hand knowl-
edge and second-hand knowledge (or knowledge mediated by sym-
bols), alongside of the current distinctions between "knowledge
by acquaintance" and "knowledge by description," or "immediate
acquaintance" and "thought." Acquaintance and immediate
of language and of analysis, whereas first-hand knowledge (e.g., that
experience are, in current theory, commonly characterized by absence
of a botanist engaged in research) may involve any amount of
analysis and symbols of all sorts. Yet there will be no divorce of
description from acquaintance, or of thought from immediate data,
but the data will be ordered and will acquire significance, and their
meaning will come to the investigator as fulfilled and realized in
a sense in which it can not do to one who merely reads his account
at second-hand. The choice of terminology is no mere matter of
words, for it is a choice of meanings, and therefore of the qualities
and relations which we affirm as "true" and "real" of the object
under discussion. Definition does not help, for it leaves open the
question whether anything bearing the character defined exists.
The suggestion was made that a comparative and systematic study
of philosophical languages is much to be desired, as a preliminary to
rational choice, and, in any case, as a help to better mutual under-
standing.

VOL. XIX, No. 11 MAY 25, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ME. RUSSELL'S PSYCHOLOGY

discussion of certain points in Mr. Russell's Analysis of
•*" Mind is animated by no hostile spirit. I fully recognize that
criticism of a view with which one has nothing in common is likely
to lead to nothing but an unprofitable wrangle ; but I seem, to my-
self at least, to possess many vital points of agreement with Mr.
Russell.

1. We are agreed, I think, that philosophies should be, and are,
experiments with life, and both hold our own in this experimental
spirit.

2. We are both, in consequence, willing to learn from experience
in the widest sense, and in every possible way.

3. I recognize in Mr. Russell, not only a writer whom it is always
a pleasure and a profit to read, but also a philosopher who is emi-
nently clear-headed and honest — both of them qualities which are
by no means as common as it is polite to suppose. To discuss a
philosopher who plays with his cards on the table and scorns to keep
an additional set of trumps up his sleeve, and moreover plays them
for all they are worth, can not but yield a good game, clarifying
and instructive, in which the victory may be disputed to the end.

4. The Analysis of Mind is to me a most welcome recognition
of the need every serious philosophy should feel of coming to terms
with psychology. So long as this need is not recognized, the present
miserable state of the philosophic sciences seems bound to continue.
Our logics must continue to be meaningless, our ethics and esthetics
to be nullities, our metaphysics to be phantasies of personal idiosyn-
crasy, our psychologies to be servile and futile imitations of natural
sciences, while the whole strength of philosophy is dissipated in
intestine discords. The philosophic sciences, like the nations, must
learn to cooperate, or perish.

But to cooperate they must be willing to make concessions on
both sides, and explore every possibility of success, however novel
and repulsive it may seem to our innate conservatism. It is no argu-
ment against Behaviorism or Psychoanalysis or Psychical Research
that they shock our prejudices.

For this reason I can not resent even the parts of Mr. Russell's
analysis which I most dissent from, and shall select for special con-

281

282 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

sideration in preference to the far more extensive portions of which
I admire the substance as well as the form. I take no exception to
his penchant for Behaviorism, which he has, very candidly, set down
in part to personal bias in this very JOURNAL. (Vol. XVI, No. 1).
I am quite willing to grant that if Behaviorism can be shown to work,
even as a method, it corroborates thereby its claim to truth : only its
advocates should endeavor to show also that it works better than any
extant alternative. If, however, it is associated with a psychological
analysis which does not work at all and so points to a more radical
correction than any which Behaviorism is in a position to offer, it en-
counters the suggestion that the whole Frage-stellung it shares with
orthodox psychology may be mistaken. It may be necessary to trace
the source of the trouble a long way back ; it may be our duty to point
out that it may not suffice simply to drop the antithesis of psychical
and physical, which, however futile and unworkable it may have be-
come in its present elaboration, was not originally a heaven-descended
datum in the human mind, but a difficult achievement which per-
formed definite scientific services. And unless we can get these
services performed in some other way, it will not relieve our philo-
sophic embarrassment to summon the behaviorist simply to club
the mind into unconsciousness. In the end, however, I find I can
pretty well accept Mr. Russell's estimate of Behaviorism. I agree
that it does not result in an adequate account of the data of psy-
chology, though it does excellent service in challenging the conven-
tional descriptions of these data and in paving the way for their
systematic reconsideration.

I am more inclined to deplore that Mr. Russell's own method of
curing the defects of our existing psychologies should turn out to be
so atavistic. It takes the form of a reversion to a type of psychol-
ogizing which has had a great past, but should have no future.
One had hoped that in spite of its intrinsic plausibility, attested
once more by Mr. Russell's conversion to it, it had been definitely
antiquated. I refer of course to the psychological type of which
Hume is the greatest exponent and the Kantian Criticism the most
imposing monument.

The characteristic features of this psychology are (1) as regards
its data, that it is highly pluralistic, (2) as regards its method, that
it is abstract analysis in search of the "simple" and elemental,
conducted from the standpoint of an extraneous observer. Both
these assumptions, however, owe their undeniable plausibility, not
so much to their inherent merit or proved success in describing the
explicanda, as to the extraneous strength they derive from their
consonance with common-sense prejudices.

MR. RUSSELL'S PSYCHOLOGY 283

1. This psychological analysis assumes that it can start with an in-
definite plurality of entities or facts, out of which psychic structures
can be built. Hume calls them "impressions" and "ideas," Russell
"sensations" and " images"; but 'both agree that they are fundamen-
tal, elemental, and practically adequate for the construction of a psy-
chology. Russell, for example, may sometimes be found to declare
that his "main thesis" is that "all psychic phenomena are built
up out of sensations and images alone. ' ' * Actually these structures
do require (and employ) a minimum of mortar, both in Hume and
in Russell. This is introduced under the names of "association,"
"causality," "memory," "expectation," and sundry "relations,"
such as "meaning." But their presence and activity are so little
emphasized that they are even verbally denied, as in the passage just
quoted, and they are supposed to have no special significance for
psychological theory. The fundamental feature primarily recog-
nized about a mind is that it is (or contains) a plurality, and that
its unity is secondary and derivative. Consequently when the prob-
lem of its unity comes up, as in the end it must, this type of psy-
chology has need of principles of synthesis, to compact together
the atomic succession of events into which it has dissolved the mind.
It ought, therefore, to be as grateful to Kantian apriorism for
providing synthetic principles with such lavish prodigality as the
latter should be proud to claim descent from the Humian ' * analysis
of mind. ' '

Not only, moreover, are the systems of Hume and Kant logically
interdependent, but they are also derived, psychologically, from the
same source. Both presuppose the common-sense analysis of expe-
rience and derive their real strength from it. It is because we all
habitually take our experience as the product of impressions made
on us by a plurality of external things that we find it so easy to
accept Hume's psychology as its logical development. It is only at
a much later stage of psychological reflection, when Hume's method
has clearly failed to account for some of the most patent facts of
ordinary experience, that we realize the need of raising the problem
of psychological description ab initio and become willing to inquire
whether an entirely different set of assumptions will not lead to a
more adequate account. And then we speedily convince ourselves
that the plurality, which common-sense, Hume, and Russell, all
treat as a datum, is not present in the original experience, and is
at best a construction resulting from a course of philosophic reflec-
tion.

2. As regards method, Russell's psychology possesses three char-
acteristics which it is easy to overlook.

i Anal of Mind, p. 279. Cf. p. 121. Italics mine.

284 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

(a) That his analysis should everywhere seek for the "simple"
and the "element" is merely consequential on his assumption that
the data are plural. He can, and must, believe that there are simple
elements to be discovered, because he has assumed that the original
datum is a compositum and not a continuum.

(6) He can assume this, because his method is not concerned
with the actual course of mental development, but with an ideal
description of its products. It takes an adult mind and rearranges
its contents in a systematic and esthetically pleasing order. It does
not take into account that of such accounts there may be a great
number, and that neither their results nor their procedures need
have any relevance, significance or value for the study of actual
mental development.

For mental development is not a mere playground for theories.
It is an historically given fact both in the individual and in the race.
The only questions that should arise about it are as to what is the
most complete and convenient description of what has actually
happened. There should, therefore, be only a single history of this
process that can justly claim to be authentic. A psychological "an-
alysis" of mind, on the other hand, is not thus strictly tied down
to a course of happening. It can take an actual mind and describe
its contents in whatever language it prefers. It can choose the
standpoint from which it analyzes, the direction in which it looks,
the terminology it employs, the terminals it reaches. And all these
may be varied. Evidently therefore there may be many psycholog-
ical analyses of mind. They may differ widely in esthetic merit,
elegance and ease, and yet may all fulfill the function of "analyz-
ing" mind. But there will be no antecedent guarantee that any of
them will have any affinity or relation to any history of mental
development.

(c) The moment therefore an "analysis" is required to comply
with other than esthetic conditions and to conform to the facts of
psychic development, it ceases to be a matter of indifference from
what standpoint, with what methods, and with what purpose, we
manipulate the mind. It will make a great difference, e.g., whether
we conceive ourselves as agents or as spectators, and describe the
subject-matter of our psychology as an Erlebnis or as an object
to be contemplated by an extraneous observer. The latter (if he
can allow himself to forget that he is observing with his mind) can
very well come to doubt whether there are minds to observe. For
the objects he is observing are all of them physical, i.e., bodies per-
forming actions called "intelligent"; but he can quite well ascribe
their intelligence to habit, instinct and "mnemic causation," with-
out any mention of consciousness, desire, will, or purpose.

MR. RUSSELL'S PSYCHOLOGY 285

This is the method Mr. Russell employs with much ingenuity and
success. He is moreover well aware of what he is doing. He re-
peatedly confesses that he is "a trained observer with an analytic
attention" "viewing man from the outside" (pp. 298, 255), who
admires the method of behaviorism, though he can not quite admit
that "the analysis of knowledge can be effected entirely by means
of purely external observation" (pp. 230, 157). But even when he
takes his stand within the soul, he is still playing the observer. He
is ruthless, therefore, towards "logical fictions," like the "subject,"
which are not revealed by observation (p. 141). He is also aware
that his method is anything but naive, that his "data" and "partic-
ulars," "sensations," "matter," "perspectives" and "biographies"
are anything but experiences of the plain man and are really highly
sophisticated and elaborated creations of theory (p. 298).

What unfortunately he does not appear to recognize is the exist-
ence of alternatives to his procedure, which are at least as capable
of apperceiving the facts, of satisfying common sense, and even of
appreciating behaviorism. Mr. Russell's blindness to these alterna-
tives is so remarkable that I must make an effort to describe them
and to show why and where they may be regarded as definitely
superior to Russell's "analysis."

1. It may be pointed out that an external observer is not well
placed to appreciate the biological significance of intelligent action.
An intelligent act is after all one that is related to the life, aims and
welfare of the organism which performs it. It is essentially a salu-
tary response to the stimulus of a vital situation, in which an un-
intelligent response might be fatal. Hence the simplest and easiest
form of such response must be adopted as our unit, if we really mean
to trace the history of mental development, and not merely to amuse
ourselves with fancy analyses. This obvious consideration at once
non-suits all the "elements" of the ordinary psychologies. "Sensa-
tions," "cognitions," "conations," and "feelings," are all equally
hard to justify as occurring in fact. They not only seem to be ex
post facto fictions of theory, but fictions that can not possibly be con-
ceived as original constituents of a functioning mind. For the
simple reason that the simplest response accompanied by conscious-
ness implies the presence and cooperation of them all. No actual
psychic process can conceivably be pure "cognition" or mere "will-
ing" or bare "feeling." No mind that is biologically viable can
possibly be constructed out of the "elements" which are postulated
in the traditional psychologies. A biologically possible analysis
can not start from anything less than the whole process involved in
an act, viz., a response to stimulation which is salutary, or harmful,
and is selected accordingly.

286 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

On the other hand there is no reason why such a response should
not be treated as a case of behavior. We may therefore concede to
behaviorism that it is a legitimate subject of inquiry how far be-
havior is conscious and involves real understanding. There is really
far more affinity between .behaviorism and pragmatism (as the case
of Dewey shows) than between behaviorism and Humism. Only the
biologically minded pragmatist will want to know why, if conscious
activity exists and can be detected, psychological description should
be bound to abstract from it. The plea that the method of natural
science abstracts from it and assumes the standpoint of the external
observer, is not convincing. For in dealing with animals and atoms
no other standpoint is accessible. But in the case of psychology
we happen to have direct access to the inside of the subject. Being
agents ourselves, we can tell what agency feels like. Is it not then
fatuous to contend that its nature can not be known? Of course
the term "knowledge" can be technically restricted to what is
visible to an external observer ; but to restrict psychology accordingly
would merely .be to argue in a circle. Actually the psychologist has
a choice between the two standpoints ; he can occupy either, and even
if he finds that of the agent more intimate, fruitful and congenial,
he can eke it out with external observation when this seems expedient.

2. He has a similar choice in conceiving his subject-matter. He
is not bound to postulate that a plurality of "sensations" or "partic-
ulars" shall be his datum. He may conceive his datum as a con-
tinuum which is gradually and progressively differentiated into a
plurality. Only, if he does, he must make the corresponding changes
in his formulation of psychological problems. He must no longer
represent the discovery of "simple elements" as the aim of his
analysis, but must treat the mind as a real entity, never less than a
complete organism even in the earliest stages of its growth. And
withal he should give up the search for "synthetic principles."
For, as his mind never gets dissociated into atomic "sensations," it
does not need to be put together again. Principles of discrimination
are what he will need in order to analyze his initial continuum into
a number of distinct aspects — the "things" of common sense. Thus
what is datum for one method will be result for the other, and the
continuity, which the one labors vainly to attain, the other can take
for granted.

Upon trial, this alternative method develops several advantages.

(a) It is much easier to derive the apparent plurality in the
mind than to construct its unity, and the latter task has proved too
much for the acutest philosophers of the last two centuries. If we
postulate a dust-heap of sensations or "manifold of sense" as the

MB. RUSSELL'S PSYCHOLOGY 287

basis for our reconstruction of a "mind," we set out on a search
for an elusive "synthesis." We not only have to put together our
disjointed jig-saw puzzle into a coherent picture, but have to make
its parts cohere. And this the synthetic principles alleged can not
do. Alike whether they are alleged with the skeptical smile of Hume,
with the naive complacency of Kant, with the candid bewilderment
of Mill, or with the airy insouciance of Russell, they inevitably
provoke the question — "But how do your synthetic principles bind
together the dissociated mind-stuff you supply them with?" And
the inevitable answer is "Nohow! " Hence Hume, after trying
whether "associating ideas in the imagination" would not do2 and
furtively smuggling in a "feigned" self under the name of
"memory," conceived as a faculty for "raising up images of past
perceptions" that "not only discovers the identity but also con-
tributes to its production,"3 gaily confesses his bankruptcy. "If
perceptions are distinct existences, they form a whole only by being
connected together. But no connections among distinct existences
are ever discoverable."* So Hume despairs of explaining "the
principles that unite our successive perceptions in our thought or
consciousness." Mill, after recognizing associations, memories and
expectations, is distressed to find that they commit him to the "in-
explicable fact" that a mind "which ex hypothesi is but a series of
feelings can be aware of itself as a series. ' ' 5 Kant never himself got
clear enough about the relations of his epistemology to psychology
to see the difficulty : but the only sense in which he can be said to
have answered Hume is by failing, himself also, to solve Hume's
problem. Of his followers a few have displayed some uneasiness
when confronted with the awkward question how the a priori
' ' forms ' ' could make sure of encountering no recalcitrance from the
"matter" of sensation; the majority realized that the safest way
of dealing with an unanswerable question was not to try to answer
it. So they kept mum about it.

Russell does the next best thing ; he skips lightly over it to start
with. The "subject" or "act" is "unnecessary and fictitious."
He can discover nothing "empirically corresponding to the supposed
act,"6 and "theoretically I can not see that it is indispensable."
It is the "ghost" of the subject, which in turn "once was the full-
blooded soul." Persons are just "bundles," and not "ingredients

2 Treatise (Selby Bigge), p. 259.

s/6., p. 260-1.

«J6., p. 635.

s Exam, of Hamilton, p. 247.

• Analysis of Mind, p. 17.

288 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

in the single thought."7 No "observation" reveals the "I," which
is a linguistic convenience, and a logical fiction.* After that, he
appeals to association, memory and expectation, like Hume and Mill,
continues to use the personal pronoun like every one else, and
speaks nonchalantly of the "assent" and "attitudes" involved in
belief." But he has established no right to any of these things, and
has not laid the ghost of the full-blooded soul.

If on the other hand we refuse to murder the full-blooded soul
without a trial, we need have no trouble with the unity of mind.
We shall be entitled to take it as an organic whole (blood and all !)
and to consider merely how we can cut it up without hurting it.
This we shall do by confessing that we were "analyzing" it in
thought alone, admitting that, originally and as given, it is a con-
tinuum and the source of all continuity, and by suggesting principles,
not of synthesis, but of analysis. It will then only remain to be
explained why and how the soul is taken as a plurality and broken
up into "faculties" and "elements." And this is quite easy.
When, as is frequently the case, we are not interested in all of it,
we can neglect the whole and single out "aspects" or "parts" which
seem to us significant and relevant to our momentary purpose. But
it should be clearly understood that this methodological dissection
rests upon abstractions and fictions. We do not really split up the
soul, and in no wise detract from its working unity, as any one can
convince himself even in the act of "contemplating" his feelings or
his past. And when we have done contemplating our selected aspect,
it is quite easy to get rid of it again. We have merely to let it sink
back into the continuous background, out of which it was lifted and
from which it was never really separated. Our recognition of its
plurality, therefore, never endangers the soul's unity.

(5) Neither need our recognition of unity enough in the soui
to enable it to function as a mind prejudice whatever plurality it
may be empirically expedient to recognize. For it does not follow
that plurality is an illusion, because it is not an original datum.
This only proves it secondary in an epistemological, not in an onto-
logical way. Plurality may yet be as real and copious, as vital and
important, as it is found to be. No metaphysical question is pre-
judged or prejudiced. It is only contended that plurality is not
given, but arrived at, and it may be all the better for that.

Moreover, Mr. Russell himself ought to assent to this contention.
For he also admits that by far the greater part of the plurality he

ilb., p. 18.
» 76., p. Ml.
• E.g., ib., pp. 233, 243.

MR. RUSSELL'S PSYCHOLOGY 289

recognizes is not a datum in the sense of being initially given, but
is a secondary product of scientific elaboration. This comes out
well in his account of the ' ' ultimate brief existents that go to make
up the collections we call things or persons."10 All such "partic-
ulars," his "ultimate simples," whether "the ultimate data of psy-
chology" or "physical objects," are "constructed or inferred."11
For, strictly, data "do not mean the things of which we feel sure
before scientific study begins, but the things which, when a science
is well advanced, appear as affording grounds for other parts of
the science," and presuppose "a trained observer, with an analytic
attention, knowing the sort of thing to look for and sort of thing
that will be important."12 Only one little addition is needed to
make this statement entirely acceptable to an activist psychology of
the sort I am advocating. Mr. Russell should have noted also that
a datum need not be a "fact," nor be expressed in a "proposition
of which the truth is known without demonstration, ' ' 13 because it
is enough that it should be taken as fact, and that its truth should
be assumed for the purpose of the argument. For while hypothetical
reasoning has just the same formal features as assertoric, it is only
by taking them hypothetically that logical forms become significant
and valuable.

I welcome also Mr. Russell's doctrine of "perspectives" and
"biographies" so far as it breaks up the unity of the physical object.
This should not only facilitate a recognition that the dichotomy of
experience into the psychical and the physical is an artifice, and may
well be a fiction, but should also moderate the blind and somewhat
fanatical attachment of many realists to the methodological con-
structions of the sciences. But I think it should be added that the
composition of a single object out of a multitude of "perspectives"
seems to be a legitimate process which is pragmatically justified in a
way in which the decomposition of a "mind" is not. For practically,
i.e., as agents, we need to recognize the plurality of things and the
unity of souls.

(c) It is moreover a "theoretic" advantage also to curb the mob
of "analytical" fictions which have too long been allowed to ruu
riot in psychology. In particular, Mr. Russell's accounts of "sen-
sations" and of the cognitive function of "images" afford a welcome
opportunity for the suppression of these fictions. For he is well
aware of their artificial character and of the impossibility of justify-

10 Analysis of Mind, p. 193.
"76., p. 300, 105.
"/ft., p. 298.
is J6., p. 297.

290 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ing them as data of immediate experience. He sees that they are
constructs and can be data only in his "strict" sense, though hardly
how futile their construction is. Thus he admits that "the sensation
is a theoretical core in the actual experience; the actual experience
is the perception, ' ' " enriched by ' ' mnemic phenomena. ' ' Defining
then "sensation as the non-mnemic elements in a perception," we
see that ' ' the core of pure sensation is only to be extracted by care-
ful investigation,"15 and that "we have to pare away all that is
due to habit or expectation or interpretation." ie Still he sticks to it
that though "in any other science than psychology the datum is
primarily a perception, in which only the sensational core is ulti-
mately and theoretically a datum" and "an ideal observer" has to
be "postulated" to "isolate the sensation and treat this alone as
datum,"17 yet "there certainly is a sensational core." 18

I disagree on principle. Mr. Russell has described sensation as
a pure fiction, though he has made its formation scientifically intel-
ligible. The pure sensation is clearly not a fact of immediate ex-
perience, and could not conceivably become such a fact. For if we
conceived it as occurring once, we should at once have to add that it
could never occur again. On its recurrence it would at once be
colored by the results of the first experience, even though these were
not actually remembered. It is, therefore, a pure creation of psy-
chological theory.

And the theory which generates it is optional and unnecessary.
"We need not even accept it as a scientifically constructed "datum."
If we seriously attempt description of actual experience and explore
the alternative possibilities of scientific construction, we can per-
fectly well rest content with "perceptions" as ultimate facts which
function as "elements" only in "biographies." That will mean
merely the adoption of an activist method in psychology, and a tardy
recognition of the personality which it was usual to abstract from.
But the reason for this abstraction was merely that the other sciences
all appeared to make it, and that the psychologists were anxious to
fall into line. But recent developments have revolutionized the situ-
ation. "Biographies" are no longer restricted to psychology, and
"perspectives" to art; science finds it possible, and even necessary,
to recognize them. The chemist has for some purposes to take into
account the history of the stuff he handles, to consider whether it

« Anal., p. 132.
"It., p. 139.
«/&., p. 140.
« n>., p. 299.
"/&., p. 140.

MR. RUSSELL'S PSYCHOLOGY 291

is thorium-lead or uranium-lead and in what proportions, and to
allow for the "mnemic phenomena" it displays. The physicist must
locate the events, and date the localities, of his observations, and may
presently find, not merely that "man is the measure" of everything,
but that no thing can be measured except in its own space and at its
own time, and ultimately, perhaps, by its own leave.18 That is the
meaning of Relativity.

Consequently it has become timely to suggest that perceptions are
the real experiences, and are always involved in a biography, which
it is well to ascertain; also that psychology need not substitute any
fictitious "data" for these facts. After the deposition of "sensa-
tions" from their preeminence, it would no longer seem obligatory
to inflate the status of "images," and to attribute to them an im-
portance which they do not empirically appear to possess.20

Thus the activist interpretation in psychology may justly appeal
from the sordid past of the sciences to their dazzling prospects. It
should not, however, neglect to fortify itself against some of the more
obvious misconceptions. It should not, e.g., plead guilty to the charge
of recalling from the limbo of discarded errors the simple soul-sub-
stance of rationalistic metaphysics. For this may justly be con-
demned on the ground that it involved a passivist conception of
substance, modelled upon observation of the external world, and
utterly alien to the self-maintaining energy of psychic life. It made
the soul into a thing, not into a person. Divorcing its substance
from its "accidents," it could account for none of its empirical
manifestations, for none of the plurality and variety in its function-
ing. The a priori sort of unity it postulated was utterly useless
and incompatible with the "dissociations" which, empirically speak-
ing, are more or less normal in the souls we actually know.

The activist theory, on the other hand, though it repudiates
atomizing artifices, can make room for any sort and amount of
plurality that do not destroy all unity, and are in fact required. It-
rejects only a pluralism so complete that psychic continuity becomes
unthinkable. It demands only that an adequate psychology should
face the fact that some at least of our psychic contents coagulate
into or inhabit a "self" that says "I" to them and calls them
"mine." Also that, to all appearance, they really do belong to it.
This last requirement also is essential, and is often overlooked.
Transcendentalism, for example, fails to solve the problem of the
self, because its Ego is only a universal function that does not really

i» Mr. Eussell, quite rightly, points out that not only living things but all
have biographies (p. 129).

20 As I have shown, against Mr. Euasell, in Mind, No. 116, pp. 693-4.

292 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

cohere with the psychic contents it " apperceives. " Instead of being
any one in particular the "I" it deduces might just as well be the
Devil or the Absolute.

In conclusion let me say that the questions I have raised all, I
believe, affect the fundamentals of Mr. Russell's system; for in a
consistent philosophy these are the parts which most demand atten-
tion, and are most worth discussion.

F. C. S. SCHILLER.

CORPUS CHBISTI COLLEGE, OXTORD.

"IMPLICATION AND LINEAR INFERENCE"

MIGHT I say a word on one judgment and its corollary in the
courteous and appreciative review of my book in this JOURNAL
by H. T. Costello?

The point is that he describes my illustration of self-evidence
by the proposition that two straight lines can not enclose a space, as
"unfortunate." The reason is, I gather, that experts do not now
admit this proposition to be self-evident. And what I want to main-
tain is that thus it becomes a far more fortunate illustration of my
argument than I supposed it to be.

Obviously it is involved in my notion of coherence that theoreti-
cally and in principle self-evidence is a matter of degree. There are
plenty of propositions no one would trouble to interfere with, but,
technically, there is none which has in itself absolute self-evidence.
I asserted this position in my Logic and applied it to the "Law
of Causation," and also showed that the interpretation of the
"Laws of Thought" was "relative and ambiguous." Therefore,
having later made a concession for the sake of argument, and under-
taken to show as a limiting case of my theory a proposition which I
believed nearly every one would feel as self-evident, I am fortunate,
and not unfortunate, when my reviewer batters down for me the
wall I was trying to breach and tells me that the proposition, though
constantly taken for self-evident, is not self-evident at all. That is
to say, in the light of a wider or more precisely analyzed whole of
experience than mine, its supposed necessity does not stand exam-
ination. This is quite natural, and of course is a strong support to
my view, which was originally formulated owing in part to some
hints of Lotze in the same direction which I thought were probably
out of date today, and so did not produce in the discussion in my book.

I proceed to the corollary. The reviewer's judgment that the
illustration is unfortunate establishes to my mind the point that he

"IMPLICATION AND LINEAR INFERENCE" 293

does not follow me in apprehending the test of coherence as involv-
ing a genuinely •complete empiricism and only rejecting one that is
arbitrary and partial. He does not see how (as, e.g., Husserl points
out) self -evidence is relative to the relevant whole of experience.
Thus I read in the review (p. 416) : ''Looking upon the process as
an internal dialectic of coherence within thought, they slur over the
empirical checks which actually knock a thought-process into shape
by unexpected blows from without itself." So (p. 417) : "Only
empiricism can select the true one. ' '

Mr. Russell is in the same mythical tradition (Analysis of Mind,
p. 268, treating expressly of the coherence method) . ' ' The attempt to
deduce the world iby pure thought is attractive. — But nowadays
most men admit that beliefs must be tested by observation, and not
merely by the fact that they harmonize with other beliefs. A con-
sistent fairy-tale," etc.

And Mr. Arnauld Reid in the Philosophical Review, January,
1922, treats perception as a test other than and external to "coher-
ence."

They must all, surely, be speaking of something much less simple
on one side, and much less fundamental on the other, than what I am
talking about. As early as in the concluding chapters of Knowledge
and Reality (1885) I pointed out in detailed analysis the obvious
fact that every precise perception and every scientific observation
is in itself a crucial experiment demonstrating that inference is by
coherence. There is, therefore, no alternative method. The human
mind in the pursuit of truth works in no other Way. The simplest
and most classical analysis of the facts, apart from the many well-
known passages of Mr. Bradley and others, is, I should say, in Nettle-
ship 's Logic Lectures (Remains, Vol. I, pp. 181 ff.).

We always test a sense-perception as Macbeth tested his vision of
the dagger, by trying if it brings with it something else we expect
it to bring. The mind is potentially a system, and puts its ques-
tions, or demands its answers, in systematic form.

This characteristic procedure has nothing directly to do with any
further question about the ultimate incompleteness of truth. It
has nothing whatever to do with ideas of an internal dialectic, of
coherence within thought, or with deductions by pure thought, or
with consistent fairy-tales, or with a contrast between thought and
empirical checks or perception or observation. Does no realist to-
day think it worth while to consider what goes on in any careful
perception or observation or on what its precision and truth value
depend ? It is really as if the hoary jest of our childhood about the
German who evolved the camel out of his moral consciousness were

294 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

hanging about the minds of realists, and prevented them from attend-
ing to what students of actual working logic are talking about. I
am much inclined to think that some obsolete superstition of the
kind is actually at work.

BERNARD BOSANQUET.
OXSHOTT, ENGLAND.

THE VERIFICATION OF STANDARDS OF VALUE

IT is a familiar contention of pragmatism that the truth as well
as the value of ideas is to be judged by their consequences in
action. This theory has been applied by Professor Dewey to the
subject of practical judgments and moral standards. "The truth of
practical judgments," he writes, " ... is constituted by the issue.
The determination of end-means (constituting the terms and rela-
tions of the practical proposition) is hypothetical until the course
of action indicated has been tried. The event or issue of such action
is the truth or falsity of the judgment." 1

In conduct "principles, criteria, laws are intellectual instruments
for analyzing individual or unique situations. ' ' 2
Generalized and classified goods are tools of insight, and in ethics
"validation, demonstration, become experimental, a matter of con-
sequences. ' ' *

Up to the present the advocates of this theory have been mainly
occupied with defending its central thesis against the formalism of
older ethical methods. They have accordingly made little if any
attempt to apply it in testing specific current ideals and standards
of value. They have rather been disposed to avoid such an attempt,
on the ground that it would involve the very failing of ethics which
they attack, a tendency to excessive and arbitrary generalization.
Art and practical conduct, therefore, rather than science, have
seemed to them the proper fields for developing and testing stand-
ards.4

Such procedure, however, is subject to the obvious limitations,
recognized by pragmatists, of all common sense thinking in com-
parison with scientific.5

The latter must no doubt abandon its claim to provide absolute

i Essays in Experimental Logic, p. 346.
» Reconstruction in Philosophy, p. 162.
*n>id., pp. 169, 174.

*Cf. John Dewey, The Influence of Darwin on Philosophy, p. 71; Essays
in Experimental Logic, pp. 374-381.
« Dewey, How We Think, ch. XI.

THE VERIFICATION OF STANDARDS OF VALUE 295

rules for conduct. Yet, granting this, the possibility remains that
some of the conceptions for which it has claimed too much author-
ity may contain as hypotheses a measure of truth and value under
certain conditions; that the power and scope of experimental sci-
ence, furthermore, may be utilized in developing and testing such
hypotheses, on a basis of past experience and subject to the ultimate
verdict of future events. Are there ways in which science can be
so used without unwarranted generalizing?

It has been noted that pragmatic verification and valuation con-
sist at least partially in discovering and comparing consequences.
Any prediction of future results must be made largely on a basis of
past experience or history. To this extent, then, the verification and
valuation of standards are studies in the history of ideas, and are
subject to no more dangers than attend all such historical narrative.
In observing the past and present operation of specific standards,
ethical research has thus a clear field before it.

Disagreement on the general nature, basis and authority of moral
ideas is no obstacle to such research. It is clear, at least, that many
ideas such as freedom, justice, happiness, growth and control are
current in human thinking, and are often described as ends, ideals
and standards, though conceived and used in different ways. Some
denote abstract qualities in a catalogue of virtues, others the con-
crete objects of desire or contemplation; some are products of un-
reflective instinct and custom, others of moral theory; some are
treated as absolute rules, others as objects of worship or hypotheses
in experiment; some are individual, trivial and ephemeral, others
racial, enduring, wide in application and in influence. But what-
ever their form and function, if they operate in human thought
and conduct at all, science may attempt to describe their operation.

Such an attempt would imply for the procedure of ethical in-
quiry the examination of specific concepts, especially those of major
scope and influence, rather than a study of value and value-stand-
ards in general; the treatment of these concepts as factors in conduct
rather than as static theories, with emphasis rather on their applica-
tion than on their formulation and justification ; the observation of
actual problems and decisions, with analysis of the part which stand-
ards have played therein. "What functions," the observer would
inquire, "has this concept been intended to fulfil, and why? How
has it carried out these functions, and what other consequences have
followed? " The appropriate sources for such study are less in
systems of ethics than in history, literature and applied science, where

296 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

standards are described, developed and followed in contact with
events.

The difficulties in such an inquiry are obvious. To trace the
history of any scientific concept is to deal, especially if the concept
is old and much used, with a rather nebulous subject-matter. It
begins, as a rule, at no assignable date, it has no continuous growth,
as from seed to flowering, it has at no stage a clearly outlined iden-
tity, and it appears to the observer less as a unified intellectual in-
strument than as a place of entrance to a world of tangled theories.
One contemplating such a history may readily feel the illusion of
watching a shifting mist of words, without structure or sequence, and
forget that each period may have been a serious attempt at describ-
ing stable facts or formulating persistent desires. Each participant
in the history has probably felt the impulse, more or less conscious,
to sharpen the outlines of his terms by cutting off unwanted accre-
tions of meaning, then by adding his own commentary to set up a
more lasting and unequivocal system of relations between names,
ideas and reality. But the new definitions often prove scarcely
less transitory than the theories of fact. Ideas are shifted from
name to name, and rival theories marshal them in conflicting orders,
until particular concepts lose all recognizable substance.

A single concept, as a recurrent theme in intellectual history, is
accordingly no easy object to follow. At any given time it has
probably some recognized name, such as "democracy," and the
career of this name may .be followed from its etymological origin or
its equivalents in earlier tongues, through successive gains and losses
of connotation, through various roles in theory and up to its status
in modern discourse. But this inquiry, though of use for some
purposes, would fall short of the information required as data for
verification — a story of the operation of the concept. For a stand-
ard, like any other idea, is more than a name, symbol or concrete
embodiment. It is a complex of meanings, which the symbol binds
together and points out, and the effect of such a symbol upon thought
may include the influence of all these current meanings. Since
they, rather than the name, constitute the standard, a history of the
standard 's operation must include their history, whether or not they
have always borne the present name. A concept may be newly put
together, but if it consists of older ideas, its history is a continuation
of theirs. To attempt a disentangling of such threads, and an ac-
count of their intermingling with the rest of experience — other ideas,
desires, emotions, the forces of environment — may well be a slow and
dubious task.

Yet these difficulties are not altogether insuperable. The study
of the history and influence of ideas, far from being considered im-

THE VERIFICATION OF STANDARDS OF VALUE 297

possible, forms a steadily increasing part of all historical writing.
Though, confused at times, ideas can achieve a degree of integrity,
especially when as social ideals or scientific concepts they are per-
sistently redefined. Some have been, furthermore, evolved through
a fairly continuous development, or constructed out of elements
whose antecedents are likewise recognizable. To describe the main
outlines of the history of such ideas may prove to be in some measure
possible.

In addition to study of past experience, the choice of hypotheses
in conduct involves an interest in the future: not alone "how has
this standard acted? " but "how may it be expected to act in other
situations? " To whatever extent situations are unique, novel and
surprising, future effects can not be clearly foreseen. But so far
as past experience can be utilized, similarities detected and combina-
tions of events foreseen, decision can be, and is in practise assisted
by imagination — the construction of hypothetical situations and re-
sponses in advance of action. Can ethics thus estimate the probable
consequences of standards under conditions not to be found in
past experience ?

Some attempt at such hypothetical reasoning is made in almost
every scientific argument that attacks or defends a proposed policy,
as in theories of government or economics. Its uncertainty in pre-
diction is obvious, and it runs the constant risk, through the need
of imagining conditions in a more simple and general form than
they occur, of overlooking important contingencies. Yet it is a
necessary part of any reflection that aims not at mere understanding
of the past, but at appraisal and adoption of purposes. Such con-
sideration by ethics of the major policies with which it deals is thus a
logical extension of the procedure necessary in all applied science.
If ethics is to achieve conclusions that are applicable in practise,
it must attempt to forecast the probable consequences of following
certain standards, in relation to certain typical conditions. In what
kinds of situation, in other words, might a given standard be applied 1
What would be its probable effect, if certain other factors were
present? What emotional, instinctive or habitual responses would
it tend to stimulate ? What rational inferences would it imply, and
what alternatives in action would it tend to select and favor ? What
later consequences might then be expected ?

The decisive step in verification still remains to be taken, even
after past and probable future consequences are known. Conse-
quences themselves may be subject to varying appraisal. Beyond
certain limits, it can not be expected that this final step should be
made. The pragmatic notion of truth implies abandonment of the

298 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

attempt at absolute verdicts, whether on a basis of consequences or
not. Such verdicts would themselves require standards, and these
latter also would be subject to dispute. No appraisal may be ex-
pected to result from the above research, then, except of a tentative
and approximate nature, expressed in terms of comparison, and with
reference to specific conditions.

A knowledge of the consequences of a standard does, however, pro-
vide data for appraising it by whatever other standards are accepted.
In speaking of the truth of ideas, for example, Professor Dewey
proposes as a test "that satisfaction which arises when the idea as
working hypothesis or tentative method is applied to prior existences
in such a way as to fulfil what it intends." • William James's "real
doctrine is that a belief is true when it satisfies both personal needs
and the requirements of objective things. Speaking of pragmatism,
he says, 'Her only test of probable truth is what works best in the
way of leading us, what fits every part of life best and combines wtih
the collectivity of experience's demands, nothing being omitted.' "T
"Truth as utility means service in making just that contribution to
reorganization in experience that the idea or theory claims to be
able to make."8

According to this test, then, a comparison between the intended
and the accomplished or probable consequences would be tentative
verification. More specifically, the standard in question may be
found to rest upon self-contradictory arguments, or on an unverified
belief regarding the effects of certain actions. It may be found to
produce failure, discord and pain. Such conclusions may fall short,
philosophically, of absolute verdicts on truth and value, but in in-
telligent conduct they have all the cogency of such verdicts, and
more concrete meaning.

To know and compare the working of current standards, in other
words, is to know their interrelation ; to know which cooperate and
confirm each other, which deny and conflict ; to find areas of agree-
ment and areas of dispute or ignorance. In practise this is equiva-
lent to a recognition of certain main lines of conduct which are,
though not certainly good, less questioned than others, and which
illuminate by contrast the fields where discovery and innovation
are more needed.

The choice of hypotheses in conduct is of course not confined
to selection between ideals already formulated, or even to continuous

• Essays in Experimental Logic, p. 320.

• Ibid., p. 324, quoting James 'a Pragmatism, p. 80; cf. also The Influence
of Darwin on Philotophy, pp. 95, 150.

• .Reconstruction in Philosophy, p. 157.
and

THE VERIFICATION OF STANDARDS OF VALUE 299

development of them. Future experience may suggest conceptions
which require to be expressed in entirely new terms, and to be re-
garded as distinct from the old. The science of ethics can doubtless
aid in the process of discovering and interpreting the data for such
hypotheses. But several considerations warrant present emphasis on
the study of older concepts. They contain an accumulation of long
experience with the chief activities of life, whose testimony has not
yet been agreed upon. Future experience can hardly be quite dis-
continuous with the past, or produce ideals unaffected by it. The
formulation of new standards can not confidently be attempted with-
out some decision upon the validity of the old, and the problem of
testing them when formed is not unlike that of judging older and
more familiar subject-matter. Although the present situation in
ethics, however, may suggest the need of attention to historic ideals,
new and proposed conceptions as well may be examined with a view
to discovering their actual and possible consequences in relation to
other factors in experience.

Pragmatism and the empirical theories which preceded it have
amply demonstrated the futility of rigid and premature moral
generalizations. But a consistent ethical pluralism will not be con-
tent with wholesale rejection or neglect of all general standards. It
will examine them separately and in comparison as possible instru-
ments in conduct, to discover if some are perhaps more true in
assertion and more useful in function than others. If the funded
experience of the past concerning good and bad is to be made avail-
able for use in present action, the work of organizing it must be
carried on by the sciences, such as ethics, which concern themselves
with problems of value. And if these sciences are to accomplish
more than destructive criticism and inconclusive description of
social and psychological processes, they must undertake the syste-
matic development and appraisal of hypothetical standards of value.

The following questions are possible specific modes of inquiry
into the operation of a standard:

What are its general meanings as at present accepted, its defini-
tions, descriptions, constituent ideas, implied assertions? Are they
at present widely different, so as to make the standard ambiguous,
and act in different ways ?

What are their histories? How have they come together to form
a more or less coherent conception? What associations have they
had with other theories, problems, events and conditions ?

For what functions has the standard (or its several elements,

300 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

if they have operated independently) been used or intended? Ag
descriptive law or concept? As object of desire, admiration, con-
templation, idealization, reverence, worship? As aim or policy?
Immediate, ulterior, ultimate, summwm bonumf As standard, crite-
rion, guide in decision and valuation? Subordinate to others, or
supreme? Absolute or hypothetical? What beliefs and aims are
implied by so using the concept?

By whom has it been used ? What sorts of people have rejected
or abandoned it? When has this acceptance or rejection occurred?
Under what circumstances? In what sorts of problem?

What factors have led to this acceptance or rejection? What
instincts, habits, customs, preferences? Are these usual or excep-
tional? What environmental conditions have been influential?
What beliefs, premises, evidence, inferences, have led to acceptance
or rejection, especially in regard to the nature of the universe, of
man and his place in it, and in regard to the probable consequences
of certain ways of acting? Can these be judged as true or false?

What immediate consequences tend to follow its use? As actu-
ally applied? If consistently and thoroughly applied? If there is
a difference what has led to it? What responses in emotion or
action does it stimulate? What judgments and inferences does it
entail ? What effect has it in selecting between alternatives, in reach-
ing decisions, choices, solutions? Does it indicate the selection of
certain types of alternatives rather than others? Entirely, or on
a basis of comparative amounts or degrees? What ones, and by
what specifications? Does it select in use as it is expected to; i.e.,
does it fulfil its intended function? Are its meanings and sugges-
tions different in practise from its formal definitions? What other
factors, organic, intellectual, environmental, cooperate to produce
these results?

Are the situations in which it can be applied frequent, important,
crucial, confined to particular times and places or lasting and wide-
spread ? For what types of alternative does it indicate no selection ?
What changes have taken place in its mode of functioning?

With what other standards does it interact, theoretically or prac-
tically? With what ones would it interact if consistently applied
whenever possible? Does it tend to conflict with these? To what
extent ? With any margin of agreement ? What has produced this
conflict? Does the standard corroborate, agree with others? To
what extent? As means, end, or in coordinate status? In what
types of problem does it interact with others, and with what results?
What are its relations to scientific knowledge other than value-
standards?

BOOK REVIEWS 301

What later consequences, organic, emotional, intellectual, individ-
ual, social, tend to follow its use? Which are constant and which
confined to particular times and places ? What other factors combine
to produce them? Which are expected by the persons who use
the standards, and which are unexpected ? What would follow if the
standard were more consistently carried out? To what extent do
these results (actual and possible) agree with, conflict with or re-
direct the more constant impulses, desires and capacities of human,
nature ?

In what ways may the standard and its consequences be modified ?

THOMAS MUNRO.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

BOOK REVIEWS

Manhood of Humanity; The Science and Art of Human Engineer-
ing. ALFRED KORZYBSKI. New York: E. P. Button & Com-
pany. 1921. Pp. xiii-f-264.

In the preface the author announces that (p. ix) "This book
is primarily a study of Man and ultimately embraces all the great
qualities and problems of Man."

Count Alfred Korzybski temperamentally seems to be a phi-
losopher and poet who was trained to be a mathematician, engineer
and soldier. His natural inclinations have led him to be intensely
interested in humanity. In trying to explain human behavior he
has used mathematical and engineering terms and figures of speech.
The sub-title of this volume "The Science and Art of Human
Engineering" means the directing of the energies and capacities
of human beings to the advancement of human weal.

Man has brought much suffering upon himself because he has
been ignorant concerning himself, so in order to get a better under-
standing of humanity the author has proposed a mathematical in-
vestigation of the problem. He claims that mathematics must be-
come the basis of the social sciences because of its characteristic
precision, sharpness and completeness of definitions. The natural
sciences have gone on much faster than the "so-called social sci-
ences" because they have used mathematical methods. Humanity
is said to be in its infancy because of so much purposeless sacrifice
and wasted energy.

A very novel explanation of the relation of mankind to other
organic life is offered. Plants as living organisms appropriate the
basic energies of the sun, soil and air. They constitute the lowest
order of life. This life order or capacity is represented by the

302 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

first dimension or by dimension I. This peculiar quality is called
"basic-energy-binding" or 4 ' chemistry -binding. "

Animals possess the autonomous power to move about in space.
This power places them in a higher order. They have "chemistry-
binding" power but their peculiar power lies in conquering space.
Animals have, therefore, a two-dimensional life or are living in life
dimension II characterized as "space-binding."

Man, like the animals, has chemistry- and space-" binding"
power, but in addition to this he has the power to profit by experi-
ence— the experience of past generations. Every succeeding gen-
eration builds upon the accumulated knowledge of the past, while
the animal begins its life history at the same point as preceding
generations. This quality or power Korzybski has called "time-
building." In life it represents dimension III. Such then is the
proposed conception of man — one whose glory consists in his pecu-
liar capacity for binding time. The power to "bind time" is a
perfectly natural power and the power to act in a time-binding
capacity becomes the measure of human progress. Time-binding
is the energy that civilizes, it produces wealth, it is the great crea-
tive power. Humans have the power to continue where the past
generation stopped, profiting by all previous generations. The
beaver builds his dams the same without gaining anything from past
generations. The progress of man then should become faster from
generation to generation. The natural law of this increment can
be shown to follow the law of logarithmic increase (pp. 90-92).
Thus, if P is the progress made in a given generation, and if R is
the ratio, then the progress made in the second generation is PR,
and that of the third is PR2 and that made in a single Tth genera-
tion will be PRT~l. The expression PR7"-1 is called an exponential
function of time. The immortal offspring of the ' ' marriage of Time
and human Toil" increase in a marvelous manner, especially when
we consider the vast number of generations that have already con-
tributed or should have contributed to our welfare.

Here we see the need of a tecbnologized social science. Human
progress will go on at a rate measured by a rapidly increasing ge-
ometric progression if we acquire sense enough to let it do so.

Wealth, according to this teacher, consists of the fruit of man's
time-binding capacity — "the living work of the dead."

The closing chapters of the book emphasize the importance of
the time-binding activities with a view toward the happiness of all
humanity. He finally proposes a Department of Coordination or
Cooperation which is to be the nucleus of a civilization developed
along mathematical-engineering lines. This development would
bring about the greatest true liberty and happiness.

BOOK REVIEWS 303

Three appendices are included in the volume with the following
titles: (1) Mathematics and Time-Binding, (2) Biology and Time-
Binding, (3) Engineering and Time-Binding.

It is evident that the whole discussion rests on the so-called
"time-binding" capacity or power of the human being. Evidently
what is meant by time-binding is the capacity to profit by experi-
ence as the result of associative memory or what has come to be
known as intelligence. Although the author probably would not
approve of this statement, yet it is evident that mathematical fig-
ures of speech have been employed to describe facts that have been
considered in every important study of human behavior.

Before the ratio of progress can be worked out, or before a
formula for normal human development can be written, it will be
necessary to have standards of measurement to see if the relations
are as they have been assumed. Psychology (classified on page 25
with philosophy, law and ethics as "private theories" or "verbal-
isms") as the science of human behavior has already done much in
measuring intelligence with its intelligence-quotient and other
psychometric methods. The study of human behavior by those
who have been especially trained has shown that an a priori assump-
tion of mathematical formulae is a false procedure.

A few, but their tribe decreaseth, of the social investigators
still look upon man as supernatural, but most of those in good
standing study humanity from an empirical point of view and
organize their data quantitatively wherever standards of measure-
ment are available.

The enthusiasm of the author has led him to suggest that mathe-
matics per se can solve the problem of humanity. What is needed
is the help or service of mathematics in solving problems that are
already clearly defined in the minds of real social scientists.

The Manhood of Humanity contributes very little to the social
sciences, except some interesting mathematical and engineering
analogies. The plea for exact and scientific methods in the study
of humanity and the warning against mystical or prejudicial at-
titudes is to be commended.

Humanity is still before us, with us and in us, with its re-
sponses to complex and remote stimuli, and with its complicated,
delayed responses. Humanity still challenges first the biologist,
then the psychologist, and finally the sociologist for an explana-
tion. The Science of Humanity will be the synthesis of all sciences
and not the outgrowth of mathematics merely.

J. V. BREITWTESER.
UNIVERSITY OP CALIFORNIA.

304 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Die Deutsch Philosophic der Oegenwart in Selbstdarstellungen,
RAYMUND SCHMIDT, editor. Leipzig: Felix Meiner, 1921. Vol-
umes 1 and 2, Pp. 228; 203.

Conceive of a history of European philosophy in which each of
the authors had presented his own views in final and well considered
form. It would be a fascinating book to read. Less enviable, per-
haps, would be the task of the editor. If he had a conscientious
desire to make his volume uniform in any sense, he might find dif-
ficulty. Not only would there be a tendency on the part of his
contributors to expatiate unduly, but a sort of waywardness might
be expected. One would not be surprised to find Plato setting
down his thought in a myth. Augustine might wish to publish an
exhortation and Thomas a Kempis a pious prayer. I am inclined
to think there would be slighter difficulty with the German con-
tributors; for after all, to be a philosopher in Germany is to have
a profession and to recognize professional rules and etiquette.

So we might expect to find in this history of contemporary
German philosophy, to which each of the writers has contributed
his own statement of his views and of their psychogenesis, a certain
"cut and driedness." Such an expectation is, however, by no means
justified by the contents of the volume. There is, to be sure, a
noticeable dominance of the idol of the system over certain of the
contributors. One "decided to become a philosopher." Another,
when he was called to an academic position, discovered that he was
supposed by the traditions of the post to lecture on certain subjects
and forthwith began to do so. And frequently one is aware that
the progress of a man 's thought is too greatly determined by a sense
of obligation to fill the picture previously outlined, or to expand
his theories so as to cover every portion of the philosophic field.
It is altogether probable that these faults, if faults they be,
are due to the fact that the representatives of philosophy whose
views are here given are principally in the university world and of
the philosophical department. One is glad to note that the editor,
Dr. Raymund Schmidt, promises that future volumes will also con-
tain a presentation of authors whose contributions lie in the field of
the philosophy of law, of education and other departments. Yet
even in this present group there are men who have done important
work outside the strict limits of their departmental duties.

Moreover, one is struck by the free and courageous criticism
which a man of the stamp of Karl Joel directs at the traditions
of university teaching, when he designates lectures as "the passive
subjection of a crowd of students to a specialized mass of material
which they do not digest. ' ' The editor is justified in his promise that

BOOK REVIEWS

the collection will consist of striking contrasts. The men whose
contributions constitute the first volume are Paul Barth, Erich
Becher, Hans Driesch, Karl Joel, A. Meinong, Paul Natorp, Johannes
Rehmke and Johannes Volkelt ; those appearing in the second being
Erich Adickes, Clemens Baeumker, Jonas Cohn, Hans Cornelius,
Karl Groos, Alois Hofler, Ernst Troeltsch, and Hans Vaihinger.
There is no need to make invidious comparisons; they are a distin-
guished group. The absence of such names as Rudolph Eucken,
Aloys Riehl, and Ernst Mach may cause surprise, particularly since
no reason is given for their omission.

In so far as any general trend is noticeable throughout the
work, I think it would be fair to interpret it as a return to the older
tradition of German idealism. Fortunately, there can be no sus-
picion that this is due to the editor's selection, for Dr. Schmidt has
indeed adhered scrupulously to his above-mentioned intention of
making the collection a genuine symposium. If I am justified in
claiming to discover the renaissance of idealism, it is surely advisable
to spell it with a small "i." Yet the emphasis is unmistakable, and
is manifest in the motive which, for instance, has led Vaihinger, and
his collaborators, Groos and Cornelius, to reinterpret the Philosophic
des als Ob as a positivistic idealism in which the Als-01) world be-
comes the world of values more especially of a religious order. This
interest, so clearly reminiscent of ante-Hegelian thought, seems to
account in large part for the admirably modest recognition of the
essentially personal aspects of problems of evaluation. Undoubtedly
it also accounts for the importance given to the biographic and psy-
chogenetic conception of philosophy, as voiced by Fichte: Was fiir
eine Philosophic man wdhle, hdngt davon ab, was filr em Mensch
man sei. It is significant that this sentence is quoted several times in
these volumes.

That each of the contributors is aware of a certain embarrassment
in speaking of himself is evident. "De nobis ipsis sttemus," Paul
Natorp begins — and others echo the sentiment. They are over-
anxious, in numerous instances, to avoid self-advertisement. "Ameri-
canism" (sic), is discounted. The writers recognize that they can
not hope properly to estimate their own contributions to philosophic
literature. Meinong, whose contribution is unfortunately a final
summary of his views, writes thus of the difficulty of the undertak-
ing— "When one's work is drawing to an end, the question may
naturally confront one as to what one has accomplished in this
brief day of life. But if he as genuinely desires to answer the
question, the feeling will arise that he can only conscientiously give
account of that which he has sought to do, not of that which he has
achieved."

306 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Each article is preceded by a photograph of the author, excellent
in craftsmanship and in several instances striking portraits. The
book is attractively made, though the economy of cloth is evident.
One wonders who in Germany can afford to pay sixty marks for a
volume, though at the present rate of exchange, it is considerably
less expensive than a similar book would be in this country.

JAMES GUTMANN.
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

JOUKNALS AND NEW BOOKS

REVUE PHILOSOPHIQUE. Sept.-Oct., 1921. De quelques
especes d'egalites et de quelques-uns de leurs wantages ou incon-
venients (pp. 146-172) : ADRIEN NAVILLE.-A duality of conceptions
of equality must be distinguished: equality of contribution in ex-
change, and equality of individual returns. Equality is always a
psychical fact, and sociologically and morally it is not the case that
where there is equality of contribution in exchange there is, or can be,
equality of return. Justice is equality ; but there are many varieties
of equality, and these are not always reconcilable. La perception de
la synthese psyctvique (Suite: pp. 173-191) : F. PAULHAN.-WO
' ' encounter everywhere in conscious life the perception of synthesis.
It constitutes the essential element in the control of the mind and in
the control of its elements. . . . The perception of a harmony . . .
or a discordance is continually in us, and this is the knowledge . . .
and appreciation by the mind and its elements of these elements
themselves and the elements of these elements." Elements objectifs
du monde materiel (Suite: pp. 192-232) : P. DuPONT.-The point
of departure for science after stripping away every human element
consists of relations of difference, similarity and dissimilarity, and
the like. The intellectual character of these relations is no ground
for denying objectivity. No photograph of the objective of science
can be given, and if it be called just X, it can be shown that this X
"is a collection of a multitude of x's discriminable by us," and the
relations between them can be firmly established. The objective of
science can not then be equated with nothingness. La notion des
centres coordinateurs cere~braux et le mecanisme du langage (suite:
pp. 233-280) : H. PIERON.-' ' The progress of our localizations is in-
contestable ; from the moment that we no longer seek to localize the
entities, imaginary faculties, and judgments of value . . . and all
the idola of traditional psychology and expect to find . . . only the
histo-morphological correspondents of psycho-physiological processes

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 307

analyzed in an objective spirit, we encounter, despite evident difficul-
ties, no insurmountable obstacle in progress towards a functional
chart of the brain." Revue Critique. Philosophies de L'Orient:
P. MASSON-OURSEL,. Analyses et Comptes rendus. P. E. B. Jour-
dain, The Philosophy of Mr. B*tr*nd R*ss*ll: A. LALANDE. J.
Segond, Intuition et Amitie: E. LEROUX. Ossip-Lourie, La Grapho-
manie: DR. JEAN PHILIPPE. Hector Denis, Discours philosophiques:
C. BOUGLE. A. Gemelli, Religione e scienza; F. Olgiati, Carlo Marx;
A. Gemelli, Le dottrine moderne djslla delinquenza: E. GILSON. Dr.
Ed. Claparede, L'ecole sur mesure: E. CRAMAUSSEL.. Paul Lapie,
Pedagogic frangaise: E. CRAMAUSSEL. Necrologie: Francois Picavet
(1851-1921}.

Prescott, Frederick Clarke. The Poetic Mind. New York: The
Macmillan Co., 1922. Pp. xx + 308. $2.00.

Sinclair, May. The New Idealism. New York : The Macmillan Com-
pany, 1922. Pp. 333. $3.00.

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE ANTI-BEHAVIORISTS
Dear Fellow Workers:

I have followed your papers during the last ten years with keen
interest and much profit and now at the end of the decade I feel im-
pelled to put a question to you. At first blush the interrogation may
seem personal and yet I assure you that it is motivated only by the
most dispassionate search for truth on this question which is causing
you so much unrest. It may well be that a little self-analysis, a
little effective introspection directed at a certain aspect of the social
situation now constituted by the ' ' Behavioristic Controversy" may
throw just that light upon the problem which will enable some of
us to cast our lot definitely with one party or the other.

I want to ask you this: "Who are the behaviorists ? Have you
ever brought together a bibliography of this topic for the past
decade? If you have not, the undertaking will be most enlightening.
I can find but two men who have presented and defended behavior-
ism, Drs. John B. Watson and A. P. Weiss. Their labors are summed
up in two books and some dozen papers. I can not admit, as you
may see, that, there is any other behaviorism than that advocated by
Dr. Watson. Behaviorism has come to mean just one thing and
that is a psychology which takes as its subject matter, not con-
sciousness, but stimulus and response relationships. Some of you, I

308 JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

know, have advocated new systems of behaviorism, but you do not
succeed. No one in writing of this point of view is attacking your
system, and the more papers you write the more firmly do you fix
the true historical significance of the term. Your "truly psychologi-
cal behaviorism," your "new formula," your "conscious behavior"
and the other substitutes which you hasten to bring forth, only
serve to direct attention to the illegitimate nature of your offspring.
But if we find only two behaviorists in the literature, how many and
what anti-behavioriste can be found! For fear of offending some
of you by omission, I shall not urge the following list as complete.
It is, however, fairly so and certainly is quite representative. May
I, then, present the following antis : James R. Angell, E. B. Titchener,
R. M. Yerkes, B. Bode, M. W. Calkins, Win. McDougall, A. A.
Robach, D. S. Miller, H. R. Marshall, H. R. Crosland, B. C. Tolman,
A. 0. Lovejoy, J. R. Kantor, Mrs. DeLaguna, M. F. Washburn, E. B.
Holt, George Mead, Bertrand Russell, T. H. Pear, F. C. Bartlett,
E. M. Smith, G. H. Thompson, A. Robinson, and others. I do not
include either the writers of text-books or scientists other than psy-
chologists; but a complete roster of printed opponents would range
from zoologists to philosophers and from humble members to presi-
dents of the American Psychological Association. Almost each new
periodical number affords a "coming-out party" for a new member
of your group. And there is no apparent increase among your op-
ponents.

My dear friends, why do you write so mucht I raise the issue
in all seriousness. If here, there, and yonder, psychologists were
joining Watson's banner, you might be actuated by the menace of
opposing numbers. But if behaviorism is spreading, the literature
fails to reveal it, although the cloak rooms and corridors may bear
more eloquent witness. I will not be so vulgar as even to suggest
that your articles are merely for the sake of intellectual exercise and
the display of critical skill. No, it is the power and incisiveness of
the theory which you fear, a theory which without increasing de-
fenders causes you to see an enemy in every one not an anointed
introspectionist and to detect a danger in all objective study. This
social phenomenon affords the strongest argument inclining me
to believe that Watson has found the Achilles heel of your "old"
psychology.

Ladies and gentlemen, you do protest too much.

Affectionately yours,

W. S. HUNTER.
THI UNIVERSITY or KANSAS.

VOL. XIX., No. 12 JUNE 8, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

REALISM WITHOUT MONISM OR DUALISM— I
KNOWLEDGE INVOLVING THE PAST

TN his contribution to the volume of Essays in Critical Realism
Professor Lovejoy maintains that pragmatism can make good
a profession of realism only by aligning itself with a dualistic epis-
temology such as is presented by his collaborators and himself. He
supports this contention largely by an examination of passages
drawn from my writings. The least I can do is either to express
my assent or state the grounds for witholding it. Certain of his
points, and those perhaps of the more fundamental character, though
occupying less space, concern the conception of experience. This
phase of the matter is reserved for independent treatment. Other
points seem, however, to adapt themselves to separate discussion,
and to them I address myself. The first has to do with knowledge of
the past, or, as from my standpoint I should prefer to say, knowledge
about past events or involving them.

This kind of knowledge is taken by Mr. Lovejoy, as by many
others, to constitute a stronghold for a representative or dualistic
theory of knowledge. Even the monistic epistemologists appear to
accept some kind of transcendent pointing to and lighting upon some
isolated thing of the past, carrying, apparently, its own place in the
past or date in its bosom, though they deny the existence of an in-
termediate psychical state and fall back on a knower in general or a
brain process to make the specific transcendent reference. To me,
this latter difference seems a minor matter compared with the ques-
tion of a leap into a past which is treated as out of connection with
the present. Consequently, I have tried to show that knowledge
where the past is implicated is logically knowledge of past-as-con-
nected-with-present-or-future, or stating the matter in its order, of
the present and the future as implicating a certain past. After
several pages which seem to me largely irrelevant to my own con-
ception, Mr. Lovejoy states what my conception actually is and says
of it (p. 68) that it is "the most effective and plausible part of the
pragmatist's dialectical reasoning against the possibility of strictly
'retrospective' knowledge." It certainly should be; it expresses
the gist of my discussion.

309

310 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

The point concerns the relation of verification to thought and
hence to knowledge. Verification of thought about the past must
be present or future; unless, then, thought about the past has a
future reference in its meaning, how can it .be verified f With ref-
erence to this question, Mr. Lovejoy is good enough to state that
my "paradox" involves an attempt to escape from a real difficulty
or at least what appears as a difficulty. Before coming to Mr.
Lovejoy 's specific objections, let me develop this point. Quite apart
from pragmatism, an empiricist who is empirical in the sense
of trying to follow the method of science in dealing with natural
existences, will feel logically bound to call nothing knowledge which
does not admit of verification. To him, then, judgments about the
past will present themselves as hypothetical until verified — which
can take place only in some object of present or future experience.
In contemplating the possibility of applying this conception to
ordinary "memory-judgments," he will be struck by what is going
on in the natural sciences. He will see that many zoologists have
ceased to be satisfied with theories about past evolution which rest
simply upon a plausible harmonizing of past events, that they are
now engaged in experimentation to get present results, that the
tendency is to find present, and hence observable, processes which
determine certain consequences.- He finds geologists attempting
verification by experiment as well as by search for additional facts.
Turning to another field of judgments about the past he finds that
"literary" historians are influenced by the striking or picturesque
or moral phases of the events they deal with, and by their lending
themselves to composition into a harmonious picture, while "scien-
tific" historians are not only more scrupulous about the facts, but
search for new, as yet hidden, facts, to bear out their inferential
reconstructions. There is nothing inherently paradoxical in saying
that such emphatic scientific cases should give us our clew to under-
standing the logic of everyday cases which are not scientifically regu-
lated.

I see a letter box ; there is an observed thing. It is a common-
place that every recollection starts, directly or indirectly, with some-
thing perceived, immediately present. It suggests a letter. This
may remain a mere suggestion. The thought of a letter written
yesterday or last year may become simply something for fancy to
sport with — an esthetic affair, what I call a reminiscence. Truth
or falsity does not enter into the case. But it may give rise to
questions. Did I actually write the letter or only mean to? If I
wrote it. did I mail it or leave it on my desk or in my pocket? Then
I do something. I search my pockets. I look on my desk. I may

REALISM WITHOUT MONISM OR DUALISM 311

even write the person in question and inquire if he received a letter
written on a certain date. By such means a tentative inference gets
a categorical status. A logical right accrues, if the experiments are
successful, to assert the letter was or was not written. Generalize
the case and you get the logical theory concerning knowledge about
the past which so troubles Mr. Lovejoy.1

So far, however, the gravamen of Mr. Lovejoy 's objection is not
touched. He replies that the meaning of the judgment concerns the
past as such, so that verification even if future is of a meaning about
the past. Only the locus of verification is future : means of proof,
but not the thing proved. Consequently, my argument confuses
what the original judgment meant and knew itself to mean with an
extraneous matter, the time of its verification (see p. 69 of E. C. R.).
It may be doubted whether dialectically the case is as clear as Mr.
Lovejoy 's distinction makes it out to be. In what conceivable way
can a future event be even the means of validating a judgment about
the past, if the meaning of the future event and the meaning of the
past event are as dissevered as Mr. Love joy's argument requires?
Take the case of questions about the past which are intrinsically
unanswerable, at least by any means now at our command. What did
Brutus eat for his morning meal the day he assassinated Csesar?
There are those who call a statement on such a matter a judgment
or proposition in a logical sense. It seems to me that at most it is
but an esthetic fancy such as may figure in the pages of a historic
novelist who wishes to add realistic detail to his romance. Whence
comes the intellectual estoppal? From the fact, I take it, that the
things eaten for breakfast have left no consequences which are now
observable. Continuity has been interrupted. Only when the past
event which is judged is a going concern having effects still directly
observable are judgment and knowledge possible.

The point of this conclusion is that it invalidates the sharp and
fixed line which Mr. Lovejoy has drawn between the meaning of the
past and the so-called means of verification. So far as the meaning
is wholly of and in the past, it can not be recovered for knowledge.
This negative consideration suggests that the true object of a judg-
ment about a past event may be a past-event-having-a-connection-
continuing-into-the-present-and-future. This brings us back, of
course, to my original contention. What can be said by way of fact
to support its hypothetical possibility?

i Mr. Lovejoy remarks in passing that "we have even developed a tech-
nique by means of which we believe ourselves able to distinguish certain of these
representations of the past as false and others as true" (pp. 67-68 of E. C. E.~).
I do not see how an account of this technique could fail to confirm the position
taken above; I am willing to risk it.

312 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Let us begin with what is called reminiscence. The tendency to
tell stories of what has happened to one in the past, to revive interest
ing situations in which one has figured, is a well-known fact. So far
as the stories are told to illustrate some present situation, to supply
material to deal with some present perplexity, to get instruction or
give advice, they exemplify what is said about prospective meaning.
But there are only a few persons who confine themselves to what is
intellectually pertinent, who cut down reminiscence to its bare logical
bones. Esthetic interests modify the tale, and personal, more or
less egoistic, interests fill it up and round it out. The development
of reminiscence in old age is doubtless in part compensatory for
withdrawal from the actual scene and its imminent problems, its
urgencies for action.

Taking, however, whatever intellectual core there may be, such as
the material that is employed to give advice to another as to how
to deal with a confused and unclear situation, there appears a clear
distinction between subject-matter employed and object meant. The
past occurrence is not the meaning of the propositions. It is rather
so much stuff upon the basis of which to predicate something re-
garding the better course of action to follow, the latter being the object
meant. It makes little difference whether the past episode drawn
upon is reported with literal correctness or not. Imagination usually
plays with it and in the direction of rendering it more pertinent to
the case in hand. This does not necessarily affect the value of the
judgment — the advice given — as to the course of action which it is
better to pursue, or the object of judgment. The facts cited, the
illustrative material adverted to in support of the conception that a
certain course is better, are subject-matter, but not the meaning or
object.

Such a case does not directly and obviously cover judgments
about the past. If the one giving advice began to reflect upon the
pertinency of his own past experience to the new issue, we may
imagine him going back over the past episode to judge how correctly
he has reported it. Just what was it that happened, anyway f
This sort of case is crucial for my theory. It exemplifies the situation
in which Mr. Lovejoy claims that the meaning to be verified is ex-
clusively concerned with the past even though the locus of means
of verification be future. It is worthy of note that, by illustration,
this examination of the correctness of the present notion about the
past arises out of a problem about the present and future. It is
conceivable that specific reference to the past is, after all, only part
of the procedure of making judgment about the present as adequate
as possible.

REALISM WITHOUT MONISM OR DUALISM 313

This point is not stressed, however, for it is, at this stage of
discussion, an easy retort that such an inference follows only because
the illustration has already been loaded and aimed in that direction.
As a suggestion, however, it may be borne in mind. What does
positively emerge from the prior discussion is a distinction between
subject-matter and object of judgment and knowledge. How far is
the distinction a general one ? It is not one introduced ad hoc for
the discussion of judgments about the past. It characterizes by
logical necessity any inquiry. For if the object were present, there
would be no inquiry, no thought or inference, no judgment in any
intellectual sense of that word. On the other hand, there must be
subject-matter, there must be accepted considerations, or else there
is no basis for constructing or discovering the object. A verdict
represents the judgment in a court of law ; it contains the object, the
thing meant. Evidence presented and rules of law applied furnish
subject-matter. These are diverse and complicated and only gradually
is the object framed from them. A scientific inquiry about Einstein's
theory, the nature of temperature, or the cause of earthquakes presents
the same contrast of an ultimate object, still unattained and question-
able, and subject-matter which is progressively presented and sifted
till it coheres into an object, when judgment terminates.2

If we apply this generic and indispensable distinction to analysis
of judgments about the past, it seems to me that the following con-
clusion naturally issues: The nature of the past event is subject-
matter required in order to make a reasonable judgment about the
present or future. The latter thus constitutes the object or genuine
meaning of the judgment. Take the illustration of the letter. Its
object must be described in some such terms as the following. What
is the state of affairs as between some other person and myself!
Is his letter acknowledged or no ; is the deal closed, the engagement
made, the assurance given or no? The only subject-matter which
will permit an answer to the question is some past episode. Hence
the necessity of coming to close quarters with that past event. In
the subject-matter there are always at least two alternatives, while
the object is singular and unmistakable. Either I wrote the letter
or I did not. Which thought or hypothesis is correct? There can
be no inquiry without just such incompatible alternatives present to
mind. I have to clear up the question of what is the object of judg-
ment by settling its appropriate subject-matter : what has happened.
The object of the judgment in short is the fulfillment of an intention,

2 Subject-matter is not to be confused with data. It is wider than data. It
includes all considerations which are adduced as relevant, whether by way of
factual data or accepted meanings, while data signifies such facts as are defi-
nitely selected for employment as evidential.

314 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

I intended or meant to enter into certain relations with a correspon-
dent. Have I done so or is the matter still hanging fire t Certainly,
whether or not my analysis is correct, there does not appear to be
anything forced or paradoxical about the view that in all such cases
the actual thing meant, the object of judgment, is prospective.8

To protect the conclusion from appearing to depend upon the
quality of the particular illustration used, namely one involving a
personal past and personal course of action, we need an impersonal
instance of a past episode. That provided by Mr. Lovejoy may be
employed. "When I point to this morning's puddles as proof that
it rained last night, the puddles are the means of proof but not the
thing proved. For verification-purposes their sole interest to me
is not in themselves, but in what they permit me to infer about last
night's weather. If someone shows me that they were made by the
watering-cart, they become irrelevant to the subject-matter of my
inquiry — though the same proposition about the future, 'there will
be puddles in the street,' is still fulfilled by them" (p. 69 of
E. C. R.). One wishes that Mr. Lovejoy had subjected his state-
ment to the same critical scrutiny to which he has exposed mine.
When it is examined, certain interesting results present themselves.

In the first place, my conception is not contained or expressed
by any such judgment as that "there are or will be puddles in the
street." The implication of my hypothesis is that the object of
judgment is that "prior rain has present and future conse-
quences," such as puddles, or floods, or refreshment of crops, or
filling of cisterns, etc. In denying that the past event is as such
the object of knowledge, it is not asserted that a particular present
or future object is its sole and exhaustive object, but that the content
of past time has "a future reference and function." * That is, the
object is some past event in its connection with present and future
effects and consequences. The past by itself and the present by
itself are both arbitrary selections which mutilate the complete ob-
ject of judgment. What appears in the above case of the letter as
a fulfilment of intention, appears here as a temporal sequence of
condition and consequence. In each case, the past incident is part
of the subject-matter of inquiry which enters into its object only
when referred to a present or future event or fact.

In the second place, analysis reveals that the proposition "there

3 The argument does not depend upon any ambiguity between objective and
object. As long as inquiry is going on the object is an objective because it is
atill dn question. The final object represents some objective taking settled and
definitive form.

« As Mr. Lovejoy quotes from me. (p. 67 of E. C. 22.). I do not wish to
daim, however, that I have previously made this point as clearly as I am now
making it.

REALISM WITHOUT MONISM OR DUALISM 315

will be puddles in the street" is not the same in case the passage
of the watering-cart is the past event which properly enters into
the subject-matter of inquiry. It is by further investigation of
present and future facts that it is determined whether a watering-
cart or a shower is the actual past event. Not all streets will have
puddles if the watering-cart was the cause, or at least roofs won't
be wet, cisterns won't be replenished, farmers' soil moistened. If
we consult the value of accurate weather reports to a mariner or a
member of the Chicago Board of Trade, we get light upon the real
object of a judgment involving past weather conditions. The point
is the connection of past-present-future, a temporal continuum. Pre-
cisely to avoid such incomplete inferences as are manifested in the
conclusion "there will be puddles in the street" on the basis of con-
siderations like those adduced in Mr. Lovejoy's illustration, we
make the exact nature of the past event the theme of exact and scru-
pulous inquiry.5 The importance of the present as basis of infer-
ence about the past is seen in the growing importance in science of
contemporary records, registrations, devices for carrying over the
past event into things which can be inspected in the present, devices
for measuring and registering the lapse of time, etc. This makes the
difference between scientific thought and loose popular thought.
The reference to or connection with the present and future comes
in at the completing end. The present not only supplies the only
data for a correct inference about the past, but since the poten-
tialities or meanings of the present depend upon the conditions of
the past with which they are correlated, future events are also
implied as part of the meaning. If a watering-cart, or a local
shower, then no effect upon crops, no effect upon the prices of grain ;
or, on a lesser scale, no needed precautions as to wearing rubbers.

The logical bearing of the earlier reference (p. 311) to the im-
possibility of judgments about the past without continuing and present
consequences ought now to be clearer. My analysis may be correct
or incorrect : that is a question of fact. But the account given does
not involve an arbitrary paradox undertaken in behalf of some pet
theory. The real point at issue is whether, as long as we are deal-
ing with isolated, self-sufficient events or affairs, anything which is
properly called knowledge and object of knowledge can exist. The
real point of Mr. Lovejoy's argument is that isolated, self-complete
things are truly objects of knowledge. My theory denies the validity
of this conception. It asserts that mere presence in experience is
quite a different matter from knowledge or judgment, which always
involves a connection, and, where time enters in, a connection of

8 That is, we examine present things more carefully and extensively.

316 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

past with past and future. The reader may not accept this theory, in
spite of its congruity with all the best authenticated cases of knowl-
edge of matter of fact, namely, the objects of science. But when the
secondary matter of inconsistency or arbitrary paradox is concerned,
it is essential to grasp this point. The case of judgment involving
past events is but one case of the general (logical) theory as to knowl-
edge. And as I have pointed out before, it makes it possible to drop
out the epistemological theory of mysterious "transcendence," and
deal with problems on the basis of objective temporal connections of
events, where we never are obliged, even in judgments about the
remotest geological past, to get outside events capable of future and
present consideration. Once recognize that thoughts about the past
hang upon present observable events and are verified by future
predicted or anticipated events which are capable of entering into
direct presentation, and the machinery of transcendence and of
epistemological dualism (or monism) is in so far eliminated.

What is the alternative to my conception ? Mr. Lovejoy makes it
clear what the alternative is. After all, we have not got very far when
we have postulated a psychical somewhat that somehow transcends
itself and leaps back into the past. How do we know that it is not
leaping into the air or into some quite wrong past ? In speaking of
this point, and denying the possibility of fulfilling meanings about
the past, or of their verification proper, he mentions ' ' an irresistible
propensity to believe that some of them are in fact valid meanings"
(p. 70, italics mine). An irresistible propensity which applies to
"some" meanings and not to others is, to say the least, a curious
fact. It suggests that perhaps the propensity is most unreliable
when it is most irresistible. He speaks also of indirect verification
based on "instinctive assumptions" (p. 71). He says that a truly
pragmatic analysis "would include an enumeration of the not-im-
mediately-given-things which it is needful for the effective agent, at
that moment, to believe or assume ... if the process of reflection is
to be of any service to him in the framing of an effective plan of
action" (p. 70). He charges me as a pragmatist of failing to live
up to pragmatism and. "trying to transcend one of the most inescap-
able limitations of human thought" (p. 70).

There are pragmatists who fall back on instinctive assumptions
and propensities, as a ground for accepting and asserting meanings
to be valid. They will welcome Mr. Lovejoy to the fold. But the
author of "Thirteen Varieties of Pragmatism" should be cognizant
that there is a variety not of the "will to believe" type. If his
conception is such a fixed part of the definition of pragmatism that
refusing to admit it is inconsistent with pragmatism, then, as I have

DIFFERENTIATING PRINCIPLE OF RELIGION 317

said before, I have no claim to be called a pragmatist. I am even
hopeful that his clear statement of instinctive propensity versus
logical verification as the alternatives will help convert some non-
pragmatists to my account of knowledge involving past events.

Enumeration of the things needful to assume in framing an effec-
tive plan of action is an undoubted part of the process. But it is a
hypothetical enumeration. Part of the operation of intelligent for-
mation of a plan of action is to note what the needs of the situation
are. But the needs of an agent can themselves be judiciously esti-
mated only in connection with other matters which enter into the
situation along with the agent. To isolate the needs or propensities
of the agent and regard them as grounds of belief in the validity of
meaning seems to be the essence of subjectivism. And when the
plan of action is framed it is still tentative. It is verified or con-
demned by its consequences. A propensity without doubt suggests
a certain view and plan : when employed in connection with environ-
ing factors it makes a view or plan worthy of acceptance for trial,
acceptance as a working hypothesis. Beyond this point, the notion
that a propensity, however practically irresistible, or an assumption,
however instinctive — if there be such things apart from habit — war-
rants belief that a meaning is valid commits us to a subjectivism
which is, to my mind, the most seriously objectionable thing in
idealism.

It is Mr. Love joy, it seems to me, who is committed to a subjective
pragmatism.

JOHN DEWEY.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

THE DIFFERENTIATING PRINCIPLE OF RELIGION

THE most common conception of religion that has formed the
basis of theological definition is that which general-
izes man 's total outlook upon the world as a whole. This view, which
assumes that the sphere of religion and the world are commeasurable,
is chargeable to a deeply rooted fear that some vital element, essential
to the fulness of spiritual experience, may be omitted if religion is
defined exclusively in any specific phase of devotional activity. The
complexity of the religious consciousness appears to prohibit any
exemption in the spiritual sphere; which is to say, religion insists
upon being as inclusive as life itself. Consequently, suspicion or un-
popularity is usually associated with attempts at simplification, such
as basing religion fundamentally in emotion, or belief, or will or any
single element for which priority is claimed. The widest and most

318 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

inclusive view of the world in its totality and completeness is the
conception which has met with the greatest favor in the minds of
those to whom we owe our standardized definitions.

But this determination to maintain a religious monopoly upon the
universe has strained to the breaking point our intellectual con-
scientiousness ; for an average amount of reflection will make it clear
that those who have sought to define the nature of religion specifi-
cally in terms of fear, or wonder, or reverence, or love, or any other
simple element, though they have failed in exactness, have been at
any rate upon, the right track, since religion and life can not be said
to coalesce at all points and the object of definition is differentia-
tion. That which is richest in universality is proportionately poorer
in elucidation.

In order to survey the extent of the religious field and estimate
how wide a realm lies under spiritual control, we should begin by
determining the fixed center of spiritual gravity, so to speak, for
the circumference is an ever-shifting circle. It is impossible to
measure the boundaries of the religious realm once for all, but it is
possible and necessary to determine the principle that obtains in all
true religion. The world of human experience is an ever-widening
one and it is a natural error to conceive the province of religion as
constantly enlarging to keep pace with this expansion, but in reality
the reverse is true. Modern thought is fully alive to the need of a
practical evaluation of spiritual reals, an evaluation which is bound
to reduce the scope of religious activities to decidely narrow, and
more and more exclusive boundaries. In other words, the world is
becoming less quantitatively spiritual than ever before, and this
fact suggests the need of establishing more precisely than has yet
been done with any degree of confidence the nature of the differen-
tiating principle which marks off the specific realm of genuine re-
ligion from other parts of existence.

Let me recall some ways in which religion has been narrowed
down. The Platonic inheritance of the Good, the True and the
Beautiful, appropriated by Christianity as permanent apartments
of the religious sphere, is being annulled and, in fact, is already
practically spent. The fields of art, truth (philosophic) — not to men-
tion science — have long overpast the boundaries of religious con-
trol. In the beginning, science was subdued somehow, though awk-
wardly, art was more gracefully submissive, and truth (i.e.,
Truth semel pro semper) became more or less the faithful handmaid
of theology; and this religious inclusiveness went along with the
general cosmic idea of Deity whose omnipotent sway knew no bounds
or limitations. This traditional all-embracing view, however, has

DIFFERENTIATING PRINCIPLE OF RELIGION 319

been conspicuously modified in recent years. Science pursues a free
course, art is independent of religious control, truth already has
gained a large degree of functional liberty, and morals, always rest-
less and impatient of spiritual restraint, would seem to be striving
to throw off the religious yoke and attain the freedom which science
enjoys.

Without debating the relative merits of the good, the true, the
beautiful and the dynamic to achieve independence in their respec-
tive fields, it is obvious that religion must forego her claim of absolute
inclusiveness and recognize legitimate limitations. And if the signs
of the times are truly discerned, one may conclude that religion, her-
self, is not loth to surrender the idea of cosmic universality in ex-
change for one that is more intensive and less abstract.

Such a radical tendency or change in spiritual activities has been
brought about in the following way. Before the study of compara-
tive religion had become an accepted part of Christian apologetic —
in relatively recent times — it was the custom to classify world
religions according to a general standard as true or false, Christian-
ity in some form or other being set off against all other systems of
faith as the truth, the rival beliefs being gauged as false, or at any
rate merely more or less true — certainly less. To-day, however, this
formal system of classification has been discarded, and we are in-
clined, quite universally, to formulate a system of classification upon
a scale of the better and the worse or according to a principle of
practical value. Instead of rating the so-called world religions out-
side Christianity as though they were not religions at all, in the strict
sense of the word, since they are not wholly true, we are willing to
admit that non-Christian beliefs and practises are expressive of
religion, qua religion, only not so good, not so high and pure, not
so valuable, functionally, as the dominant faith of the world to-day.

This change of mind testifies to an important modification of our
idea of the nature of religion, the essence of which is thought to in-
here in that which constitutes value for moral and spiritual life. Re-
ligious practise is no longer judged with reference to the truth of a
belief simply, but is determined by a criterion of value or worth ;
and belief, itself, is expressed more and more in terms of a practical
nature. All the world cults, therefore, are recognized for what they
are worth ; and all successful missionary efforts are based upon this
recognition. Consequently we speak of one form of religion as better
than another or a particular element as less good than another; the
criterion of truth is relegated to second place and the principle of
value or goodness prevails. The result is that religion becomes ex-
clusive inasmuch as she limits herself to that which is the highest

320 JO URNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

and best, and in the interest of the greater values she eliminates the
lesser and irrelevant. What a departure, then, from the position
of thinkers in the time of Mill who wrote, "If religion, or any par-
ticular form of it is true, its usefulness follows without any other
proof/'1

To realize that the best religion must inevitably become increas-
ingly finite, i.e., restricted in scope and limited in function, may ap-
pear at first to be radically opposed to the commonly cherished ideal
of religion's primacy and the catholicity of spiritual aims. But is
this the case? I venture to suggest that the reverse is tme. Can
not religion, as a palpable ideal and an actual driving force, succeed
better in the dissemination and conservation of the good by an intensi-
fication of power through the limitation of her range?

The problem, therefore, that arises is this : If religion in the only
form now acceptable to us is only a part of life and no longer the
constitutive principle of the whole, what part does she concentrate
upon and in ? Such a question is the direct consequent of our depart-
ure from a crumbling traditional position which accepted or rejected
spiritual contributions according to a principal of standardized truth.
In other words, inasmuch as we now employ various practical gauges
of value to test the relevancy of religious ideals to moral and spirit-
ual ends, we are bound to consider religion from the exclusive point
of view, and ask: What elements have lost their original spiritual
value ? or, What factors should be discarded as never having had suf-
ficient genuine spiritual worth to justify their survival? That is
to say, we are narrowing down the circle of the religious sphere, and
leaving more and more of life to the non-religious field. The question
remains then: What survivals are essential for spiritual progress?

Before I attempt to state my thesis in answer to this problem,
let me emphasize again the necessity of the factor of religious elim-
ination. The primary tendency or instinct of organisms to develop
from the simple to the complex, from the general to the particular,
from the single to the plural is coordinate with a law of progress
which organizes by a process of elimination. Steps of tho advance
can usually be discerned by the lopping off of valueless survivals.
The broader syntheses through nature's analytical working, com-
parison, selection, and ever-renewed coordination, are resolved into
more centralized and richer organizations. And human naturt, like-
wise, refines itself by specification. Along with the process of dif-
ferentation, integral contractions take place wherein the less good
gives way to the better as values are estimated according to the pur-
posive workings of the organism. Man realizes himself more per-

i Cf. Three Essays on Religion, p. 69.

DIFFERENTIATING PRINCIPLE OF RELIGION 321

fectly, i.e., successfully, as he becomes acquainted with himself com-
positely, in detail, aware of mixed and combating motives, varied
and crossed sentiments, of the pluralistic situation within himself.
But to advance means to refine, i.e., to judge, choose and discard.
In the end, consciousness, as a self-principle, is more and more ex-
elusive in relation to the ever-increasing richness of experience ; and
character necessitates constant revaluation and reconstruction in
order to maintain its intrinsic worth.

The religious man attains the highest unity, not at the sacrifice
of the elemental multiplicity of experience, but at the sacrifice of
what he is unwilling to identify with himself ; he is more concretely
an individual, not at the expense of experimental experience, but at
the cost of what he refuses to incorporate into himself ; he is a more
unique personality, not because appreciations are limited or pioneer
adventures are shirked, but on account of his persistent determina-
tion to ally himself only with the highest and best things in the
world. The religious man, in other words, is intensively and in-
tegrally good because he dispenses with the less worthy in order to
concentrate upon that which alone is worth the greatest effort. In
brief, the best man is specifically good; there is an originality in
his goodness, and a manifest moral partiality in his estimate and
appropriation of values. If "he sets his teeth" in the not-self of
his environment, he will not bite off, or rather, he will not swallow,
what the best of him can not digest and assimilate properly.

Such a specification of virtue is the inevitable result of moral
activities within the particular station of the individual. No one
person can have a monopoly of the virtues ; and if it were possible,
he would be able to exercise but those which pertained to his own
peculiar office and vocation. Consequently we see the soldier con-
spicuous for courage, the economist for prudence, the student for
intellectual integrity, the man of average ability for temperance,
the prophet for spiritual insight, the priest for piety and so on. A
harmony of all the virtues, coordinated and organized, such as Plato
delineated in the Phcedrus under the picture of the charioteer who
drove the passions courageously and prudently is practically obsolete
as an ideal because of the unreal abstractions involved in the con-
ception. The real man exercises and perfects only those virtues
which are applicable to his own personal situation. It may be con-
cluded, then, that personality grows and is shaped according as it
excludes all factors which contribute nothing to, or would detract
from, the dominant purpose controlling specific self-realization.

If this brief sketch of the extension and intension of human per-
sonality is true in the main, may we not unhesitatingly believe that the

322 JO URNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

progress of religion will follow much the same lines ? Some religious
material will be dropped naturally from time to time as it is out-
grown and outworn, and the rules of this elimination will be subject
to a principle of discrimination. What this principle is, is exactly
the subject of our enquiry. When we see that one religion excels
another, that certain elements are obviously more valuable than
others, and that many survivals have become worthless and must ac-
cordingly be dispensed with as irrelevant or incompatible with the
more important factors, then the problem arises : What is the stand-
ard gauge? It is the answer to this question which will nicely de-
termine the exact field of religion.

Let us see what actual signs point to the growing exclusivene*s
of religion, in what way the secular realm is being enlarged for
greater gain to that which constitutes the essential quality of spirit-
ual life. For example, then, what we shall eat, what we shall drink,
what we shall wear, how we shall plant our fields, how we shall build
our temples, what we shall teach, what books shall be written and the
thousand and one details over which in the past religion exercised and
exorcised her autocratic say are now excluded from the province of
the best religious faith and practise. We have offered the purely
material and mechanical field to science that religion may gain
the more freedom in her own realm ; we have allowed the philosopher
freer play in the realm of truth, permitted art a greater liberty in
the region of the beautiful, surrendered to psychology the secrets
of our inner life, to sociology matters of organization, to the state,
matters of law — all that religion may enrich herself more speedily
after her special liking. We have sold all, or almost all, we possess
for the one jewel of great price ; we pay the greater price to Caesar
that God may receive the purer treasure. If, then, religion abandons
much of her wonder to philosophy and much of her miracle to
science and many personal mysteries to psychology, and surrenders
her beauty largely to art, her organization and statutes to sociology
and economics, the importance of what she refuses to relinquish is
quite obvious.

The answer now to our problem is not difficult to see ; but do we
realize what this means or is going to mean to the future of religion ?
The final stronghold of religion being moral life, toward which end
all present religious movements are conspicuously pointing, is this.
an inspiring sign of the times or a weakness in modern spirituality ?
I venture to state that this pressure upon and centralizing in morali-
ties is beyond praise and must prove a source of unlooked-for hope
in these troublous times ; for the moral-religious merger means a new
vision of human character transcending the present form of our

DIFFERENTIATING PRINCIPLE OF RELIGION 323

ethos and all out of proportion with its development hitherto, as
well as a fresh glory for religion in bringing heaven down to earth.

It is, therefore, in this special field, morality in its widest con-
notation, that we see religion crowding back and the portent is mo-
mentous. And just here in spite of the dangerous forces which have
assaulted the fair moral stature of humanity, if the most trustworthy
signs of the times are to be accredited, religion appears to be easily
holding her own. She can not and will not permit a trade or sport
in the moral nature of mankind. We have sadly learned nostro
periculo that a large measure of personality is not equivalent with
goodness. Individual self-realization or community-realization is
attended with the greatest dangers of distortion when divorced
from spiritual control. The horrible fact of dgemonic personality is
only too well disclosed by the ruthlessness of "civilized" warfare.
We have beheld with moral terror the dispassionate elimination of
all that unfits a person for the achievement of his ends and the com-
mon ends of his fellows regardless of a scale of values which should
determine the better and the worse, resulting, not simply in the crime
of a renaissance of barbaric civilization, but in something more in-
tolerable, namely, the felonious act of producing the personality of
the savage — and not the mere savage, unintellectual and cruel, rather
the savage as an ideal, as the amoral apotheosis of force.

Strange as it may sound, we must admit that the incorrigible
enemies of peace are idealists. Ideals, when genuine, are intimate,
individualistic and unique ; which is to say, ideals are nothing if not
a matter of singular personality. They are the stuff that is naturally
radical and wilful. Hence the danger lies exactly here: the fact
that it is the instinctive tendency, the whim, the spirit of an ideal
to have its fling, to play truant, to adventure into romance, to for-
sake the familiar in search of the unfamiliar in ways remote. In
other words, ideals are the flower of moral abstractions ; they sprout
and flourish upon a stock of truth which grows out of the philosophic
or metaphysical mind ; they delight an ambitious imagination with an
intoxicating fragrance until nothing can withstand them — nothing
but the hard facts of life and the opposition of other ideals. It fol-
lows, then, that because of the superior force of idealistic energies
they require the special discipline of the most practical judgments
of value that, religion can formulate, or character is ruined.

To supply this standard of personal worth is the rationale of
religion. And such is the moral emergency of the present-day world.
It is exactly at this point and with this definite end in view that re-
ligion enters the social conflict. All of which suggests the differenti-
ating feature of religion, namely, moral interests. In this field,

324 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

religion must continue to exercise and maintain her peculiar power,
to magnetize the moral compass, to spiritualize ideals, to gauge the
perfect measure of the right. Morality is the child, religion the
parent; but forever "the child is father to the man."

The antithesis of the Christian standard, which I have tried to
do justice to, along modern lines, is that of the orthodox Pharisee,
a product of the inclusiveness of later Judaism with its rigid law.
The wonderful moral impetus given to Old Testament religion by
the prophetic analysis of the better and the worse, of the good and
the evil, of the righteous and the wicked, was neutralized and blocked
by this type of religious inclusiveness. The curious anomaly of the
Pharisee, viz., a separateness from worldliness combined with an
attempt to bring all of life completely within the compass of the
Law, presents a picture of religious inclusion. This "separateness"
from the world was a contradictio in adjecto to the rule of life pro-
fessed and a shallow unreality. The truth of the matter is that the
Pharisees identified worldliness after all with religion. And this
was precisely the trouble. His religion was too inclusive ; it had no
distinct character which permitted the functioning of comparative
values ; so that there was no better and worse, no greater command-
ment, in his conception of moral and spiritual life. All was con-
stituted on the same level, the dead level, so to speak.

It is in this sense that modern religion may be characterized as
finite; because of a specialization in moralities. If we are willing
to withdraw from other fields, it is because there is one pearl of great
price which absorbs all our enthusiasm ; and though this fine spirit-
ual exclusiveness may involve the abandonment of some long-cher-
ished cosmic beliefs and the difficult sacrifice of many dear hopes,
and though haunting clouds of darkness may hover over the unex-
plored ground where ultimately religion and morals meet, still no
truly loving heart need fear self-deception when the spirit of Christ
manifest in any good action whatsoever is identified with Christ
himself. For love is the most accurate moral compass with which
human nature is endowed.

In this highly specialized and highly secularized world of ours —
rightly so — our alarm at the loss of much that had been thought to
belong indissolubly to religion, which is now being withheld from
her without protest, may be assuaged by recollecting that these same
limitations of religion will intensify her power. This is well illus-
trated in the history of Israel, Christianity in the making, for the
Hebrews were one of the most narrow-minded nations, intellectually,
that the world has ever seen : they could not be compared favorably
with the Egyptians for mechanical and industrial ability, nor with

INTELLIGENCE AND INTELLECT 325

the Phoenicians for commerce, nor with the Philistines for art, nor
with the Assyrians for war, nor with the Babylonians for general
versatility, nor with the Sumerians for literary originality, nor with
the Greeks for philosophy, nor, we may add, with the Anglo-Saxons
for science; but, nevertheless, they thought the more profoundly in
religion and the more practically in morals.2 All of which goes to
show that an intensification of spiritual experience more than com-
pensates for a want of general inclusiveness.

In conclusion, let me summarize the results of this enquiry. Some
principle of differentiation is necessary to mark the proper sphere
of religion since one of the most conspicious signs of modern religion
is the breaking up of the traditional religious hegemony that has so
long prevailed over all departments of life. Religion also must
make clear her distinctive character because the conditions of defi-
nition require a positive shrinking in extension and a reduction to
more precise specification. The terms in which religious concepts
are expressed may be the changing phases of life of successive gener-
ations, but the field of religious interest and action can not change.
We are helped in marking out the boundaries of this permanent
field by the successful tendency for specialization conspicuous to-day
in all directions and approved by the best intelligence. And this,
in respect to religious activities, is indubitably the field of moral
interests and all that makes for righteousness in character and in
nationality. Here lies the impregnable stronghold of the Kingdom.
From whatever planes of activity religious forces withdraw, here
the retreat must ultimately halt ; and within these specific lines re-
ligion must forever exercise her control. What we are beginning,
then, to see is this: religion not only subscribes to and sanctions
the best morality, but moral character itself is religion objectified
and realized.

H. C. ACKERMAN.
NASHOTAH, Wis.

INTELLIGENCE AND INTELLECT

IT is well known that certain words and terms make a greater
appeal to the mind of the public than others. Psychologists are
perhaps not to be included among the public, inasmuch as they,
in common with all other scientists, are supposed to select their terms
and not to allow themselves to be guided by ordinary usage. But try
as one will, there are certain circumstances which rule over the fate

2(7/. Laura H. Wild: The Evolution of tTie Hebrew People, Part IV
passim.

326 JO URNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

of words and so bring it about that the one becomes a technical term
and is discussed interminably in books and periodicals while the
other, with just as high a pedigree, is relegated to the plane of popu-
lar parlance.

Such has happened with the two words "intelligence" and "in-
tellect." Both are derived from a common source, intelligere, which,
when analyzed into its components, means to choose, to pick out (and
incidentally shows what good psychological insight the Romans were
possessed of) ; both ran almost a parallel course since the days of the
Renaissance, yet of the two, the term intelligence had the more event-
ful career, until it has even been made to turn a behavioristic somer-
sault, while intellect is still the staid and dignified entity as of old,
and as a result, is doomed to the traditional treatment of lexicog-
raphers and literary men.

From the very first, the word intelligence had the advantage in
its range of applicability. The distinction drawn between intelli-
gence and intellect in the Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology
is not clear-cut, though the tendency "to apply the term intellect
more especially to the capacity for conceptual thinking" is noted.
The delineation of the same term in the Encyclopedia Britannica is
carried out along similar lines. "A man is described as 'intellectual*
generally because he is occupied with theory and principles rather
than with practise, often with the further implication that his theories
are concerned mainly with abstract matters; he is aloof from the
world, and especially is a man of training and culture who cares
little for the ordinary pleasures of sense." It must appear evident
to most readers that such a description of the intellectual man does
not provide us with the cues for discriminating between intelligence
and intellect, and at the same time draws a too sharp antithesis
between two qualities which may subsist in the same individual. Bis-
marck, though concerned with practical matters and not a theoreti-
cian, might have been an intellectual person, even if he did not ac-
tually happen to be such. Besides, until we were able to draw the
line of cleavage between the theoretical and the practical, our cri-
terion would be of no avail. The same observation applies to the
account in the New International Encyclopedia in which the intel-
lectual man is said, according to current usage, to possess "special
ability in dealing with the abstract and theoretical, while the intelli-
gent man is efficient in concrete situations and practical affairs."

In his article on "Animal Intelligence" in the Britannica, Lloyd
Morgan sets down the difference as one between perceptual (sen-
sory) and conceptual (ideational) modes of behavior. This dis-
tinction was probably grounded in the results obtained in animal psy-
chology, so that thanks to the labors of Romanes, the phrase "Animal

INTELLIGENCE AND INTELLECT 327

Intelligence" became one of the most widely used expressions in
psychology. But in spite of its empirical background, the phrase
pointed to a particular interpretation which need not necessarily be
accepted, and which, furthermore, was vigorously attacked by Was-
mann and Mivart.

Prof. Warren seems to think that the term intelligence, as applied
to animals in the eighties and nineties, had acquired a distinctly be-
havioristie meaning, and points out that Thorndike, in particular,
applied it to his mazes and trick fastenings. Commenting on my
discussion of the relation between intelligence and behavior,1 he
writes "I have, myself, the feeling that we could very profitably
revive this meaning so as to distinguish between intelligence and
intellect; most of the modern mental tests are really intellect tests,
that is, tests of intellectual intelligence as distinguished from the
motor or skill intelligence tests which are applied to animals." It
was this bit of comment which occasioned the writing of this paper,
especially as there seems to be an ever-growing need of a criterion to
determine which is intellect and which is intelligence, the more so
because the two are regarded as correlative terms, which means that
what we hold about the one will affect our view of the other, as is
evidenced by the comparison of Lloyd Morgan 's and "Warren 's views.
If intellect refers to the conceptual, intelligent will involve the
merely perceptual ; and, if we take it that intelligence comprises all
performance acts, our distinction will be one between the motor
and sensory functions of man. In that case even a moron, inso-
much as he is able to assimilate knowledge, may be regarded as pos-
sessing intellect.

Probably every educated person employs the two words in
slightly different connections. A highly cultured person, like Car-
lyle or Emerson would, in all likelihood, not feel flattered to be re-
ferred to as very intelligent. To the man in the street such a recom-
mendation would no doubt appeal as an acceptable compliment. In-
telligence and intellect seem to be made of the same texture, but
differ in their degree of complexity. This distinction, however, is not
always recognized by psychologists. Thus, Thorndike in his Animal
Intelligence speaks of animal intellect 2 as evidently an interchange-
able mode of expression for animal intelligence, while most intelli-
gence testers, as Warren observes, are really occupying themselves,
to a considerable extent, with the problem of determining the intellect
of their examinees. Largely with this consideration in view, I have

iA. A. Roback, "Intelligence and Behavior," Psychol. Review, 1922,
VoL XXIX, p. 54ff.

2E. L. Thorndike, Animal Intelligence (1911), preface p. v. and Chapter
VII.

328 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

been impelled to call my own series of tests for superior adults
"mentality tests," and have explained elsewhere my reason for so
doing, viz., that "intelligence" has been used to "designate a much
more comprehensive state of affairs. Social tact and savoir faire,
as well as mechanical ingenuity and motor coordination, are all sub-
sumed under the general category of intelligence. It is obvious, how-
ever, that what we can concern ourselves with here is at most the
analysis of situations that are distinctly of a non-social and non-
mechanical sort. ' ' *

The distinction between intelligence and intellect is a very genu-
ine one, but it does not strike me that the essential difference lies in
the fact that the one characterizes motor skill or even mechanical in-
genuity and the other applies to abstract reasoning. To be sure, the
term animal intelligence was in vogue among animal psychologists for
a long time to designate the capacity for motor learning in infra-
human subjects, but in all such cases it is my belief that the aim of
the investigators was to prove that animals possessed mind, that they
were capable of understanding situations. Such was certainly true
of Romanes and Wesley Mills. The substitution of the term animal
behavior for animal intelligence was due in large part to the realiza-
tion that we are on slippery ground whenever the question of inter-
preting the mental state of an animal crops up. No assumptions are
necessary — and one might add no general conclusions are forth-
coming— on the basis of an animal-behavior psychology. Another
reason for the shift of terms is probably the desire to break down
the barrier between animal psychology and biology so that workers
in the two fields might carry on their pursuits on common ground.
Thorndike 's book under the title of Animal Intelligence, which came
out in 1911, was, it will be remembered, an amplification of his
monograph published in 1898, when the term behavior, used in con-
nection with animal reactions, was still waiting for Jennings, a biolo-
gist, to give it currency. Hence the somewhat conservative caption
to a book which really was an influential factor in modifying the
older views about animal intelligence.

The distinction then between intelligence and intellect does not
appear to be primarily one between motor capacity and the power
of abstraction. Intelligence is more inclusive than intellect, but, at
the same time, it is marked by a certain desultoriness. It may ap-
pear in detached form. This view does not necessarily argue for the
multimodality of intelligence. An individual may meet with success
in almost everything he undertakes to do and yet not be classed

*"Beport on the Roback Mentality Tests at Simmons College," Simmons
College Review, 1921, Vol. HI, p. 314.

INTELLIGENCE AND INTELLECT 329

with the intellectual. What is it then that gives one the stamp of in-
tellect? It is, to my mind, the concatenation of the most essential
intelligences into a systematic whole — most essential for that pur-
pose, of course — that constitutes the distinguishing feature of intel-
lect. This quality must not be confused with what has been called
creative intelligence, for a great artist or a great inventor is not nec-
essarily a man of great intellect, nor must the distinction be viewed,
in the light of Stern's proper dichotomy between genius and intel-
ligence.4 That mental integrity constitutes a prime condition of in-
tellect is, to a large extent, recognized in popular parlance when we
speak of Aristotle being a great intellect, though an ordinary man
is said to possess intelligence. This usage is not a mere synecdoche,
but represents the deep-rooted conviction of educated people which
experience has taught them. Csesar was probably more intelligent
than Marcus Aurelius, but Marcus Aurelius was the greater intellect.
A man may get along with people, who nevertheless is unable to
understand them or appraise their merits and faults. Another may
not be so successful in his dealings with the world and yet have
a keen insight into affairs. The latter is the more intellectual. It
is he who not only grasps a situation, though not necessarily every
situation, but is also able to relate his experiences and observations
to one another so as to build up a Weltanschauung (which need not
be a system of philosophy) . Paradoxical as the statement may sound,
it is my belief that there are cases when one knows how things are
done without being able to do them himself. An intellectual man,
then, will not always be thought intelligent in the accepted sense of
the word, for his capacity will not comprise possibly the wide range
of activities covered by intelligence, but by way of compensation,
he has a great deal more to show in the upper levels of the narrower
range — upper because the activities in that region presuppose a
knowledge of the more common activities. The intelligent man lives
in a shed extending over a vast area ; the man of intellect dwells in
a sky-scraper, communicating with every nook and corner of the
building and aware of every happening in his abode and its bearing
upon every other happening.

In short, the secret of intellect is coordination on a large scale.
Naturally, the experiences requisite for such an activity must be
plentiful, comprising not only one's own but those of many others.
For this reason erudition has been considered the basis of intellect,
and rightly so. The perfect type of coordination would involve
an acquaintance with all the facts in every conceivable department
of knowledge. The more data we have at our command in the most

* "W. Stern, Psycliological Methods of Testing Intelligence, p. 4.

330 JO URNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

diverse fields of human endeavor, covering the greatest period of
time, the more we approximate this ideal. It does not follow that
the professional philosopher is the man of intellect par excellence,
though his particular studies must surely provide him with the best
opportunity for such attainment. Herder, Schopenhauer, Carlyle,
and Renan, disparate as they all are from one another, seem to typify
the intellectual in modern times. In general one may say that the
romanticists have the advantage over the classicists in this regard be-
cause their scope extends over greater dimensions. The quality of
the coordination is probably superior in the latter, but as has al-
ready been intimated, no matter how careful we are with our selec-
tion, if the wherewithals are not within our reach, the choice of
the materials can not but be faulty.

The statement has been made above, and it accords with the re-
ceived view, that intelligence is a more comprehensive term than
intellect. But the subsequent discussion goes to show that this com-
prehensiveness relates to the situations to be met with by the individ-
ual. Now a great many of these situations are not taken into account
in the adjudication of intellect, but vastly more is included instead,
to wit, the experience of the race and its outstanding figures. The
man of intellect is not called upon to settle a strike, to repair a lock,
to act the affable host and the like ; his task is much more enormous,
for he deals with a vast body of complicated facts which he must
sift and colligate and reflect on.

After setting down the criterion of intellect and intelligence, we
have still to consider the constitutional difference between the two.
In the man of intellect there appears to be an urge towards systemati-
zation which, if not lacking, is at any rate not pronounced in the in-
telligent person, who, to be sure, may evince an ambitious spirit, may
even direct all his energies towards becoming a leader. In such an in-
dividual the "drive" towards his goal may be actually consummated,
but often the means employed, the very skill exercised, betrays the
want of mental integrity which is a proprium of intellect. The fact
that single-mindedness was not always a characteristic of intellectual
men — Voltaire, for instance — should not invalidate my thesis. As in
everything else, deviations from a standard are to be measured in
relation to the components which go to make up the criterion and
treated, moreover, on a comparative basis. The flaw in Voltaire's
character must indubitably have affected not only his results but his
coordinating ability as well.

A. A. ROBACK.

HARVARD UNIVERSITY.

BOOK REVIEWS 331

BOOK EEVIEWS

The Works of Aristotle Translated into English, Vol. X., Politica,

Oeconomica, Atheniensum Respublica. Oxford: Clarendon

Press, 1921.

This tenth volume of the great Oxford translation of Aristotle,
edited by W. D. Ross, must be welcomed by all students of Aristotle
and should be welcomed by all students of politics. The re-issuing
of the Jowett translation of the Politics is explained by the editor
as follows. "Piety towards Dr. Jowett, whose munificence has
made possible the production of this translation of Aristotle, sug-
gested that no new rendering of the Politics should be attempted."
Certainly no other English translation reads so well as Jowett 's,
but unfortunately the reader should be conscious that he is fre-
quently reading Jowett and not Aristotle. I give one illustration
of the liberties which Jowett took. The lines 1258 b, 8-11, trans-
lated literally, read about as follows: "We have discussed suffi-
ciently the science of the subject (business or finance), and ought
now to discuss its practise. In all such matters freedom reigns in
understanding them, but necessity in practising them." In Jow-
ett 's translation they read : ' ' Enough has been said about the theory
of wealth-getting; we will now proceed to the practical part. The
discussion of such matters is not unworthy of philosophy, but to be
engaged in them practically is illiberal and irksome." The editor,
in this case, has given in a footnote Bernays' translation: "We
are free to speculate about them, but in practise we are limited by
circumstances." This method of calling attention to improve-
ments in translation or to more recent scholarship on the texts is
followed throughout and is valuable. But the revision of the Jow-
ett translation thus effected is still quite inadequate. The Welldon
translation is superior in point of accuracy, but it too leaves much
to be desired. For instance, in Welldon the above passage reads:
"Having now sufficiently discussed the theory of Finance, we have
next to describe its practical application. It is to be observed how-
ever that in all such matters speculation is free, while in practise
there are limiting conditions." Welldon here corrects Jowett 's
error, but he introduces an error of his own in the first part of the
passage. There is still needed an English translation to equal the
French of St. Hilaire, which has the merits of both accuracy and
a fluent style.

E. S. Foster's translation of the Economics is a great improve-
ment over the old Walford translation in the Bohn Series, and
makes the treatise very attractive reading. It deserves to be much
more generally known than it is. The first book is generally re-

332 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

garded, following Zeller, as not genuine, although on rather slight
evidence. It is an excellent illustration of the "common-sense"
character of Aristotle's philosophy, consisting of observations on
how households are successfully conducted, observations so com-
monplace as to escape being written except by Aristotle or in prov-
erbs. One is interested to read in Aristotle, for example, that
"there are occasions when a master should rise while it is still
night; for this helps to make a man healthy and wealthy and wise."
The second book of the Economics is obviously post-Aristotelian,
and consists of a collection of most entertaining anecdotes about
royal, satrapic, political and personal economy.

Sir Frederic G. Kenyon's latest revision of his excellent trans-
lation of the Athenian Constitution needs no further comment, as
his work both as a translator and as an editor of the texts, is well
known.

The addition of copious footnotes and the careful indexing of
the books make this edition of Aristotle all the more attractive.

H. W. SCHNEIDER.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

Etude sur le Terme ATNAMI2 dans les Dialogues de Platon.

JOSEPH SOUILHE. Paris, 1919.

The aim of this modest and thorough piece of work is, first, to
help make precise the Platonic vocabulary and thus the Platonic
philosophy; second, to prepare a more complete knowledge of the
Aristotelian theory of potentiality (p. xi). To achieve this aim
M. Souilhe" follows the models of Hitter's " EISo? I8«fo und ver-
wandte Woerte in den Schriften Platons" published in his Neue
Untersuchungen ueber Platon and of A. E. Taylor's "The words
e'So<?, tS^a in pre-Platonic literature" from the Varia Socratica.

Probably no model could be better for this sort of work than
Mr. Taylor's, especially if one is equipped with as sure a lexico-
graphical sense as his. For it emphasizes the actual use of the
words in question and not what people say the use is. Thus by
actual comparison and analysis one obtains not a mere unsubstan-
tial guess at what the Greeks may have been talking about, but a
careful determination made inductively with the evidence plainly
exhibited. Plato, in this case, is put in a Greek setting among his
fellow thinkers. To study him thus is surely to run less risk of
modernizing him, if nothing else, and that is of course one of the
easiest mistakes to make in interpreting the ancients. The result
incidentally throws light on the whole workings of the Greek scien-
tific mind, a field which lies outside M. Souilhe's immediate inter-
ests, unfortunately.

BOOK REVIEWS 333

The study begins with a resume of the primitive use of the word
and its derivatives. The texts here are taken from belles
lettres, from Homer to Demosthenes. It is found that it has four
senses: first, the primitive notion of physical force which de-
velops to any kind of superiority; second, the power of inanimate
things, money, sickness, law; third, by transferences to the things
which have the power and superiority, armies, governments, for-
tunes; fourth, reducing the idea of value, simple ability, posse not
potentia.

The use of a word in belles lettres is usually more indicative of
its connotation than its denotation. One would look in vain today
for the meaning of Royce's "loyalty," Dewey's "situation," San-
tayana's "essence," Watson's "behavior" in the speeches of Con-
gressmen, the poetry of the Imagists, or the dramas of Mr. Shaw.
But one might find there a certain haze of suggestiveness which might
be of interest. So in M. Souilhe's study these passages are utilized
as a simple background against which are thrown the words as used
by the mathematicians, the physicians, and the sophists.

Aui>a/u? in mathematics is found to mean "fundamental or dis-
tinctive property." Thus the tetrade is called the Svvafus of the
decade because the equilateral triangle which is used to represent
ten, the tetraktys,1 is that from which the decade is developed. This
is a technical application of the popular meaning "superiority."
For, as in Aristotle, that which produces is superior to that which is
produced. Similarly the square of a number is the second power
(Suz/o/LM?), which looks as if the mathematicians had an eye for the
generative functions in the operations of their science (p. 29).

An analogous use of words is observable in the treatises on
medicine (p. 36). There substances are held to manifest themselves
by their qualities, hot, cold, bitter, salty, and the like. But the
cold differs from the hot, the moist from the dry, in the effects they
produce. Both the power substances have to make themselves mani-
fest and the power they have to act in characteristic ways are
Svvdneis. The body of texts cited by M. Souilhie from the physi-
cians shows how the term we have grown to look upon as almost
exclusively Aristotelian was in reality one of the scientific terms
of his contemporaries. "In the treatises of the Hippocratic Collec-
tion," says M. Souilhe, "in those above all wherein the influence
of the cosmological ideas of the first physicians2 is particularly evi-
dent, the term Svvajjus designates the characteristic property of
bodies, the external and sensory side, that which permits us to

1 V. Bui-net's Early Greek Philosophy, 3d ed., p. 102.

2 In the Greek sense of the word I suppose.

334 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

determine and specify them. Thanks to the Swap?, the mysteri-
ous <f>v<ri<;t the substantial eZSo? or primordial element, makes itself
known, and makes itself known by its action. Starting from this
point we understand . . . how easy it was to establish a perfect
equation between <f>v<ri<i and Sin/a/**?" (p. 55f.). The same use of
the word is found in the fragments of Gorgias and Isocrates.

In Plato the word has more philosophic importance than else-
where, but here too it means that quality which beings have to re-
veal to us their peculiar constitution, shown in action or in being
acted upon (p. 149). This is the same as the Hippocratic use of
the term. But M. Souilh£ does not agree with Hitter that Plato
equates Swapis and ovaia (p. 156). Small though the detail may
be, it is what determines in large measure whether Plato's universe
is to be interpreted as a process or as something static. If one 'a
imagination is allowed to play on the various consequences, one
will see the importance of knowing just what Plato did mean, if
that be a possibility.

It seems a greater possibility now that we have studies of Plato 's
vocabulary which are being done by scholars with sufficient equip-
ment for the task. The study of M. Souilhe may be open to un-
favorable criticism in detail, but one would have to be very fussy
to accord it anything but praise as a whole. He seems to have ap-
proached the problem with as few preconceived ideas as possible
and to have spared no pains to investigate it with all thoroughness.
One could legitimately hope for a more extended discussion of the
results, particularly of their effect upon the interpretation, of
Plato's philosophy as a whole. That may of course be too much to
ask of a study which has purposely limited itself to a special phase
of a problem. It does not seem likely, however, that students of
Plato can afford to neglect this work, certainly not university stu-
dents.

GEORGE BOAS.

THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

SCIENTIA. November, 1921. Euclidean Constructions (pp.
345-354) : H. P. HUDSON (Croydon, England). — Illustrations of how
algebraic analysis can reveal what can and what can not be done with
ruler and compass. L'origine de la chaleur solaire (pp. 355-370) :
JEAN PERRIN (Paris). — Admirable exposition of the interesting hy-
pothesis that in the process of forming heavier and heavier atoms
the mass of the sun is diminished, being partly converted into energy.

NOTES AND NEWS 335

This energy would suffice to keep up the present solar radiation for
several trillion years. Radioactivity is a secondary reverse process
of minor importance. A paper decidedly worth consulting. Le milieu
geographique et la race (pp. 371-380) : A. A. MENDES-CORREA
(Porto). — Suggests the difficulty of proving specific cases of influence
exercised on racial characters by geographic environment, yet con-
cludes that environment must, nevertheless, be an important factor.
Buts et resultats coloniaux de la guerre mondiale. II. Les resultats
economico-juridiques (pp. 381-392) : G. MONDAINI (Borne). — Empha-
sizes the reactionary character of many of the recent legal changes
in the status of colonies throughout the world and especially in the
Congo. L'auvremathematique de Klein (pp. 393-396) : F. ENRIQUES
(Bologna). — A characterization of Klein's work in synthetic geome-
try, with reference to his preparing the way for Einstein. Reviews
of Scientific Books and Periodicals.

Baez, C. Eangel. Nuevas Orientaciones Cientificas. Caracas, Vene-
zuela : Tipografia Vargas. 1922. Pp.56.
Gentile, Giovanni. The Theory of Mind as Pure Act. Translated

from the third edition, with an introduction by H. Wildon Carr.

London : Macmillan & Co. 1922. Pp. xxvii -f 277.
Gilson, Etienne. La Philosophic au Moyen Age. Two volumes.

Paris: Payot & Cie. 1922. Pp. 160, 159.
Hall, Stanley. Senescence : The Last Half of Life. New York : D.

Appleton & Co. 1922. Pp. xxvii -f 518.

Lalo, Charles. Aristote. Paris: Paul Mellottee. Pp. 159. 2.50 fr.
Lalo, Charles. L 'Art et la Morale. Paris : Felix Alcan. 1922. Pp.

184. 7 fr.
Rogers, Arthur Kenyon. English and American Philosophy since

1800. New York : Macmillan Co. 1922. Pp. xiv + 468.

NOTES AND NEWS
AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL ASSOCIATION: WESTERN DIVISION

It will interest the members who could not be present at the
Lincoln Meeting, April 14th and 15th, to know that in addition to
holding the announced programme, ten names were added to the
roster of the Western Division, and the following actions were
taken: (1) that it is the wish of the Western Division that the first
Joint Meeting of the two divisions be held next December, in ac-
cordance with the expressed wish of the Eastern Division, and that,
if it be agreeable to the Eastern Division, it be held either in New
York City or vicinity; (2) that the December joint meeting of

336 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

1922 take the place of the Easter Meeting in 1923, subject to the ap-
proval of the officers-elect.

It will be remembered that a year ago, at the Chicago Meeting,
the Western Division proposed — and the Eastern Division at its last
December Meeting concurred in the proposal — that the first Joint
Meeting of the two divisions should be made the occasion of the de-
livery by John Dewey of the Paul Carus Lectures. At Lincoln the
question was raised whether there should be the usual programme
in addition to the Paul Carus Lectures, which might possibly occur
on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday of Christmas week. The gen-
eral opinion was that there should be such a programme, and it was
left to the two executive committees to decide whether it be a joint
programme, or two entirely independent programmes, or two pro-
grammes with alternating sessions so that all could attend both.
Further notice will be sent as soon as the plan is worked out.

Will the members of the Western Division permit the Secretary
to mention the importance of making this first Joint Meeting a com-
plete and, if possible, enthusiastic success? The idea suggested by
Mrs. Mary Hegeler Carus 's gift of a thousand dollars for the com-
ing series of Paul Cams Lectures, viz., the idea that it would be
desirable, if possible, to establish such an American Lectureship in
Philosophy on a permanent foundation, is in mind as we write ; an
enthusiastic appreciation of this idea, shown by a large attendance
and a cordial spirit at this first meeting, might help much toward
that very desirable end.

The executive committee elected for 1922-23 are: President,
E. L. Schaub; Vice-President, R. W. Sellars; Secretary-Treasurer,
G. A. Tawney; E. D. Starbuck, L. P. Brogan, A. W. Moore and
Rupert C. Lodge. It is hoped that reprints of the Lincoln address
of President E. S. Ames on "Religious Values" will be ready for
distribution soon. It will include a revised list of members.

Professor Dewey has not yet named the topic of his Paul Cams
Lectures, but he intimates that they will be a study of the various
critical approaches to Instrumentalism with a view to clarifying
the issues it raises. It is sure to be of immense interest.

G. A. TAWNEY.
UNIVERSITY or CINCINNATI.

Professor Pick, the well-known neurologist at Prague, is about
to retire from teaching and wants to sell his library. It contains
some 3,000 works on psychiatry, neurology and psychology in Eng-
lish, French and German, besides 7,000 reprints and theses. The
price is $4,000. Address Professor Arnold Pick, Jungmannstrasse,
26., Prague, Czechoslovakia.

VOL. XIX., No. 13 JUNE 22, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

THE NEW MATERIALISM

ONE of the most characteristic phenomena of the very disinte-
grated thought of our time is the recrudescence of material-
ism. From Biichner's or at any rate from Tyndal's day to the end
of the nineteenth century materialism had suffered a fairly steady
loss in the confidence of the thinking world, so that twenty years
ago it seemed almost a dead issue in philosophy. Ernst Haeckel
was indeed still faithful to the lost cause; but even he, before his
death, gave it up in all its more extreme forms and went over to the
' ' double aspect theory. ' ' 1 But the sick man of philosophy, as
materialism might have been called a few years ago, has quite
recently taken on a new lease of life and has found a new circle of
able defenders.

The reason for the steady loss of credence which materialism
suffered toward the close of the last century was, as I think will be
generally acknowledged, not lack of interest in it nor any peculiar-
ity of the psychological atmosphere of the times nor a change in in-
tellectual taste, but just certain very definite logical considerations.
The materialistic doctrine had never been perfectly clear of itself
but wobbled between two forms, both of which had their very great
logical difficulties. One form of materialism identified conscious-
ness with matter or with brain energy, especially with motion; the
other asserted that consciousness, while not identical with the brain
or its activities, was always the result of these activities and never
itself a determinant either of action or even of the later stages of
its own series. Now as the nineteenth century grew older, the dif-
ficulties involved in both these doctrines became clearer until they
seemed at last quite fatal. The fir^t formulation of materialism in-
deed left consciousness efficient, but did so only by an identification
which was clearly seen to be nonsense if such a thing as nonsense
can be. We know what we mean by pains and pleasures, by
thoughts and purposes and desires; we know also, in a general way
at least, what we mean by brain cells and their real and possible
motions; and if we do not and can not know that these are differ-
ent it is hopeless that we should ever know anything. The diffi-
culties involved in the second formulation of materialism are peiv

i Cf. his Gott-Natur, Leipzig, 1914.

337

338 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

haps not so obvious, but to nearly all thinkers of twenty years
ago they seemed none the less fatal. These difficulties cropped
out in many forms, but all the more important ones were varia-
tions of the denial of efficiency to consciousness. For example, how
shall the materialist explain the development of consciousness, hav-
ing denied to it any influence upon the activities of the organism?
James's formulation of this question in his famous chapter on the
Automaton Theory has never been satisfactorily answered and
seemed in itself very nearly decisive. Equally ominous for ma-
terialism was the bearing of the asserted inefficiency of conscious-
ness on human reasoning processes. For materialism maintains
(as obviously it must) that each thought is determined wholly by
the preceding or accompanying brain states and not at all by the
preceding thoughts. This being the case, what we commonly refer
to as reasoned conclusions turn out not to be reasoned at all but
simply caused by the entirely non-logical mechanical laws of brain
activity. There can not, therefore, be any such thing as logical
necessity in any of our reasoning processes. The perception of
logical relations has nothing to do with them, nor has even the
recognition of rational probability; they are determined solely by
mechanical necessity. The materialist is plainly bound to maintain
this. He is still bound to maintain it when asked how he knows
his theory is true. To this question he can not reply that material-
ism is the logically necessary nor even the reasonably probable de-
duction from the facts, for the perception of logical connections
has nothing to do with guiding man's conscious processes. All he
can say is that the mechanical processes of his brain make him
think as he does, but that as for proving the truth of his or of any
other theory, that is a thing impossible for man.

Many other considerations of this sort might be pressed with
cumulative effect, as was realized by our predecessors ; and to them
they appeared decisive. In short the assertion to which material-
ism is necessarily committed that all the purposeful and intelligent
activities of the individual, the construction of civilization, of hu-
man literature, philosophy and science, the entire evolution of con-
scious beings, have been utterly unaffected by consciousness and are
merely the result of the laws of matter — this assertion, once it was
fully grasped, seemed too preposterous for serious consideration.
Other theories of mind and body might have their difficulties; but
greater difficulties than these were hardly conceivable.

One further reason for the nineteenth century's definite rejec-
tion of materialism was to be found in the fact that the great motive
which had led to the popularizing of this doctrine, — namely the de-

THE NEW MATERIALISM 339

sire to give naturalism full sway through all the world of matter
and energy — was fully shared by parallelism; that parallelism, in
fact, was even more favorable to naturalism than was materialism
(in its second formulation), inasmuch as it retained the theory of
the conservation of energy quite intact. For these reasons the
great majority of the adherents of naturalism went over from ma-
terialism to parallelism. Toward the close of the century both
materialism and interaction seemed to be definitively abandoned,
and parallelism remained almost without rival in possession of the
field.

If the rise of parallelism in the last half of the nineteenth cen-
tury was in part the cause of the decline of materialism, the pres-
ent recrudescence of materialism is due in no small degree to the
notable decline in the popularity of parallelism. The fickleness of
Fortune has seldom been more tragically illustrated than in the
slump suffered by parallelism in the last few years. The causes of
this slump are to be found in the fact that once fully understood
parallelism is seen to have logical difficulties of its own so serious as
to be fatal ; but our interest in parallelism for the present is confined
to the effect which its decline has had in initiating a revival of ma-
terialism. For the naturalistic philosophers who could not feel
comfortable in the parallelist camp are now trooping back to their
old haunts and reviving their ancient loyalty. Most of them, to be
sure, are not as yet under the old flag nor do they use the old de-
signation; the majority call themselves behaviorists or neo-realists
or pragmatists — or idealists. There are a few, however, who are
frank enough to hoist the old ensign and attempt a serious resus-
citation of materialism as such. Among the leaders of this move-
ment I shall mention only Professors Warren, Montague, and Sel-
lars. Professor Strong should certainly be added to this list —
provided one could be sure that he is really a materialist and not
still in some sense a parallelist. If he belongs in the former cate-
gory his materialism rests upon an identification of psychic states
with material particles. This, so far as it goes, would of course be
open to the same objections as the first form of the old materialism.
Professor Strong seems at times to accept this identification and
to seek to make it more thinkable by distinguishing between the
psychical and the conscious. In addition to this distinction one
must keep in mind Professor Strong's fundamental doctrine that
introspection is always indirect and of the past. If one puts these
considerations together it follows that we are never directly con-
scious of our psychic states and hence that they may, for aught we
know, be identical with the brain. Yet I can not see that this

340 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

really avoids the old difficulty; for if psychic states are really
psychic it is hard to put any meaning into the assertion that they
are brain ; and if they are not really psychic the cognizing of them
must be, and the old difficulty will break out in a new place. Fur-
thermore, it is exceedingly difficult for me, at least, to see how
panpsychism (to which Professor Strong still clings) is to be made
consistent with his critical realism, or to understand how a psychic
state can be extended and possess really (not as mere appearance)
the various primary qualities. If it is by considerations such as
these that the ills of materialism are to be cured I fear the cure
will prove worse than the disease. However, I am not at all sure
that Professor Strong means this for materialism, for, as I have
said, he still clings (with modifications) to the panpsychic doctrine
of his former days; and the "brain" which we contemplate retro-
spectively when we introspect our (past) psychic states does not
seem to be the same "brain" which an outsider might examine with
eye and hand. I should not therefore feel justified in including him
among the new materialists, although many passages in The Origin
of Consciousness seem to indicate that he is one.

Nor is it strictly correct to classify Professor Warren as a ma-
terialist, for he still clings to the double-aspect theory of parallel-
ism. Yet much of his writing on the mind-body problem2 is in de-
fense of the thesis that all man's activities are explicable on me-
chanical or (very likely) physico-chemical principles; so that in
effect if not in name he is a defender of the new materialism. The
form which this defensive argument assumes, however, is a little dif-
ficult to make out. It seems, taken in the large, to consist of two
closely related parts. In the first place it maintains that even the
most complex forms of thoughtful activity are built on the same
general plan as ordinary ideo-motor action, and that, inasmuch as
the latter can be fully explained mechanically, the highest forms
of intelligent conduct need no further explanation. The other form
of Professor Warren's argument consists in pointing us to a brain
correlate for every type of conscious process, including even the
most complicated and "intelligent."

As to the first of these arguments, it must be plain to all that
the similarity between ideo-motor and "intelligently guided" ac-
tion is accepted and demonstrable only so far as it is irrelevant to
the present issue; and that when the similarity is depicted in such

»"The Mental and the Physical," Psy. Sev., March, 1914; "A Study of
Purpose," thia JOURNAL, Jan. and Feb., 1916; "The Mechanics of Intelli-
gence, ' ' Phil. Review, Nov., 1917 ; « ' Mechanism vertu* Vitalism, ' ' Phil. Review,
Nov., 1918.

THE NEW MATERIALISM 341

terms as to make it relevant to the issue and decisive, the presenta-
tion of it as an actual fact begs the question. That there is a simi-
larity of a very general sort between all forms of bodily activity,
that they all have stimulus, central process, and response, will be de-
nied by no one ; but to assert in addition to this that increased neural
complexity is the only other factor involved in deliberately guided
voluntary action beside what one finds in automatic reaction is to
start with the conclusion which was to be proved. Professor War-
ren seeks to make the transition from automatic to intelligent ac-
tivity easier by using voluntary action in a purely perceptual situa-
tion as a middle term. In action of this sort the stimulus is an im-
mediately perceived object to which we react, as we do in thought-
less ideo-motor action. On the other hand even highly complex and
thoughtful activity such as chess-playing, which involves both in-
vention and intelligent adjustment to new situations, is analogous
to perceptual reaction. "An intelligent reaction based upon thought
is essentially the same as the reaction to a perceived situation. The
mental reconstruction is no different in character from the recon-
struction of experience which is involved in a changing perceptual
experience. . . . When one reacts to a perceptual stimulus one's
motor activity is due to the fact that a certain physical collocation
of particles exists and affects him; which means that his receptor
apparatus is fitted to receive the impression of this collocation and
that appropriate nervous pathways are established for reaction to
such impressions. The same is true where the stimulus is a thought-
complex; here one is reacting to certain definite represented physi-
cal collocations. Thought is merely an enlargement of the per-
ceptual field. Intelligence means 'fit' reaction to environmental
situations, whether perceived or pictured."3

Now while both complex intelligent activity such as chess-play-
ing, and also ideo-motor action have doubtless certain things in
common with intelligent reaction to a perceived situation, it is plain
also that in certain things they differ from it. The opponent of
materialism, who believes in the efficacy of consciousness, maintains
that one of these differences lies exactly in this: that conscious
thought aids to some extent in guiding intelligent perceptual be-
havior, and that conscious thought and conscious representations of
merely possible situations which are never physically realized aid
still more in guiding the higher forms of activity such as chess.
Nor has Professor Warren said a single thing to disprove this view.
As I read it, at any rate, his attempted reduction of intelligent ac-
tivity to the type of ideo-motor action either reduces to a harmless

s "The Mechanics of Intelligence," p. 612.

342 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

pointing out of irrelevant similarities, or else reads into the com-
parison identities which he has done nothing to prove, and which
can not be admitted in advance without begging the question.

Professor Warren, however, seems to make his position more
persuasive by the aid of his second argument. He of course does
not deny that certain "higher" and more complex intellectual proc-
esses are involved in such things as chess-playing than in mere
ideo-motor action. But in all these the really efficient factor is the
brain aspect of the psychical process. It is the "neural processes
known introspectively as 'thoughts' of future situations"4 which
really govern the movement of the chess pieces. Similarly "satis-
faction appears to be the subjective aspect of a neural condition
stimulated by systematic processes which are autonomically in-
duced."5 "Conscious endeavor to deliberate is a [neural] set in
some direction." "Purpose" must not be taken to mean a con-
scious desire for a consciously conceived achievement but must be
interpreted in behavioristic, and ultimately in physiological terms.8
When all conscious processes have been thus translated into neural
terms, the explanation of the most complex human conduct in purely
physico-chemical principles becomes relatively easy. "The com-
plexity of the thought process means that a large number of neural
connections within the brain are formed prior to each play. Intel-
ligence means, in neural terms, that the less satisfying plays find
no motor outgo — that only one out of many incipient reactions is
completed. ' ' 7

It would be unjust, I think, to accuse Professor Warren of beg-
ging the question in this argument. One might indeed justifiably
do so if the argument be interpreted as an attempt to prove ma-
terialism. Plainly it proves materialism only on condition that we
admit the neural interpretation of intelligence to be the sole proper
interpretation ; only if we start with the conclusion that intelligence
as such has nothing to do with action. But as I understand Profes-
sor Warren, he does not mean to have his argument taken in so
ambitious a sense. He wishes merely to show us what the material-
istic hypothesis is, to show that it is possible to express human con-
duct in physico-chemical terms and that materialism is a perfectly
statable view, even in face of such seemingly intelligent action as
chess-playing.

If this is Professor Warren's point I think he has made it.

« "The Mechanics of Intelligence," p. 613.

o Ibid., p. 618.

«"A Study of Purpose," patsim; also "Mechanics vt. Vitalism," p. 611.

T "The Mechanics of Intelligence," p. 613.

THE NEW MATERIALISM 343

Materialism is a perfectly statable hypothesis. The question still
remains, Is it true? Is it or is the opposing hypothesis true? For
as Professor Warren recognizes, the anti-materialistic view of in-
telligent activity is also perfectly statable. We have, in short, on
our hanols the two opposing hypotheses that we have always had,
and the difficulties of each are exactly what they always were. The
trouble with Professor Warren's type of materialism has always
been that it denies the efficiency of consciousness and thereby gets
itself into all the tangle of difficulties faintly suggested in the be-
ginning of this paper. Nor can I see that Professor Warren has
done anything to avoid or to diminish those difficulties. In fact he
seems at times not even to realize what they are. At the close of
his paper on "The Mechanics of Intelligence" he deals briefly with
' ' the role of consciousness, ' ' and all he has to say as to the dangers
which materialism runs in denying to consciousness all real effi-
ciency is the following : ' ' However much my actions may be deter-
mined mechanistically or unconsciously or subconsciously, it is my
conscious experiences — by perceptions, feelings, imaginings and
thoughts — that mean life to me. The proved value of consciousness
is the subjective life which it furnishes to the mind."8

It is of course plain that this response does not even come in
sight of the real difficulties involved in the denial of the efficiency
of consciousness — difficulties which resulted in the almost universal
rejection of materialism twenty years ago. My conclusion, there-
fore, is that, so far as Professor Warren 's arguments are concerned,
the new materialism is in no better case than the old, and that, like
its predecessor, it demands of us an amount of credulity utterly un-
justifiable by any considerations it has to offer.

No one, I imagine, sees more plainly the difficulties we have just
been considering than Professor Montague. To him, as to most
anti-materialists, the efficiency of consciousness is so obvious that
it is futile to deny it. In fact his position has so much in common
with interaction that I should hesitate in calling it materialistic if
he did not name it so himself. But, in spite of his interactionist
tendencies, it is plain that he chose the right name. In his attempt,
then, to resuscitate materialism he takes quite a different tack from
that of Professor Warren. He goes back namely to something like
what I have called the first form of the older materialism which
identified consciousness with brain energy. His improvement upon
the older view consists in giving up the obviously absurd assertion
that consciousness is the motion of brain molecules and suggesting
instead that it may be some form of potential energy stored up in

a p. 620.

344 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

the brain, and presumably at the synapses. It was in this form that
Professor Montague first expressed his hypothesis in his paper,
"Are Mental Processes in Space T"' and in his contribution10 to
the Essays Philosophical and Psychological in Honor of William
James, both published in 1908. The thought was carried farther,
with certain cpistemological modifications, in his essay on "Truth
and Error" in the New Realism (1912), in which he identified con-
sciousness with causality. More recently in his paper on "Variation,
Heredity, and Consciousness"11 he has proposed a new analysis of
potential energy which in his opinion makes the identification of it
with consciousness the more acceptable. According to this most
recent suggestion, just as kinetic energy is motion, potential energy
is rest. A mass may move, and it also may stick to the same spot.
It may move fast and it may also stick fast. And as there are
many degrees of the fastness with which a thing may move, so there
may be many degrees of the fastness with which it may stick. For
this new concept of relative immovability, or negative energy, Pro-
fessor Montague proposes the new name anergy. His thesis now
takes the form of asserting that the anergy present at the synapses
of the brain is to be identified with consciousness. "When a vibra-
tion-wave proceeding over a sensory nerve is gradually brought to
a stop by the resistance of the synapse, its energy is transformed
from a visible kinetic form to an invisible and potential form. As
its velocity passes through the zero-phase, its slowness passes through
an infinity-phase. I ask you to entertain the suggestion that this
infinity -phase of slowness is the common stuff of all sensations and
that the critical points of zero and infinity through which the mo-
tion and slowness respectively pass afford the basis for that qualita-
tive absoluteness and discontinuity that differentiate sensations
from mere rates of change." 12

Professor Montague has been at great pains to build up a new
conception of potential energy and "anergy," and it is, I fear, a
little unkind and unfriendly to assert that in all this he has done
nothing to make the identification of consciousness with brain en-
ergy any. easier. Nevertheless, that is the conclusion to which I am
driven. It may perhaps be true that some of the difficulties which
the imagination feels in identifying consciousness with moving
molecules is avoided if instead we tuck it away quietly in the sy-
napses where it may be out of sight, and make it less obtrusive to

•Moni*. XVIII, pp. 21-29.

10 ' ' Consciousness as a Form of Energy. ' '

>i Procecdinfft of the Arittotelian Society for 1990, pp. 13-50.

12 Op. cit., p. 42.

THE NEW MATERIALISM 345

the mind 's eye by keeping it very quiet at many degrees of motion-
lessness. But in the last analysis it is really as impossible to put
meaning into the assertion that consciousness is rest as into the as-
sertion that it is motion. Once and for all, by our psychic states
we mean one thing, and by the physical states of our brains we
mean another; and it makes no difference whether these latter be
interpreted as motion or as rest, as quantitative or qualitative, as
kinetic or potential, as energy or anergy. I hasten to point out
that Professor Montague foresaw just this criticism and has left
no stone unturned to find an answer to it. In the first place he
points out that his view of matter and of mind are very different
from that of Descartes; that matter should be conceived as posses-
sing the secondary as well as the primary qualities ; and that ' ' each
man feels his consciousness to pervade not only his body but the
outer space in which objects appear. " 13 If the limits of this article
permitted it would be possible to show that both of these assertions
would be very hard to prove, and a. theory which rested upon them
would be in much the same predicament as that of a house built
upon the sand. As to the latter assertion especially, one wonders
whether in Professor Montague's opinion the potential energy in
the synapses of my cortex, which is identical with my consciousness,
also "pervades the outer space in which objects appear." It is not
necessary for our present purposes, however, to go into these
matters; for even if we present Professor Montague with all the
secondary qualities he wishes for his material world and endow his
consciousness (and also his cortex) with the magical power of per-
vading all spa,ce, the identification of thought with brain energy
would still be as absurd as ever. All the secondary qualities and
all the pervasion of space imaginable will not help us in the least
to see how his thought of Julius Caesar can be a certain amount of
anergy in his frontal or occipital lobes. Professor Montague argues
that if we accept his non-Cartesian view of space and conscious-
ness, "then the change of the kinetic energy of the stimulus into
the potential energy of the sensation will not be a mysterious change
of sheer quantity into quality. ' ' 14 This may be admitted, and the
more willingly since it completely misses the point of the objection
and still fails to put any meaning into the identification of con-
sciousness with a "qualitative form of stress" in the brain synap-
ses. Nor does it help matters to identify consciousness, as Profes-
sor Montague proposes to do, with the "higher phases of intensive
energy. ' ' 15 Finally the series of analogies which are pointed out

is ' ' Consciousness as a Form of Energy, ' ' p. 120.

!•» Op. cit., p. 131.

is Op. cit., pp. 131-132; "Are Mental Processes in Space!" pp. 27-28.

310 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

in several of Professor Montague's articles between potential energy
and consciousness, while mildly interesting, are quite as unpersua-
sive and unimpressive as arguments from analogy usually prove.
And even were they immensely more striking than they are they
would do nothing toward overcoming the essential impossibility in-
volved in the materialistic position. The hopelessness of the under-
taking is seen even by materialists themselves — that is, by those who
adhere to what I have called the second form of materialism. In
Professor Warren's words, "If Professor Montague believes that po-
tential energy is another name for consciousness — that the two are
identical — his assumption seems like identifying visual surface with
the mass which we lift."16

The identification of consciousness with energy and the denial
of the efficiency of consciousness are the two horns of a dilemma
which has in the past regularly proved fatal for materialism.
Either one may be avoided but not both. The two defenders of the
new materialism whom we have thus far considered chose different
horns to be avoided. Each carefully evaded one of the horns, each
deliberately took his chance with the other, and each, as I have
tried to show, came to grief. The third and last advocate of the
old faith whose position we shall examine is more wary than his col-
leagues. He knows the dangerous nature of both horns of the di-
lemma and means to be transfixed by neither. In two articles and
in chapters of three books17 Professor Sellers has sought to expound
a view which (though indeed he does not himself explicitly call it
materialism) is, in its defense of naturalism, essentially material-
istic; and yet at the same time he insists that consciousness is
neither to be identified with matter or brain energy,18 nor to
be robbed of its efficiency. "Consciousness is not extended after
the manner of a physical thing for the very simple reason that it
is not a physical thing. " 19 " It is nonsense to say that the motion
of atoms is consciousness."20 The function of consciousness "is
to aid in the bringing together of the parts [of a neural system]
into a new integration by the cues it affords. Literally it assists
the brain to solve problems."21 "In deliberation we have a Con-
is "The Mental and the Physical," Pay. Eevvew, XXI, p. 83.

" Critical Realism, 1916 (Chapter IX) ; The Essential of Philosophy, 1917
(Chapter XXII); "An Approach to the Mind Body Problem," Phil. Bev. for
March, 1918; "Evolutionary Naturalism and the Mind Body Problem," Mo-
nitt for October, 1920; Evolutionary Naturalism, 1922 (Chapter XIV).

i» Critica Realism, p. 223-24.

" Ibid., p. 244.

20 Essentials, p. 260.

«" Approach to the Mind Body Problem," p. 158. See also pp. 157 and
159.

THE NEW MATERIALISM 347

scions process of survey, selection and combination. Ideas are led
to their consequences and judged by them. And our decision cer-
tainly takes the form of a plan which guides our behavior and with-
out which our actions would be quite different. ' ' 22

Professor Sellars believes that his doctrine is able to avoid the
two great difficulties of the older materialism (which we have been
discussing in this paper) and yet to maintain a strict naturalism;
and that it can do this by means of two advances which thought
has made in our century. One of these is a more adequate episte-
mology than was possessed by former defendants of materialism,
the other a new view of the nature of matter and its varied ' ' levels. ' '

Critical realism, in contrast both to naive realism, to neo-real-
ism, and to idealism, identifies consciousness with the whole field of
the individual's experience and at the same time insists upon the
reality and the knowability of the physical. Consciousness is that
which can be immediately experienced — or rather it is immediate
experience; whereas the physical world is never directly intuited
(as naive realism believes) and yet (contrary to the assertion of
idealism) it can be indirectly known.23 This physical world, more-
over, modern science seems to show, is not organized on simply one
plan, nor subject to merely one set of laws. "If evolution is more
than appearance, it surely implies a change in the mode of activity
of parts of nature. " 24 " It is no longer possible for a fair critic to
identify naturalism with the mechanical view of the world."25

The new and true naturalism is, therefore, evolutionary natural-
ism. It must be remembered, however, that it is the material world
that is evolving, and that the new laws of action on its higher levels
are still the laws of the material world, nor can it be admitted by the
defender of evolutionary naturalism that on any of these levels any-
thing independent of the physical interferes with the regular physi-
cal activities. Anything like interaction between consciousness
and the brain is strongly repudiated. The physical world is a
closed system.20 The laws of action of the lower material levels,
moreover, are not abrogated. The new categories which apply to
the new levels are continuous with the old ones and must not con-

22 Evolutionary Naturalism, p. 312. See also pp. 311 and 313. Cf. also
Critical Realism, 238, 249-50; "Evolutionary Naturalism" in the Monist, p. 590..

23 Critical Eealism, pp. 215-17, 247; "Approach," pp. 155-56. Ex. Natural-
ism, pp. 294-95, 303-05, 307, 310.

24 Crit. Realism, 235.

25 Ev. Nat., p. 19. See also pp. 292, 297, 302, all of Chapter I; in fa«t the
whole volume is devoted to this contention. See also "Approach," p. 159.
26 Ev. Nat., p. 314.

348 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

flict with them.21 The old laws must be obeyed, the new ones being
apparently additive merely.

The question must of course immediately present itself to every
reader: Can this kind of modified naturalism be really compatible
with the efficiency of consciousness? Professor Sellars thinks that
it can be, if the true relation of consciousness to the brain be under-
stood. "My thesis is that the living organism, when properly and
adequately conceived, includes consciousness."28 "When the cor-
tex functions, consciousness forms part of the nature of the
brain. ' ' *• The brain has at least two ' ' variants, ' ' one of them
neural activity, the other conscious content. Consciousness is thus
a "variant" of the brain.80 "Psychical entities are not substances,
but rather peculiar characteristics of neural wholes and insepar-
able from them. " S1 " Consciousness is the brain become con-
scious. "82

This identification of consciousness with the brain does not,
in Professor Sellars 's opinion, involve the logical inconsistencies of
the older materialism; for "we do not mean that the same categor-
ies are applicable to the physical as known by the physical sciences
and to consciousness." "As classes thought about by scientists,
the physical and the psychical have contradictory attributes. This
must not be confused with the question whether the physical as an
existent can absorb consciousness."38 In other words, Professor
Sellars does not identify consciousness as such with brain substance
or brain activity as such; but both consciousness and brain activity
are variants of one organism. He simply means that "conscious-
ness is not alien to the physical. ' ' 34 The brain thinks.

We may be able to go all this way with Professor Sellars and
still be unable to see any real answer to the question how natural-
ism is to be made compatible with the efficiency of consciousness.
Consciousness and the neural activity which controls our muscles
and our conduct may well be two "variants" of the organism; but
if this be proposed as an answer to our question, the old difficulty

2T" Approach," p. 154.

""Approach," p. 152.

2» Critical Bealism, p. 247. See also pp. 228-29, 231; Ev. Nat,, pp. 298,
308; Essential*, pp. 264-65.

so « « When we call it a variant of the brain we imply that it is inseparable
from the brain and penetrates it with right as a part of the reality of the
brain." Crit. Bealism, p. 244.

«i Ev. Nat., pp. 316 and 317.

**Crit. Bealism, p. 245.

»8 Ibid., pp. 228, 229.

»« Ibid., Chapter IX.

THE NEW MATERIALISM 349

breaks out again in the further question, What is the relation of
these two ''variants" to each other? The answer proposed by
parallelism, that they are two parallel aspects of one reality and
that they run along with no mutual influence, Professor Sellars ex-
plicitly and repeatedly rejects;85 and he is, naturally, even more
determined in his opposition to interaction.30 To be sure, "con-
sciousness literally assists the brain to meet new situations, ' ' 3T yet
consciousness and the brain never interact. Interaction would im-
ply, as Professor Sellars points out, some degree of independence
on the part of consciousness, at least while it lasts; and such inde-
pendence and interaction would be incompatible with naturalism.
It is, indeed, hard to see how the denial of interaction can be com-
patible with the view that consciousness "literally assists the
brain" and "guides behavior" so that without it "our actions
would be quite different." One way out of the difficulty — and I
confess the only one I can think of — is the way taken by Professor
Montague, namely that of restoring efficacy to consciousness by
making it a form of neural energy. Something like this view in-
deed Professor Sellars seems often to take. "Consciousness is ex-
istentially present to that part of the cortex which is functioning,
and the brain 's space is its space. ' ' 38 That is, it is in the brain,
as light is in the diamond or electricity in the wire. "There is no
valid reason to deny that consciousness is an extended manifold.
It arises in and is effective in the physical world. Its unity is that
of the integrative activity of the brain which it helps to direct.
Hence it is as extended as the brain is."39 That Professor Sellars
at times seeks to solve the difficulty of the efficiency of conscious-
ness through the identification of consciousness with the activity
of the brain — an identification which at other times he emphatically
denies — is made more evident through his explicit identification of
the mind with the organization of the brain40 and his occasional im-
plicit identification of conscious processes with mental processes.
Intelligent behavior is to be accounted for by nervous processes41
since mind is a physical category. "Our view takes the sensori-
motor process as a unit and holds that cortical integration of which
consciousness is an element is always genetically continuous with a

Realism, p. 246; Essentials, pp. 257-58; "Approach," p. 157;
Ev. Nat., pp. 289-<95.

36 Essentials, pp. 254-57; Monist, pp. 569-75; Ev. Nat., 287-94.
^ Ev. Nat., p. 313.

38 Crit. Realism, p. 244.

39 Ibid., p. 247. Cf. also pp. 245-49.

« Ibid., pp. 252-53. Ev. Nat., pp. 300-302, 315-16.
4i Ev. Nat., p. 300.

350 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

motor pattern of the brain. In other words, cortical integrations
arise in one system with motor tracts."42 "Psychical entities are
peculiar characteristics of neural wholes and inseparable from them.
... As soon as they are conceived as more than contents, as more
than they themselves reveal, as f?oon as they are given by them-
selves power to do things, they become to the deceived thinker non-
physical and alien to physical reality."48 "The brain as mind is
a more or less integrated system of propensities and interests which
respond to the situation in which the individual is placed. And
such interests must not be thought of as physiological in any sense
that excludes discriminative appreciation. They are neurological
systems whose urgencies are inclusive of mental contents. Con-
sciousness must be connected psychophysically with neural processes
of some reach. Attention itself can be understood only as a for-
ward movement or passage in which the cerebral activity makes its
path. What we must seek to do is to deepen our conception of the
brain as at once activity and content. It is sensori-motor, ideo-
motor; it is a stream of tendencies lit up by consciousness. The
brain is synthetic because it is active. It is a more or less unitary
process controlled by the neuronic system which is functionally
uppermost."44

I can not say I am perfectly sure what these last quotations
mean. But this at least is plain to me : that if they offer a method
by which the universality of naturalism can be made compatible
with the efficiency of consciousness, this method consists exactly in
identifying the psychical with the physical. If this identification
is not intended by Professor Sellers I can not understand either
how he proposes to save the efficiency of consciousness or what it is
he means by interpreting propensities, interests, discriminative ap-
preciation and attention as neurological systems or forward move-
ments of cerebral activity.

In other words, I can not see that Professor Sellers has done
anything to help materialism out of its old dilemma of being forced
either to identify consciousness with the brain or to deny its ef-
ficacy. Neither of the advances he has made over his predecessors
of a former generation have really made the difficulty any less real.
Critical realism is of course compatible with materialism ; but it is
equally compatible with interaction. Nor does the existence of
"higher levels" of matter in the organic world give any real assist-
ance. For even on these higher levels, we are told, nothing can

« Ibid., p. 314.

**Ev. Nat., p. 317.
«« Ibid., pp. 315-16.

REALISM WITHOUT MONISM OR DUALISM 351

conflict with the mechanical laws; and the new and higher laws of
these levels are also of course still physical. Neither the old laws
nor the new therefore can be interfered with or modified by con-
sciousness (unless consciousness itself be physical) without wreck-
ing naturalism and the whole materialistic scheme quite as dis-
asterously as interaction ever threatened to do. Professor Sellars
does not seem to realize that the ultimate difficulty of materialism
lies not in the kind of physical laws which it sets in absolute con-
trol of mind and of human behavior, but in setting any physical
laws in absolute control.

Other writers than those considered in this article might of
course be added to the list of neo-materialists. But the three we
have examined are typical in the sense that between them they seem
to exhaust the possibilities. Professor Warren avoids the absurdity
of identifying consciousness with brain but does so only by making
consciousness inefficient and thereby committing himself to conse-
quences that seem equally difficult of acceptance. Professor Monta-
gue clings to the efficiency of consciousness but only at the cost of
calling consciousness a form of neural energy. Professor Sellars is
unwilling to commit himself to either of these difficulties ; and ends
by falling a victim to both. My conclusion can only be that the
new materialism has failed to bring forth a single consideration
that makes the materialistic hypothesis really easier of acceptance
than it was at the time when nearly every thinker gave it up,
twenty years ago.

JAMES BISSETT PRATT.

WILLIAMS COLLEGE.

REALISM WITHOUT MONISM OR DUALISM— II

A PREVIOUS paper discussed the nature of knowledge involving
JL\. past events. The paper tried to show that the object of knowl-
edge in such cases is a temporal sequence or continuum including
past-present-future. While this analysis may be taken on its own
merits or demerits, it was also indicated that its acceptance renders
unnecessary the epistemological machinery of psychical states pos-
sessed of so-called transcendent capacity. Mr. Lovejoy's discussion
in the Essays in Critical Realism considers, in addition, the case
of anticipatory thought, judgments involving expectation, forecasts,
prediction. He tries to show that in their case, at least, a mental
state must be admitted, a representation which is psychical in its
existence. He also questions the point in my own discussion (con-
tained in the Influence of Darwin, etc., in the essay on "The Experi-

352 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

mental Theory of Knowledge") which claims that such anticipatory
reference is involved in all knowledge.

In principle, the problem of anticipatory knowledge introduces
nothing not contained in the prior discussion where reference to the
future was shown to be involved in knowledge involving the past.
But a discussion of the problem, shifts somewhat the points of em-
phasis and it affords an opportunity to make explicit some of the
implications of the prior discussion, with reference especially to
the place of verification and of representation and ideas in a
naturalistic realism which involves neither monistic nor dualistic
realism. "We may first consider the nature of representation.

In any judgment concerning the future or the past, there is
something to which the name representation is appropriate. A pres-
ent stone stands for an animal living in the past, ashes, for a fire
that has died down, an odor for a flower still to be smelled, a sudden
oscillation of a needle for an event still to be discovered, and so on.

Now the piece of rock, the ashes, the odor, the oscillating needle
are first of all things present in experience on their own account,
or noncognitively ; then they may become implicated in a reflective
inquiry. We may ask what they stand for or indicate, what they give
witness to or are evidence of, or what they portend. In this situa-
tion and also when it is asserted that they mean or support a certain
conclusion, they acquire a representative capacity which they did
not inherently possess. The piece of rock is still a piece of rock but
it is taken, either hypothetically or categorically according to the
stage of reflection reached, as sign or evidence of something else, a
fossil. It exercises a representative function, although it is not in its
own existence a representation. Just so a poem may be not just en-
joyed, but used as evidence of being written by a particular author
or as an indication of a certain crisis in the life of its author; an
esthetic object in its first intention is not of this sort, but it becomes
such when and if it enters as a datum into a judgment about some-
thing else. Just so a board may become a sign, a column of mercury
an index of temperature, a spire of smoke a clew to fire, a stain the
evidence of some chemical reaction. There is a well-known rhetorical
device by which a function is transferred to a thing, and we call the
thing by the name of its function. Just so we call sounds or marks
on paper, words; or a stone, a fossil ; just so we may call things hav-
ing the representation function, representations. In the first case
we are not likely to forget that the term used implies a connection,
not a self-possessed quality. In the second case, we too easily forget
this fact and get into trouble.

REALISM WITHOUT MONISM OR DUALISM 353

/

This is stated somewhat dogmatically because an argument is not
at issue, but rather a recapitulation of a criticized position which it
is necessary to bear in mind if the force of the criticism is to be
estimated. It brings us to the question of "mediatism" and "im-
mediatism" in knowledge.1

Mr. Lovejoy says that two opposing views of the knowledge situ-
ation may "be named 'immediatism' and 'mediatism.' According
to the former, whatever kind of entity be the object of knowledge,
that object must be actually given, must be itself the directly experi-
enced datum. According to the latter view, it is of the essence of
the cognitive process that it is mediate, the object being never reached
directly, and, so to say, where it lives, but always through some
essence or entity distinguished from it, though related to it in a
special way. " 2 To this statement he adds the acute remark that
both idealists and monistic realists are immediatists. He conducts
his discussion on the assumption that I am an immediatist in the sense
denned and as excluding all mediatism. Then he has no difficulties
in finding inconsistencies in my treatment. I should go further and
say that upon this assumption everything I have written about
knowledge is one huge inconsistency.

For, as the remarks about representation indicate, wherever in-
ference or reflection comes in (and I should not call anything knowl-
edge in a logical or intellectual sense unless it does come in), there
is, clearly, mediation of an object by some other entity which points
to or signifies or represents or gives witness to or evidence of. Never-
theless, thought or inference becomes knowledge in the complete
sense of the word only when the indication or signifying is borne
out, verified in something directly present, or immediately experi-
enced— not immediately known. The object has to be "reached"
eventually in order to get verification or invalidation, and when so
reached, it is immediately present. Its cognitive status, however, is
mediated; that is, the object known fulfils some specific function
of representation or indication on the part of some other entity.
Short of verificatory objects directly present, we have not knowl-
edge, but inference whose content is hypothetical. The subject-
matter of inference is a candidate or claim to knowledge requiring
to have its value tested. The test is found in what is finally im-
mediately present, which has a meaning because of prior mediation
•which it would not otherwise have.

There is, I think, nothing fundamentally new in this view, al-
though it goes contrary to the more usual belief that knowledge is

1 The immediacy of experience concerns one of the reserved questions.

2 P. 48 of Essays in Critical Bealism.

354 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

some kind of direct apprehension or perception of some thing or
event. There is a certain sense in which Mr. Lovejoy is much more
of an immediatist than I am. I mean that for him the psychical
representation is but an organ or extraneous means of grasping or
pointing to some entity immediately complete in itself as an object
of knowledge — as was pointed out in the prior article dealing with
' ' knowledge of the past. ' ' While from my point of view the relation,
connection or mediation of one thing by another is an essential fea-
ture of the subject-matter of knowledge. The conception is not,
as was said, intrinsically novel. It is not inherently pragmatic.
It results from carrying over into the logical theory of knowledge,
the methods universally adopted at present by natural science, or
inquiry into natural events. It is as appropriate to this kind of
science as the assumption that the objects of knowledge are forms
or essences which must be directly inspected, was to the Aristotelian
science. The "pragmatic" feature comes in when it is noted that
experiment or action enters to make the connection between the
thing signifying and the thing signified so that inference may pass
from hypothesis to knowledge. It is then seen that some "conse-
quences, ' ' namely those of the experiment, are an integral part of the
completing or fulfilling or leading out of the "representation" into
final objects.8 Thus we again arrive at a union of immediate and
mediate in knowledge, instead of their sharp distinction.

These considerations appear pertinent to a discussion of the
nature of intellectual anticipations, predictions, etc. In my essay
on the "Experimental Theory of Knowledge," I pointed out that
there is an internal complication in such cases ; on the one hand, there
is something indubitably present, say, smoke; on the other hand,
this is taken to mean something absent, say, fire. Yet it is not a
case of sheer absence, such as total ignorance would imply. The fire
is presented as absent, as intended. Its subsequent presence is re-
quired in order to fulfil the reference of the smoke. Mr. Lovejoy
says that this presented-as-absent is what epistemology has always
signified by "representation" (Essays p. 51). So far, so good,
bearing in mind what has been said about the meaning of representa-
tion. But Mr. Lovejoy introduces a further qualification. I had
said that in order to fulfil the meaning of what is given-as-present,
the given-as-absent must become present, and this involves an opera-

• Confusion arises sometimes, I think, because Mr. James accepted an
"immediate" knowledge, "acquaintance," and applied the conception of transi-
tive leading only to "knowledge about." In the latter he did not emphasize
the experimental production of consequences, although he did not deny it.
Hence follows the importance of discriminating varieties of pragmatism in
discussing theories of knowledge.

355

tion which tries to bring the inferred fire into experience in the same
immediate way in which the smoke is present. Mr. Lovejoy denies
the need of any operation or act. He says that we may dream of
a windfall of fortune about which one can do nothing. Of course
one can, just as one may construct day-dreams without end. But
are these thoughts, in any cognitive sense, of the future, or are they
just fancies whose function — so far as they have any — is esthetic
enrichment of the present moment? He also denies the necessity
of an act to bring the meant object into actual experience on the
ground that the thing present, smoke, may merely remind us of a
past object; it may merely beget a reminiscence (p. 53). I should
not think of denying this fact. The claims of my theory begin
when we ask what is the cognitive status of this reminder or reminis-
cence. I may be reminded of something beautiful which I have read
in a poem. Does this make the reminder knowledge? Does it give
the smoke or the poem a place in some existential landscape ? Does
it even depend upon my being able to place the poem with respect
to its author, the book where I read it or the time when it was read ?
What my theory is after is precisely the differentia between a re-
minder or reminiscence which is esthetic and one which is cognitive
or a reminder of fact. My theory involves no slurring over of the
existence of reminders. It claims that when we take them as knowl-
edge we proceed to act upon them, and that the consequences of the
acting test the validity of the claim of a recollection to be true knowl-
edge. Mr. Lovejoy may hold that every dream and every reminder
is a case of knowledge. But I do not see how he can attribute the
implications of that doctrine to a theory which holds that some ex-
perienced objects are self-enclosed esthetically, and therefore lack
cognitive status. Moreover, his inference that my theory is false,
since we do not act upon a dream, may appear to some to throw doubt
upon the theory that a dream is a case of knowledge rather than upon
my theory.

In discussing my criticism of monistic realism, Mr. Lovejoy has
no difficulty in finding numerous passages which indicate that I
am not a monistic realist. Considering that I was criticizing monistic
realism for its monism, his discovery does not surprise me. The
converse discovery would have given me a shock. Mr. Lovejoy then
argues that if I am not a monistic realist I must be a dualistic one.
"That, then, is the alternative to which he [the present writer] is
limited — either idealism or else dualism A concep-
tion of knowledge which should be at once realistic and monistic is
barred to him" (E. C. R., p. 62). Mr. Lovejoy appears fond of the
use of the principle of excluded middle. But this principle is two-

356 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

edged as well as sharp. Unless handled carefully, it cuts the fingers
of the one who uses it. We have already noted how Mr. Lovejoy
makes an exhaustive disjunction between the immediate and the medi-
ate in knowledge on the basis of which he convicts me of inconsis-
tency. We have also noted that the gist of my theory about the object
of knowledge is that it is mediate in one respect and immediate in
another, so that the alleged inconsistency is due to failure to grasp
the theory. Neither is the disjunction between monistic and dualis-
tic realism exhaustive. There remains pluralistic realism, which
is precisely the theory I have advanced. The things which are
taken as meaning or intending other things are indefinitely diversi-
fied, and so are the things meant. Smoke stands for fire, an odor
for a rose, different odors for many different things, mercury for
atmospheric pressure or heat, a stain for a biochemical process, and
so on ad infinitum. Things are things, not mental states. Hence the
realism. But the things are indefinitely many. Hence the pluralism.
It all hangs together with the hypothesis which has been outlined
concerning the nature of knowledge.4

Mr. Lovejoy, however, has another shot in his locker. Since I
admit that in anticipatory inference — in all reflection from my point
of view — something is present-in-experience-as-absent and as-to
be-brought-into-presence-of-a-direct-kind, he holds that I have
admitted the psychical or mental as a term in the judging process,
and hence am committed to dualism. His dialectical argument in
support of this view appears to manifest another instance of addic-
tion to uncritical use of the principle of excluded middle. Present-as-
absent, or the presence of the absent, is an impossibility as regards
any physical thing. Hence there is an admission of a psychical en-
tity. For, he says, the adjectives mental and psychical as he uses
them "simply designate anything which is an undubitable bit of
experience, but [which] either can not be described in physical
terms or can not be located in the single objective or ' public ' spatial
system, free from self-contradictory attributes, to which the objects
dealt with by physical science belong" (E. C. R., p. 61).

This assumption of an exhaustive disjunction between the physi-
cal and psychical is significant. It disposes, by a single sweeping
gesture, of the growing number of persons, not pragmatists, who

* There is nothing original on my part in this view. It is held by some
whose realistic standing is probably less open to suspicion than is mine, Profes-
sor Woodbridge for example. See his ' ' Nature of Consciousness, ' ' this JOURNAL,
Vol. II, p. 119. He has drawn some inferences from this conception which I
have found myself unable to accept, and I have drawn some which I fear do
not command his assent. But I am glad to acknowledge indebtedness to him
for much clarification of my own thought on the subject.

357

hold that certain entities are neutral to the distinction of psychical
and physical. It asserts, by implication, that all meanings, relations,
activity systems, functions, affairs like mathematical entities,
like a constitution, a franchise, values, operations, concep-
tions, norms, etc., are psychical. Such a position is peculiarly
striking in the context of a volume which makes constant use
of the notion of essence. Mr. Lovejoy, himself, refers
on the very page from which the passage is quoted to "a. common
character or essence" found in the thing representing and the thing
represented.

From the standpoint of argument, I am entitled, I think, to leave
the matter here, till Mr. Lovejoy and his collaborators have wrestled
with the question of essence in its bearing upon the exhaustiveness
of the disjunction between the physical and the psychical, and till
many non-pragmatists have been disposed of. The situation certainly
puts the burden of proof upon Mr. Lovejoy. But it is better to take
advantage of this opportunity to make a brief restatement of my
own view as to the nature of "ideas" or the mental. Mr. Lovejoy
starts with a ready-made psychical existence which assumes the
function of reference or of signifying, and that the future thing
which is presented as absent is, itself, psychical, or if not in itself, at
least in its presence-as-absent. My hypothesis reverses the notion.
It starts with a thing, res, actualty present, smoke, rock, and with
the present fact that this something refers to something else of the
same order of existence as itself, a fire, or geologic animal. It bases
itself upon the undoubted occurrence of inference from one present
thing to another absent thing of the same non-psychical kind. It
thus avoids the breach of continuity, the dualism, involved in di-
viding existence into two orders, physical and psychical, which are
defined only by antithetical attributes, and of such a nature that
reference and intercourse between them is an affair totally unlike
any other known matter. It also has the advantage of starting
from a vera causa, the undubitable fact of inference.5

According to hypothesis, then, the future thing meant is objec-
tive— a fire, possibility of finding additional traces of extinct organ-
isms, a rain storm, penalization of certain modes of behavior, or an
eclipse of the sun. It is stood for or represented by something
equally objective, mathematical figures, words, heard or seen things,
etc. That one objective affair should have the power of standing
for, meaning, another is the wonder, a wonder which as I see it, is
to be accepted just as the occurrence in the world of any other quali-

s Essays in Experimental Logic, p. 225.

358 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

tative affair, the qualities of water, for example.6 But a thing
which has or exercises the quality of being a surrogate of some ab-
sent thing is so distinctive, so unique, that it needs a distinctive
name. As exercising the function we mot/ caU it mental. Neither
the thing meant nor the thing signifying is mental. Nor is meaning
itself mental in any psychical, dualistic, existential sense. Tradi-
tional dualism takes the undoubted logical duality, or division of
labor, between data and meanings, and gets into the epistemological
predicament by transforming it into an existential dualism, a separa-
tion of two radically diverse orders of being.7 Starting from the
undoubted existence of inference, or from a logical function, "ideas"
denote problematic objects so far as they are signified by present
things and are capable of logical manipulation. A probable rain
storm, as indicated to us by the look of the clouds or the barometer,
gets embodied in a word or some other present thing and hence can
be treated for certain purposes just as an actual rain storm would
be treated. We may then term it a mental entity. Such a theory, it
will be noted, explains the mental on the basis of a logical function.
It does not start by shoving something psychical under a logical
operation.8

The matter is so important that perhaps it is worth while to
try to state it in another way. Meanings are the characteristic things
in intellectual experience. They are the heart of every logical func-
tion. They are not physical nor are they (pace Mr. Lovejoy's dis-
junction) psychical.9 A meaning is not necessarily such that it can
be called an idea or thought. But a meaning may be adopted hypo-
thetically, as a basis for instituting inquiries, or as a point of depar-
ture in connection with other meanings for reasoning, an experiment
in combining meanings together to see what develops. Such a tenta-
tive acceptance of meanings is all that is possible in a problematic sit-
uation, unless we make either a dogmatic assertion or a dogmatic
denial. What is the meaning of some event ? What is it all about t
Something suggests itself as a possible answer or solution. It is as yet,

o That is to say, it is a metaphysical or cosmological or scientific question —
as the case may be — which effects all schools of epistemological thought alike.
It is not a problem which bears more heavily on one than on another, though
on the face of it there are more difficulties for a dualistic school than for
others because of the implied breach of continuity.

7 This point has been developed, not to say labored, in the essay entitled
"Data and Meanings" in the Essays in Experimental Logic, pp. 136-156.

•See the essay on the "Logical Character of Ideas," pp. 220-229 of
E. E. L.

• Of course upon my theory they are, existentially speaking, the operations
involved in any situation having cognitive reference.

REALISM WITHOUT MONISM OR DUALISM 359

however, only a possible, a conjectural meaning. How is it to pass
beyond conjecture and be definitely asserted or rejected? Inquiry
proceeds by taking a stand, as it were, upon the meaning and using
it as a base for new observations and reasonings. // so and so, then
so and so. We look to see if the "then so and so" can be actually
presented in experience. In the degree in which we can thus find
what is hypothetically demanded and can determine that only the
"if so and so" implies it, we make assertion categorical. Such is
the course of any legitimate reflection. But the operation demands
that the meaning be embodied in existence, that it be a "concretion
in discourse" to borrow Mr. Santayana's apt term. The usual
method is a word or diagram, but in any case, there must be some
physical thing to carry the meaning, if the latter is to be employed
for intellectual manipulation and experimentation, or as an effec-
tive hypothesis. The hypothetical meaning thus embodied consti-
tutes a thought or an idea, a representation.

This is the theory which I have put forth.10 The theory is, of
course, conceivably incorrect. But if so, it is incorrect because of
matters of fact. It is not arbitrary nor paradoxical, and while it
is obviously inconsistent with presentative dualism or transcendent
immediatism it does not appear to be inconsistent with itself when
it is taken in its own terms.

I close with a general remark on the main point at issue, the
question of the method appropriate to investigation of the problem
of knowledge. This, rather than ' ' pragmatism, ' ' is the point at issue.
Professor Rogers, in his contribution to Essays in Critical Realism,
has stated the matter in such a way as to define the issue. He says
"that the quarrel between the critical realist and the pragmatist is
due, primarily, to the fact that they are not dealing with the same
problem. Professor Dewey 's concern is with the technique of the ac-
tual advance of knowledge in the concrete — its linear dimension in re-
lation to other knowledge past and future, as this enters into the tex-
ture of conduct. The critical realist, on the contrary, is interested
in its dimension of depth — its ability to present to man's mind a
faithful report of the true nature of the world in which he has to
act and live" (p. 160).

I am grateful to Professor Rogers for putting the case so clearly
from his point of view. It marks a genuine advance in fruitful
discussion. It gives me an opportunity to say that from my own
standpoint the quarrel is not due to the fact that we are discussing
different problems. We are discussing the same problem. The

" See, in addition to references already given, pp. 430-433 of Essays in
Experimental Logic.

360 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

difference concerns the method by which the problem is to be ap-
proached and dealt with. The objection is to the epistemological
method as distinct from a method which accepts logical procedure
as a fact and then tries to analyze it. My contention is that the
problem of a faithful report of the world in which we have to act
and live can be fruitfully approached only by means of an inquiry
into the concrete procedure by which actual knowledge is secured and
furthered. In most matters, we have painfully learned that the
way to arrive at a sound generalization is by examination and analy-
sis of specific, concrete cases. Why not apply this lesson of scientific
procedure to the problem of reaching a conception of knowledge, to
the problem of the nature of a faithful report of the world! If we
do enforce this lesson, the disjunction between the critical realist's
problem and the "pragmatist's" problem, as stated by Mr. Rogers,
vanishes.

What does "faithful" denote and signify? What does "report"
denote and signify? And, more important still, by what method
shall we seek an answer to these questions? Mr. Pratt in his contri-
bution quotes a saying of Mr. Santayana's that "an opinion is true
if what it is talking about is constituted as the opinion asserts it to
be constituted" (p. 99 of E. C. R.). With all my heart; assent can
not be too unqualified. But is the statement a solution or does it
contain the gist of a problem? What is an opinion, existentially
speaking, and what does it mean? And so of the terms "talking
about," "assert," and so of the connection between the talking about
and the "what" talked about, implied in the term "as." These are
things to be investigated if we are to reach a satisfactory conclusion
concerning the nature of a faithful report. And I see no way to
answer them except to adopt the same procedure which we employ
in investigating other subject-matters : analyze special cases of knowl-
edge secured and advanced, and generalize the outcome of the analy-
sis. My objection to the epistemological method is that it ignores
the only method which has proved fruitful in other cases of inquiry;
that it does so because it accepts, uncritically, an old and outworn
psychological tradition about psychical states, sensations and ideas,11
and because, in so doing, it states the problem in a way which makes
it insoluble save by the introduction of a mysterious transcendence
plus a naive confidence in irresistible propensities and unescapable
assumptions. And when it comes to any particular case of alleged
knowledge we find the epistemologists abandoning their epistemo-
logical machinery and falling back upon the logical procedure ac-

» See an article in this JOURNAL, Vol. XI, p. 505.

BOOK REVIEWS 361

tually employed in critical investigations which terminate in experi-
mental verifications. Why not begin, then, at this point ?

We are trying to know knowledge. The implication assuredly
is that there is knowledge. The procedure which I have tried to
follow, no matter with what obscurity and confusion, is to begin
with cases of knowledge and to analyze them to discover why and
how they are knowledges. If this procedure can be successfully
undertaken, then we can tell what knowledge is. What other
method is reasonable? We are trying, be it remembered, to know
knowledge, to get at and formulate its character. What is the
likelihood of success in the undertaking if we rule out specific cases
of knowledge and try to investigate knowledge at large ? If we have
no case of knowledge upon which to go, and upon which to
base judgments as to the value of a preferred knowledge of
knowledge, what meaning has the term knowledge? Why not
call it abracadabra, or splish-splosh, or anything else that
comes into your head? How does knowledge, at the best,
mean something different from poesy or fancy or dreams? For my
part if we wish to know what a faithful report of the world in which
we live means, I prefer to take the best authenticated cases of faith-
ful reports which are available, compare them with the sufficiently
numerous cases of reports ascertained to be unfaithful and doubtful,
and see what we find. Starting in this way, we have a method by
which we can also discriminate and identify poesy, reverie, dreams,
sensations, ideas, hypotheses, data, and all the rest of it. The prin-
ciple of parsimony has claims which all tell in behalf of the use of
the logical method.

JOHN DEWEY.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

BOOK REVIEWS

The Absolute Relations of Time and Space. ALFRED A. ROBB. Cam-
bridge University Press. 1921. Pp. viii + 80.
This little book is a simplified summary of the author's earlier
work, A Theory of Time and Space. It amounts, I should say, to
a restatement of the special theory of relativity, in which an at-
tempt is made, first, to avoid paradox as far as possible, and secondly,
to reduce all the geometrical concepts involved to a single undefined
relation. In the former respect, the success of the work may be
doubted ; in the latter respect its success is altogether brilliant.

Mr. Robb is one of those who has revolted against the notion that
what is the earlier of two events for one observer can be — and not

362 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

merely seem to be — the later of the two for another observer. This
seems to him to make the relation of before and after merely sub-
jective, whereas science requires that it be objective. The objection
appears to me to be unsound, for it leaves out of account the fact
that the difference in the temporal relations of the two observers is
supposed, according to the theory criticized, to have a perfectly def-
inite objective basis. And, on examination, the difference between
Einstein and our author shows itself to be merely verbal. All
the complexity of multitudinous time-systems which Einstein recog-
nizes appears again here under the veil of a new terminology.

Mr. Robb's starting-point is the assumption that for an event A
to be earlier than an event B, it must be possible for A to be among
the causal antecedents of B; that is to say, it must be possible for a
physical influence starting from A to reach the place of B not later
than B. If now we suppose that there is a maximum speed with
which energy can be transmitted — the velocity of light — and if we
compare events at two different points in space, there will be at
either point a time-interval within which the events will be neither
earlier nor later than a given instantaneous event at the other point.
As the distance increases, the time-interval increases also. The whole
period of the Great War may be neither earlier nor later than a
given event on Sirius. Contrariwise, as what we may call the "neu-
tral interval" varies, the distance must vary. Thus spatio-temporal
relations exhibit a sort of "conical order." Now it is only when,
according to Einstein, A precedes B in all time-systems, that, ac-
cording to Mr. Robb, A is said to precede B. Thus a certain amount
of paradox is avoided. But an equal paradox is substituted. We
are not to speak of the same instant as occurring throughout the
universe. Each instant is restricted to a certain point of space.
Is anything gained for science or common sense T

But if Mr. Robb's terminology is not less paradoxical than Ein-
stein 's, it is equally legitimate ; and it leads to the brilliant piece of
logical analysis which I have mentioned. The fact that each time-
interval is correlative with a certain distance enables Mr. Robb to
provide a set of definitions of geometrical concepts in terms of the
relations of before and after. In Mr. Robb's own words, "spatial
relations are to be regarded as the manifestation of the fact that the
elements of time form a system in conical order." It is not easy to
do justice to the ingenuity with which this analysis is conceived;
and it is safe to say that the subject is given a clearing-up which no
other mode of treatment could well surpass.

THEODORE DE LACUNA.

BRTN* MAWR COLLECT.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 363

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF PSYCHOLOGY. January,
1922. Instinct and Value (pp. 1-18) : HENRY C. LiNK.-The mech-
anistic, pseudo-scientific and popular definitions of instinct are pre-
sented with the conclusion that as long as the present vague and
varied notions prevail, no definite conclusions can be drawn as to
their relation to value and that when instincts are defined more ac-
curately and carefully more accurate correlations between them
and values will be possible. The Psychology of Reflex Action (pp.
19-^12) : J. R. KANTOR.-Reflexes can best be understood when con-
sidered as psychological acts rather than physiological acts. This
gives them their place in the adaptations of the organism. Func-
tional Psychology and the Psychology of Act: II (pp. 43-83) : E.
B. TiTCHENER.-The discussion begins with an analysis of Brentano's
works and the criticisms of Meinong, Husserl and Miinsterberg.
They agree that consciousness is "intentional." This intentional
psychology is closely affiliated to philosophy and education. Af-
firmation and Negation (pp. 84-96) : C. H. GRiFrrrs.-This experi-
mental study shows that affirmative instructions can be more easily
and quickly followed. This indicates that negation is a different
neurological process from affirmation. Comparative Cognitive Re-
action-Time with Lights of Different Spectral Character and at Dif-
ferent Intensities of Illumination (pp. 97-112) : MARTHA ELLIOTT.-
Reaction times vary directly with intensity with maximum effi-
ciency between 10 foot-candles and 20 foot-candles. The Miracle
Man of NeuT Orleans (pp. 113-120) : JOHN M. FLETCHER.-This
miracle man attracted great crowds but the public soon lost confi-
dence in his ability. In the realm of mental diseases indefensible
practices such as represented in this case still flourish. An Experi-
mental Study of the Perception of Oiliness (pp. 121-127) : LILLIAN
WEST COBBEY AND ALICE HELEN SuLLivAN.-Oiliness is a fusion of
warmth and light pressure. Minor Studies from the Psychological
Laboratory of Cornell University. LV. Cutaneous Localization and
the "Attribute of Order" (pp. 128-134) : H. M. LuFKiN.-The
study suggests that localization is in general a matter of perception
rather than sensation. LVI. On the Non-Visual Perception of the
Length of Vertically Whipped Rods (pp. 135-139) : ERNA SHULTS.-
The perception of length depends upon the relative intensity of
two opposed pressure experiences in the hand. LVII. On the
Non-Visual perception of the Length of Horizontally Whipped Rods
(pp. 139-144) : A. S. BAKER.-The perception of the length hori-
zontally whipped rods is more accurate than that for vertically
whipped rods. This perception depends on the experience of op-

364 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

posed pressures. Reviews of Books. Oswald Kuelpe, Vorlesungen
iiber Psychologic: R. M. OGDEN. Charles Baudouin, Suggestion
and Aiitfisiujui'stidn: MARGARET FLOY WASHBURN. Wilhelm
\Vuiidt, Elcintnts of Folk Psychology: E. B. T. Wesley Raymond
Wells, The Biological Foundations of Belief: L. B. HOISINGTON.
L. A. Averill, Psychology for Normal Schools: H. G. BISHOP. Notes.
Benno Erdmann : RAYMOND DODGE. Festschrift for Carl Sturapf :
E. B. T. The Edinburgh Meeting of the British Association. H.
S. LANGPELD.

Sortais, Gaston. La Philosophic moderne depuis Bacon jusqu'a
Leibniz. Vol. II. Paris : P. Lethielleux. 1922. Pp. 584. 20 f r.

Poyer, Georges. Les Problemes generaux de 1'Heredite psycholo-
gique. Paris: Felix Alcan. 1921. Pp. 302. 15 fr.

Baudin, E. Psychologic. Third edition. Paris: J. de Gigord.
1921. Pp. 630.

NOTES AND NEWS

A correspondent has sent us the following questions, which
formed part of an examination given in 1893 to prospective teachers
of Ohio :

1. Name the three primary divisions of the mind and give an
outline (divisions and subdivisions) of the first division.

2. Distinguish between soul and spirit and show how the former
controls, influences, and wields the body.

3. What is consciousness? Show in how many ways it is ex-
ercised.

Dr. Charles E. Cory has been promoted from associate professor
to professor of philosophy at Washington University, St. Louis.

VOL. XIX., No. 14 JULY 6, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

THE DICHOTOMY OF NATURE

ONE of the oldest ways of construing the universe is to see it
made up by pairs of opposites. Matter and motion, good and
evil, art and science, structure and function, life and the non-living,
are obvious couples of this sort; the list can be extended almost in-
definitely without going far from common sense. If it is the custom
of modern philosophy to make little of these dualities, let us remem-
ber that years of epistemological controversy, training the devotee
to the very pink of specialization and sophistication, have doubtless
atrophied the power of seeing the obvious or of appreciating the sig-
nificant. Philosophers of the past, indeed, have noted them often
enough. The Pythagoreans are said to have arranged the universe
on such a pattern, and Heraclitus found in opposition the genesis
of reality. Plato's fundamental dualism, and the Aristotelian act
and potency, applied unwaveringly by the scholastics, continued
the tradition. In the coincidentia oppositorum of Nicolaus Cusanus,
the old tendency reappears, and in the first period of modern philoso-
phy the duality of mind-body was the bone of contention. Unfor-
tunately, the philosopher's attention was soon turned into the
narrow channel of the problem of knowledge and the study of
reality languished. But eventually Hegel, whose merit lay in his
profoundly objective interest, brought philosophy back to the normal
point of view by presenting a map of the universe built out of pairs
in an ascending scale. Yet because he made certain mistakes in his
classification, his successors have tended to view askance the two-
fold habit of nature which he dwelt upon ; whereby they have lost a
deal of empirical truth. At any rate, it seems clear that this trait of
reality, so frequently noticed, so ubiquitous, so momentous in human
concerns, is likely to possess high metaphysical significance. Let
us then set forth a list of the pairs which we find in the universe, and
examine their meaning and connections. We shall find that they
display a striking unity of plan, and one which, I venture to think,
furnishes the key to some old mysteries.

We begin with a few cautions. The categories that follow are to
be taken as matrices rather than polished gems ; thought may carve
them into sharp-edged concepts, yet in reality a category is (to vary
the figure) a bright spot with luminous rays extending to other

365

:>,«,<, JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

bright spots, though not equally in all directions, and perhaps in
some falling quite short. It need not be cut off clean from the rest,
to be real for itself. Nor shall we proceed at once to the other ex-
treme and declare that all categories are but abstractions from a con-
tinuous manifold. If they are in any sense abstract, it is nature and
not man that does the abstracting; at least in many cases we shall
find this to be so. And we use "category" here in a very general sense,
to mean a habit of nature frequent enough to seem metaphysically im-
portant. We do not refuse, as Mr. Alexander does, to call quality
a category. Technical accuracy, requisite indeed for some purposes,
is not our present aim. One can point out a tree in the landscape,
and discourse truthfully and significantly about it, without rule or
compass; and perhaps the same is true, mutatis mutandis, of meta-
physical discourse. And finally, it is perhaps well to say that we are
not attempting to deduce the categories from some beginning ; we do
but expound a plan which nature seems to offer, and of which we
are the passive spectators.

The first pair is that of things and relations between them. We
place it first because this is the simplest, vaguest, and widest-spread
of reality's characters. To the awakening consciousness, it may well
have been the earliest datum, even though then meaning hardly more
than vague shocks or bumps and the distinction of them. At any
rate, many separate beings are presented — that is the first object
upon which thought can exercise itself. But we are not now con-
cerned with genetic order; rather with the objective and primarily
the material world. Early man was doubtless more aware of such a
datum at night; for at night he had opportunity to contemplate,
and he saw the manifold of lights arranged in the heavens. But by
day the same couple was offered to him by impinging objects, by
the resistance or non-resistance of the environment. Nor have we
of to-day been able to do without these categories, though reflection
has taught us to call them, in the conceptual domain, term and
relation, and in the physical universe, real substantial things or
material objects and their arrangements. For the category of sub-
stance is embedded in this category of real things; objects in the
external world come to us as real in and for themselves, present
actualities with a subsistence of their own here and now, no matter
what may appear at some later time. We may have to revise our
interpretation of them, but the revision must be fair to the present
appearance; this appearance has a natural right, as every
man has a natural right to live. It may turn out to
be illusory — so we later learn — but illusions have objective
grounds. There is something out there; there are many
somethings, indeed, and they are in some sort of order. They have a

THE DICHOTOMY OF NATURE 367

solidity and a fastness which we designate by the word substance.
Substance connotes that self-sufficiency and stability which is the
essence of being. Man's primary discovery is that there are sub-
stances or beings and that they have relations. These two are the
fixed hooks on which all subsequent information is hung; meta-
physics starts from them and returns to them.

Of this primitive and ultimate pair, the first was more emphasized
in olden time, while the second is having its turn to-day, and some-
what to the exclusion of its mate. The turn came to self-conscious-
ness in E. Cassirer's Substanz-theorie und Funktwns-theorie; but
that side of the wheel has been long in view. Modern philosophy
began with the two Cartesian substances, but matter at once evapo-
rated into space, and mind was hardly more than thoughts. With
Spinoza, substance retired into the infinite distance; in Leibniz, it
was replaced by force. If Locke still dallied with common sense,
Hume offended it beyond possible reconciliation by his reduction
of matter to its effect upon mind, and of mind to a series of ideas.
For some centuries now, mathematics has been the philosophic ideal,
and mathematics knows no substance. To-day, the mathematical ap-
proach to the philosophy of nature has usurped the place of favor,
and none may enter the field who can not say much in symbolic form.
But even among the non-mathematical, is not the relational bias evi-
dent? The pragmatic tendency is to define things by their con-
sequences, to interpret all by the context, to deny self-sufficiency
everywhere. The Bergsonian system views the temporal relation as
the very stuff of life. The speculative idealist finds the pathway
to reality in the interdependence of all things, rather than in the
things themselves; finite personality, soul-substance, and material
stuff live only in their mutual connections and relations. And is
it not the relations between men, rather than the individual man,
that command our attention in what is called the "social problem"!
We no longer think of the individual as a character existing in and
for himself, but as one having his whole being in the relations he
bears towards his fellows. Our modern philosophy and our modern
way of thought, whether monism, or pragmatism, or intuitionism, is
always relationism.

But a relation without terms is meaningless; and a philosophy
which has forgotten the category of substance can not, in the end,
give an intelligent account of reality. However refined its analyses,
however imposing its array of proofs and its logical technique, it
becomes no more than a science of the possible, a formalism dis-
sociated from the real world. In spite of our respect for their logical
attainments, it is hard for us to repress the feeling that the work

368 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

of Messrs. Russell, Whitehead, Broad and Alexander commits the old
fallacy of deriving the individual from the universal, real things from
their connections, matter from the union of space and time, terms
from their relations. We suspect that under these leaders philosophy
is in danger of becoming a sophisticated cult, and that we must go
about on the other tack, paying respect to the empirical deliver-
ances of science, to the kinds of substance it shows us, to the structure
of the atom, the constitution of the cell, and the order of the sidereal
system. For science deals first and last with real and separate things,
with electrons which have permanent volumes, and mechanical masses
that resist impact. If some of these were destroyed, presumably
the others would remain ; even though their behavior might be
altered, their reality would be undiminished, and thereby their sub-
stantiality vindicated. Philosophy, after all, can not afford to cut
itself quite loose from common sense. Common sense is not a suffi-
cient condition of philosophy, but it is a necessary one. The states-
man, however far-seeing his vision, can not well neglect public opin-
ion, though public opinion is far from being a sufficient guide ; and
philosophy, likewise, must defer to the common belief in substances.
Herein we have something to learn from the scholastics, who were
able to combine extreme nicety of definition with regard for the
categories of the practical man — these being the categories of com-
mon sense. We must frankly acknowledge that not even the most im-
pressive massing of scientific technicalities, or the most brilliant
literary style, can make motion without things that move, or time
without things that change, any less meaningless than they ever were.
Indeed, the modern preference for relation over substance would
hardly have become so influential, were it not for our dislike of any-
thing hidden. We wish all reality to be laid out in the open, in this
age of publicity; whereas a substance is full of potencies not yet
revealed, and contains reserves and private property not sharable.
But here, too, we take leave alike of common sense and of scientific
practise, since we have to admit the hidden and latent in persons,
and since science can not do without potential energy.

Substances and relations are themselves given as many. In fact,
each of these two is found to contain a dichotomy ; for each contains
two chief divisions, and each of these again two, and so on. This
description, we shall immediately try to show, holds of our world
as now presented to us; but also it may be sound chronology. It
seems not unlikely that the physical universe began thus. Scientists
have pictured a vague nebula with lumps, hardening into bodies with
empty space between them, and eventually providing the present
manifold universe. Always, to be sure, there were substance and

THE DICHOTOMY OF NATURE 369

relations, spatial and temporal, as well as some degree of differentia-
tion in the nebulous mass. A quite undifferentiated unity we are not
asked to accept. Being must, apparently, have started (if it ever
did start) with something of the duality of thing and relation. But
our present purpose is not chronological ; we wish rather to set forth
the present dichotomy of nature, without regard to its genesis.
And we find it to be of the following Porphyroid character, which
we first state roughly and then go on to examine in more detail.
Relations comprise two sorts, space and time ; space comprises quali-
ties and quantities. Out of the material thus provided we discover
by analysis, identity and diversity, individual and class, ordinal and
cardinal number, intensive and extensive quantity, velocity and mass,
and endless derivatives of these; and in another aspect, act and po-
tency, cause and chance. These categories make up the main tale
of the formal side of the world. They constitute the subject-matter
(not, properly speaking, the object-matter) of science. The object-
matter, which our modern philosophy has all but overlooked, is found
in the dichotomy of the other initial category, thing or substance.
Things are found to comprise two sorts, living and non-living. The
latter group contains mechanical and electrical phenomena, and elec-
trical phenomena are of two kinds, positive and negative. Living
beings, taken en masse, are either plant or animal ; plants are divided
into two great lines, the green plants and the bacteria, while animal
evolution culminates in the two main divisions of arthropod and
vertebrate. In the former division, as Bergson and others have
pointed out, instinct is the chief guide of behavior; in the latter,
intelligence. Herewith we are introduced to the fundamental cleav-
age of mind and body, and a long chain of couples in the region of
mind — fact and value, theory and practise, . art and science, and so
on. On the other hand, if we consider the individual living being,
we find the primary distinction within the cell, of nucleus and cyto-
plasm; reproduction by the process of bipartition; and early in
the history of the metazoa and metaphyta, the distinction of sex —
a distinction which in the highest vertebrate has become so significant
as to color almost the whole of his life. Let this statement, rough
as it is, and even inaccurate in certain details, suffice as an indication
of our plan.

Now, of course, the universe may be classified from many points
of view ; and superficially one way may seem as good as another. Yet
on the whole, the dichotomic plan can hardly be called arbitrary.
The distinctions are in many, if not all, cases easy and objective;
they are also fundamental, and have been reached or confirmed by
centuries of scientific inquiry. Some there are who declare that the

370 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

scheme is anthropomorphic, due perhaps to the unsuspected influence
of man's bilateral symmetry, or even his interest in sex; but it is
not likely that the distinction between positive and negative electric-
ity, or between time and space, or animals and plants, or nucleus and
cytoplasm, has such an origin. Nothing is more objective than these ;
they are clearly distinct and they clearly belong together. It may
be that the couples in the field of mind — art and science, value and
fact, good and bad, etc. — have a subjective source in man's bilateral
symmetry ; even so, this symmetry is a physical fact, common to vast
numbers of organisms and deserving a place with other fundamental
dualities. We propose, then, to follow the clew, studying in turn
the couples above named, and their logical relations in structure and
function.

And first, how are substance and relation related ? In three ways :
they are complementary, i.e., they hang together in a certain way,
they are opposites, and they form an asymmetrical pair.

Substance means a solid real thing which impresses us; of the
senses, it is most clearly given to touch. Touch is, of all our experi-
ences, the special witness of reality, as when we test an hallucination
by prodding it. The scientist, treating inertia as matter's funda-
mental attribute, takes his cue from touch, since touch is the sense
of resistance, which is all that inertia means. But form and arrange-
ment, while real enough, are more subject to illusion and less authori-
tative in their own right. Eye and ear, the organs devoted to these
categories, are not the last court of appeal like touch, and correspond-
ingly, substance has more of reality about it than relation. Sub-
stance is in this manner prior to form. If neither has much meaning
without the other, that fact is not true of each in the same sense or
degree. While we know no substance, perhaps, that is not in a mani-
fold, such a thing is conceivable. We may imagine one bright star
in a dark space as the sole content of the visual field ; a term with
almost no relation, or with relation only of distinction from the
nothingness about it. But we can hardly conceive a relation without
terms : that, indeed, seems, as noted above, a true case of what ideal-
ists call a vicious abstraction. If, then, relation and terms hang to-
gether, the latter do more of the supporting; and the mistake of
idealists has been to be so prepossessed with the connection of these
as to overlook their difference. The relation between them is not
the same in its two directions; they are an asymmetrical couple.
And we might have seen this by analysis, also. Relation is but carry-
ing away from the present real thing to another, and you can not
carry without a burden; which burden here is being. But thing or
substance is, as immediate experience, to a degree self-contained, and

THE DICHOTOMY OF NATURE 371

needs nothing to support it. Thus, relations need terms, and imply
them, while a term makes relation possible but does not absolutely
imply it. "We may add that the notion of a relationless term has
hovered over the philosophic arena ever since Parmenides; notably
in the Thomistic God and the idealistic Absolute, to say nothing in
detail of the mystics.

But the two prime categories are also opposites. Relation, in
the most general meaning, is opposed to thing, because it carries us
away to another, as motion is the opposite of rest. But it is not
opposed in the contradictory way ; this transition is not a denial but
an ignoring. It is like attention, which, selecting one and rejecting
another, negates without denying that other; there is no contra-
diction in the process. Indeed, to negate one thing without denying
it, is to present another. Otherness is the original of negation, while
contradiction is negation perverted and sinful. And so relation is
that sort of negation which does not transgress the law of contradic-
tion. If a substantial thing is position without contradiction, rela-
tion is opposition without contradiction.

Thus far, then, we have substance and relation, and the connec-
tion between them, which is that (1) they hang together in a rather
free way, (2) one is prior to the other, and (3) they are non-con-
tradictory opposites.

The second member, relation, is a very vague affair. As man
becomes acquainted with his external world, two kinds of relation
disengage themselves ; relations of co-existence and sequence. These
are given to sense, though not to the same sense. Space is given
chiefly to vision, as substance to touch, and time preeminently to
hearing. For vision is not directly, though it is indirectly, of bodies
or resisting things; touch has spatial qualities, as bodies are in
space, but vision is concerned primarily with extended things.
Touch is also, in a way, intenser than vision, as substance is more
real than relation. Vision, even of the most violent sort, as of the
sun, does not shock the organism to the degree of the gentlest blow.
It is impossible to see objects without seeing them extended or seeing
some distance between them. And though we see processes and
thereby time, we may also see a still panorama, which, for a few
seconds at least, gives to vision no inkling of temporal quality. Hear-
ing, however, is never without that quality ; as it gives no spread-out
content which so absorbs attention as to exclude the awareness of
change. There is more discreteness in hearing than in vision, and
discreteness, as we shall see, is a peculiarity of time. We are here
talking of objective space and time which science uses, mathematics
analyzes, and man more or less perfectly apprehends in vision and

372 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOI'Il Y

hearing. We neglect the distinctions between conceptual, percep-
tual, visual and tactual space, and between perceived, remembered
and scientific time.

Space and time hang together. Most of the real things in our
material world are in motion; substances occupy space and change
their occupation in time. So we are accustomed to say that each
category involves the other. But if no more be said, the account is
misleading. They involve each other in different ways, and the im-
plication is not always binding in the same degree. Time might occur
in a single substance — as if a star, with no fellows, might go through
a change of color. Space is here involved, yet not in the sense of a
positive condition with properties of its own — positions, distances,
etc. Various real things must be given to afford such space; and
time alone, of itself, does not imply such variety of coexistence.
Time no more involves coexistence than one real thing involves
others. Thereby time is more like its father, substance, whereas
space will be seen more to resemble its mother, relation. There is a
certain possibility of independence about time; though this is not
actual, for really the world is a manifold. That being so, we find
the two interwoven. Yet there is a difference ; time is nothing with-
out events or change, as a relation is nothing without terms; and
therefore there is no empty time. Time is relative to events, or con-
tents, and must, in the end, be estimated by the number of events
that occur. Eventless or empty time is a paradox, and time there-
fore actually is interpenetrated by things; whereas empty space, or
space without time, seems not so absurd. There may be empty
volumes; there may be no ether. In fact, if there is no ether, prob-
ably most of space is empty; the distances between atoms are far
greater than the extent of each atom, and there may be places
through which electrons never actually pass. There may also be,
beyond the Milky Way, an infinite volume of empty space in every
direction. But is not empty space then a relation without terms?
Rather it is the nearest approach we find in nature, to a relation with-
out terms. It is not quite without its relata, but these relata are not
in the first instance things, but positions. Now a position is not de-
finable without reference to a body; it is given to sense as occupied
by a body, and to thought as capable of occupation even when not
occupied. So space, which is made of positions, is relative to body,
though not always to actual bodies. But it is relative in a peculiar
way, which shows us that even relations may have a semi-substan-
tial character. Spatial relations are presented directly; we see the
stretch between two bodies and the area of a body; we even see
pure positions without magnitude. Relations are as much data as

THE DICHOTOMY OF NATURE 373

things or qualities; and so are points. In the matter of points we
have been enslaved by mathematism, which declares them to be the
result of analysis, the limit of a series. But we should never get the
notion of that limit from the series itself, as it is beyond the series;
all limits are independent of their series and must be given directly
and independently, to be known. Points, however, are given to
experience when we see a minimum visibile which appears to have
no extension. That the physical object thus seen turns out to be
fairly large does not alter the character of our sight of the object.
We know just how a true point would look if we could see it, as we
know by a photograph just how a certain man would look if we
could see him. A point is not merely a conceptual limit but a
sense-datum, though revealed to us in an illusion. The same is true
of a straight line. We see what looks like a line and straight, and
were it not for that datum we should never frame the notion of a
line as the limit of a narrowing plane. All these spatial entities
are given in one way or another, though given as potencies or capa-
cities, while yet real. Space could not wholly break away from mat-
ter or things, but it comes just as near as it can to that condition ;
empty space is the image of presented nothingness ; the way nothing-
ness would look if we could see it. Thereby, it is wrong to derive the
concept of nothing from not- this, not-that, and so on to the limit ; for
we could have no notion of the limit were it not in some fashion
given to sense. Yet even here space is relative, though only in
the last analysis; relative to bodies, by which it is the capacity of
being occupied. And this capacity means that something may move
in — which in turn involves time. Thus it is impossible to describe
space without at least eventual reference to time, whereas time may
be described without reference to space though in fact the two are
mingled. Time and space are tied together, but not glued together ;
and the cord is very elastic, for space can recede to an indefinite re-
move from time. Moreover, though the cord is made fast to the
inwards of space, it is affixed to time only on the surface. Space
implies time more than time implies space, while also space can roam
free to an almost unbounded extent.

When philosophers declare that space and time are thoroughly
interpenetrated, they seem to be unduly swayed by the modern love
of connectedness, and the correlative hatred of the dissociated and
solitary.

It has scarcely been recognized that time is the opposite of space ;
opposite as motion and rest are opposite. Time means change, which
is both destruction and creation ; space can not be destroyed, nor can
new space arise, however far space be penetrated by time. Time
can not be empty ; space can be and as regards gross matter must be,

374 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

to allow motion. Space thus, by its negativity, makes room for time,
which is full, to pass. Time also is impossible without differentia-
tion, being succession of events, of which the present exceeds the
others in actuality ; space, being a potency, and by itself, empty, is
everywhere the same, and as homogeneous as pure nothingness.
Even if we supposed that space grew smaller as we receded from a
given spot, that would be rather a body growing smaller; for if
space were smaller, we need only draw upon the surroundings to
make it larger. If a straight line be supposed to have curvature,
we need only swerve from that line in a direction opposite that of
the curvature, to find the true straight line. Homogeneity is no
postulate or convention, but a deliverance of experience, or a con-
sequence thereof ; for whatever variations are displayed may be com-
pensated from the surrounding void. Again, time is a device for
securing a manifold without many things ; an accomplishment which
space can not compass. Space on the other hand makes up for the
destructive affect of time by its power of coexistence ; thereby some-
thing permanent persists along with, or underneath, the series of
changes, and the integrity of substance is preserved through change.
Time is irreversible and space is symmetrical; which explains why
we experience only a little jot of time, the small specious present,
while we can see nearly one half of infinite space. Moreover, to take
for granted some of the later categories, we can see a whole series
of complementary terms connected with these two respectively.
In time, history is alone possible, with its progress or retrogression ;
also purpose and causation, which are the roots of value, responsi-
bility and other categories of personality. Space, on the other
hand, gives us the type of a fixed, ordered universe, such as rational-
ists and systematists love. It is the inspiration of the pantheist
Spinoza, who wrote ordine geometrico, and of absolute idealism,
which depreciates time. The latter is the guide of monadists or
personalists ; of a practical philosophy like Thomism, whose central
category is causation. In fact the whole cleavage of theory and
practise, of structure and function, of equality and privilege — the
great body of human dualisms, takes its origin from this objec-
tive source. But for the present we do not show this in detail; we
concentrate attention on a distinction which is fundamental for
later insights, viz., that space is quantitative and time is not. More
exactly, space has but a minimum which is non-quantitative — the
point — while time has but a minimum that is so— the little specious
present; and even this varies irresponsibly.

The reason why time is not a quantity is that it is not a whole,
for the parts drop out; as Baron Munchausen 's horse, whose rear
•was cut away, could not be filled. Scientists often speak as if they

THE DICHOTOMY OF NATURE 375

measured time, but they do not do so at all ; and Professor Bergson is,
we think, quite right in saying that science, and philosophy too,
have too much cast reality into the mould of space. Science really
does nothing but note coincidences between different events, and
predict further coincidences. Whether all clocks and other material
processes go faster in one day and slower the next, or as is gener-
ally supposed, at a uniform rate in both, is quite indifferent; all
that calculation and prediction require is that the processes keep
step. If the clock 's hand goes around 24 X 365 J times every time
the earth goes around the sun, that is enough for science. If
the clocks, accurately made, keep time with one another, so that
each angular position of the hands in one corresponds to the same
in another, no more is needed. Science aims only to predict that
when the hands are in a certain position, a certain event will occur.
When a pendulum swings back and forth there is neither inequality
nor equality of the intervals. If they feel equal or unequal, that is
perhaps because we unconsciously estimate them in terms of bodily
rhythms. The length of these we do not know, nor have we any test
of their uniformity. The feeling of equality or inequality may, in
fact, be as illusory as the feeling that we directly see a distance. Mr.
Broad, who accepts time-quantity, argues that "it is very unlikely
that the rotation of the earth, the swings of a pendulum, and the
vibrations of an electron are all retarded according to the same
law."1 But we do not need to suppose these processes retarded
alike, or hastened alike, or uniform. We simply want the events in
them to correspond point for point. Difference of velocity means
different amount of displacement in two bodies whose motion begins
and ceases simultaneously. The displacement may be actual or
potential. If body A has at one instant a tendency to greater dis-
placement than body B at one instant, A has the greater velocity.
Thus velocity may be defined without presumption of time-quantity.
Time deals with events, not quantities; events ordered in a series
where each has a definite position before, or after, or with, some
other. Thus order does not imply quantity, though it may cor-
respond to quantity; while quantity no doubt does imply order of
less and greater, even as space implies time. To be sure, we say
truthfully that a day is longer than one of its hours. Yet that
could not be, unless a day signified that the earth had gone through
more space by the 24th than by the end of the first hour. We de-
fine day and hour by reference to quantity of displacement, and
then of course they seem quantitative. But in a non-spatial world,
where a substance went through a series of changes, the only mean-
i Perception, Physics, and Eeality, p. 318.

376 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ing we could assign to time would be the number of changes it had
suffered. In a wholly mental world, for instance, if a substance
should go through a series of changes and then return identical to
its original state, time would so far retreat on its own tracks and
the past would be revoked.

In space, however, there is true quantity, because there are
wholes whose parts stay to fill them up. Nor does the equality of
two lengths depend upon the motion of a measuring-rod, super-
posed on each in turn and postulated as invariant. To compare the
lengths of two straight lines A and B, we describe a sphere with A
as radius, select the position A' of that radius which is parallel to
B, and construct a parallelogram whose opposite sides are A' and
B, and whose base is the line joining the corresponding ends of A'
and B. If then the upper side starting from the other end of A'
cuts line B exactly at its other end, B is equal to A; otherwise it
is unequal to A. Obviously it is the simultaneous presence of the
entities concerned which renders the test possible. But in time the
backward end of our line always drops out. If we are to represent
time by a line, it will not be by a straight line, which has a fixed
length. The line will have any curvature we wish; it may even
curve back into its beginning.

Until recently it was believed that all the processes of nature
do keep step. So the defender of time-length says "whilst it is
perfectly possible that a series which seems isochronous and ful-
fills the conditions with respect to another apparently isochronous
series might not obey them when tested with respect to another ap-
parently isochronous series, yet, as a matter of fact, this does not
generally happen."* The reason all the processes or series seem
to vary together is, no doubt, that they are of about the same order
of magnitude. When we come to compare very high velocities with
them, we find that the two orders do not keep step. The speed of
light does not, like other speeds we are conversant with, increase as
we move toward, or decrease as we move away from, the light-
source. Now if uniform velocity meant equal space in equal times,
then our time would have to shorten itself, or our space to enlarge
itself, to account for the discrepancy ; but both of these are really
absurd. If, however, time has no fixed quantity, there is no reason
why a series of changes like the light-waves should always give the
same number for the same number of swings of the clock's pendu-
lum. Keeping step between pendulums and light-waves is a phenom-
enon which can not be predicted or expected a priori. There is
nothing paradoxical in its absence. The only paradox lies in the

* O. D. Broad, Perception, Phytict and Reality, p. 321.

THE DICHOTOMY OF NATURE 377

interpretation; in time being itself altered, or space changed in
amount. Indeed, these conceptions refute themselves; for if time
is hurried or delayed, there is a standard time by comparison with
which the change is to be detected, and this standard is itself un-
altered. And the same holds, mutatis mutandis, of space. But
while we have very good empirical reasons for predicating quantity
and uniformity of space, we have no such reasons for doing the
same by time. So much on the topic of the opposition between
space and time.

If substance is more real than relation, time is in the same way
more real than space. Time lives by emphasis; we note its pas-
sage by rhythms, which impress our attention, whereas contempla-
tion of the uniformity of space tends to sleep, as when we gaze
into the crystal. So beauty of sound, or music which is given to
hearing the temporal sense moves us far more than beauty of sight,
as of color or form. But if time is stronger than space, space is
bigger than time. Not only has space three ways of extending, but
it lies there a vast empty potency, offering equal opportunity to
all material possibilities, and exercising no restrictive force. Time
does not actually lie out before us, for the future is not an empty
receptacle, but is largely predetermined by past and present. Later
we shall see that space is the source of chance, as is time of causa-
tion; at present it is enough to say that they are related somewhat
as act and potency. In consequence of their asymmetry, they do
not look opposite. For time is, to our spatialized mode of thought,
easily symbolized by a line, and a line does not appear complemen-
tary to a volume. But time is not a line, in which the elements
coexist. Extensive quantity does not characterize it; rather we
must say that time is intensive. If the present is big with the fu-
ture, the bigness is a density; while space is big, not with any
precise future, but with all futures, as well as present and past —
in short, space is big irrespective of its particular contents, big
with its own bigness. And in fact, all the comparisons we have
made between time and space show the asymmetry of their relation-
ship ; none more so indeed, than the most obvious difference of all,
that time itself is asymmetrical while space is perfectly balanced in
all directions.

We proceed to the next pair of categories. As relation was
found to comprise space and time, so space is found to contain two
sorts of entity, viz., qualities and quantities. Quantities are directly
sensed in the very perception of space; qualities, while equally
sensed, are given in connection with things or substances. The
empty separation or stretch between two stars has quantity; the

378 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

positions of the stars themselves are revealed by qualitative distinc-
tion of light from darkness. If positions are compared with
lengths, the qualitative terms of space, those terms are marked out
by being occupied; and it is the qualities of things that occupy
them. Quantities are more akin to pure space, while qualities in-
herit more the traits of their grandfather, substance, and their
father, time. Qualities might, indeed, be found in a spaceless time-
world, in the form of nodes in the fortunes of a single substance;
even in a pure space-world, they show their kinship with sub-
stance by inhering in the diverse substances which people that
world. They are unique and simple, with the uniqueness of the
present moment; they change, as positions by themselves can not
do, either by movement or by gradation of degree. They are, like
substance, self-contained, leaving no intrinsic reference to anything
else; as a blue spot in the darkness contains no reference to red or
other color, and is only blueness. But a quantity is intrinsically
all quantities, as it is continuous and infinitely divisible; likewise
it is relative to external quantities, being limited by them. Quan-
tity is continuous because it is derived from space, which is in all
ways homogeneous. Qualities on the other hand are discrete, no
matter how finely graded be the transition from one to another.
In a band of color passing from pure red through purple to pure
blue, there is a definite point where blue enters and another where
red departs. But a geometric line has no such points marked off,
unless cut by another line of different direction; and directions,
like positions, imply quality.

From the above it is easy to see that quality and quantity form
a connected and asymmetrical couple of opposites. They are con-
nected in that particular quantities are marked out by their color
or brightness, which are visual qualities. Thus quantities of them-
selves imply the presence of some quality. But quality is not so
intimately bound with quantity, just as substance, we saw, is not
so intimately bound with relation, or time with space. Time could
occur in a single thing, and so could quality. Most qualities, how-
ever, are quantitative, having degree or intensity; this is due to
quantitative properties of moving particles, such as velocity of
oscillation. Yet this phenomenon does not seem essential to the
very being of a quality; all colors might have but one degree of
brightness or saturation, all sounds the same loudness, without
ceasing to be perceptible or significant. Quantities, however, con-
tain just that implication and necessary connection which qualities
lack; they continue the tradition of the category of relation, as
qualities continue that of substance. Quantity is the region, there-

THE DICHOTOMY OF NATURE 379

fore, of calculation, of discovery of something new from the already
given, by implication; quality is a resting-point for the inquiring
mind. From the point of view of one quality in space, it is chance
what the others will be. Thus in the space-world, each of these cate-
gories affirms what the other omits. And their asymmetry is seen
also in this same matter of implication. Quantity is a fecund at-
tribute, an abstract relational affair rich in potentialities for
thought because poor in individuation. Quality has more of ac-
tuality, quantity more of potency in the scheme of the material
world.

Before tracing out further the categorical pattern, we must
notice that we have now before us something like a completed first
stage, or cycle. The third pair of categories is a union of the first
two pairs, and thus closes the circle. Real things or substances in
time and without space to move in, must possess quality; there is
no other way in which change could be accomplished in them.
Quality thereby enables substances to change; it is the link which
unites them with time. On the other hand, relations between things
in space, where there is no time and no motion, are fixed distances,
and distance is a quantity. A quantity is thus a relation assuming
the objective form of space ; extensive in the first instance, and in-
tensive when applied to a momentary quality. Our first six cate-
gories then complete a circle ; but as the range of information to be
acquired in this six-fold universe is far wider than in the original
two-fold world, we had better use the spiral as our figure. The
spiral is an open circle, wherein we ever return to the original real-
ity with a greater breadth of knowledge. And at the same time we
have unwittingly added a seventh category to our list, which has
no mate ; to wit, the category of the whole, the synthesis, the iden-
tity through difference of the material already presented. But we
would emphasize the objectivity of the process; none of the cate-
gories, not even the seventh, are devised by man. They are dis-
covered; man's activity is only that of directing his attention.
Nor are the later categories deduced from the earlier; they are
found branching from them in the epigenetic, not the prefonnative
way.

That a natural cycle is here finished, is confirmed when we re-
flect that all the categories used by the sciences of external nature
have now been provided, either explicitly or implicitly. To give
an example or two : the atomic theory is but the scheme of the
heavenly bodies in space, transformed to suit the needs of micro-
cosmic explanation. Like the stars, the ultimate atoms are single
or in clusters, drifting, streaming, revolving ; the greatest difference

380 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

being in the extreme rapidity of atomic movements on the whole,
as compared with those of the sidereal system. Again, the ele-
mentary quantities of physical science are said to be length, mass
and time. If one account is correct there are really two, length
and mass. Of these, length is already delivered, while mass is but
quantity of matter, that is, of inertia. The prejudice against
"quantity of matter" may be dismissed along with the dislike of
substance. If matter is everywhere of uniform density, then mass
is correlated with volume and is an extensive quantity. If density
differs from atom to atom of equal volume, then mass is an inten-
sive quantity.

We shall not here trace in detail the discovery of further cate-
gories ; we confine ourselves to indication of the method of that dis-
covery. Man has two faculties used for the purpose, sense and
thought. Indeed, these two are related perhaps as the members of
each couple above are related; that does not now concern us.
Thought scrutinizes the gifts of sense, which takes its material di-
rect from nature — even as animals feed upon the stores of energy
laid up in green plants, which draw their sustenance direct from
the environment. In scrutinizing, thought finds a thousand-fold
more than sense has mentioned, in the package it has conveyed.
Thought works also in two ways, by analysis and by synthesis. In
both alike its activity consists in the fixing of attention upon the
given; but in the former the model of the substance-time-quality
series is its guide, and in the latter the model of the relational cate-
gories. Analysis observes each category by itself, whether it be a
category of the substantive side or one of the relational side. Syn-
thesis observes the relations between categories, whether they be the
categories of the one group or the other. Let it now suffice to say
that by these two methods we derive the remaining concepts used
in science, such as identity and diversity, unit and collection, indi-
vidual and universal, permanence and change, discreteness and con-
tinuity, ordinal and cardinal number, and so on. There is, how-
ever, one pair whose nature can not be fully understood from the
study of these formal categories alone. Causation and chance are
categories of the real world — though modern philosophy, unlike
ancient and medissval, has a curious bias against chance — and they
seem to form an exception to the statement we made, that we had
provided all the logical instruments of scientific research. They
serve indeed to remind us that our world is not a merely formal
affair, but a substantial one also. Modern philosophy, indeed, for-
malistic as it is, does tend to deny causation as well as chance ; that
is, as we hope later to show, because it has lost the category of

THE LENGTH OF HUMAN INFANCY 381

substance. In order to understand causation and chance, we must
betake ourselves to that side of nature's dichotomy which is re-
vealed under the head of substances. We must study the different
kinds of real things, and their relations to one another; the nature
of the distinction between living and non-living, mind and body,
animal and plant, green plant and bacterium, and so on.

W. H. SHELDON.
YALE UNIVERSITY.

THE LENGTH OF HUMAN INFANCY IN EIGHTEENTH-
CENTURY THOUGHT

T N a recent number of this JOURNAL* Professor W. R. Wells
points out an historical anticipation of the late John Fiske's
"theory regarding the meaning and value of the prolonged period
of human infancy in comparison with the briefer infancy of lower
animals." Fiske called attention to the fact that, in Professor
Wells 's words, "a long period of infancy is valuable, first in giving
time for educative influences to work upon the plastic brain and in
making possible thereby a higher development of the mind, and
second, in making necessary a greater degree of parental coopera-
tion than is the case among the lower animals" — thus resulting in
"the development of the domestic virtues." These considerations
seemed to Fiske at once to "bridge the gap between brute and
man," to "account for the evolution of human intelligence and
morals," and to aid in "justifying the ways of God to man."
But, as Professor Wells notes, the same considerations had been
dwelt upon — especially with the third of these purposes in view —
by an anonymous writer in The Friends' Annual in 1834.

There is, however, nothing surprising or "striking" about this
anticipation of Fiske ; for precisely the same observations concerning
the significance of the longer infancy of the human animal were
among the familiar commonplaces of eighteenth-century thought.
They were expressed both in the philosophical poem and in the
political treatise most widely read in that century.

In his account of the beginning and early stages of human so-
ciety, in the Essay on Man (1733), Pope wrote (Epistle III, 125
ft):

Thus bird and beast their common charge attend,
The mothers nurse it and the sires defend;
The young dismissed to wander earth or air,
There stops the instinct and there ends the care. . . .
A longer care man's helpless kind demands;

i Vol. XIX, p. 208.

382 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

That longer care contract* more lasting bands . . .

Still as one brood, and as another rose,

These natural love maintained, habitual those.?

The last scarce ripened into perfect man

Saw helpless him from whom their life began, etc.

Pope thus plainly points to the greater length of human infancy
as the cause of the development of the family relation and of the
domestic virtues; and he does so as a part of the argument of a
poem of which the professed object is "to vindicate the ways of
God to man. ' '

The Essay is in great part a versification of passages of Boling-
broke's Fragments or Minutes of Essays, which appear to have been
written for the purpose of thus providing the poet with material.
But Pope here sees the point better than his philosophical mentor.
Bolingbroke was attempting, on the one hand, to show that ' ' man is
connected by his nature . . . with the whole tribe of animals, and
so closely with some of them, that the distance between his intellec-
tual faculties and theirs, which constitutes as really, though not so
sensibly, as figure the difference of species, appears, in many in-
stances, small, and would probably appear still less, if we had the
means of knowing their motives, as we have of observing their ac-
tions. ' ' 8 On the other hand, he is replying to those theologians
who loved to dilate upon the miseries of the ' ' natural state of man-
kind." He writes accordingly:

I say then, that if men come helpless into the world like other animals ;
if they require even longer than other animals to be nursed and edu-
cated by the tender instinct of their parents, and if they are able much
later to provide for themselves, it is because they have more to learn and
more to do; it is because they are prepared for a more improved state
and for greater happiness. . . . The condition wherein we are born and
bred, the very condition so much complained of, prepares us for this coinci-
dence (of social and self-love). ... As our parents loved themselves in us,
so we love ourselves in our children, and in those to whom we are most
nearly related by blood. Thus far instinct improves self-love. Reason
improves it further.4

Bolingbroke here emphasizes the value of a long infancy "in
giving time for educative influences to work upon the plastic

* Cf. these two lines with Fiske 's Outlines of Cosmic Philosophy, IV,
134: "When at last the association is so long kept up that the older children
are growing mature, while the younger ones still need protection, the family
relations begin to become permanent."

• "Fragment L," Works, 1809, ed.; VIII, p. 231.

«" Fragment L" op. cit., p. 240. Pope versifies the last four sentences
cited in Essay on Man, Ep. Ill, lines 149, 124, 133-4.

THE LENGTH OF HUMAN INFANCY 383

brain," but he suggests less plainly than Pope a relation between
this physiological peculiarity of the human species and the origin of
society.

There is in this, however, no evidence of originality on Pope's
part ; for the more significant aspect of the matter had been pointed
out nearly half a century earlier by Locke, in Sections 79-80 of the
Second Treatise of Government:

The end of conjunction between male and female being not barely
procreation, but the continuation of the species, this conjunction betwixt
male and female ought to last, even after procreation, so long as is neces-
sary to the nourishment and support of the young ones, who are to be
sustained by those that got them until they are able to shift and provide
for themselves. . . . And herein, I think, lies the chief, if not the only
reason, why the male and female in mankind are tied to a longer con-
junction than other creatures, viz., because the female is capable of
conceiving, and, de facto, is commonly with child again, and brings forth
too a new birth, long before the former is out of a dependency for
support upon his parents' help. . . . (Thus) the father is under an obliga-
tion to continue in conjugal society with the same woman longer than
other creatures, whose young, being able to subsist of themselves before
the time of procreation returns again, the conjugal bond dissolves
itself. . . . Wherein one can not but admire the wisdom of the great
Creator who . . . hath made it necessary that society of man and wife
should be more lasting than that of male and female among other creatures,
that so their industry might be encouraged, and their interest better
united, to make provision and lay up goods for their common issue.

How far beyond Locke the same idea can be tra.ced I do not
know, but it is certain that the "theory regarding the value of
infancy" which Fiske presented in 1874 as something "entirely
new in all its features"5 had been clearly set forth as early as
1689, in one of the most familiar classics of English political phi-
losophy.

Moreover, neither Mr. Fiske nor his Quaker precursor seem to
have noted that their theory had been subjected to some rather
damaging criticism by Rousseau in 1755, in a note appended to his
Discourse on the Origin of Inequality. Referring to the passage
of Locke cited above, Rousseau remarks, in substance, that, if it is
a question of explaining the origin of the family, the thing pri-
marily to be accounted for is the beginning of the permanent co-
habitation of male and female during the nine months between
copulation and the birth of the child. If the parents did not live
together — i.e., if the habit of family life had not already been
formed — during this period, why should the primitive human male
have come to the aid of the female " after the accouchement "f "Why

5 Outlines of Cosmic Philosophy, I, p. viii.

384 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

should he aid her to rear an infant which he does not even know
to be his, and the birth of which he has neither purposed nor fore-
seen!" Locke, in seeking in the length of human infancy an ex-
planation of the beginnings of the permanent family, has forgotten,
Rousseau intimates, another characteristic of the human species —
the long period of gestation. When this is borne in mind — as
Rousseau's criticism implies — it becomes evident that the proposed
explanation presupposes the thing to be explained. The helpless-
ness of the human infant certainly would not have united the par-
ents unless they had already, for a considerable period, been united ;
and if their union had endured for so long, it is not obviously neces-
sary to invoke additional explanations to account for its having
endured longer — especially as the period of helplessness, Rousseau
suggests, was probably much briefer in the case of primitive man.
At all events, the first and great transition — that from casual mat-
ings to relatively lasting cohabitation of the sexes — is left unex-
plained by the theory in question. Thus — for these and other rea-
sons— Rousseau concludes that le raisonnement de Locke tombe en
ruine.

He would probably have pronounced a similar judgment on
later examples of the same argument. For the weakness of the
argument should have been still clearer by the time it was revived
in the late 19th century. It was then well known to naturalists
that the family is not peculiar to man; and that, apparently, "in
the higher apes monogamy is the rule, the male and female roam-
ing at large in a family party."* The gorilla, for example, "lives
in a society consisting of male and female, and their young of vari-
ous ages and the family group inhabits the recesses of the forest.
. . . The male animal spends the night crouching at the foot of the
tree, and thus protects the female and their young, which are in
the nest above, from the nocturnal attacks of leopards."7 Fiske
ignored the zoological knowledge of his time in declaring that
1 ' while mammals lower than man are gregarious, " it is only in man
that there "have become established those peculiar relationships
which constitute what we know as the family."8 The fact is
simply that some species are of a monogamous or monandrous habit,
and that the ancestors of man were probably of such a species.

« Pycroft, The Courtship of Animal*, 1914, p. 26.

T Hartmann, Anthropoid Apes (1885), p. 231. Garner, howerer, describes
both gorilla and chimpanzee as monandrous but not usually monogamous. ' ' The
chimpanzee," he asserts, "keeps his children with him until they are old
enough to go away and rear families of their own." (Apes and Monkeys, 1900,
pp. 99, 232.)

> The Meaning of Infancy, p. 29.

BOOK REVIEWS 385

Why an animal has this characteristic we do not know. The theory
of natural selection would, indeed, suggest that if the young of a
species remain helpless for a long period, that species is more likely
to survive if the male remains with the female and aids her to de-
fend the young. But this would only mean that a primarily un-
favorable variation — helpless infancy — was accompanied by an-
other variation which in some degree offset its disadvantages. The
latter variation can not have been caused by its effect — the better
protection of the young; and it therefore is not explained by that
effect. And it must, as Rousseau's observation suggests, have mani-
fested itself primarily as an instinct to continue with the same mate
or (in the case of the male, in some species) mates, before the birth
of offspring. Fiske fell into an extraordinary inversion of causal
relations, and at the same time missed the fact that really needed
to be accounted for, when he wrote that "one effect [of lengthened
infancy] of stupendous importance" was that, among our "half-
human forefathers," as "helpless babyhood came more and more
to depend on parental care, the fleeting sexual relationships estab-
lished among mammals were gradually exchanged for permanent
relations. ' '

As an explanation of the origin of the family, then, Fiske 's
theory was neither new nor true. Nor did it show the "value,"
in the sense of the indispensability, of prolonged infancy, even as
a means to man's greater intellectual attainments. It was not evi-
dent that the continued plasticity requisite for the learning-process
need be inseparable from physical helplessness.

ARTHUR 0. LOVEJOY.

JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY.

BOOK REVIEWS

Nietzsche, sa Vie et sa Pensee. Vol. Ill ; Le Pessimisme Esthetique
de Nietzsche, sa Philos&phie a I'Epoque Wagnerienne. CHARLES
ANDLER. Paris: Editions Bossard. 1921. Pp. 390.
Nietzsche's mental curiosity knew no bounds. So, difference
of opinion might well arise over the crowding recitals of Volume II
(c/. this JOURNAL, Vol. XIX, No. 11), especially with reference to
the relative importance of the influences exerted by persons and,
no less, by ideas "in the air." Nevertheless, such opportunities for
divergence, seeing that they are capable of control to some extent,
pale when we come to Volume III with its attempt at synthetic
treatment of the Nietzschean "philosophy," and its search (in-
evitable it would seem), for "system" (c/. Bibliographical Note,

386 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

p. 20). The volume contains an Introduction (discussing the "phi-
losophy") : three Books — "The Origins and Renaissance of
Tragedy"; "The Origins and Renaissance of Philosophy"; "The
Origins and Renaissance of Civilization": and a Conclusion (con-
cerned chiefly with Nietzsche's pet idea of a "philosophy of civil-
ization").

The Introduction assumes, sans phrases, that Nietzsche was a
philosopher; and proceeds to an interesting exhibit of his relation
to "system." Andler takes care to emphasize the four styles of
composition and, as concerns "system," points out that "an invis-
ible force tends to weld the numerous fragments." Therefore, in
his reconstruction, he confesses to "preoccupation with the history
of ideas, not of literary fragments" (p. 27 note). He finds that
three Periods emerge successively: "Romantic Pessimism" (1869-
76); "Sceptical Positivism" (1876-81); "Reconstruction" (1882-
8). The question whether Nietzsche ever thought philosophically
is not raised and, although the likeness to Plato finds recognition
(cf. Bk. II., Ch. II., Sect. IV.), perhaps for this very reason, the
approach is that of a literary man rather than of a philosophical
expert. Nay, the hand takes color from the dye in which it works.
For, the emotion of superior spirits "n'est que I'elan irresistible
avec lequel leur esprit se hate vers le terme ou le raisonnement vul-
gaire s'achemine avec une lenteur reflechie" (p. 16). In short, we
have a continuation (raised to the nth power, if you please,) of
prepotent Romantic Kulturgeschichte, sublimely stepping from
peak to peak in seven-leagued boots. And yet, the apostle of "ex-
treme relativism" is to arrive at an absolute.

"M'insegnavate come I'uom' s'eterna."

We must have patience for a while, hoping to find some resolution
of the impasse as the drama unfolds further.

Chapter I of Book I gives a straightforward account of views
about the origin of Greek tragedy, and of Nietzsche's attitude to
the problem. There is an informing philological note on his pro-
jected Hellenic writings, and on the seven plans for the Birth of
Tragedy, itself a fragment of the larger work on the Greeks, never
written. The hesitation due to clash between ideas derived from
Schopenhauer and Wagner receives due consideration. Nietzsche's
well-known judgments on the parts played respectively by JEschy-
lus, Sophocles, and Euripides-Socrates are summarized neatly.
Chapter II tells why Nietzsche saw the resurrection of Greek
tragedy in the Wagnerian drama, explaining the parallel factors
of the "Dionysiac soul," the "faculty for mythology," and the
"artistic audience." Art proves once more that men are better

BOOK REVIEWS 387

than "voracious and monstrous" Nature. Chapter III gives a com-
petent summary of the "quarrel over Greek tragedy" resultant
upon the scrap — the name is not too undignified — between Nietz-
sche, Wilamowitz, Rohde, and Wagner. Having assessed the rights
and wrongs, Andler proceeds to show how this youthful emeute de-
termined the positions of Wilamowitz and Rohde throughout life,
and concludes with an outline of recent tendencies in investigation,
tracing the dead hand of Nietzsche in many ways.

Book II treats Philosophy after similar fashion, delineating
Nietzsche's attitude ("the philosopher is the physician of Kultur"),
and his peculiar views about the Pre-Socratics and Socrates, in
Chapter I. Chapter II brings us at one fell swoop to modern phi-
losophy, with its "savants submerged in the infinitely little," Scho-
penhauer the bright, particular exception. But, whatever his in-
tellectual power, the crass vulgarities of the Frankfort curmudgeon
prevented him from being the philosophical Moses. Hence, as
Andler points out, following Frau Foster (p. 155), the ideal thinker
was drawn by Nietzsche from himself, decked with certain traits
from Wagner — not Goethe. And so we are led to the "Platonism
of Nietzsche," interpreted persuasively. With Chapter III, "The
First System of Nietzsche, or Philosophy of Illusion," we find our-
selves, for the first time decisively, in full tide of controversial af-
fairs. Differing sharply from Raoul Richter, for example, who
says that Nietzsche was "unsystematic, confused, and dilettante"
at this stage, Andler affirms "the total cohesion of his thought" (p.
172), admitting the audacity of the standpoint. The remainder of
the volume is, in effect, proof. Indeed, so much so that, on p. 302,
when the conclusion of the whole matter looms in sight, Andler can
affirm, Nietzsche's "systematic thought is of marvellous continu-
ity."

The causes of the "illusions" of knowledge, morality and art
exposed, we find that, between 1870 and 1874, Nietzsche fell back
upon an "impersonal memory" and a "collective imagination,"
taking metonymy for cool reason ; in fact, falling victim to an obvi-
ous phase of the substance-attribute fallacy, not abandoned till
after 1876. The general spirit is that of Schopenhauer, tempered
by the Wagnerian dogma of musical ecstasy as a "veritable phil-
osophic revelation." But Lamarck and Emerson work like yeast,
with the result that Nietzsche begins to "slip." He realizes that
"transformations" are imperative, and can be accomplished by
the "internal energy which upholds all life." Accordingly, a
"practical" metaphysic, in the form of a theory of civilization, as-
serts itself. Book III is devoted to a "reconstruction" of this.

388 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Chapter I deals with Greek civilization, which seconds Schopen-
hauer's psychology, but contradicts Nietzsche's nascent conception
of value (p. 225). Chapters II and III show that, in face of
modern philistinism, Wagner plays the role of a " counter- Alexan-
der," while Germany may be destined to enact that of a messiah.
We learn that the idea of "value" may be reconstituted by the
"immense reserve energy of heroes, thinkers, artists." But, to
this end, these seminal persons must rise superior to the three
great ogres — the State, Capitalism, and Science, bemused by the
fatal belief that man has a natural right to happiness. The hod-
men of feudalized science know as little of real life as their more
ignorant contemporaries. Debility or cynicism leave their blight-
ing trail everywhere. Even the fair humanities produce mere
"des hommes enregimentes" (p. 390). "Reconstruction" of the
Prometheus fragment issues in suggestions as to the new culture,
and presages the fateful doctrine of "eternal return."

Thanks to a misprint, common to text and to Table des Matieres,
there is no Chapter IV. Chapter V exhibits Nietzsche's plan for
the reorganization of education, necessary to rid the innocent youth
of "false culture, the journalistic spirit, and superficial rhetoric"
(p. 305). Chapter VI gives a subtle exposition of the part which
Nietzsche expected Bayreuth to play in this transformation, and in-
dicates how a "New Wagnerism" formulated itself in his mind,
rendering a break with the composer inevitable" (p. 318). Nietz-
sche's limitations and positive errors at the moment are set forth
(p. 326 f.). Despite them, however, Wagner's "dynamism" pre-
figures Zarathustra. The outcome of the first period is the convic-
tion that a superior civilization must be developed ; and even Scho-
penhauer was full of obscurity on this point, while Wagner, after
arousing great expectations, fell from grace. So Nietzsche came to
sense the need for other guides, and turned to the French moral-
ists.

The Conclusion furnishes a most instructive account of Nietz-
sche's attitude towards the problem of civilization; of his debt to
Greek culture, and to the Greek intellect which followed the ques-
tion whithersoever it led ; and of his personal philosophy at this time.
Nietzsche committed himself to no choice between " intellectualism,
naturalism, and personalism, " finding defects in all. He proceeded
to correct them by a new apriorism of values, simulating the system
of the elder Fichte — a very suggestive remark, not elaborated!
Recall von Hart ma mi's unacknowledged plunder from the same
source! This philosophy, motivated by "liberty of the spirit,"
brought him into conflict (or competition) with the personal revela-

BOOK REVIEWS

tion of Jesus. "La loi de genie serait heteronomie pour la foule.
La loi des foules est heteronomie pour le genie" (p. 379).

Two questions, and one request, are in order. What are we to
hear of the influence of Ludwig Feuerbach, who dominated thought
in Germany and Teutonic Switzerland 1845-65? whose Wesen
des Christ enthums was "the third crow of the cock of the spirit of
German liberty"? (c/. Washington University Studies, Vol. IX,
No. 1 (St. Louis, 1921), pp. 32 f.). He it was who gave Wagner
his start. Of his less important oldest brother, Anselm, the archae-
ologist, we heard a good* deal in volume II (pp. 229 f.). Again,
what direct contact, if any, had Nietzsche with Count Arthur de
Gobineau? This seems to me a question at once most obscure and
most seductive. Finally, I beg M. Andler to furnish a complete
index. His volume must be thumbed by all Nietzsche scholars and,
for this purpose, the present tables des matieres are quite inade-
quate.

R. M. WENLET.

UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN.

Philosophy and the New Physics. An Essay on the Relativity
Theory and, the Theory of Quanta. Louis ROUGIER. Translated
by Morton Masius. Philadelphia: P. Blakiston's Son and Com-
pany. 1921. Pp. xv + 159.

The title of this essay in the original French — La Materialization
de I'finergie — is more exactly descriptive of it than the English
substitute. There is in fact almost nothing in the book in the way
of metaphysical generalization from the physical theories that are
examined; and there is but a page or two of comment on the im-
portance for physical theory of the pragmatist conception of truth.
The book should be none the less interesting to philosophical readers.
Those who have given some serious attention to recent advances
in physics will be glad to find this well-ordered and illuminating
summary. Those who would like to set about the study will find
the field mapped out for them, and a useful bibliography of French,
as well as German, books and articles. And those whose interests
lie elsewhere will find here the means of ' ' speaking with an appear-
ance of wisdom" upon these important topics.

THEODORE DE LAGUNA.
BRYN MAWR COLLEGE.

390 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

JOURNAL OP EDUCATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY, October,
1921. The Reading Problem in Arithmetic: PAUL W. TERRY (pp.
365-377). -It has become recognized that a definite and distinctive
problem in reading is to be found in each of the elementary-school
subjects. An investigation was conducted on the reading problem
in arithmetic. The records show that the numerals of problems make
decidedly greater demands upon attention than the accompanying
words. Less than half as many digits as letters are perceived dur-
ing one pause of the eye. An Experimental and Statistical Study
of Reading and Reading Tests: A. I. GATES (pp. 378-392). -The
second instalment ; concluded in the November issue. The Results of
Retests by Means of the Binet Scale: J. E. W. WALUN (pp. 392-
401). -The study is based on two testings of 136 cases, three testings
of 16 of these cases and a fourth testing of one. The intervals
varied, the average between the first and second tests was 2.2 years,
range % to 6 years. The average interval between the second and
third tests was two years, range 1 to 4 years. The necessity of vali-
dating the accuracy of the Stanford norms — and revising the tests
and administrative procedure — on the basis of the testing of a large
number of unselected children from various sections of the country
is urgent. The tentative conclusion is that most of the Stanford age
norms are too difficult, thus exaggerating the subjects' deficiency.
Mental Growth and the I. Q.: L. M. TERMAN (pp. 401-407 ) .-Sev-
eral other contributions on the validity of the I. Q. are mentioned.
Criteria to Employ in Choice of Tests: R. FRANZEN and F. B. KNIGHT
(pp. 408-412). -We should insist upon the use of tests which can be
proven to test what they purport to measure, which are reliable and
objective, which are scaled and which have well-defined
norms based on sufficient material. Personal Judgments: E. E.
LINDSAY (pp. 413-415). -Teachers' estimates of children's native
capacities and these capacities as determined by as scientific method
as possible, were compared. Seven members of a teaching group
judged students after a month's class-room acquaintance. The group
judging was a highly selected one and the group judged was small.
The conclusions drawn are (1) Teachers' estimates of children's na-
tive capacity are significant but to no marked degree, (2) training
and experience of the teacher do not seem greatly to affect this
significance, (3) individual judgment of the same children by obser-
vers with approximately the same contact differ widely, (4) other
factors than native ability to enter into one's judgment of same.
Notes. New Publications.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 391

SCIENTIA. December, 1921. La loi des grands nombres (pp.
433-438): C. V. L. CHABLIER (Lund). -La Place's world-formula,
even if it found the intellect who could deductively think it through,
could never be established on the basis of observation, for observa-
tion is essentially approximate. All science is, therefore, of neces-
sity statistical, and deals with average effects, not with individuals.
Geological Conquest of the Air (pp. 439-446) : CHARLES R. KEYES
(Des Moines) .-Only recently have we come to realize the power of
the wind to shape topography, particularly in the arid desert lands.
Le type chimique et la substance des corps simples (pp. 447-454) :
MAURICE DE BROGLIE (Paris) .-Summary of facts about isotopes,
with emphasis on their fundamental character for the most recent
chemistry. Les dommages economiques mondiaux causes par la
guerre (pp. 455-466): FILXPPO VIRGILII (Siena.) .-Shows the com-
plexity of the calculations of war costs, and the elements of gain
that must also be taken into account, yet concludes tha,t 2500 billion
francs of loss remain, a terrible drain on all humanity. La ques-
tion sociale: elargissons le socialisme (pp. 467-472) : GEORGES
RENARD (Paris) .-Decidedly idealistic sketch of a programme of
reform. La theorie de I' evolution en neuropathologie (pp. 473-
479) : MARIO CARRARA (Turin). -The more recently evolved the re-
action, the more easily is it subject to pathological alterations.
Reviews of Scientific Books and Periodicals.

Lavelle, Louis. La Dialectique du Monde sensible. Oxford and
New York : Oxford University Press. 1921. Pp. xli -f 232.

Lavelle, Louis. La Perception de la Pronfondeur. Oxford and New
York : Oxford University Press. 1921. Pp. 72.

de Tourtoulon, Pierre. Philosophy in the Development of Law.
Translated by Martha McC. Read. New York: The Macmillan
Co. 1922. Pp. lii + 635. $5.

Heermance, Edgar L. Chaos or Cosmos. New York : E. P. Dutton
& Co. 1922. Pp. xxi -f 358. $3.

Malebranche. Entretiens sur la Metaphysique et sur la Religion
suivis d'extraits des Entretiens sur la Mort. (Publies par Paul
Fontana). 2 volumes. (Collection Les Classiques de la Phi-
losophic) . Paris : Librairie Armand Colin. 1922. Pp. xii -+- 192,
190. 6 fr. 50 each.

Santayana, George. Soliloquies in England and later Soliloquies.
New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. 1922. Pp. 264.

392 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

NOTES AND NEWS

The following article is taken from Science, May 12, 1922:
The teaching of evolution in the Baptist denominational
schools in Texas is being investigated as heretical. The denomina-
tion is strong in membership and maintains about fifteen colleges
and seminaries in the state, the chief of which is Baylor University
at Waco. It appears that the trouble arose as the result of the
publication in 1920, by the Baylor University Press itself, of an
"Introduction to the Principles of Sociology," by Grove Samuel
Dow, Professor of Sociology in Baylor University. The book is
based upon the theory of evolution wherever it touches upon the
biological aspects of sociology, although the term biological evolu-
tion is scarcely or not at all used in the text. At a recent confer-
ence of representatives of the Baptists of all parts of the state, such
teachings were pronounced heresy, and a sweeping investigation is
being made of all of the Baptist schools of the state to determine
how much "heresy" is being taught. Professor Dow has resigned
his position.

A somewhat related situation has existed at Southern Method-
ist University, Dallas, where the teaching of Dr. John A. Rice,
Professor of Old Testament Interpretation, has created the severe
opposition of a large part of his church. Dr. Rice's book, "The
Old Testament in the Life of Today," looks upon the Old Testa-
ment as a series of independent historical papers, each subject to
its own interpretation. Many are considered as having been re-
vised by several authors before they have reached their present
form. Each is regarded as a literary production, subject to all of
the rules of literary interpretation ; this introduces a personal fac-
tor into any understanding of the Old Testament, and completely
does away with literal interpretations. Dr. Rice has also left his
position, to become pastor of a Methodist church in another state.

S. A. R.

At Columbia University, the following promotions in psychology
have been announced: Dr. H. L. Hollingworth to a full professor-
ship at Barnard College; Dr. Arthus I. Gates, Dr. William A. Mc-
Call and Dr. Leta S. Hollingworth to associate professorships at
Teachers College; Dr. A. T. Poffenberger to an associate professor-
ship at Columbia Unirersity.

VOL. XIX., No. 15 JULY 20, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

THE NATURE OF SPACE— I

INTRODUCTION

The topic of the present study is to be understood in a very re-
stricted sense, and the essential restrictions must be made plain at
the outset. Every textbook of geometry may be said to be an essay
on the nature of space, that is to say, of space in the abstract — space
assumed either as matter of fact or as matter of hypothesis. This
little essay does not pretend to rival the textbooks of geometry. It
does, indeed, have occasion to treat of some very elementary ge-
ometrical concepts, but not of anything more complicated than the
straight line. At the same time, it is not content to assume ab-
stract space, either as matter of fact or as hypothesis. On the con-
trary, its princiapl object is to exhibit the conception of space in
its actual setting in experience.

However, it is not the intention to try to give an account of the
whole of this setting, but only of so much of it as is strictly relevant
to the geometrical treatment of space. With the further physical
aspects of space we shall have almost nothing to do. The notion of
mass and the notion, of a measurable duration will not enter into
our discussion — not to speak of the notions of force and energy.
But a very important aspect of the meaning of distance consists in
its relations to mass, duration, etc. No man can throw a baseball
two hundred yards; and no man can run a mile in three minutes.
From the geometrical point of view, the kilometer has no properties
distinct from those of the millimeter ; and if all the distances in the
world were multiplied by a million there would be no change at all.
From the physical point of view, even the doubling of all lengths
and distances would have a very profound effect upon the world, if
bodies on the surface of the earth continued to fall about sixteen
feet during the first second.

The reader will, therefore, realize that in restricting considera-
tion to the geometrical conception of space, we very greatly simplify
our problem, and at the same time seriously limit the possible value
of any solution which we may reach. However successful we may
be, we shall have taken but a single step toward the larger syste-
matic knowledge of space, which can only be obtained as an essential
part of the knowledge of the general character of the physical world.

393

394 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Tin-re are two motives for this restriction of the inquiry. One
is purely personal: the narrowness of the writer's knowledge and
competence. This, if it stood alone, would be a better reason for
not publishing at all than for publishing the result of a truncated
investigation. But there is a further motive in the belief that
within the limits that are thus laid down a tolerably complete and
satisfactory solution of the problem can be given.

There is this also to be said. While results, such as are here
given, are seriously limited in their range, they have a place of their
own in the system of science ; and at the present juncture their im-
portance may be very great. How far Professor Einstein has gone
into detail in this matter, I do not know; but it is clear from his
account of the use of "measuring-rods" that some such theory as
that here set forth is presupposed by him in his two-fold theory of
relativity. Professor Whitehead, who is the author both of an in-
dependent account of the electromagnetic theory of relativity and
of a revision of Newton's theory of gravitation, has set forth very
fully his conception of spatial order and measurement in two re-
markable volumes, An Enquiry into the Principles of Natural
Knowledge and The Concept of Nature. That conception is radi-
cally inconsistent with the analysis here given.

Certain of the differences between Professor Whitehead 's ac-
count and the present one may be specified as follows. His account
starts with events; the present account starts with a certain class
of objects, namely, physical solids. Among the events which he as-
sumes, some are unlimited in three dimensions; here only finite
solids are assumed. The assumed unlimited events have, with
reference to their fourth (temporal) dimension, a definite shape;
they are analogous to the three-dimensional space between parallel
planes; the solids from which the present account starts are of all
possible shapes, but no one shape is assumed as given. Most im-
portant of all, however, is the fact that Professor Whitehead makes
the conceptions of the point, line, and surface — and the solid, too,
for that matter — as well as of linear order, length, and distance,
logically dependent upon the intersection of moments of different
time-systems; while to me this appears to be a most unfortunate
distortion of the actual system of relationships.

There is a deeper ground of difference, however, which ought
not to pass unnoticed. Professor Whitehead 's work is based upon
a certain theory as to the nature of experience, which seems to me
to be extremely doubtful. He takes his start from certain data,
which, as he believes, are given to us in sensuous experience. My
own point of departure is in the behavior of things toward one an-
other, as we manipulate them.

THE NATURE OF SPACE 395

Among Professor Whitehead's incontestably important contri-
butions is his method of "extensive abstraction." In the precise
form in which he has described it, it was not available for my pur-
poses. But, in an appendix, I have used a simplified, and in some
respects strengthened, form of the method for the definition of the
point, the line, and the surface as sets of solids; and I have at the
same time showed how the method is related to my own assump-
tions.

The main body of the essay is in two parts. The first is mathe-
matical; but, lest this should affright any modest philosophical
reader, let me hasten to add that the mathematics is of the very
simplest character — quite as easy as the easiest pages of the first
book of Euclid. (In the notes there are passages that may make
rather more difficult reading; but these are not essential.) The ob-
ject of this part is to lead to as clear as possible a conception of
certain of the more fundamental geometrical entities and relations.

The second part is physical. Its object is to determine the em-
pirical foundations of geometry (so far as these may properly be
held to lie within the limits of a physical, rather than a psychological,
inquiry). The point and the peculiar relation between points,
which, in the mathematical part, figure as primary assumptions in
terms of which explanation is to be made, are here themselves the
goal that is to be attained. The physical part of the inquiry is thus
directly supplementary to the mathematical. The former owes its
problem to the outcome of the latter.

At the end of the second part, an opportunity arises for mak-
ing a suggestion the import of which extends far beyond the sub-
ject of these pages. This opportunity is afforded, first, by the close
similarity of the conception here reached of the principles of ge-
ometry, to the conception of physical principles long ago advanced
by Galileo, as well as to that recently advanced by Poincare; and,
secondly, by a further analogy to the general principle of empiri-
cal science — the uniformity of nature. I shall take advantage of
this opportunity to the extent of offering the briefest possible com-
ment.1

1 With the exception of the appendix dealing with the method of extensive
abstraction, this essay has lain in manuscript for the last five years. An
earlier, more general study, The Nature of Primary Qualities, was published
in the Philosophical Review for September, 1913 (Vol. XXII, pp. 502ff.). A
second paper, On the Distinction between Primary and Secondary Qualities,
dealing more fully with certain outlying epistemological questions, appeared
in this JOURNAL for February 28, 1918 (Vol. XV, pp. 113ff.).

396 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

THE FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTS OP GEOMETRY

Every reader, the memory of whose youthful days has not faded
out completely, will recall that in the study of elementary geometry
one sets out from a body of concepts that are accepted as too
simple and clear to need definition, and that in terms of these pri-
mary concepts one defines all other concepts that belong to the sci-
ence. The number of these assumed "indefinables" is usually very
great ; but, since they are not plainly listed and set apart, they may
easily seem to be far fewer than a careful search would show.

It has long been an enterprise of mathematicians, dating par-
ticularly from the researches of Leibniz, first, to make an accurate
list of the assumed concepts of geometry, and, secondly, to reduce
their number to the absolute minimum by defining all that can be
defined. This enterprise has in recent years been rewarded with a
large measure of success. It has been found possible to base the
concepts of geometry upon two "indefinables," one of which is an
entity, the other a relation.2

What was not anticipated in the old days is the fact that a con-
siderable freedom of choice is possible in choosing the indefinables.
The entity chosen is, indeed, usually the point. But for the rela-
tion there are three important alternatives to choose from, giving
rise to three fairly distinct types of geometrical system: protective
geometry, descriptive geometry,8 and metrical geometry.

(i) For protective geometry the indefinables are now usually
"point" and a certain relation between three points called "to be

2 This last statement must not be misunderstood. Geometry makes the
freest use of the concepts of formal logic, as well as of the more complex
mathematical concepts (particularly those of arithmetic) which are definable
in terms of logical concepts. Such terms as "if — then," "and," "or,"
"not," "any," "such as," "identical with," etc.; as well as "one," "two,"
"as many," "more," "twice as many," etc., are thickly sprinkled all over
the pages of our geometries. Some of these must, in any system of logic,
be accepted as indefinable. When, therefore, we speak of the two indefin-
able* of a system of geometry, we mean the two peculiar indefinables, assumed
in addition to the omnipresent concepts of logic.

To guard against misplaced verbal criticism, it may be added that there
is an interpretation of geometry, according to which its ' ' indefinables ' ' are
really defined — namely, by the "axioms," or "postulates," from which tie
demonstrations of the science proceed. The argument of the present chapter
is unaffected by these considerations.

3 The usage of this term is unfortunately inconsistent. In the following
pages it will be used to denote the type of geometry for which measurement
is a wholly secondary matter, but which assumes from the outset — as projec-
tive geometry does not — the conception of the order of three points in a
straight line. Cf. B. Russell, The Principle* of Mathematics, p. 382 and Chap.
XLVI; L. Couturat, Let Principet de» Mathematiqua, p. 142 and pp. 159ff.

THE NATURE OF SPACE 397

collinear." In common language this relation would be expressed
by saying that the three points were in one straight line. The same
mode of expression may, indeed, be used by the mathematician ; but
he has then three indefinables instead of two: namely, "point,"
"line" (or "straight line"), and "to be in." It is simpler to start
with "point" and "collinear," and to define the straight line as a
peculiar set of points; that is to say, as the set of all the points
that are collinear with two distinct points, together with the two
points themselves.

We may pause here to emphasize the fact that collinearity is a
relation between three points. The relations with which logic has
for the most part dealt are relations between two terms ; and from
this fact a wide-spread prejudice has arisen, to the effect that all
relations are confined to two terms. But the case of collinearity
itself is clear evidence to the contrary. Any two points are con-
nected by a straight line; but when this is true of three points it
constitutes a certain definite relation between them.

It is true, that instead of regarding collinearity as a relation be-
tween three points, we may equally well regard it as a quality of a
collection of three points.4 That is, of course, because the relation
of collinearity is symmetrical. If A is collinear with B and C, it is
collinear with C and B; and furthermore B is collinear with A and
C, and C is collinear with A and B. Such a relation can always
be regarded as a quality that is predicable of the collection as a
totality. Instead of saying that Henry is a cousin of Stephen or
that Stephen is a cousin of Henry, I may equally well say that
Henry and Stephen are a pair of cousins.

(ii) For descriptive geometry the approved indefinables are
"point" and "to be between." This latter is, again, a relation be-
tween three points. It would be expressed in ordinary language by
saying that one point was in a line with two others, and between
them; but in descriptive geometry it is accepted as a simple, inex-
plicable datum.

The between-relation differs from the relation of collinearity in
being symmetrical only with respect to two of the three points and
asymmetrical with respect to either of those two points and the

* The properties that we ascribe to things are of two sorts : first, those
that we may ascribe to a single thing and, secondly, those that may only be
ascribed to two or more things conjointly. "To be brave" is an example
of the first sort; "to be a cousin of" is an example of the second sort. These
two sorts of properties may, with essential fidelity to tradition, be distinguished
as "qualities" and "relations." It should be observed, however, that in
accordance with this usage, while "to be a cousin of" is a relation, "to be a
cousin of Peter" is a quality; for we may affirm it of a single subject.

398 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

third point. If A is between B and C, then it is between C and B;
but B is not between A and C, nor is C between A and B.5 Ac-
cordingly the between-relation is not interpretable as a quality of
the collection of three points. The peculiar position of the middle
point can not be expressed in any such way. The relation may,
however, be regarded, not as a relation between three terms, but as
a relation between two ; namely, the middle point and the collection
consisting of the other two points.

(iii) Metrical geometry has been less successful than the other
two types of geometry in finding appropriate and serviceable in-
definables. Metrical geometry is what most of us mean when we
use the word without an adjective — the science as set forth by
Euclid and his direct successors. In fact the expression "metrical
geometry" is etymologically a crude tautology. But the science of
space has been so extended during the last century, that its original
subject of spatial measurement has become for it an altogether
secondary interest. The historical fact remains, that metrical ge-
ometry is the original type, and that projective and descriptive ge-
ometry are comparatively recent specialized developments of con-
ceptions first reached by the metrical mode of approach. The less
satisfactory condition of the foundations of metrical geometry
must, therefore, be deeply regretted by those who wish to under-
stand the place of geometry in human experience.

Since the time of Leibniz, the generally preferred indefinables
for metrical geometry have been "point" and a class of relations
between two points, called ' ' distances. " It is assumed that the same
relation of distance that subsists between two points may also sub-
sist between two other points. As a matter of fact the distance be-
tween two points never appears in a proposition except as it is in
some way compared with the distances between other points.

The unsatisfactoriness of .these indefinables depends upon the
awkwardness of the procedure by which it is necessary to introduce
the notion of one distance being greater than another distance. The
following device is as simple as any :

. ^ "The distance AB is greater than the distance

' * CD" means that there exists a point T, such

that the distance CT is the same as the dis-

i *' T tance DT, and such that there is no point X

such that the distances AX, BX, and CT are all the same."

s Sometimes a certain class of exceptions is admitted: it is assumed that
any point ia "between" itself and any other. (In the same way it may be
attorned in projective geometry that any point ia collinear with itself and
any other point.) This is to be regarded as a merely verbal matter, to be
determined by convenience of terminology.

THE NATURE OF SPACE 399

It is to be observed that this device does not enable us to define
the relation "greater than" except on the implied assumption that
space is of at least two dimensions. If we limit space to a single
straight line, then, if the distances AB and CD are not identical,
AB is necessarily greater than CD by the above definition; for, on
that supposition, if the distances CY and DY were the same, we
could never find a point X such that AX, BX, and CY were identi-
cal.

If we assume that space is of only one dimension, we can, in-
deed, define the relation "greater than" with reference to any two
distances that are commensurable with each other. We say, for
example, that if the distances AB, BC, CD, and DE are all the same,
then the distance AE contains the distance AB four times. If,
in the same way, the distance XY contains AB three times, then,
since (in the arithmetical sense of the terms) four is greater than
three, we say: "AE is greater than XY."7

How unfortunate it is that the relation "greater than" should
be made to depend upon multidimensionality or else upon eom-
mensurability, is seen from the consideration of time. Time we are
in the habit of conceiving on the analogy of the straight line, as a
space of one dimension. Now, in the case of time, we make no
scruple to assume that one interval may be longer than another,
altogether independently of the question of commensurability.
Why should we have to look outside of the straight line itself in
order to give a general meaning to the proposition that one of its
segments is greater than another?8

When we reflect upon the matter, we can see that there is at

« This figure illustrates the fact that if AB
were less than CD a point X that satisfied the
given requirement could easily be found. It
must, however, always lie outside of the line AB.

7 It might be supposed that this mode of definition could be extended
to incommensurable distances by the method of limits; but this appears to
be impossible. One can not even give a meaning to the expression, "B lies
between A and C," unless AB and BC are commensurable.

s It is, of course, possible to assume " greater -than " (in the sense of a
relation between two distances) as a third geometrical indefinable, and this
is sometimes, openly or covertly, done. But such a procedure, if it is not un-
avoidable, has this demerit: it puts a limitation upon the understanding of
the subject-matter of the science — it effectually prevents a maximum clearness.
It is true that a high degree of simplicity is thereby facilitated; but in the
study of the principles of mathematics simplicity is too dearly purchased at
the expense of clearness. Each additional undefined term that might have

400 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

bottom a very good reason why the distance-relation makes a very
poor conception upon which to base the science of spatial measure-
ment. As we have already remarked, one distance-relation never
appears alone in a proposition, but only in comparison with another
distance-relation. Geometry takes cognizance of no peculiar prop-
erties of any particular distance. Hence the distance between two
given points, when it is considered by itself, apart from any rela-
tion to the distances between other points, is as nearly as possible
an empty concept.

This may, perhaps, be made clearer by an illustration. Sup-
pose a man cast ashore upon a desert island, where among the use-
ful articles that he has saved from the wreck he finds a pair of
compasses and a straight-edge, but no yard-measure and nothing
of any known ratio to the yard. Can he reproduce the yard? He
can not. The yard, like every other measure of length, is a con-
ventional unit. To be a yard long means to be just as long as some-
thing else accepted as being a yard long. If a standard of reference
is wanting, the yard disappears.

The suggestion thus arises that for the construction of a metri-
cal geometry the fundamental relation ought to be a relation be-
tween four points, or, if you please, between two "pairs" of points
— collections of points consisting of two each.' One such relation
is "to be just as far apart as." Another is "to be farther apart

been dispensed with means so much more superficiality — it means that the
labor of analysis that ought to be done haa not been done.

In this connection the remark may be made, that the number of assumed
axioms — provided these are mutually independent and are sufficient to prove
what they are expected to prove — is almost entirely indifferent. If anything,
the greater number of axioms is preferable, for this may show a finer analysis;
but this does not appear to be necessarily the case. There is a good deal of
popular misunderstanding on this point, because of the fact that so much
endeavor has been directed by mathematicians upon the elimination of super-
fluous axioms — axioms that could really be proved from the remaining
assumptions. It needs to be clearly understood that if none of the axioms
of a given set is superfluous — if they are all mutually independent — their
number is, generally speaking, a matter of no importance.

'•' To be perfectly precise, one must admit the limiting case in which the
"pair" consists of but one and the same point "twice considered." This,
however, is a topic that belongs to general logic. The pair "A and B" may
there be defined as the class (or collection) of which A is a member and B
in a member, and which has no other members. It is not specified, and it is
not implied, that A and B must be distinct.

The classical geometry conceived of this limiting case in a characteristically
different way. Instead of "considering the same point twice over," it
admitted coincident points. There is no reason why we today should not adopt
a similar procedure; and for the purposes of this study there would be some
advantages in doing so. I have preferred, however, to conform to the pre-
vailing fashion as far as possible.

THE NATURE OF SPACE 401

than." There are several reasons for preferring the latter, of
which only one is strictly pertinent in this place; namely, that the
choice of the former amounts to practically the same thing as the
assumption of distance itself as an indefinable class of relations.10

One other reason, however, is of too great methodological im-
portance to be denied mention. The assertion of a relation such as
"to be just as far apart as" is generally based, not on positive evi-
dence, but on the absence of negative evidence. If we are dealing
with physical objects, and A and B are farther apart than C and
D, we can in many instances attest this fact with a high degree of
assurance. As, however, this relation approaches the condition
where A and B are just as far apart as C and D, the certainty of
our judgment decreases ; and a condition is finally reached where all
that we can say is that we see no further difference. Generally
speaking, propositions asserting the relation "to be farther apart
than" are of a higher degree of probability than those asserting
the relation "to be just as far apart as." What, therefore, the
proposition, that A and B are just as far apart as C and D, actually
means in the system of science is that, within the limits of our ob-
servation, A and B are not farther apart than C and D, and C and
D are not farther apart than A and B.

It is very striking, how, when the relation, "to be farther apart
than, ' ' is taken as fundamental, the difficulties dwindle away. This
can best be shown by exhibiting a specimen series of definitions.
It is true that, from the mathematical standpoint, the definitions
that occur in mathematics are matters of merely verbal signifi-
cance. They are statements that certain newly presented symbols
may, at will, be substituted for certain combinations of previously
presented symbols. Nevertheless, it is in the definitions that the
analysis of the complex subject-matter of the science most clearly
appears.

The series of definitions given in the following pages extends
as far as the introduction of the notions which are fundamental to
projective and descriptive geometry. Farther than that we need
not go; for the "defining-value" of these notions is well known,
and that of our own indefinables will have been shown to be at least

!0 It may be recalled that in Professor Veblen 's well-known account of
the foundations of elementary geometry two indefinable relations are em-
ployed. In addition to the relation of congruence, which is essentially the same
as "to be just as far apart as," he introduces the relation of order between
three points, which is essentially the same as the between-relation. (I say
"essentially," because in each case there may be an unimportant technical
difference.) The resulting system is, therefore, not purely metrical, but is a
mixture of metrical and descriptive elements; and it labors under the disad-
vantage which was pointed out in a previous note.

402 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

as great. Our task, then, will be to make clear what, from the
metrical standpoint, is meant by the order of points in a straight
line.

INDEFINABLE^

I. Point.

II. To be farther apart than.

Points are to be represented by capital letters. Different letters
need not indicate distinct points.

DEFINITIONS

I. If A and B are not farther apart than C and D, and C and
D are not farther apart than A and B, then A and B are said to be
just as far apart as C and D.

II. The distance AB is the class of pairs of points that are just
as far apart as A and B. .

This definition calls for some comment. Instead of defining a
distance as a class of pairs of points, we might define it as the dis-
tinguishing property of that class. That is to say, we might define
the distance AB as the property of being just as far apart as A
and B. This would be in closer accord with our common-sense no-
tion of distance. But, as students of logic well know, propositions
about classes, and propositions about the distinguishing properties
of classes, run parallel to each other. The two sorts of proposi-
tions represent two different ways of regarding the same facts — in
extension and in intension, to use the traditional terms. It is the
general custom of mathematicians to prefer the extensive treatment ;
and there is no reason why we should do otherwise.

The definition of a distance as a class has this consequence:
that we shall have to speak of the same distance, not of equal (or
equivalent) distances. According to our definition, if A and B are
just as far apart as C and D, the distance AB and the distance CD
are identical. If we had chosen to define a distance as a property,
the case would be different. The property of being just as far apart
as A and B is not identical with the property of being just as far
apart as C and D. The relation between these properties is that
they imply each other, or are equivalent.

It is further to be remarked that the distance AB may be de-
fined as the (symmetrical) relation subsisting between two points,
by reason of the fact that they are just as far apart as the points A
and B. This definition has nothing in particular to recommend it.
But it is worth while to reflect upon it a little, because of the way
in which it brings to the surface the unfitness of the two-term dis-
tance relation to serve as one of the bases of geometry-

THE NATURE OF SPACE 403

III. If A and B are farther apart than C and D, the distance
AB is said to be greater than the distance CD.

Here it is to be observed that the phrase "to be greater than"
is defined in a particular technical sense: namely, as it is applied
to distances. In arithmetic a relation having the same name is de-
fined with reference to real numbers ; and it is one of the first tasks
of metrical geometry to justify this ambiguous use of the words by
showing that its own greater-than relation has the same formal
properties as the arithmetical relation. For it is on this identity of
the formal properties of the arithmetical and the geometrical greater-
than, that the theory of spatial measurement rests.

IV. The distances AB, CD,* «
and EF are said to be compatible, • •

if there exist the points, X, Y, and C $

Z, such that XY is the same as -.

AB, YZ is the same as CD, and ' '

XZ is the same as EF.

This notion of compatibility is V Z

the only one in the present set that is not familiar to common sense.
We do not absolutely need it here, and it is introduced only be-
cause it enables us to define in relatively simple terms what is
meant by the sum of two distances.

V. The sum of the distances AB and CD is a distance compatible
with them, and greater than any other such distance if such there
be.

In the figure let BV, BW,
BX, BY, and BZ all be the
same as CD. Then (by Defini-
tion IV) AV, AW, AX, AY,
and AZ are all compatible with
AB and CD. One of the five,
namely AX, is greater than any
of the others; and it is, in fact,
greater than any other distance
compatible with AB and CD. "We call it the sum of AB and CD.
Here we must make the same remark about the use of the term
"sum" that was made above with regard to the term "greater
than." From arithmetic we know what the "sum" of two real
numbers means. Metrical geometry has to show that the sum of
two distances has the same formal properties that belong to the
sum of two real numbers. This is very easily accomplished.

VI. If A, B, and C are distinct, and AC is the sum of AB and
BC, B is said to be between A and C.

404 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

VII. If either A is between It and C, or B is between A and C,
or C is between A and B/ .4, JS, and C are said to be collinear.

VIII. The straight line AB is the class of points collinear with
A and B, together with A and B.

Attention must now be called to a few characteristics of this
series of definitions. In the first place, the definitions are exceed-
ingly simple. If the reader will glance over the whole series of
eight, he will see that they follow one upon another in the most
natural and obvious fashion. When once the proper indefinables
are chosen, the definitions are almost inevitable — not because others
to take their place can not be found," but because it would require
a good deal of ingenuity or of industry to think of them, while
these fairly suggest themselves. The only feature that smacks in the
least of artificiality is the notion of "compatibility," and that only
on account of the novel term that is used. The problem was, how to
combine two distances so as to get their sum. Is not the obvious
answer that the outside points shall be as far apart as possible?
At any rate, if the definitions are not inevitable, they are at least
easy — so easy that the whole set can be grasped by the mind almost
without effort, in a single movement of the attention.

If the reader has studied protective geometry, and in particular
the projective definition of distance, he will not hesitate to admit
that the metrical definition of collinearity is incomparably simpler.

11 An example of an alternative method ia suggested by Professor C. V.
Huntington, in Mathematische Annalen, Vol. 73, pp. 529f. Professor Huntington
takes as his indefinables "sphere" and "is contained in." A "point" is de-
nned as a sphere in which no other sphere is contained. "The point B lies
between the points A and C," is then explained as meaning: No sphere Z
exists, in which A and C are contained, but not B.

In terms of our own indefinables, a sphere is a class of points whose distance
from a certain point is not greater than a certain distance. For one sphere
to be contained in another, means that every point of the former is a point
of the latter. Accordingly, Professor Huntington 's definition of the between-
relation becomes: No point X exists such that there exists a distance TZ,
such that BX is greater than YZ, and neither AX nor CX is greater than YZ,
This is obviously more complex than is necessary ; so we may put it : No X exists,
such that BX is greater than both AX and CX.

Professor Huntington 's device suggests others that to him, with his peculiar
indefinables, were not available. For example, " B is between A and C ' ' may be
explained: If X exists such that AX is the same as CX, this distance is greater
than BX. Or we may first explain "A, B, and C are collinear" as meaning:
No X exists such that AX, BX, and CX are the same. And we may then dis-
tinguish the outer points, say by their greater distance from each other.

In any case, we may proceed to explain "AB is the sum of CD and EF"
as meaning: X exists such that it is between A and B, and AX is the same as
CD, and BX is the same as EF.

THE NATURE OF SPACE 405

In the second place, the definitions imply nothing as to the num-
ber of dimensions in space. Space may equally well have one, two,
three, or more dimensions, and these definitions will still hold good.
Substitute the word ''instant" for "point," and "interval" for
"distance," and drop the last two definitions as superfluous, and
the account applies perfectly to time. The like is true of the metri-
cal principles which we shall shortly have to consider: they are all
equally applicable to space of any number of dimensions.

It has sometimes been held by mathematicians that projective,
descriptive, and metrical geometry presuppose one another in that
order: that projective geometry is logically prior to descriptive ge-
ometry, and both of these to metrical geometry. Logicians, of
course, are not at present inclined to take much stock in the notion
of logical priority, except as it is conceived with reference to some
particular deductive system. It has been found that there is a sur-
prising amount of freedom in the choice of indefinable terms and
indemonstrable propositions — how much we do not know. What is
logically prior in one construction may be logically posterior in an-
other. Of an absolute order of priority we know nothing.

But for our present purpose, since we have in view an inquiry
into empirical foundations, the really important question of prior-
ity as between the three types of geometry is as to which gives the
simplest conception of the nature of space. In this respect, metrical
geometry has an incontestable and enormous advantage. The di-
rection taken by the history of the science is here the path of least
resistance. Starting from the theory of spatial measurement, we
find spatial order comparatively easy to understand. Starting from
the arrangement of points in lines, we find spatial measurement an
intrinsically and unavoidably abstruse subject.

Our first task is accomplished. We have seen what, in metrical
terms, a linear order means. But the meaning of our assumed in-
definables is itself set forth in the postulates which we adopt, and
becomes more and more explicit as the consequences of these postu-
lates are successively unfolded, that is to say, as the system of ge-
ometry is constructed. It is far beyond the purpose of the present
study to attempt the construction of even the foundations of a ge-
ometry. It is, indeed, not difficult to set forth a list of principles —
only about sixteen are needed — from which the Euclidean geometry
can be deduced. But to provide and insure the mutual independ-
ence of the principles, so that they may serve as the postulates of
a mathematical system, is a task calling for a very special com-
petence and training.

However, I have thought it well to present in this place a state-

406 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ment of certain metrical principles, which, so far as they go, are
independent of one another, and which are sufficient as premises for
the demonstration of the most important properties of the between-
relation. I trust that they will be of service in throwing light upon
the empirical considerations that are to follow."

Points, as before, are denoted by capital letters, and different
letters need not indicate distinct points.

I. If A and B are farther apart than C and D, C and D are not
farther apart than A and B.

In other words, "to be farther apart than" is an asymmetrical
relation.

II. If A and B are farther apart than C and D, and E and F are
not farther apart than C and D, A and B are farther apart than E
and F.

In combination with the preceding, this assures us that if A and B
are farther apart than C and D, and if C and D are farther apart
than E and F, A and B are farther apart than E and F. That is
to say, "to be farther apart than" is a transitive relation.

It also follows that the relation "to be just as far apart as" is
transitive.

III. If A is not identical with B, then, for all values of X, the
distances AB and XX are distinct.

This is used in demonstrating the proposition that the distance
XX is constant, and is in fact the zero-distance; that is to say, that
if XX be added to any distance YZ, the sum is YZ.

IV. If A, B, C, and D be each any point, X exists such that BX
is identical with CD, and AX is the sum of AB and CD.

This assures us that any distance and any distance have a sum.
It also assures us of a part of what we mean by the "uniformity"
of space.

V. If AC is greater than AD, and BC is the sum of BA and AC,
BC is greater than BD.

From this it follows that if AC is greater than AD, and XY is
any distance, the sum of AC and XY is greater than the sum of AD
andZY.

VI. If A and B are not identical, and if BC is not greater than
BD; and if AD is the sum of AB and BD, and if AC is the sum of
AB and BC; then BD is the sum of BC and CD.

This provides that any two distances shall have a difference. The
last three principles, or their equivalents, are necessary to show that

"It should be remembered that we assume from general logic that the
relation of co-membership in a pair is symmetrical with respect to the two
members. Accordingly we assume without question that "the point A and the
point B" means the same pair as "the point B and the point A."

THE NATURE OF SPACE 407

the relation "to be greater than" is strictly analogous to the greater-
than relation between real numbers.

Assuming these six principles to be true, we can easily prove the
associative law for the addition of distances. (The commutative law
is in this system a mere identity.) We can also prove the following
series of propositions (using the expression (XYZ) to mean " Y is be-
tween X and Z") :

(i) If (ABX) and (AST), and EX is identical with BY, X
is identical with Y.

(ii) If (ABX) and (ABY), and BY is greater than BX, then
(BXY) and (AXY).

(iii) If (AXB) and (AYB), and AX is identical with AY, X is
identical with Y.

(iv) If (AXB) and (AYB), and AY is greater than AX, then
(AXY) and (XYB).

(v) If (XAB) and (ABY), then (XAT) and (XBT).

(vi) If (AXB) and (ABY), then (AXY) and (XBY).
And from these six propositions we may derive the following generali-
zation, which establishes the complete determination of the straight
line by any two of its points :

If A, B, C, and D are distinct, and if A, B, and C are collinear
and A, B, and D are collinear, then A, C, and Z> are eollinear.

THEODORE DE LAGUNA.

BKYN MAWE COLLEGE.

A METAPHYSICIAN'S PETITIO

OF those who interest themselves to-day in the general problem
of the method of experience, the greater number approach
the subject in the light of experience alone. That is to say, they
criticize experience without a priori presuppositions as to its na-
ture. For example, they observe the processes of scientific investi-
gation as a parent observes the breathing of her child or a physi-
ologist the functions of the brain. They examine the industrial and
commercial activities of human beings, their political strategies
and recreative sports, with the meticulous care of a psychologist
interested in the phenomenon of fatigue. The artistic tastes, the
religious rituals and the poetic creations of people are as interest-
ing to the methodologist as the process of metabolism to a biologist.
Above all he hugs to his bosom the transformations of attitude and
emotion through which reflective life passes out of one and into
another of these phases of experience, believing that therein espe-
cially is ultimately to be found the synthesis that endows civilization

408 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

with integrity, the filament of spirituality that binds together the
associated life of the world.

The methodologist postulates nothing but this teeming life, and
that he approaches on his knees, as becomes the student of it. He
does not pretend to know a priori that it is all a symphony played
on the motifs of matter and mind: neither does he presume to
know prior to observing the fact that it is not: he will see what he
shall see, and to report what he has found he will use whatever
conception-aids the subject beautifully fits as a glove fits the hand.

What he everywhere finds is customs and the straining of strong
men to alter them, an act that is both habitual and accommodative,
or rather a system of such acts rooted in the past and moving for-
ward into an as yet problematical future. Nowhere does he find
absolute gaps in the moving whole : on the contrary, human experi-
ence appears to be a processional continuum. Individuals succeed,
or they fail, in utter obliviousness to the disparity between a sub-
stance that thinks and another that is extended. If one's hates are
accompanied by right-hand spiral motions of the molecules of his
brain and his loves by left-hand spiral motions, the whirligigs are
amusing only; one is intent on his objectives, alike whether these
be material or spiritual.

The methodologist notes these facts, and he too feels indifferent
to metaphysical dualisms. What abstractions, however hoary, can
compare in fascination with the youth and vigor, the concrete rich-
ness and teeming verve of life's artistry? In reporting his find-
ings, the methodologist must use the language of logic, psychology
and perhaps cosmology ; but when he speaks of bodies he is think-
ing of a system of habitual activities in process of reformation;
when he speaks of consciousness he is thinking of the moment of
reformation itself; when he refers to objects he has in mind con-
trolling contents of present experience that mean something not
now existent but interesting and to be experienced; when he men-
tions the future he probably has in mind in most instances, not
some distant thing that does not now exist, but the present experi-
ence of expectation and purpose that characterizes all real know-
ing. Datum and ideatum are not for him pebbles in the loaf of
experience but moments in a continuous process.

Now comes one with a metaphysic. "Ah," he notes, "Method-
ologist speaks of present body and of past or future existences that
are not present at all. He is therefore a dualist, probably an in-
teractionist that knows not his own mind." Or, "He denies the
existence of what I call consciousness. He is therefore a materialist
ashamed of himself, a materialist ashamed to accept the implica-

A METAPHYSICIAN'S PET IT 10 409

tions of his own language." Mr. Lovejoy thus finds pragmatism
materialistic. We do not presume to speak for all pragmatists:
just possibly some of them would not assent to our present thesis:
but the theory of knowledge of which Dewey and his pupils are
the living exponents in this country is fundamentally a method-
ology, not a metaphysic, and reading metaphysical meanings into
their words is a petitio of obvious character.

In an article in this JOURNAL (Vol. XIX, p. 6), Lovejoy is reply-
ing to an article of Bode and quotes from the latter, "A careful
inventory of our assets brings to light no such entities as those
which have been placed to our credit. We do not find body and
object and consciousness, but only body and object." We may sup-
pose Bode's meaning to be, "We find only organized habitual re-
sponses in process of reformation and a controlling content of pres-
ent experience that means something-to-be-found-or-achieved." By
way of criticism Mr. Lovejoy solemnly warns the reader that this
is materialism and proceeds to refute materialism by observing,
"Upon the materialistic hypothesis practical reflection itself is noth-
ing but a motion of matter; if 'bodies and (physical) objects' are
the only factors involved in 'intelligence,' it should be possible to
describe the phenomenon called 'planning' wholly in physical terms
— i.e., in terms of masses actually existing, of positions actually
occupied, of molar or molecular movements actually occurring, at
the time when the planning is taking place."

Thus by following the association of ideas in his own mind, by
jumping with certain associations of the word "body," the meta-
physician passes out of the universe of pragmatic methodology into
the universe of mechanistic cosmology with an alacrity as amazing as
it is alogical. Incidentally, let it be noted, as evidence of Mr. Love-
joy's desire that the reader shall follow him closely, that the word
"(physical)" in parenthesis is not in the original text of Bode's
article at all.

Again, we read on page seven of Mr. Lovejoy 's article, "Thus
in fixing his attention especially upon 'intelligence' in its practical
aspect, the pragmatist is brought face to face with that type of ex-
perience in which the empirical presence of non-physical entities
and processes is, perhaps, more plainly evident than in any other. ' '
If Mr. Lovejoy had written, "that type of experience in which the
empirical presence of what a certain metaphysical dualist regards
as non-physical entities and processes," we should have no reason
to complain of his logic ; but in that case there would have been no
point to his criticism. Again, on page seven, "He (the pragmatist)
is primarily interested, not in the question how we can know an

410 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

external, coexistent object, but in the question how one moment of
experience can know and prepare for another moment. It is in
short to what I have elsewhere named Intel-temporal cognitions that
his analysis is devoted; it is by man's habit of looking before and
after that he is chiefly impressed. Now to look before and after is —
as my previous paper pointed out — to behold the physically non-
existent."

As a matter of fact, intertemporal cognition, as Mr. Lovejoy
means the phrase, is not at all what the methodologist is supremely
interested in. Intertemporal cognition is cognition of a specific
type, such as, "Yesterday I made an engagement that I shall ful-
fill tomorrow"; and the methodologist is far from being so naive
and inconsequential as to say that all intelligence is cognition of this
type. On the contrary his conception of cognition holds true of
this type of cognitions, if it holds at all ; and Lovejoy simply begs
the question he is ostensibly discussing when he thus states, or pre-
tends to state, the methodologist 's doctrine. What the latter is
emphasizing is a fact noted, we believe, by every good book on
psychology written within the last forty years, viz., the fact that all
cognitive activities are teleological functions. Lest anyone con-
strue teleology transcendentally, as has been done so often, the
methodologist describes teleology in terms of actual experience, and
that involves mention of the time consumed by any process or
function of actual experience. There exists, however, a vast differ-
ence between the time consumed by a cognitive function and the
time content of intertemporal cognitions, a difference that every
psychologist recognizes. The former is part of the form of cogni-
tion in general, the latter is content in a specific class of cognitions.
Mr. Lovejoy confuses the specific cognition of temporal relations,
the habit of looking before and after, with the prospective, purpo-
sive character of all cognition.

Of course the methodologist means that temporal cognition is
as purposive as any other type of cognition. Observation of the
time cognitions of small children has convinced the present writer
that the child's first experience of time relations is his experience
of enforced waiting while his nurse is coming to relieve his discom-
fort or bring him food. Especially when he wakens before the time
for his feeding, and lies there suffering while the hands of the clock
move slowly to the hour, he is becoming conscious of duration.
When children first begin to talk, their judgments of futurity take
on a semblance of accuracy and completeness months before their
judgments of pastness do. Tomorrow's picnic excursion and the
experiences of next Sunday, when the little one will be taken to

A METAPHYSICIAN 'S PETITIO 411

Sunday School, are fairly definite concepts long before he has any
definite idea of what happened yesterday; and it is most interest-
ing to observe how very slowly the conception of the day before
yesterday begins to function in his experience. From the very
start his time experience is thus relative to his needs and desires,
while clock-time, the time of the mathematician, the even flowing
continuum of duration, is a late abstract construction of social ex-
perience and is everywhere relative to the need to measure or other-
wise conceive time, i.e., to the need of organizing "the present" in
a conceptual control of present activity. Quite contrary to Mr.
Lovejoy's assertion, we should say the pragmatist is logically com-
mitted to a more continuous and profound interest in the past than
is any other living philosopher. For history is a study of "how
man came to be as he is and believe as he does, ' ' 1 while conceptions
of what man is and believes are thoroughly teleological. An his-
torical consciousness, a consciousness that history is here and now
in process of being made, is the first essential of intelligence. It
is the first prerequisite of effective participation in community
life. Such is the pragmatist 's emphasis on knowledge of the past.

Mr. Lovejoy finds that Bode, whose article is in part a reply to
an earlier one of Lovejoy himself, does not stick to the point.
"Throughout most of his paper, then, Professor Bode, instead of
looking at the evidence offered for this conclusion, which he osten-
sibly rejects, appears to fix his gaze on another object altogether."
No wonder ! Two men standing back to back and gazing at differ-
ent points on the horizon say, the one, "That mountain is wooded
to the top," and the other, "No, that mountain is bald." It is
amusing to read in Lovejoy's article, "After careful study of his
paper, I remain in some doubt whether he holds that pragmatism
implies materialism or not." He need not be in doubt as to this
point, for Bode distinctly writes, "The question what is real is ab-
solutely sterile." The real problem, to Bode, is the problem of
method. In his most metaphysical mood he would probably name
his doctrine neither idealism nor materialism, neither intellectual-
ism nor empiricism. He would probably name it experiencism, —
if only there were such a word. As for realism, if that can be said
to consist in treating a subject matter in a consistently objective
manner without a priori presuppositions, he is a realist. However,
as a science of the method of experience pragmatism is privileged
to abstract from the problems of metaphysics, except as the meta-
physician's own method of procedure presents itself as a problem.

It would be a work of supererogation to trace in detail the

i James Harvey Robinson.

412 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

many instances of this fallacy of begging the question in Mr. Love-
joy's Pragmatism versus the Pragmatist, an essay that appeared in
a volume entitled Critical Realism. Here, however, it appears in
greater variety than in the article referred to above. Here, for ex-
ample, Mr. Lovejoy flings question-begging epithets about with
redundant profusion. Here the rule of some lawyers, that when
you have no case it is good to abuse the opposing counsel or their
brief, is conscientiously followed. Here a fictitious question which
is in fact a case of many questions, the presumption of proposing
to decide what kind of a metaphysician the pragmatist is, is un-
blushingly propounded. The work of deliberately trying to make
the pragmatist say things he never meant to say, of trying to make
him say things that Mr. Lovejoy thinks he ought to have meant to
say, and of then pretending to evaluate his doctrine by the ficti-
tious and often fantastic results, is here arduously pursued ; but it
is not what one would call helpful criticism. It is as futile a pro-
cedure as trying to decide how many angels can skip around on the
point of a pin.

For example, on page 46, after quoting from Dewey a state-
ment of the pragmatist 's notion of experience as "a matter of
functions and habits, of active adjustments and readjustments, of
coordinations and activities, rather than of states of consciousness, ' '
the article continues, "Here we have an explanation which seems
to swing our interpretation of the pragmatist 's position wholly over
to the realistic side — and indeed to the neo-realistic side. He ap-
pears in this passage as an ardent adherent of what has been named
. . . 'pan-objectivism' — as one who denies the existence of states
of consciousness altogether." As if the words of Dewey could log-
ically be construed to be a denial of the existence of states of con-
sciousness in the pragmatist 's sense of the word! As if indeed the
first essayist of both Studies in Logical Theory and Creative Intel-
ligence meant to say anything of the kind! Pan-objectivism af-
firmed one term of a traditional epistemological dualism, that of
consciousness and the object, and tried to deny the other term,
tardily reckoning with the fact that, the terms of that dualism must
be accepted or rejected together. It is absurd to say that Mr.
Dewey is doing that, and yet the article in question proceeds for
some pages in a fatuous attempt to criticize his theory as though
he were. We can be sure that Dewey rejects Lovejoy 's conception
of consciousness; but it is presumptuous to assert, without even at-
tempting to state the pragmatist 's conception, that that is a denial
of the existence of states of consciousness altogether.

The confusion already referred to of time- judgment with the
prospective and purposive character of all judgment is even more

A METAPHYSICIAN'S PETITIO 413

elaborate in the article we are now discussing. It is here a veri-
table dust-cloud enveloping the entire argument. "A more signifi-
cant error, and one, as I think it possible to show, which is incon-
sistent with a true instrumentalist logic, is Mr. Dewey's Limita-
tion of the 'knowledge-experience' exclusively to forward-looking
thoughts," (p. 52). "This formula . . . manifestly tells only half
the story, at best. It ignores the patent empirical fact that many
of our 'meanings' are retrospective — and the specifically 'prag-
matic' fact that such meanings are. indispensable in the planning of
action," (p. 53). "The pragnaatist . . . manifests a curious aver-
sion from admitting that we have knowledge, and 'true knowledge,'
about the past. I have already cited from Mr. Dewey a formal
definition of 'knowledge' which excludes from the denotation of the
term everything except judgments of anticipation" (p. 63). The
citation referred to is, I presume, the second note on page 52. But
all of this exposition of instrumentalistic pragmatism misrepresents
its subject, owing to its author's failure to recognize the difference
between the teleological reference and effect of every genuine cogni-
tion and the mathematical time in which it transpires.

An illustration may make the matter clear. A young man is
at work in the same room with me: he raises his head and looks
about: he is thinking, as indeed I am, that the room is close: he
notes that the windows are all closed and opens two of them. He
first perceived the close air of the room, a cognitive experience
based on years of past experience in similar situations, and a cogni-
tive experience that meant for him the need of a livelier circula-
tion of air in the room. He then perceived the closed windows-
capable-of-being-opened, rose and opened two of them. To me,
looking on sympathetically, the perception of the close air led to
the perception that windows could be opened, and that, in turn,
referred to events about to be affected by my companion's action.
But to him the two perceptions were simply perceptions : they were
through and through purposive. He returned to his chair with no
consciousness that time had elapsed since his attention was inter-
rupted by organic sensations of stuffiness. What he perceived was
(1) the close air of the room and (2) the windows about to be
opened ; but to me, looking on, both perceptions involved memories
of the past and ideas of the future. One need not, unless indeed
he will to do so, confuse my onlooker's analysis of the processes of
my friend's experience with the actual contents of those experi-
ences ; and any one who wills to confuse these two things is deliber-
ately guilty of what might well be termed the metaphysician's fal-
lacy. If such an one reads into the methodologist 's description of

414 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

such experiences his own metaphysical meanings, he is guilty of
the metaphysician's petitio.

Much is said by Mr. Love joy about Mr. Dewey's phrase "pres-
ent-as-absent " for the purpose of convincing the reader that it
denotes a time-cognition ; but no student of the psychology of time-
cognition is convinced by these many animadversions. The term
time-cognition denotes several different sorts of cognition. At the
lowest it denotes an immediate sense of duration, of interruption;
(2) it denotes the cognition of intervals or periods that must elapse
ere the end of a desire is attainable; (3) it denotes a sense of the
values of familiar experiences with no necessary consciousness of
the pastness of those experiences; (4) it denotes an explicit con-
sciousness of intervals of past experience; and (5) it denotes the
highly abstract, prodigiously useful, public thing which we have
called clock-time, mathematical time with its evenly flowing con-
tinuity marked by the recurring transits of a star, by the flow of
sand in an hour glass, by the uniform rate of motion of hands
round the dial of a clock, by the mathematical definition of continu-
ous manifolds, and so forth. Until the metaphysical critic of prag-
matism recognizes that genuine cognitions may involve any of these
meanings of the term, or none of them, his criticisms are not likely
to be helpful to the methodologist. The idea that psychology has
nothing to say about time-cognition that concerns the metaphysician
or the epistemologist is so deeply embedded, — the idea that psychol-
ogy deals solely with a morass of subjectivity that philosophy is
too pure to behold, — that it is difficult for some to understand the
viewpoint and method of instrumentalism. Mr. Lovejoy fails to
understand not only Mr. Dewey but the whole methodological ap-
proach to the problem of knowledge, and to understand that ap-
proach is, by your leave, the first indispensable step toward a real
logic. Mr. Lovejoy finds the pragmatist to be a subjective idealist,
a pan-objectivist, materialist, a dualistic interactionist, and above
all an errorist ; but the reader will search his criticisms in vain for
even an approximately adequate exposition of the doctrine he is
discussing.

G. A. TAWNEY.
THB UNIVERSITY or CINCINNATI.

BOOK REVIEWS

Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 1920-1921. New Series,
Vol. XXI. London : Williams and Norgate. Pp. iv + 246.
Part of the strength of the excellent series of papers which make

BOOK REVIEWS 415

i

up the present volume is due to the contributions of the American
delegates to the Oxford Congress. Professor W. P. Montague pre-
sented before the Aristotelian Society (meeting of December 6,
1920) a paper entitled "Variation, Heredity and Consciousness,"
embodying suggestions and hypotheses concerning the relation of
life and mind to the realm of physical energy. He calls his argu-
ment "a mechanist answer to the vitalist challenge." In so ob-
scure a field any hypothesis is worthy of a trial, provided it is at
all capable of verification. The present reviewer finds it hard to
decide whether or no the subtle analogies to which Professor
Montague appeals do present sufficient possibilities of verification.
Thus he compares biological variation to vector addition in me-
chanics, which gives from old elements a sum which is both perti-
nent and novel. It is a pretty analogy, but who shall say whether
it is more? Furthermore, vector addition has already itself given
certain mechanistically minded students of physics considerable oc-
casion for perplexity, as for instance, addition of accelerations.
And certainly the mechanist philosopher with a single-track mind
would be a bit distressed by Professor Montague's remark that
"Nature is not stone-blind . . . she is an artist who works as she
goes. ' ' The next analogy, which claims indeed to be a full identity,
is between heredity and higher space-time derivatives, accelerations
of accelerations. The comparison is said to illustrate how a great
complexity of promised movement can be resident in a single par-
ticle, or small group of particles of matter, which group is at the
moment apparently quiescent, like an upward thrown stone at the
top of its flight. So far the analogy holds good, but the reviewer
can not make clear to himself how this explains anything more
about heredity. To him, the very conception of an organism, a
real unit in nature, going its own way, not merely self-preservative,
but using, and in a measure dominating, its environment, seems in-
consistent with strict mechanism — though, for that matter, no better
explained by the ineffable mysteries of vitalism. In the third part
of the paper, Professor Montague again takes up, in modified re-
statement, his earlier identification of consciousness with potential
energy, an identification, it must be said, of the mysterious with the
inscrutable. Yet the comparisons instituted are certainly tantaliz-
ing, and leave the reader wondering whether in the future some
new road of investigation may not open up through this region —
for it is a matter of fact that there are relationships of some sort
between energy and thinking, and Professor Montague's guess is
not the worst that has been made. Nevertheless, the members of
the Aristotelian Society may well have been left with a state of

416 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

considerable stress and confusion inhabiting their own tanks of
potential energy after the first hearing of this rather bewildering
paper.

Professor J. E. Boodin's paper on "Cosmic Evolution" is less
disturbing to customary ideas. His discussion centers about the
opinions of L. J. Henderson, the physiological chemist (e.g., his
The Fitness of the Environment), and Henry F. Osborn, the biolo-
gist (in his The Origin and Evolution of Life). But back of this
is a wider philosophic view : ' ' We must learn that the cosmos is the
true unit of reality," and further, "There must be an eternal
hierarchy of levels in the universe." It would be hard to dispute
that statements so general were not in some sense true.

Professor R. F. A. Hoernle might perhaps also be claimed as an
American contributor to this volume. His "Plea for a Phenome-
nology of Meaning" will receive the endorsement of all students
in that subtle region. The reviewer would venture to suggest that
Charles Peirce's cryptic classification of signs may best be inter-
preted as: (a) indices, or using what is naturally conjoined with
another as the sign of it, as palm-trees in the desert are a sign of
water; (6) icons, or signifying through resemblance, as a portrait
or a map; and (c) signs whose original nexus with the thing sym-
bolized has been obscured through use, so that the relation is now
arbitrary and so needs an interpretant "who remembers what it
meant." I point with my finger, it is an index; I draw a picture in
the air to convey my meaning, it is an icon — in either case the whole
world understands ; I speak a word, it is what Peirce calls a symbol,
and only my own people can interpret me. This third class is
doubtless rather ill represented by the word "symbol." Professor
Hoernle is well advised in again calling attention to the distinction,
so notable in the case of language, between the indicative and the
expressive function of signs.1 Perhaps the third class above could
be revised, still with genuine regard to Peirce's own intention, to
include all those signs whose most marked characteristic is this
marriage of expression of intent and designation of fact. Lan-
guage is here the typical case. To the extent to which the dictum
is true — and it is only partly true — that "the real is particular,
but thought is of the universal," this third class is also the marriage
of the universal and particular. Indices move in the realm of par-
ticulars only. You can make general statements about indices, hut
each several index is, as such, individual and unique in itself and

i The author leaves one perplexed whether his terminology follows Husserl
or Meinong here (p. 85, note). Surely Meinong's usage is preferable: I ex-
press my own opinions and feelings, I indicate or designate an external fact —
«nd every sentence I speak does both at once.

BOOK REVIEWS 417

In its reference. Icons are indeed in the realm, of the universal,
for a portrait designates an individual only in so far as that indi-
vidual has ceased to be unique and is duplicated in the portrait
itself. But the user of pictures does not clearly discriminate the
universal, and picture language or imitative gesture is therefore
but the beginning of true language. In true language the universal
and the particular have each their distinctive part. Every diction-
ary word stands for a universal, yet through language we do man-
age to discuss the particular facts of this particular world round
about us. But the other aspects of language must not be forgotten
either, if we are to have an adequate theory. Language is, as Pro-
fessor Hoernle well insists, a double revelation; my language is a
revelation of the world I know, but also it is a revelation of me.
On the other hand, let us not forget that language is social, it is a
revelation to somebody and needs an interpreter. It brings minds
together, but it leaves them curiously isolated. For what does really
pass across? Black marks visible on paper; quiverings of the air.
Out of such things we each of us, a lonely worker, build a world,
wherein we nevertheless meet our fellows and come to a knowledge
of self and of others. Professor Hoernle is right in saying we need
to study these queer facts more closely.

Perhaps the reviewer, through personal interest in the problems
raised, has given too much space to what our American delegates
told the English about philosophy. Certainly he read with more
than usual interest certain of the other papers, notably the Sym-
posium on "The Character of Cognitive Acts." The most striking
proposition here is that of Mr. G. E. Moore, to the effect that in all
cognition, however simple, a particular, as for instance a sense datum,
is subsumed under a universal, and that there is no other character-
istic, such as the existence of a knower or an act of knowing, which
is thus uniformly found. This thesis suggests that Mr. Moore is
working towards a new theory of mind, and we await with interest
its further development. The other symposium contributions offer
little that is new, though they are acute and hold the attention.

The reviewer was less impressed by Dean Inge's Presidential
Address, "Is the Time Series Reversible?" than he usually is by
what the Dean writes on philosophy, though no one could help
being amused by the parting shot at Einstein, "I feel in my bones
that this prophet of relativity is not likely to be a true friend to
Platonism." Mr. C. A. Richardson, in "The New Materialism,"
expresses his distaste for most of the New Realists, because they have
done away with what a certain sophomore student of philosophy once
called "the myself part of me." If the present reviewer got little

418 JOURNAL OF PII1LOSOPH Y

out of Miss Oakeley 's paper on Professor Driesch, this is probably the
reviewer's own fault, though it may be partly attributable to Pro-
fessor Driesch.

There remain two logical papers. That by Mr. F. C. S. Schiller,
"On Arguing in a Circle," is one of his chronic attacks on the Abso-
lute, but it will probably awaken neither the Absolute nor his min-
ions. Mr. Schiller has never equalled elsewhere his one really ad-
mirable logical paper, his contribution to Singer's Studies in the
History and Method of Science (1917). Miss Dorothy Wrinch con-
tributes a somewhat over-ambitious paper, at least as regards its
title, "On the Structure of Scientific Inquiry." It contains many
good things in matters of detail. Especially interesting is her treat-
ment of what she calls "true analogy," or identity of form of solu-
tion in problems from otherwise different fields. One earlier passage
deserves quotation in full. "The domain of logic in science is over-
whelmingly wide and correspondingly difficult. No student who has
any knowledge of the development of science can deny this. And
yet the paramount importance of logic is very seldom realized and
the study of it is quite often avoided and only infrequently under-
taken by those who seek to make contributions to our knowledge of the
world. Professor D'Arcy Thompson in the wonderful epilogue to
Growth and Form (1917) hints at the aesthetic glories of such a
treatment of the world, in words which are full of hope and en-
couragement, and should earn for him the gratitude of all logicians."

H. T. COSTELI/>.
TRINITY COLLEGE, HABTTORD.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

SCIENTIA. January, 1922. Les sciences grecques et leur
transmission. 7. Splendeur et decadence de la science grecque (pp.
1-10): J. L. HEIBERG (Kjobenhavn). -Rapid historical sketch of
Greek science. The Origin of Binary Stars (pp. 11-22) : J. II.
JEANS (Cambridge, England). -Concludes that some binaries are due
to fission, others to independent nuclei in an original nebula. Inter-
esting for its exposition of the methods by which these results were
reached. La contribution que les divers pays ont donnee au dcvelop-
pement de la biologic (pp. 23-36) : MAURICE CAULLEBY ( Paris) .-
Largely a comparison of German scientific work with that of other
countries, claiming to find in Germany excellent organization of
research, but methods inclining towards a twisting of facts to fit
a priori theories. La question sociale (pp. 37-46) : VUfredo Pareto
(Lausanne) .-Surveys the history of the conflict of social classes and

NOTES AND NEWS 419

the problem of property, a many sided but rather confused summary,
that hardly does its author justice. La paix est-elle une paix anglo-
saxonne? (pp. 47-56) : EDOUARD GUYOT (Rennes).-How the differ-
ence of interests has led France and England apart since the war — an
interesting French view of English policies. Les effets de la guerre
sur la proportion des sexes dans les naissances (pp. 57-62) : F.
SAVORGNAN (Messina) .-The author takes it as proved that in the
countries hardest hit by the war, the proportion of male births in-
creased. He attributes this to the diminution of total births, with its
resultant better condition of the mothers, so that fewer males were
still-born. Reviews of Scientific Books and Periodicals.

Endara, Julio. Jose Ingenieros y el Porvenir de la Filosofia.
Second edition. Buenos Aires: Agencia General de Libreria.
1922. Pp. 100.

Rueff, Jacques. Des Sciences Physiques aux Sciences Morales: In-
troduction a 1'etude de la morale et de 1'economie politique ra-
tionelles. Paris : Felix Alcan. 1922. Pp. xx -f- 202. 8 fr.

NOTES AND NEWS
RESPONDING TO THE STIMULUS

To the Editors of the JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY:

The only reason I have to offer for taking the liberty to reply
to Dr. Hunter's letter to the anti-behaviorists (in the issue of May
25), though it is together with a score of others that my name ap-
pears on his list, is to inform him that there are more than two
behaviorists in this world, as I hope to show in my forthcoming little
book, Psychology and Behaviorism; and that in his hunt for what
appears to him an avis rara he has allowed some of the best repre-
sentatives of the species, like E. B. Holt, E. A. Singer and Max
Meyer, perhaps too B. Bode and Mrs. De Laguna, either to slip in
among the antis or to elude, his aquiline eye altogether.

I heartily agree with him in his refusal to recognize the new
systems of behaviorism that are continually being put on the market
as genuine products, but if he asks us introspectionists (and most of
the anti-behaviorists he draws up in his formidable list are anything
but introspectionists) to do a little self-analysis, may we not ask
him en revanche to return the courtesy and explain objectively why
so many objectivists in psychology should give him the impression
that they are paranoiacs seeing "an enemy in everyone not an
anointed introspectionist" and detecting a "danger in all objective

JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

study"? And were these "anointed introspectionists" really so
fearful of the inroads of behaviorism, would they be advocating new
systems of behaviorism rather than eschewing the slightest associa-
tion with the radical movement and employing the term behaviorism
only in criticism? Dr. Hunter implies that every psychologist who
is not a behaviorist d la Watson — I suppose in accordance with the
famous dictum "He who is not for me is against me" — must be an
anti-behaviorist, but since he has found only two behaviorists, Wat-
son and Weiss, he himself, by implication, must be classed as an
anti — and now who will hunt the hunter?

Our interrogator is apparently given to paradox, for after ad-
mitting that he has followed "your papers during the last ten
years with keen interest and much profit" he rather ungratefully
asks "Why do you write so much?" May I answer for my part
that it was this polygraphy — if I may use the word in an archaic
sense — which has enabled me to undertake the very task which
Dr. Hunter was anxious to have performed, and to answer at con-
siderable length his questions: "Who are the behaviorists?" and
"Have you ever brought together a bibliography of this topic for
the last decade?"

A. A. ROBACK.

HABVARD UNIVERSITY.

Dr. Edwin G. Boring, professor of experimental psychology at
Clark University, has been appointed associate professor of psychol-
ogy at Harvard University. Dr. Herbert S. Langfeld has been
promoted from an assistant professorship to associate professorship
at Harvard.

VOL. XIX., No. 16 AUGUST 3, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

THE NATURE OF SPACE. II
THE EMPIRICAL BASIS OP GEOMETRY

IT is so long since geometry reached the assured position of a deduc-
tive science, that it is hard for us now to realize that it was
ever in an inductive stage. But this, of course, is plain historical
fact. The geometry of the Egyptians was a body of practical rules
of mensuration, which were the outcome of long experience and
careful observation — though they were far from exact, according to
our standards. And the geometry of the early Pythagoreans, while
it exhibits from the outset the Greek interest in pure theory, and
was thus destined to develop into the organization of consecutive
demonstrations which the science in its classical form exhibits,
was still essentially empirical in its methods and standards.

When one speaks in this way of an inductive and a deductive stage
in the development of a science, it is not suggested that in the former
stage deductive processes are not employed. The distinction rather
is that when the deductive stage has been reached induction is no
longer used as a method of proof, but only for purposes of discovery
or of illustration. When it has been demonstrated, for example, that
the three internal angle-bisectors of a triangle meet in a point, there
is no necessity for confirming the result with rule and compasses;
and if, on actual trial, the three bisectors should appear not to con-
verge, one would blame the draughtsman or his instruments, not the
principles involved.

In the case of geometry, the deductive stage waited upon the con-
ception of the point — of that which has position and not magnitude.
The existence of bodies must be attested, directly or indirectly, by
specific observations. The existence of points is attested by general
axioms, which recognize no distinction between possible points and
actual points. Take away all bodies, and the system of points is con-
ceived to remain the same. Thus the system of points is space as
such — space which may be full or empty without its characteristic
properties being in any way affected.

421

422 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

The earliest Greek geometers knew nothing of the point: and
accordingly they could not make the distinction between space and
extended matter. The folk-mind, as well as early science, has the
two conceptions, "something" and "nothing," the former of which
is often identified by science with "matter," the latter with "empty
space." But the latter identification, at least, is inexact. Empty
space can be conceived only as distinguished from filled space, not
as distinguished from matter; for space is space, whether filled or
empty. The folk-mind also has a conception of "place" — a place
where something may or may not be. And it has the closely re-
lated conception of a "hole" which may be made in a given place,
and which again may be filled up. These also are not equivalent to
the notion of space, because of the relativity to actual "somethings"
which they contain. A place in a moving cart moves with the cart.
A hole in a log disappears when the log is burned up. If there is
an unmoved place, it is at, in, or on something that is unmoved.
The developing scientific consciousness appropriates these concep-
tions, and interprets them in the light of its space-conception. For
science, it is primarily the point that has position ; and the position
of a point is primarily relative only to other points. The hole, if
really unfilled, becomes a "vacuum," i.e., empty space; and, con-
trariwise, infinite space itself becomes the "universal receptacle" —
a hole, if you please, that is not a hole in anything. But these are
developments that distinctly belong to science, not to the folk-con-
sciousness, and not even to the beginnings of science.

The Pythagoreans long confused mist and darkness with empty
space. And, at the same time, they thought of space (or mist) as
made up of discrete units. Two of these units, side by side, made
the shortest possible line. Three were necessary to make a surface.
A little pyramidal heap of four was the minimum solid.

What is geometry without the point? And how can such a ge-
ometry give rise to the conception of the point? These are the
questions which are now to engage our attention. Unfortunately
we can have but slight guidance from the recorded history of the
science in answering them. The fundamental principles that are
involved are such as must have come to universal recognition long
before the beginnings of geometry as a distinct body of knowledge.
Accordingly, they are not regarded by primitive scientists as worthy
of explicit statement ; and when geometry reached a stage in which
the systematic statement of its foundations was felt to be a desid-
eratum, the conception of the point, with the attendant abstraction
of space from matter, was already firmly established, and no need
was felt for going behind it.

THE NATURE OF SPACE 423

The foundations of an inductive science differ necessarily in the
most radical fashion from the formal beginnings of a deductive sci-
ence. The latter has its few indefinables and its set of axioms. The
inductive science has indefinables in plenty, not in the sense of
concepts that do not need definition, but in the sense of concepts
that are too vague to admit of definition; and it has unproved
principles in plenty, which are assumed, not because they are self-
evident, but because they are plausible. As the science advances,
its earlier indefinables may be defined, or they may disappear by
reason of radical inconsistencies that have been discovered in them ;
and, at the same time, the earlier "axioms" may be demonstrated,
or they may be shown to be unsound. "As far as the east is from
the west, ' ' said the psalmist, little thinking that east and west come
together. That bodies which are not supported fall downwards is
an ancient maxim, from which even today our imaginations are not
wholly liberated. With the earliest physicists it sometimes passed
unquestioned; witness, for example, Anaximenes's theory, that the
reason the earth does not fall is that its shape is that of a broad
leaf, so that it is supported by the air.

Starting from such assumptions, the inductive science attempts
to reach clearness in some one direction, leaving everything else un-
touched for the time being. Such attempts are generally destined
to meet with very slight success; for the assumptions that are still
blindly made vitiate the whole procedure. But there is no other way.
We can not move our whole thought-world at once. It is only by
using the solid earth of common sense as a fulcrum that we can hope
to budge some one block of prejudice. It is only by trusting to the
great mass of our opinions as if they were absolute knowledge, that
we can hope to correct some special misconception. Success comes
when, by good fortune, the unsteadiness of our fulcrum does not
markedly affect the work performed.

Let us enumerate some of the common-sense conceptions which
inductive geometry must use in order to give clearness to its own
conceptions.1

First in order stands the physical solid. In some rough fashion
this conception must have belonged to men since they began to reflect
at all. Solids behave in characteristically different ways from
liquids, as well as from wind and fire. They impress us differently,
and we manipulate them differently — in just what ways we need not
specify. Nor need we stumble over the fact that there are all degrees

1 A first sketch of the theory here developed is contained in an article on
"The Nature of Primary Qualities," in the Philosophical Review, Vol. XXII,
pp. 504-6.

424 JOURNAL OP PHILOSOPHY

of viscosity and solidity that separate the typical liquid from the typ-
ical solid ; much less distress ourselves with the thought that not even
the typical solids are absolutely rigid, even when they are not long
and thin enough to be bent like wire. We put all such sophistications
aside ; and, without pretense of definition, we boldly assume that we
mean something definite enough by a "solid," and that solids in gen-
eral are good enough solids for the immediate purposes of our science.

Secondly, there is motion, with its negative rest. We have a
variety of ways of perceiving motion, both in our own bodies and in
other bodies. As little as in the case of the solid shall we attempt
to be precise or to guard our conceptions from ambiguity. We shall
not ask ourselves whether by "motion" we mean absolute or rela-
tive motion, or, if the latter, relative to what. No ; we simply mean
motion, as we see it and feel it. Again, we do not allow ourselves
to be perplexed by the image of an Heraclitean flux; nor by the
thought that, as observation becomes more exact, many things that
seemed to be at rest are found to be in motion, so that it is doubtful
whether in the world anything is at rest either absolutely or relatively
to anything else. We ignore all such considerations. By rest we
mean the condition of most of the things about us, most of the time,
as they appear to common observation.

Thirdly, there is contact. This also we have various ways of per-
ceiving, not all of which are always possible, but which generally
confirm one another. We can often see that two solids are in con-
tact with each other, and hear when they are brought into contact.
We have a special sensation that informs us when something touches
our own body ; and, by a change in its intensity, this sensation also
informs us when a solid which we are holding touches another solid.
Strain sensations serve the same purpose. There is also this familiar
and fairly trustworthy test: that it is only when two solids are in
contact with each other or are both in contact with a third (inter-
vening) solid that we can cause a movement in one of the two by
moving the other.

Lastly, there is simultaneity, whether it be of momentary events
or of more or less enduring conditions. However, on account of the
narrowness of the field of human attention, simultaneity can, in
general, be attested only by an absence of relevant change as our
observation shifts to and fro between the compared objects, and
hence can, in general, mean only the temporal overlapping of con-
ditions.

How are these conceptions involved in geometrical observations?
The answer is not far to seek. Spatial measurement is an operation
performed primarily upon solids. To measure a liquid or a vapor

THE NATURE OF SPACE 425

is, in general, to measure its solid container. Moreover, the measur-
ing-rod itself is in all cases a solid, either rigid in itself, or — as in
the case of a taut string — given a temporary rigidity. Geometry, as
the science of spatial measurement, is thus a science of solids ; and,
while endeavoring to refine its conception of certain of the properties
of solids, it must necessarily take for granted at the outset a gross
common-sense notion of the solid as such.

More precisely, the operation of measurement, in its fundamental
form, involves the observation of the occurrence or non-occurrence
of the simultaneous contact of one solid with two others, which may,
indeed, be parts of a single solid. There are, of course, other modes
of measurement : directly by the eye or hand ; indirectly by the time
which a familiar movement, such as walking, over the given distance
requires. Or a measuring-rod can be used without actual contact.
But, when we observe that one solid touches two others simulta-
neously, we know, with an assurance limited only by our confidence in
that observation, that the distance between the two is not greater
than the length of the intervening one. And when we find that, try
as we may, we can not make one solid touch two others at once, we
are assured that the distance between these two is greater than the
length of the one. For the purposes of empirical geometry, that is
the meaning of these observations.

In all this it is assumed that our powers of manipulating the solid
with which we try to touch two others are practically unlimited;
and, in particular, that we can freely move any fourth body that
might otherwise interfere with the process.2 As a matter of fact our
ability freely to manipulate objects, or to move them so that they will
not interfere with our manipulation of other objects — or, for that
matter, to keep them at rest while other objects about them are mov-
ing— is decidedly limited. "We must, of course, base our inductions
on the observations where the required conditions are satisfied ; and
we then assume that were our powers greater we should have been
able to make similar observations in the other cases. In this respect
empirical geometry does not differ from other empirical sciences.

Just as men may be assumed to possess, from the earliest stages
of reflection, some notion of the solid, of rest and motion, of contact,
and of simultaneity, so they may equally be assumed to possess some
notion of distance and of length. We can not, however, in what fol-
lows make any express appeal to this phase of early thought ; for it
is precisely here that our endeavor to substitute clear definition for
common sense must begin.

2 Here, in addition to the conceptions enumerated above, a vague concep-
tion of force is involved.

426 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

The first step is to bring before our attention a certain funda-
mental induction, which may be called the principle of measurement,
and upon which our whole further procedure rests :

If the solids A, B, C, and D are at rest, and if there is at least
one solid 2T which can be brought into simultaneous contact with A
and B, but can not in any way be brought into simultaneous contact
with C and D, then there is no solid that can connect * C and D but
can not connect A and B.

Attention must be called to the condition that no one of the four
solids, A, B, C, and D, shall move. If any one of them is observed
to move, further observation often shows that it is then possible to
find a solid that can connect C and D but not A and B, But, further-
more, sometimes it happens, even when no one of the four has been
observed to move, that nevertheless the principle fails to hold. In
that case, we say, perhaps, that one of the objects actually moved,
though we did not observe it, either because we were not watching it
at the time, or — and this is the important point — because our obser-
vation was defective. We are often ready, in such a case, to condemn
an observation as defective, even though we have no reason to be-
lieve that it was less careful than any observations upon which we im-
pose complete reliance. Or we say that in the interval between the
tests some change occurred in the capacity of one of the manipulated
solids to connect other solids.

Thus this fundamental induction of geometry is not supported by
evidence that is in itself perfectly consistent. Direct observation
does not prove it to be invariably true, but rather goes to show that
it is sometimes, though comparatively rarely, contrary to fact. We
follow in the induction the overwhelmingly great mass of our obser-
vations; and we simplify our experience by bringing the apparent
exceptions into line. The simplification is the greater, in that we
are thus enabled to extend our induction to all solids whatsoever,
whether they be at rest or not. It now becomes :

If A, B, C, D, and X be any solids, and if, at any moment, X can
connect A and B but can not connect C and D, then, at that moment,
no T exists which can connect C and D but not A and B.

The proposition at which we thus arrive may be brought under
a wider induction that is reached as follows :

In the first place, if there exist two solids, X and T, such that
while X touches A, and Y touches B, they can at the same time be
made to touch each other ; and if X and Y can not be made in this
sense to "connect" C and D; then no solid, and no pair of solids,
can be found that can connect C and D but not A and B.

•We shall hereafter use this term instead of the cumbersome phrase, "be
in simultaneous contact with."

THE NATURE OF SPACE 427

At the same time, let us note that if X and T can connect A and
B in the order, "A touches X, which touches Y, which touches B,"
X and Y can also be made to connect A and B in the order, "A
touches Y, which touches X, which touches B."

In the second place, if there exist one or more solids, V, W, X,
Y . . . • which can be made to connect A and B in that order, then
they can be made to connect A and B in any order whatsoever.
And if, further, they can not be made to connect the solids
C and D, then no solid or chain of solids * can be found which can
connect C and D but not A and B.

In the third place, where there are more than two solids inserted
between A and B, it is not necessary in our tests that all the con-
tacts be simultaneous. For example, let V touch A and W; then,
if W remains at rest, V may be removed ; when X has been brought
into contact with W, W may be removed; and so on, until contact
with B is secured. However, when it comes to proving that a con-
nection between A and B can not be effected by a given combination
of solids, this method is cumbersome; for the removed solids must be
again and again replaced, in order to test whether some new mode of
contact may not make it possible for the connection to be secured.

In the fourth place, a solid that has been removed according to
the method above described may be used again, either at once or later,
so that one or more solids may be used any number of times. If,
in connecting A and B, V has been used ra times, W n times, X p
times, etc., then, no matter how the order is changed, it is always
possible to connect A and B by using the intervening solids the
same numbers of times. And if C and D can not be connected in
this way, then there is no proportion in which any collection of solids
can be used to connect C and D, in which they can not also be made
to connect A and B.

In particular, any two solids may be used alternately, as often
as desired, in effecting a connection.

We may repeat here, with reference to the formation of chains
of solids, and their manipulation, a remark that was made above with
reference to the manipulation of solids as such. The number of
"links" which we can manage varies greatly both with the links that
are employed and the conditions under which we employ them. The
inductions of geometry are based upon observations made under
conditions where we are able to use any and all links that we wish
to use, as often as we please ; that is to say, where, for the purposes
of the observation, no limitations are felt. Accordingly, we assume

* This brief and convenient expression will be employed frequently.

I'JS

JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

that any solids whatsoever may be combined in a chain, each of them
being reinserted as often as we please. Here again geometry does
not differ from other empirical sciences.

We are now prepared for the following definitions:

I* If A, B, C, and D are
such that a solid (or chain of
solids) X can be found, which
can connect A and B but not
C and D; then C and D are said
to be farther apart than A and
B.

P If the solid (or chain of
solids) M and the solid (or chain
of solids) N are such that two
solids, X and T, can be found,
which M can connect, while N
can not; then M is said to be
longer than N.

Thus we have brought before us the "indefinable" relation as-
sumed by metrical geometry in its deductive form — not, however, as
subsisting between pairs of points (of which, as yet, we know noth-
ing), but as subsisting between pairs of solids. At the same time,
there is introduced the relation "to be longer than," which we had
no occasion to note in the earlier discussion, but which stands in a
curious correspondence with the relation "to be farther apart than."
This correspondence we shall continue to indicate by means of par-
allel columns.

From the fundamental induction we may at once conclude :

If A and B are farther apart
than C and D, C and D are not
farther apart than A and B.

If A and B are farther apart
than C and D, and C and D are
farther apart than E and F;
then A and B are farther apart
than E and F.

II* If A and B are not
farther apart than C and D, and
C and D are not farther apart
than A and B; then A and B
are said to be just as far apart
as C and D.

Ill0 The distance between A
and B is the class of pairs of
solids that are just as far apart
as A and B (or the property of
being just as far apart as A and
B).

If M is longer than N, N is
not longer than M.

If M is longer than N, and N
is longer than P; then M is
longer than P.

IP If M is not longer than
N, and N is not longer than M ;
then M is said to be just as long
as N.

Ill6 The length of M is the
class of solids (or chains of
solids) that are just as long as
M (or the property of being just
as long as M).

THE NATURE OF SPACE 429

The double form of these last two definitions has been sufficiently
explained in another connection.8

IVa If A and B are farther IV& If M is longer than N,

apart than C and D, the distance the length of M is said to be
between A and B is said to be greater than the length of N.
greater than the distance be-
tween C and D.

It is easily proved that the relation ' ' greater-than, ' ' as thus sub-
sisting between distances on the one hand, and between lengths on
the other, is asymmetrical and transitive.

"We must now pass on to consider the relations that may subsist
between a distance and a length :

V° If M can connect A and V6 If M can connect A and

B, but can not connect any pair B, but no solid (or chain of
of solids that are farther apart solids) N, such that M is longer
than A and B; then the distance than N, can connect A and B;
between A and B is said to be then the length of M is said to
equal to the length of M, be equal to the distance between

A and B.

It will be recalled, that, treating distances and lengths as classes,
we do not speak of one distance's being equal to another distance,
nor of one length's being equal to another length, but of identical
lengths and identical distances. But a distance and a length can
not be identical ; hence the necessity of the above definitions.

The two following propositions are easily established :
If the distance between A and If the length of M is equal to

B is equal to the length of M, the distance between A and B,
the length of M is equal to the the distance between A and B
distance between A and B. is equal to the length of M.

VIa If the distance between VP If the length of M is

A and B is greater than a dis- greater than a length that is
tance that is equal to the length equal to the distance between A
of M , it is said to be greater than and B, it is said to be greater
the length of M . than the distance between A and

B.

It will be observed that up to this point our account of distances
and of lengths has been perfectly symmetrical. At this point the
symmetry breaks down.

VIP The sum of the lengths
of M and N is the length of the
chain consisting of M and N.
5 See the remarks on Definition II in the preceding article.

430 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

This definition can not be duplicated for distances, for the simple
reason that while there are chains of solids, there are no analogous
chains of pairs of solids; or, as we may express the matter, while
there are chains of lengths, we are acquainted with no chains of
distances. Hence the sum of two distances must be defined in-
directly, in terms of the sum of the corresponding lengths:

VIIa The sum of the dis-
tances between A and B and
between C and D is the distance
that is equal to the sum of the
lengths that are equal respec-
tively to the distance between A
and B and the distance between
C and Z>.

The importance of this defect in the general symmetry will be
discussed below.

The effect of Definitions V° and V6, and of the two propositions
which follow them, is to establish a correlation between lengths and
distances. The question arises whether there can be assumed to
exist a distance equal to every length, and a length equal to every
distance.

On account of the freedom with which many solids can be moved,
it is in general possible to exhibit a pair of solids that are at a
distance equal to the length of a given solid (or chain of solids).
And, though this can not always be done, no reason in any instance
appears to indicate that a pair of solids at the required distance
from each other may not occur. Accordingly, we assume that there
is a distance equal to every length.

The answer to the second part of the question involves the con-
sideration of the peculiar sense in which one solid may be part of
another solid.

It often happens that two solids can be brought into contact with
each other in such a fashion that thereafter they can be manipulated,
and may therefore be regarded, as a single solid. In such a case,
the collection of two solids is no mere logical collection, or class.
It is a collection, between the members of which a relation subsists
which makes it a "unity," or "complex"; and this unity, or com-
plex, is a solid. The two members of the collection are then called
parts of the collection considered as a solid ; and the latter is called
the whole.

The like may happen with any number of solids.

It also happens that a solid may be, as we say, broken, that
is, undergo the reverse process: being changed into a collection of

THE NATURE OF SPACE 431

solids that is not itself a single solid. When this appears possible,
we may, independently of any such actual process, regard the solid
as a complex of those solids into which it might be broken ; and these
are then called its parts.

We assume that if a part of a solid is in contact with another
solid, the whole is also in contact with that solid. This appears to be
implied in the notion of contact, which (it will be recalled) we have
not here attempted to analyze.

Observation shows that a whole is often longer than one of its
parts, though the part may be just as long as the whole. But a
part can not be longer than the whole. It is generally possible to
break up a solid into parts (and it is thus legitimate to consider it as
already made up of parts) such that the whole is longer than any one
of them; and this process may, in general, be continued until the
parts are such that an assigned solid is longer than any one of them.
Similarly, if a pair of solids are not in contact with each other, it
is generally possible to break a third solid into parts, no one of
which can connect the pair. Furthermore, though it often happens
that, with the available means of manipulation, a solid is unbreak-
able, it also often becomes possible to break such a solid; and no
absolute limit to the process of continuous breaking is known. Ac-
cordingly, we assume: (1) that if M and N be each any solid, M
may be considered as made up of parts such that N is longer than
any one of them; and, similarly, (2) that if M be any solid, and if
A and B be any pair of solids that are not in contact with each,
other, M may be considered as made up of parts no one of which
can connect A and B.

Observation further shows that if a solid M is longer than a
solid N, it is in general possible to divide M into two parts, one of
which is just as long as N; and that if the length of M is greater
than the distance between two solids, A and B, which are not in
contact with each other, it is in general possible to divide M into two
parts, the length of one of which is equal to the distance between
A and B. And, again, though it often happens that with the avail-
able means of manipulation such a division of M. can not be effected,
some addition to these means often makes the operation possible;
and we see no final limit to such possibilities. We therefore as-
sume that if M be longer than N, it contains a part that is just as
long as N; and that if its length is greater than the distance be-
tween A and B (which are not in contact with each other), it con-
tains a part which is equal to that distance.

A similar observation applies to combinations of solids. If the
length of a given chain is greater than a given distance, it is, in

432 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

general, possible, by omitting one or more members of the chain, or
by including only a part of one member, or both, to find a length
equal to the given distance; and we accordingly assume that this
is always possible.

Finally, if A and B be any pair of solids, and if V, W, X, etc.,
be any collection of two or more solids, it is, in general, possible to
form a chain of these latter solids (repeating them as often as may
be desired) that can connect A and J5. And though we are not
always able actually to effect the connection — because of the inac-
cessibility of one or both of the pair of solids, or because of the dif-
ficulty of manipulating any of the members of the collection — we
assume that there is no essential impossibility in the matter, that is
to say, none that is not relative to our limited powers; and, accord-
ingly, we hold that from any collection of two or more solids a
chain can be formed that will connect any given pair of solids."

It appears from the foregoing, that for every length there is
an equal distance, and — if we leave out of consideration pairs of
solids that are in contact with each other — for every distance there
is an equal length. It remains to consider the one case of which
exception has been made. Is there a length corresponding to the
distance between two solids that are in contact with each other?

Our experience is (1) that any solid will connect a pair of solids
that are in contact, and further (2) that there is no solid that will
not suffice to connect some pairs of solids that are not in contact.
But this is as much as to say that, in our experience, there is no
solid whose length is equal to the distance between two solids that
are in contact.

Nothing, however, prevents us from assuming that, beyond the
limits of our experience, such solids exist. It might be supposed
'that an assumption of this character would be perfectly idle and
frivolous; but that is not necessarily the case. There are two com-
mon classes of motives that lead to such assumptions. What can
not possibly be perceived may be assumed to exist, first, in order
to account by its behavior for the behavior of various things which
we can perceive; or, secondly, in order to simplify our mode of
statement of many generalizations regarding things which we can
perceive. It is, indeed, not always clear which of these two classes
a given assumption illustrates. The chemical atom has sometimes
been regarded as a causal agent, sometimes as a fiction of merely
notational significance.

8 If the collection consists of two solids, and if these are of the same
length, this principle reduces to the so-called "principle of Archimedes," that
the ratio between any two distances is finite.

THE NATURE OF SPACE 433

Let us postpone the question of motive — except as the attractive-
ness of an obvious symmetry may suggest itself — and arbitrarily
assume that solids whose length is equal to the distance between
solids that are in contact with each other exist ; and, in particular,
that whenever two other solids are in contact with each other, at
least one of these supposititious solids is in contact with both. We
have then arrived at the conception of the point, as it enters into
metrical geometry.

As so conceived, the point has several noteworthy properties.

1. Since it can connect no solids that are not already in con-
tact with each other, the point does not increase the length of a
chain to which it is added. In other words the length of the point
is zero.

2. The point can contain no parts which are not themselves
points in contact with each other. For no part can be longer than
the whole. Furthermore, every part must be in contact with every
solid with which any part is in contact. Thus no part of a point
can be distinguished in any way from any other part or from the
whole. We therefore assume that the point has no parts.

3. Similarly, two points that are in contact with each other —
coincident points — can have no different properties, unless because
of some difference in movement. If we assume that points, like
other solids, can move, we need the conception of coincident points;
otherwise not.

4. Since points are not given in experience, we can not dis-
tinguish between an actual and a possible point. If we assume that
points exist, every possible point must be regarded as actual.

5. Accordingly, if we assume that points exist, we must assume
at least one for every possible contact between solids. In particular,
every two adjacent parts of any solid call for at least one point;
and, as the solid is divisible into parts ad infinitum, every solid
must, in this sense, "contain" an infinite number of points.

The points that are thus requisite are indicated by the exist-
ence-axioms of geometry.

6. Points group themselves in what are called "surfaces" and
"lines" (or, as the mathematicians call them, "curves"). A col-
lection of points at which two solids may be in contact with each
other is called a "surface." A surface is thus, as we say, the "out-
side" (or a part of the outside) of a possible solid. A collection
of points at which three solids may be in contact is called a "line,"
or "curve." A surface, in this sense, may consist of a single line,
or even of a single point ; and a line may consist of a single point.

But why should we assume that points exist? What reason

434 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

have we for entertaining a supposition, outrunning, as it does, the
limits of our experience?

In a great many of the measurements in which we are interested,
the distances directly involved arc much greater than the lengths.
This is necessarily the case, for the reason that so many important
solids are too big for us to move them at all, or, at any rate, to
move them freely. In such a case we measure the distance between
two parts of the solid, or the distance between two other solids
which the solid in question touches. For we can measure great dis-
tances with comparative ease by means of chains of solids, the
separate lengths of which are of convenient magnitude.

The distances with which we have to deal are often so much
greater than the lengths of the objects between which they are
measured, that the lengths are altogether negligible in comparison.
Thus we may measure the distance between two little stakes at op-
posite sides of a valley.

Where the lengths of the solids are altogether negligible, a con-
siderable simplification of some of the relations involved may oc-
cur. The following case is typical :

When a chain of three solids, X,
C, and Y, connects a pair of solids,
A and B, we know that the distance
between these latter solids is not
greater than the length of the chain.
Moreover, the distance between A
and C is not greater than the length
of X; and the distance between C
and B is not greater than the length
of Y. It follows that the distance between A and B is not greater
than the sum of (1) the distance between A and C, (2) the length
of C, and (3) the distance between C and B. Now, if the length
of C is negligible, we may simplify this statement, saying that the
distance between A and B is not greater than the sum of the dis-
tance between A and C and the distance between C and B. This
need not be true, but it will not, at any rate, be seriously false.

If, now, we suppose C to be a point, the simplified statement be-
comes universally and absolutely true. And if A and B are like-
wise points, we may say that the distance between any two of the
three points is not greater than the sum of their distances from the
third point.

It may be recalled that in a previous article we used this rela-
tion as the basis of a definition of the sum of two distances. But
without points the direct addition of distances is impossible: the

THE NATURE OF SPACE 435

sum of two distances is merely the distance equal to the sum of the
two lengths that are severally equal to the given distances. With-
out points we can not have a chain of distances, as we have chains
of lengths.7

With points we can have precisely that: the distances between
successive members of a series of points.

But what is there of real value in this simplification ? Is it not
over-simplification? Since, so far as we know, there are no points,
what sense is there in laying down propositions that are true only
of points?

In answer we may refer to the fact already mentioned, that,
though there are no points in our experience, it frequently happens
that the solids with which we have to deal are relatively so small
that their length does not matter to us. The condition, ' ' Let A, B,
and C be three points," is, to be sure, a condition which we have
never found realized. But we find what, to us, are very close ap-
proaches to it; and, the nearer the approach, the smaller the mar-
gin of possible error in the conclusion, "AB is not greater than the
sum oi AC and CB." The geometrical formula is descriptive, not
of any object of our actual experience, but of cm ideally simplified
object, which the real objects may approach indefinitely.

It is interesting to recall that Galileo has made a similar ob-
servation with regard to the principles of mechanics. Consider,
for example, the ''law of falling bodies": that they fall with a
velocity proportional to the time that they have been falling. Is
this law obeyed by the bodies that we perceive? Evidently not by
the falling leaf or feather. But many other bodies obey it very
closely — some so closely that it is difficult or impossible to discover
any departure from exactness. But that does not in itself excuse
the obvious exceptions. The excuse for the exceptions is that they
do not conform to the essential conditions of the law. Their fall is
interfered with by the resistance of the air; and the law requires
that it shall take place in a vacuum, where no such interference is
possible. But in the more favorable instances does the object fall
in a vacuum? No. We have no means of obtaining a perfect
vacuum. Of what value, then, is the law, since it calls for a condi-
tion that is never in our experience verified?

The answer is that, although we can not wholly eliminate the
resistance of the medium through which the body falls, we can re-
duce this resistance in various ways. Some bodies are of such
density and of such a shape, that they encounter a very slight re-
sistance; and approximate vacuums can be formed in which even

7 Cf. p. 428.

436 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

a feather falls like a shot. And the more nearly the required con-
dition is satisfied, the more nearly the law is found to be obeyed —
the smaller is the margin of error within which a prediction ac-
cording to the law can be safely made. While, therefore, the law
is not exactly descriptive of any observable event, it does describe
an ideally simple event which the observed events approach at a
limit. As Galileo pointed out, this is the general character of me-
chanical laws.

The closely analogous case of the law of the pendulum — that the
period of oscillation is independent of the amplitude, and varies as
the square of the length of the pendulum — is worth noticing. Ap-
ply this law to the swinging chandeliers, and it is verified, but only
approximately. As before, we have to observe that the conditions
laid down by the law are not adequately met. The chandelier is
not a pendulum. The pendulum, for instance, swings from a point,
or from a straight line perpendicular to the plane of oscillation;
the chandelier does not hang from a point or even from a straight
line. But where is such a pendulum to be found? It is not to be
found. The pendulum, as mechanics defines it, and as the law of
the pendulum describes it, is a thing lying altogether beyond any
possible experience of ours — an ideal, for which we can find ap-
proximations of varying closeness, but no exact realization.

This, as we have seen, is likewise the nature of the point, and
of the system of points which we call "space." A surveyor's stake
is not a point, nor is the tiny pencil-dot which he makes upon his
map. But the surveyor treats them as points, and thereby commits
no serious error. For the purposes of his work they are pretty
good points, as the chandelier is a pretty good pendulum. The
points in space are the perfect type — the Platonic archetype, if you
choose — which the stakes and pencil-dots resemble, approximate,
imitate, in whose characteristic properties they participate, and of
which they are, therefore, serviceable illustrations. When, in the
study of material "points," the laws of geometry are exactly veri-
fied, that means that the approximation is close enough to conceal
the error. But if the verification is not exact, the laws of geometry
remain unrepealed. The inexactness is attributed to the imperfec-
tion of the conditions. The geometry of stakes and pencil-dots is
the geometry of points plus an uncertain amount of unimportant
variation from the norm.

Let us now turn our attention to the principle of measurement
which was discussed on an earlier page of this chapter. The con-
stancy of the relations of possible simultaneous contact between
solids is the essential precondition of all measurements of lengths

THE NATURE OF SPACE 437

and distances. And yet this constancy is, so far as we can surmise,
not perfectly exemplified by any collection of solids in the universe.
There are many collections that exemplify it tolerably well. The
vast majority of things on the earth's surface constitutes such a
collection. But, if we press our observations home, we find shift-
ing and shrinking and expansion everywhere, and the very concep-
tion of lengths and distances seems to melt into nothingness.

What course has science followed in this connection! It has
simplified its account of our experience in a manner which was
strongly suggested by the great mass of our observations, and which
not only explained away all past exceptions but provided in advance
for all possible future exceptions. This result was accomplished by
putting the principle of measurement in a form in which it clearly
transcends human experience: as a proposition involving a uni-
versal existential negative and limited to a single moment of time.
As we have phrased it,

' ' If A, B, C, D, and X be any solids, and if, at any moment, X
can connect A and B but can not connect C and D, then, at that
moment, no T exists which can connect C and D but not A and B."

The conditions laid down in this principle are never given in ex-
perience. So complex a simultaneity is unobservable. But ap-
proximations to it are found. Many things change slowly, and
some are changeless so far as our available instruments and methods
can attest; so that the duration and successiveness of our observa-
tions is in varying degrees unimportant. In just those degrees the
principle of measurement is more closely verifiable. Once more
the law of nature is found to describe an ideally simplified object : a
world of hypothetical solids which are absolutely rigid and — with
exceptions that we have elsewhere noted — absolutely motionless.

The assumption of the existence of perfectly rigid and motion-
less solids, like the assumption of the existence of points, is of a
purely formal character. By no human observation can they be di-
rectly confirmed or invalidated. So far as the applications of ge-
ometry are concerned, from the simple measurement of lengths and
distances onward, it matters not in the least whether solids of zero-
length or solids of absolutely constant length exist at all. By means
of these conceptions — these figures of speech, if you please — we are
enabled to analyze and describe the relations of possible simultane-
ous contact between solids with the greatest economy and practical
success. If these relations were in practise altogether unpredict-
able— if the universe were to our perception a chaos, in which
everything was in irregular motion — there would be no measure-
ment; and if the lengths which we have to deal with were seldom

438 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

negligible in comparison with the distances, there would be no ge-
ometry of points. The utility of the formal assumptions depends
on the approximate illustration of them in the field of actual ex-
perience.

It may be asked, how far the conclusions which we have reached
agree with the well-known theory of Poincare. The answer is that
they correspond pretty closely with his conception of mechanical
principles, while they disagree flatly with his conception of ge-
ometrical principles. For one of the striking features of PoincanS's
theory of mathematics is that geometrical and mechanical principles
stand upon an essentially different footing. The former are con-
ventions, resting, not on evidence, but on their superior conveni-
ence as compared with other logically possible conventions. The
latter have a double character; first, as empirical generalizations,
based (like all such generalizations) on the approximate agreement
of inexact observations; and, secondly, as mathematical equations
which are exact and irrefutable, but only because, as such, they are
logically insignificant identities. I have tried to show that geome-
trical principles too, as descriptions of an ideal limiting instance,
have this double character of empirical generalizations and of
identities. I have tried to show how this double character arises
and wherein its utility consists. If I am right, it may be suggested8
that Poincare 's error arose from his acceptance of the traditional
view, that geometry is altogether prior to mechanics. As members
of the system of mathematical sciences this is true of them. As
empirical sciences of nature, it is by no means strictly true of them.

In conclusion, it may be observed — though the observation goes
far beyond the proper limits of this inquiry — that a very similar
account may be given of the general law of the uniformity of nature.

This law has been variously regarded as a self-evident truth, as
an empirical generalization, and (since Kant) as a postulate of scien-
tific inquiry — something that is not known to be true, and can never
be proved or disproved, but must be assumed if empirical science
is to proceed in the search for truth. The first hypothesis was long
orthodox, but has been discredited, not only by reason of the general
discredit into which axioms as such have fallen, but also by reason
of the unclearness and inconsistency of its own many attempted
formulations. The second hypothesis has therefore become attrac-
tive to men of an open mind ; but it has been hard to see how such
a principle as the uniformity of nature could be established by induc-
tion. J. S. Mill's theory, that it is based upon an unbroken enumera-
tion of positive instances, valid because commensurate with human

• C/. my review of Science and Hypothfgis, in the Philosophical Review,
Vol. XV, No. 6 (November, 1908), pp. 634 ff.

THE NATURE OF SPACE 439

experience, will scarcely hold ; first, because by far the greater part
of our experience presents no observable uniformity, and, secondly,
because a great deal of our experience presents what to prima facie
observation are distinct breaches of uniformity. The Kantian type
of theory remains; but it, in turn, labors under the difficulty of
conceiving how the advantages of believing a thing are a sufficient
justification for assuming it. As a matter of fact, moreover, the
schools of Plato and Aristotle did not accept the principle, and yet
were active in many fields of investigation. And it is not apparent
why all search for uniformity would be impossible except on the
supposition that no irregularity anywhere exists.

Is not the case similar to that of the fundamental principle of
spatial measurement? As has been pointed out above, direct obser-
vation does not prove this principle. Contrary experiences abound.
But these we explain away by saying that in each case some one of
the solids has moved or changed in length without our observing it.
The principle is thus raised above any direct refutation by expe-
rience. All possible exceptions are accounted for. But at the same
time it loses its value as information. Little good is it, merely to
know that your measurements are valid provided your measuring-
stick has not swelled or shrunk and the objects measured have not
changed their interrelations. What is wanted is a sufficient assur-
ance that these things have not happened — to any serious extent.

Similarly, when irregularities in the sequence of events occur
we are ready in advance with a universal method of explaining them
away. Either we hold to the rule, but declare that its working was
interfered with by some contrary tendency, or we admit that the
rule is not absolute, but at the same time declare that an absolute
rule — if we could but know it — still obtains. In this sense, the uni-
formity of nature by no means includes or implies the acceptance
of any particular uniformity. The law of gravitation, of the inde-
structibility of matter, or even of the conservation of energy may be
only approximations to truth; but the uniformity of nature is un-
disturbed. To believe in it is to be committed to nothing. It is
like the churchman's belief in the verbal inspiration of the original
manuscripts of the Bible.

It has been argued (e.g., by Sigwart) that the principle of the
uniformity of nature is an indispensable premise of every inductive
argument: because we know that "the given is determined," we are
able to prove that a particular mode of determination obtains. On
the contrary, I can not see that the general principle strengthens in
the slightest degree the argument for any particular uniformity. It
might, if we were able to argue : ' ' Some mode of determination exists ;
no other than this suggested mode is possible ; therefore this is the

440 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

" But the evidence for a law is never so extensive, and it is
always more positive. For this reason the further argument that
is sometimes met with — that the uniformity of nature can not be
inductively established, because it is an essential premise of every
induction — does not appear to be sound.

Men's actual belief in the uniformity of nature shows itself in
their confidence in the continued operation of the various empiri-
cally discovered laws of nature. And, historically, it is the rise of
empirical science that has given the principle its secure hold upon
our convictions. Its earliest recorded expression, at the dawn of
science, by Heraclitus of Ephesus, was based upon the simple cos-
mological and physiological phenomena upon which scientific atten-
tion was then fixed — the regular cycles of the day and the year and
of the generations of human life — and in particular upon that first
great generalization with which science may be said to have come
into being: the permanence of matter amid the multiplicity of its
sensible forms. The various limitations which have been set to it
by ancient and modern thinkers have, for the most part, been simi-
larly empirical in their basis, resting now on the imperfection of
material things, now on the consciousness of power, now on the un-
predictability of human caprice. The ascendancy of the determinist
conception is a measure of the success which the enterprise of
natural science has met with; and, generally speaking, it is more
or less marked, as habits of thought are more strongly marked by
scientific or by religious and esthetic influences.

As I see it, the uniformity of nature is a generalization more and
more strongly suggested by the extension of man's understanding of
nature. It is, in effect, an analytical proposition, providing, as it
does, in advance for all apparent exceptions to it. Its significance
lies in the fact that it presents an ideal background upon which the
world, as it is now understood by us, may be projected, so that con-
crete programmes may thus be formed for a better understanding.
Just as we have learned to see things, not simply as extending, but as
extending in space ; so we have learned to see the course of events, not
only as exhibiting certain uniformities, but as merged in a universal
cosmos. The sequences of things, as we perceive them, are often
erratic, just as the measurements taken with our common yard-sticks
often fail to agree by large fractions of an inch. Even the most
refined observations with the most delicate instruments do not reveal
a perfect harmony, though the disagreements commonly fall within
a well-established margin of error. But behind the margin of error
we see Nature — and Space.

THEODORE DE LAGUNA.
BBTN MAWR COLLEGE.

FISKE RE-ANTICIPATED 441

FISKE RE-ANTICIPATED

IN a recent number of this JOURNAL (April 13, 1922) Dr. W. E.
Wells points out an interesting anticipation of the view of John
Fiske on the value to the human species of its prolonged period of
infancy. As Dr. Wells remarks, it is hardly likely that Fiske had
read the English essayist of 1834, styled V. F., — the less so as Fiske
in the preface to "Through Nature to God" expressly claims origi-
nality for this contribution to the theory of evolution. But there is
some likelihood that V. F. may have been acquainted with a passage
in Herder's Ideen, of which an English translation appeared in Lon-
don in 1800. The passage is in chapter 6 of Book iv, and freely
translated runs as follows :

The first of human societies was that of the paternal household, a
society bound together by the tie of blood, by confidence and love. In
order that the wildness of human beings should be curbed and that they
sbould become accustomed to this domestic environment and intercourse,
it was desirable that the infancy of our species sbould last through many
years. Nature (by this device) kept the group together through necessity
and through tender bonds, so tbat it should not, as with the quickly
maturing animals, scatter and forget itself. In tbis way, the father
became not merely tbe sire but tbe educator of bis son, as tbe mother
had been his nurse; and tbus a new element of Humanity was established.
. . . We may say, accordingly, that man is born to society: a fact which
is implied alike in the exceptional sympathy of buman parents for their
offspring, and by tbe years of the long buman infancy.2

Of course, neither V. F. nor Herder gave this feature of human
growth the evolutionary meaning which it has in Fiske 's work.
Neither goes much farther than to note the far-reaching utility of
the arrangement; though Herder recognizes, as V. F. does not, its
place in a series of natural stages, causally related.

In this very partial sense, Herder may also be credited, I think,
with having anticipated the law of recapitulation, sometimes called
Hseckel's biogenetie law. In opening chapter 4 of Book IV of the
Ideen, — the thesis being that man is in some sort a composite or
resume of creation, and thus fitted to understand all other creatures,
— Herder remarks that

Tbe babe in tbe womb seems to pass through all the states tbat can
pertain to any earthly creature. It swims in the water ; it lies with open
mouth, etc., etc., ... so man finds in himself all tbe animal instincts.2

This is recapitulation without heredity; and hence something
quite different from the theory associated with the name of Fritz
Mtiller or of Agassiz. But it is in a similarly truncated shape that

iFrom Suphan's edition of Herder's WerTce, Bd. XIII, S. 159.
2 Suphan, as above, p. 142.

442 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

the germs of this theory are commonly traced in the writings of
Erasmus Darwin, Lorenz Oken, J. F. Meckel, St. Hilaire, d'Orbigny,
and von Baer: and Herder's remark (published 1784) antedates all
of these. The observation itself was probably not original with Her-
der, who was not a physiologist ; but as far as I can trace any percep-
tion of the germ of its later significance, the trail seems to lead to
Herder, and then vanish.

WILLIAM ERNEST HOCKING.
CAMBRIDGE, MASS.

BOOK REVIEWS

The Defective Delinquent and the Insane; The Relation of Focal
Infections to their Causes, Treatment and Prevention. HENRY
A. COTTON. "With a Foreword by ADOLF MEYER. Louis Clark
Vanuxem Foundation Lectures at Princeton University, 1921.
Princeton: University Press. 1921. Pp. 201.
Dr. Cotton's book summarizes in simple form his distinctive
psychiatric viewpoint and methods together with such broader as-
pects of mental sanitation as would have special meaning to the cul-
tivated layman. It is a very timely book.

The historical account of "insanity" in its social relationships
omits consideration of the not unfavorable supernatural interpre-
tation sometimes put upon it in pre-Christian communities. The
chain and straw-bed period is distinguished as the "Age of Iron."
The early type of hospital, substituting the strait-jacket for the
cage, represents the "Age of Leather." The standpoint of this book
is unqualifiedly against restraint, and emphasizes not less than this,
the desirability of closer coordination between psychiatric institutions
and those of general medicine. Various statistics on state hos-
pitals and general population are presented. The quoted range
per 100,000 inhabitants is from 374.6 in New York to 83.1 in Ar-
kansas. Similarly, the number of institutional defectives per 100,000
ranges from 82.9 in Massachusetts to none in Delaware and New
Mexico. The governing factors here are probably the elaborateness
of the custodial systems and the complexity of social organization,
rather than inherent differences in mental health. This makes ' ' raw ' '
statistics of state hospital and general population extremely difficult
to interpret. A close relationship between psychiatric and correc-
tional problems is emphasized. The strictly physical nature of all
mental disease is another fundamental thesis. The tendency is to
discount hereditary factors, and to attach less importance than is
now frequent, to psychogenic factors. The endocrines are regarded

BOOK REVIEWS 443

as important, but apt to be secondary. "Psychoses arise from a com-
bination of many factors, some of which may be absent, but the most
constant one is an intra-cerebral, bio-chemical, cellular disturbance
arising from circulating toxins, originating in chronic focal infec-
tions situated anywhere throughout the body, and to some extent in
disturbances of the endocrine system."

This theory of chronic focal infections in relation to mental dis-
order is the special contribution of the volume. The mechanism of
these chronic infections and their systemic effects form a chapter
highly interesting, but not for the hypochondriac. Dr. Cotton then
proceeds to relate the group of "functional" psychoses to the
effects of chronic infections, identifying them with the hitherto
small group of "toxic" psychoses. The essential feature of treating
such cases then becomes to find and remove the source of the infec-
tion. For the decade prior to 1918 the recovery rate found in these
conditions was 37 per cent. Since this time and as a result of
treatment based on " detoxication, " a recovery rate of 77 per cent,
has been observed. Of another most important toxic factor it is said
that ' ' prohibition has solved for us the problem of alcoholic insanity,
and has lifted a heavy burden from the community as well as from
the families of those who were alcoholics." Also for the "nervous"
or neurotic individual the importance of physical causes is empha-
sized. Stress is also laid on the morale value to the patient of a
physical explanation of distressing or stigmatizing mental symptoms.

It is natural to inquire how the establishment of such views as
these would affect the structure of psychopathology. Considered
purely in their psychopathological relations they are not unattractive.
One of the chief conservative bulwarks against the growing recogni-
tion of psychogenic factors has been the summary dictum that these
gave the "how" but not the "why." Among those critically sympa-
thetic with psychoanalysis one does not always find a categorical
acceptance of the dynamic value of mental factors in producing a
cyclothymic or schizophrenic condition. A conception of the present
type would go some distance towards answering the "why" and
leave the "how" still mainly as psychopathology now formulates
it. The mental symptoms of functional psychoses will remain what
psychopathology now conceives them to be, extrusions from other
levels of mental activity into the consciousness represented in overt
action. Dr. Cotton's postulate is that such upheavals in our psychic
structure can be brought about by chronic focal infections. Analogy
may, perhaps, be had to the process of sleep, which releases in dreams
"unconscious" activity of quite as rich disorganization, and with
some topical similarity to the mental activities of the psychoses. No

444 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

claim seems made that specific types of intoxication are associated
with specific types of "functional" disorder, in the sense of syphilis
with general paralysis. Whether there is any psychotic reaction at
all to the infection, and if so, what the type of psychotic reaction
will be, appears a matter of the individual constitution.

Necessarily there are in a book of this kind, many points that the
layman may scarcely criticize without impertinence. Dr. Cotton's
results have not yet had sufficiently wide confirmation to bring about
their general acceptance by psychiatric authority. For such an ex-
tensive testing of these hypotheses, Dr. Meyer pleads forcibly in
his introduction, while plainly stating that the findings are beyond
what his experience appears to be. It is a distinctly objective prob-
lem, not open to such difficulties of personal equation as apply in
the case of psychoanalysis. Dr. Cotton's work is on its face, much
more confidence-inspiring than the average presentation under psy-
choanalytic influence. This last has been an outstanding contribution
to the psychiatry of the past decade. The subject-matter of this
book is a not less worthy challenge.

F. L. WELLS.

BOSTON PSYCHOPATHIC HOSPITAL.

Sociology and Ethics: The Facts of Social Life as the Source of
Solutions for the Theoretical and Practical Problems of Ethics.
EDWARD CABY HAYES. New York : D. Appleton and Co. 1921.
Pp. viii -f 354.

This essay aims to present sociology as the scientific ethics. All
previous interpretations are to be superseded by "knowledge of the
method of realizing our human possibilities discovered by scientists
and seers and inwrought in the common sense and common sentiments
of a society." (p. 5). Theological hypotheses were based upon the
inadequately social concept of God ; a priori speculation scorned the
facts of human life. But now, with the coming of Sociology, we shall
get away from "bad" philosophy — before Spencer and Comte — and
view all things in the light of social causation. We shall explain
everything by reference to the collection of psychophysical organisms
and their natural conditioning. Whereupon, ethics is to become a
natural science (p. 511).

After setting forth the advantages of an unconditioned determin-
ism, the author proceeds to the crucial question: "What social
order!" "Clearly no social order can be regarded as the standard
since every social order must itself be measured" (p. 111). As
answer, we are given the hypothesis (interestingly American) that
the maximum of activity, the greatest quantity of human energy in

BOOK REVIEWS 445

its various forms actualized constitutes the desired good. "The
object attained by successful functioning, whatever that object may
be, has worth only if that object itself be an activity or a means to
be used by further activity" (p. 113). The five classes of activity-
values are: (a) physical experience, represented by the comfort
of warmth and ease, the exhilaration of muscular movement, the
gratification of bodily appetites"; (&) esthetic pleasures; (c)
''satisfactions that accompany the active exercise of the intellectual
powers . . . the distinctive delight of the reader"; (d) social
experiences; (e) personal satisfactions (pp. 129-35). The reason
why Sociology does not aim to set up a qualitative "science of val-
ues" is "because the values of life are so accessible to ordinary ex-
perience, observation and inference and knowledge of them is so
current in human intercourse" (p. 162).

One might, at this point, be inclined to ask : "Is not ethics pre-
cisely such an effort to determine qualitatively a scale, of values by
methods somewhat more penetrating and exact than rules of thumb
current in ordinary experience?" And the question repeats itself
persistently as one continues reading. The sanction for any given
activity, according to our author, is a "concensus of the competent"
with reference to "what men in their experience have called good."
And this experience he regards as "incommensurable," "indefin-
able," "indescribable" as is the color red (p. 176). Yet somehow
"social experience" teaches us "that conduct is right which is the
condition of experience that is valuable." So that we may
hope to realize good, presumably by the trial and error method,
as definitely as natural science lays down the conditions under which
crops may be raised or insects exterminated. The new common sense
(by which the author means that which is common to the Zulu and
Woodrow Wilson — p. 314) born of advancing science will provide
extraordinary progress somewhere, though we know not whither and
it will be accompanied by "more stirring poetry and nobler art than
ever sprang from the cathedral-building mysticism of the medisevals"
(p. 208). But . . . hands off for all save the natural scientists ! "It
(science) claims that the whole range of phenomena, mental as well
as physical — the entire universe, in so far as it can be known by man
—is its field" (p. 217).

The above will serve as examples of the reflections, facts, and
inferences which the author presents. It confessedly "skirts the
entrance to vistas which it does not penetrate" (p. vii). With the
utmost generality and with no endeavor to base his conclusions upon
systematic "facts," whether of sociology, history, religion, psychol-
ogy or natural science, it seeks at once to deny the most potent

446 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

motives which have hitherto as a matter of fact determined men's
actions, and to project a maximum of human activity of all sorts
(perhaps also animal and molecular?) into a completely mechanized
world. Unfortunately our author with his "free, critical, intelli-
gence ' ' rising superior to ' ' illusion, speculation and faith ' ' is yet un-
convincing. The difficulty is not that one disagrees with most of his
observations. They are not pertinent to his general conclusions. He
can hardly be said to be aware of the problem of ethics, strenuously as
he combats all the unnamed deluded, who have hitherto sought to
measure values of human activity in relationship to the most inclu-
sive data obtainable, data which, moreover, not a little "free, critical
intelligence" has discovered. Perhaps as his programme develops
he will be able to give us the sociological facts, statistics, experi-
ments, to demonstrate how men have no longer any right to value the
music of J. S. Bach or the outworn activity of inference other than
that of counting heads.

JOHN M. WARBEKE.
KOUNT HOLYOKE COLLEGE.

Psychology, A Study of Mental Life. R. S. WOODWOBTH. New

York : Holt, 1921. Pp. 10 + 580.

In this book the author has brought together the newer currents
in the science and added them to the older contributions. The gen-
eral attitude is much influenced by the behavioristic attitude and
specifically by Watson's book, without, however, accepting the ex-
treme statements. Consciousness is retained as a psychological
category, and the introspective method is not discarded. Full
recognition is given to the value of the objective method, that
would be the exclusive method of behaviorism.

The order of treatment follows Watson as far as he goes. Wood-
worth begins with the nervous system, treated for function rather
than for structure. The cuts are on the whole schematic. The na-
tive characters, instinct, emotion and feeling are treated next, and
sensation, attention, intelligence, learning, and memory follow in
order. Association is treated after memory, then follow percep-
tion, reasoning and imagination, and finally will and the self. This
means that the plan is to proceed from the concrete to the abstract,
rather than from the logically simple to the complex. It will be
interesting to see how it works with the student. Each text and
variation is an educational experiment and the only criterion is the
pragmatic one.

Aside from the arrangement, the most original part of the book
is the chapter on association in which the nervous processes involved

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 447

are developed from the conditioned reflex. The conditioned reflex
itself is reduced to the general principle that when a well-developed
response is made in the presence of a stimulus which is only loosely
linked with that response, it is transferred from the stimulus that
previously tended to excite it, to the new. A number of different
forms of association are developed from this principle.

Woodworth makes peace with the formal logician, by translat-
ing the psychological processes into terms of the syllogism. To
the reviewer the discussion neither of the association processes nor
of the reasoning process seems particularly clear, possibly because
he is not altogether convinced.

It is interesting to note that imageless thought is given rather
a more subordinate position than the earlier discussions of the
author would lead us to expect. It is made a relatively rare event
in the thinking of the average individual. This of course may be
for the sake of the student rather than an expression of any change
in point of view of the author. Freud is mentioned frequently in
the discussion of imagination and dreams, but nearly always to be
refuted. The day-dream and worry are made concealed wishes in
one or two of their aspects, but this seems to be the only positive
influence that Freud has exerted upon the thought of the author.

The book should be a very useful text. The style is simple,
usually colloquial, sometimes even slangy. It should offer no diffi-
culty to the student except in a few places, and should please him,
unless he feels occasionally that he is being written down to. At
times it seems to the reviewer that more content might have been
substituted for the illustration and elaboration that abound, but
this is largely a matter of opinion, to be tested by use.

W. B. PlLLSBURY.
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OP PSYCHOLOGY. XXXIII, 3. July,
1922. An Experimental Study of Certain Initial Phases of Abstrac-
tion: H. B. English. A Note on Wundt's Doctrine of Creative
Synthesis: E. B. Titchener. Synaesthesia and Meaning: R. H.
Wheeler and T. D. Cutsforth. Series of Difference Tones Obtained
from Tunable Bars: P. T. Young. The Hydrogen Ion Concentra-
tion of the Mixed Saliva Considered as an Index of Fatigue and of
Emotional Excitation, and Applied to a Study of the Metabolic
Etiology of Stammering: H. E. Starr. Laughter, A Glory in
Sanity: R. Carpenter. A Note on Henning's Smell Series: F. L.

448 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Dimmkk. Minor Studies from the Psychological Laboratory of
Vassar College: M. F. Washburn, M. T. MacDonald and D. Van
Alstyne.

LA CIENCIA TOMISTA. March-April, 1922. El primer manu-
scrito castellano sobre la vida y obras de Santo Tomas de Aquino:
Lius O. Alanso-Oetino. Responsio ad "Respuesta a un estudio his-
t6rico": Reginaldus M . Schultes. De la accion social : Los errores
de monsenor Pettier: M. Arboleya Martinez. San Ignacio, martir,
y el Cristianismo primitive (continuacion) : Jose Maria Garcia
8. Grain. Actuacion del maestro Domingo Banez en la Universidad
de Salamanca (continuacion) : V. Beltrdn Heredia.

REVISTA DE FILOSOPIA (Buenos Aires). VIII, 3. May, 1922.
Emilio Boutroux y la filosofia francesa de su tiempo: Jose Ingen-
ieros. Los abogados y la cultura: Alfredo Colmo. La funcion
sintetica en la Universidad: Raul A. Orgaz. Aspectos de la crisis
actual de la educacion: Ernesto Nelson. Sobre filosofia hindu:
Cesar Reyes.

SCIENTIA. July, 1922. Les etapes de 1'absorption de la chimie
par la physique : M . Boll. Vitalism : E. W. MacBride. La fonc-
tion musicale du cerveau et sa localisation : L. Bianchi. Le systeme
capitaliste. L. L. Price.

JOURNAL DE PSYCHOLOGIE. XIX, 6. June, 1922. Signification
et valeur de la psychophysique : E. Bonaventura. L'esthetique
fondee sur 1'amour: Ch. Lalo. Tendances et faits psychologiques
(suite et fin) : Fr. Paulhan.

Johnson, W. E. Logic. Part II, Demonstrative Inference: De-
ductive and Inductive. Cambridge University Press. 1922.
Pp. xx -f 258.

Russell, Bertrand: Le Mysticisme et la Logique. Translated by
Jean de Menasce. (Le mysticisme et la logique; L 'etude des
mathematiques ; La methode scientifique en philosophic; De 1'idee
de cause.) Paris : Payot et Cie. 1922. Pp.159. 4 fr. 50.

NOTES AND NEWS

In 1920 an international society was founded at The Hague under
the name of Societas Spinozana. The society has for its object the
furthering of study of Spinoza's work and as part of its programme
will print annually a journal, entitled Chronicon Spinozanum,
which will publish articles in various languages on Spinoza's life
and philosophy. This journal is not for sale, but is given free of
charge to members of the society. Applications for membership are
invited, and may be made to Mr. L. Roth of Exeter College, Oxford.

VOL. XIX., No. 17 AUGUST 17, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

POINT, LINE, AND SURFACE, AS SETS OF SOLIDS *

THE following pages contain a series of definitions of geometrical
concepts, based upon the assumed entity "solid" and the as-
sumed relation "can connect." The precise meaning to be attached
to these fundamental terms could only be made clear by a set of
geometrical postulates in which they were involved ; but no such set
will be provided. In explanation I would say that the object in
view is not the construction of a geometry, but the bringing to light of
a certain limited order of relationships. It is the possibility of a
geometry, rather than the geometry itself that is to be exhibited.

The formal explanation of the assumed terms being omitted, it is
necessary to give an informal explanation of them. The "solid,"
then, may be said to be the space occupied by a physical solid. This,
of course, is no definition — the definition of a term assumed as funda-
mental is in any case out of the question — but a suggestion to the
reader as to what the writer is thinking about. In the same way it
may be said that the assumed solids are of all possible shapes, but that
no acquaintance with any particular shape is to be taken for granted.
Professor Huntington 's remarkable system of geometry, in which the
sphere is assumed as an indefinable, will sufficiently illustrate what
the system here suggested is not.

The statement, that the "solids" may be of all possible shapes, is
to be understood as subject to this limitation : the shape must in each
case be one which a single physical solid can be conceived to have.
The limitation is not absolutely necessary for our purposes. With a
little modification the series of definitions would stand, even if we
admitted the possibility that a particular "solid" might consist of a
number of wholly disconnected parts; and without change in the
definitions we might admit solids consisting of parts that are in con-
tact only at points or along lines, — like a double cone whose parts
are connected only at the vertex, or a combination of two cubes that
have a common edge. But no real increase in generality would be

i This article may be regarded as an appendix to the account of the Nature
of Space, published in recent numbers of this JOUBNAL.

449

i:.u JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

gained in this way; and the interests of simplicity would seem to
recommend the limitation.

-hall have no occasion to make any distinction between a
possible and an actual solid; every possible solid will be treated as
actual. Consequently we shall meet with all manner of intersection
of solids. They will pass into and through one another, as physical
solids do not. It is true that parts of one and the same physical
solid may be conceived as being each a physical solid ; and these parts
may interpenetrate to our hearts' content. But in the case of the
solids with which we shall have to deal, we shall suppose that no
matter which two of them be considered, there is a third that inter-
sects them both, or even includes them both as parts.
' With respect to their magnitude, it is to be said that all the solids
that we shall assume are finite, and that none are of zero magnitude.
We shall have no occasion either to affirm or to deny the existence of
infinite solids. We shall assume that there are no zero solids. The
contrary assumption might be made. But it would call for some
changes in the definitions; though these would amount to a less pro-
found modification of the system than might easily be supposed.

The solids which we are to consider are not endowed with motion.
They are to be conceived as eternal beings. Our "constructions"
will be literally no constructions: we shall but turn our attention
to what was already there. Nevertheless, the relations that we
shall study, and in particular the fundamental relation "can con-
nect," could scarcely have been suggested but by the behavior of
movable physical solids. More explicitly, if the physical solids A
and B are at rest (relatively to the field of observation), and the
solid C is such that we can manipulate it with a fair degree of free-
dom, to say that C can connect A and B would be understood to
mean that we could, if we wished, put C in simultaneous contact with
A and B ; and it is, so to speak, the shadow of this physical relation
that we shall assume for our geometrical solids.

Yet there are some noteworthy modifications of the relation, due
especially to the free interpenetration of our solids. This will be
made clear if, provisionally, we define the geometrical "can con-
nect" in other terms. " A can connect B and C" is to be understood
as meaning that there exists at least one solid X, such that X is
equal in all its parts to A, and such that X has at least one point
in common with B and at least one point in common with C. In
other words, the "connecting" may be done either by overlapping or
by external contact.

Accordingly, the physical relation "can connect" may easily fail
to obtain, where in the analogous case the geometrical relation would

POINT, LINE AND SURFACE 451

obtain. Suppose the physical solid B to be hollow ; and suppose that
C lies deep inside B. Then no physical solid A, that lies beside B,
can possibly be made to connect B and C. But in the analogous case
for geometrical solids, if A is only big enough, there is no trouble
about its being "able" to do the connecting. Suppose further that
the hollow physical solid B not only has C inside it but wraps it
tightly around, so that they are in contact over the whole surface of
C. Then there will, in general, be no physical solid that can be
brought into simultaneous contact with them. In the analogous
case for geometrical solids, any solid "could" do the connecting.

In the course of the development, a modified form of Professor
Whitehead's method of "extensive abstraction" is introduced. The
modification consists in the use, not of the relation of "extending-
over" (the relation of whole to part), but of the relation of "con-
taining," in the sense of not simply including as a part but
completely enveloping. Through this modification the method is
greatly simplified and strengthened. It is, I believe, impossible by
means of the method in its original form to give a definition of the
point in terms of the solid.2

If containing is assumed as a primitive relation, extending-over can
easily be defined. Thus, to speak of solids, "A extends over B" can
be explained as meaning : ' ' There is a solid which is contained by
A but not by B, and there is no solid that is contained by B but
not by A." Hence the defining-power of the modified method is
not inferior to that of the original. It is, in fact, much greater.

However, in the present treatment neither containing nor extend-
ing-over is assumed as primitive, but both are defined in terms of the
relation "can connect." This mode of approach has the further
advantage, that the conceptions of length and collinearity can be
defined without the introduction of any additional indefinable. A
complete conceptual foundation for geometry is thus provided.

With the definitions two postulates are included, which are of
special importance for understanding the real significance of the
definitions.

INDEFINABLES

Solid. — (Solids are to be denoted by capital letters. Different

2C/. A. N. Whitehead, The Concept of Nature, p. 86f.; also a note by
the present writer in the Philosophical Review for March, 1921. The defi-
nition of the point which I once offered as an illustration of Professor White-
head's method (in a review of his "Principles of Natural Knowledge" in the
Philosophical Review for May, 1920) involves both an error of interpretation
and a serious blunder.

452 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

rs need not denote distinct solids. Classes of solids will, till
further notice, be denoted by small letters.)
Can connect.

Postulates

Postulate of Identity: If A and B are such that there are no
d A', such that W can connect A and X but can not connect
B and A" ; and, similarly, there are no Y and Z, such that Y can con-
nect B and Z but can not connect A and Z ; A and B are identical.

In other words, if A and B are alike in their capacity of being
connected with other solids, they are identical.

Postulate of Measurement: If A and B are such that W and X
exist, such that A can connect W and X but B can not, then there
are no 1" and Z such that B can connect Y and Z, but A can not.

"NVhen we have defined the expression "longer than" we may
restate this principle in the form : If A is longer than B, B is not
longer than A.

DEFINITIONS

I. If A and B are such that X exists, such that X can not connect
A and If, A and B are said to be disconnected.

II. If A and B are not disconnected, they are said to be con-
nected.

III. If A and B are such that every solid connected with A is
connected with B, but not every solid connected with B is connected
with A, A is said to be a part of B.8

IV. If A and B are not identical and have a common part, they
are said to intersect*

Y. I f A and B have no common part they are said to be separated.

The reader should note carefully the distinction between the
terms "disconnected" and "separated." Any two solids that are
disconnected are separated ; but the converse is not true.

Y I . If A and B are separated, but not disconnected, they are said
to be in contact.

VII. If A is a part of B, and if every solid that is in contact with
A intersects B, A is said to be contained in B.

\Ve are now ready to proceed to the definition of the point
by the method of extensive abstraction.

* It is worthy of remark that the relation of whole and part can also be
defined directly in terms of the relation can-connect. Thus we may say: If
A and B are not identical, and if there are no X and T such that X can connect
A and ¥ and can not connect B and Y, A is said to be a part of B.

* Here, and as often as possible below, I follow Professor Whitehead's
terminology.

POINT, LINE AND SURFACE 453

VIII. If a set of solids is such that

(1) of every two members of the set, one is contained in the
other ;

(2) there is no solid contained by every member of the set;
it is called an abstractive set*

The first specification shows that the abstractive set is like a
nest of boxes, one within another; except, to be sure, that whereas
each smaller box lies within the hollow interior of the larger box,
each smaller solid of the abstractive set is a part of the larger solid.
The second specification shows that the abstractive set is an unending
sequence of solids. There can not be a smallest solid of the set ; be-
cause, if there were, any solid which it contained would be contained
by all the solids of the set.

In ordinary terms we would say that the abstractive set must
converge upon a point, a line or curve, a surface, or some combina-
tion of lines and surfaces. "We have not assumed the existence of
such entities as points, lines, and surfaces, and so can not use them
for the definition or classification of abstractive sets. It will be
shown how abstractive sets may be used for the definition of points,
lines, and surfaces.

As an example of an abstractive set, the reader may consider a
set of concentric spheres, growing less and less ad infinitum — never
reaching nothingness but approaching it as a limit. Or, in place
of the spheres, we might have, say, concentric cubes. Again, we
might have a set of co-axial cylinders, diminishing in such a way that
the radius approaches zero, while the altitude approaches a limit
which is not zero. Yet again, we might have a set of rectangular
parallelepipeds, diminishing so that one dimension approaches zero,
while each of the other dimensions approaches a limit which is not
zero.

IX. If m is an abstractive set, the class of the solids that contain
members of m is called an abstractive element, or simply an element.

X. If two abstractive elements are not identical, and one logi-
cally includes the other, the former is said to lie in the latter.

Note that different abstractive sets may serve to define the same
abstractive element. To return to the above examples, if the set of
the concentric cubes and the set of concentric spheres have the same
center, every solid that contains one of the cubes will contain one of
the spheres; and conversely, every solid that contains a sphere will

8 This definition departs from Professor Whitehead 's by substituting the
relation of containing for that of including as a part. There is the further
difference, that the sets with which he deals are not sets of solids but sets
of four-dimensional events.

454 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

contain a cube. Thus the set of cubes and the set of spheres determine
the same element.

On the other hand, consider the case of a set of co-axial cylinders,
such as was suggested above, and a set of concentric spheres whose
center lies in the midst of the common axis of the cylinders. Every
solid that contains one of the cylinders will contain one of the
spheres; but there will be solids that contain some of the smaller
spheres but do not contain any of the cylinders. Hence the class
of the solids that contain members of the set of spheres logically in-
cludes the class of the solids that contain members of the set of cylin-
ders. It is in such a case that, in accordance with Definition X, we
say that the one class lies in the other.

XI. A point is an abstractive element in which no other abstrac-
tive element lies.

It will be observed that the point is here defined as the class of
those solids which would ordinarily be described as containing the
point — that is to say, the point would lie in each solid, but not in
its surface. The formal properties of the point as here defined are
easily seen to be identical with those of the point conceived as an ir-
reducible individual.

The following definitions are much less important and increase
rapidly in difficulty. The reader who so desires may pass at once
to the concluding remarks.

Hereafter abstractive elements, as well as solids, will be denoted
by capital letters.

XII. If the solid A is a member of the point P, P is said to be
contained in A.

This use of "contained" will be found to be closely analogous to
its use as denoting a relation between two solids. Thus no serious
ambiguity is involved.

XIII. If every solid that contains the solid A contains the point
P, P is said to lie in A.

This definition may be extended so as to embrace the analogous
relation between a solid and any abstractive element. The present
definition may also be stated : If the class of solids that contain the
solid A is logically included in the point P, P is said to lie in A*

It will >be observed that the relation between solid and point (or
other element), which is here defined, is closely analogous to the
relation "to lie in" subsisting between two abstractive elements
(Definition X).

•An alternative definition that is worthy of notice is this: If no solid
that contains the point P is disconnected with the solid A, P is said to lie in A.

POINT, LINE AND SURFACE 455

XIV. If the point P is a member of the set of points m, and there
is a solid that contains P and contains no other member of m, P is
said to be isolated in m.

Note that if m has but one member, that is an isolated member.

XV. If a point P is not a member of the set of points m, but every
solid that contains P contains members of m, P is said to be adjacent
to m.

Consider, for example, the set of the points that lie in a straight
line PQ, between the extremities P and Q. Both P and Q are ad-
jacent to this set.

XVI. If a set of points m is included in a set n, and there is a
member of m which is not adjacent to the set of those points which
are members of n but not of m, m is said to be divergent in n.

Thus suppose n is the set which includes the points within a
circle, those in its circumference, and those in a line tangent to the
circle ; and suppose m is the set of the points in the tangent. Then,
except the point of tangency, no member of m is adjacent to the
set of the points that are in n but not in m ; and accordingly m is
divergent in n.

XVII. If a set of points includes no isolated points, and has no
points adjacent to it, it is said to be perfect.

This definition is substantially in accord with Cantor's metrical
definition of the term. What it really amounts to depends, of course,
on the existential postulates that determine the universe of solids.
It should be observed that a perfect set may consist of several parts
that are in no wise connected with one another.

XVIII. If a perfect set is such that every perfect set which it
includes is divergent in it, it is said to be a one-dimensional set.

XIX. If a perfect set is such that no one-dimensional set which
it includes is divergent in it, it is said to be a doubly perfect set.

XX. If a doubly perfect set is suck that every doubly perfect set
which it includes is divergent in it, it is said to be a two-dimensional
set.

XXI. If a doubly perfect set is such that no two-dimensional set
which it includes is divergent in it, it is said to be a trebly perfect
set.

XXII. If a trebly perfect set is such that every trebly perfect
set which it includes is divergent in it, it is said to be a three-dimen-
sional set.7

T While the order of Definitions XVII-XXII is fixed, the statement of
them may be conveniently consolidated as follows:

{has no point adjacent to it f isolated

is perfect and includes no-| divergent

is doubly perfect [divergent

456 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

It should be observed that if the set of all points is three-dimen-
sional, every trebly perfect set is three-dimensional.

I perfect

XXIII. If a -{doubly perfect set of points is such that it includes

[ trebly perfect

! perfect
doubly perfect sets that exhaust its members and them-
trebly perfect

selves point, f continuous.

include perfect set, it is said to be -I doubly continuous.

no common [doubly perfect set, [trebly continuous.

Tone-dimensional » f continuous,

XXIV. If a -I two-dimensional 8.e ° . -| doubly continuous,

[three-dimensional [trebly continuous,

fone-dimensionally continuous

it is said to be a -I two-dimensionally continuous set.
[three-dimensionally continuous

The two following definitions are somewhat aside from the pur-
pose of the present discussion; but they are given here because of
their utility in serving to define various types of lines and surfaces.

XXV. If two sets of points have no common member, and are
such that there is no continuous set that includes members of both but
no other points, the two sets are said to be disjoined.

XXVI. If a set of points p (which may consist of one point P)
and a continuous set ra have a common member or members, and the
remaining members of m consist of two disjoined sets, p is said to
divide m ; and if, further, no set included in p (not identical with it)
divides m, p is said to divide m economically.

One-dimensionally continuous sets may now be classified according
as they are divided (i) by any one of their points; (ii) by any one
of their points except one ; (iii) by any except two; (iv) by any two,
but by no one; etc. Similarly, various types of two-dimensional
sets may be characterized by the number and type of the one-dimen-
sional sets that divide them.

It has become common in recent years to regard the line and
the surface — and, indeed, the solid also — as sets of points. From

f point, r perfect.

•< one-dimensional set, it it said to be-| doubly perfect.

[ two-dimensional set, [ trebly perfect.

f perfect, f perfect

If a «et of points is •< doubly perfect, and every J doubly perfect set which it
[trebly perfect, [trebly perfect

f one-dimensional

includes is divergent in it, it is said to be a -I two-dimensional set.

[ three-dimensional

POINT, LINE AND SURFACE 457

that standpoint, the definition of the one-dimensionally continuous set
may be taken as the definition of the line ; and the definition of the
two-dimensionally continuous set (or, if it be preferred, the continu-
ous two-dimensional set) may be taken as that of the surface. Pro-
fessor Whitehead, however, has shown that the line and the surface
may be regarded as abstractive elements. The following definitions
apply to them in that capacity.

XXVII. If an abstractive element is such that the set of the
points which lie in it is one-dimensional, it is called a line.

XXVIII. If an abstractive element is such that the set of the
points which lie in it is two-dimensional, it is called a surface ; and if,
further, the set is doubly continuous, the surface is said to be uni-
tary.8

Does the figure 8 bound one surface or two ? According to this
definition, it bounds one surface, but that is not a unitary surface.

We now proceed to some metrical conceptions. The development
follows closely the lines laid down in the second article of this series
(pp. 428-9). In some cases no change in the definitions there given
is called for; in other cases, only the omission of all reference to
' ' chains ' ' of solids. The reader is, therefore, hereby referred to the
earlier discussion. In the case of the definition of the sum of two
lengths, however, a more serious revision is necessary.

XXIX (a) Farther apart. (&) Longer.

XXX (a) Just as far apart. (6) Just as long.

XXXI (a) Distance. (&) Length.

XXXII (a) Greater (of dis- (6) Greater (of lengths),
tances).

XXXIII (a) Equal (distance (&) Equal (length to dis-
to length). tance).

XXXIV (a) Greater (distance (6) Greater (length compared
compared to length). to distance).

XXXV. If A and B are such that there is no solid X such that X
can not connect A and B, the distance between A and B is said to be
zero.

8 These definitions are somewhat wider than those which Professor White-
head has given, and I believe are better in accord with the tradition and the
needs of the science. For example, according to Professor Whitehead, there is
no complete spherical surface except in the sense of a set of points. The
reason is that Professor Whitehead is hampered by limitations upon the possible
shape of the four-dimensional entities — events — which his system uses as its
basis. (Cf. The Concept of Nature, pp. lOlff.)

In many eases hollow solids are required for the abstractive sets upon which
surfaces are founded. That is the case with the spherical surface, for example.
Similarly, for the abstractive sets upon which lines are based, ring-shaped solids
are often needed. But such cases offer no peculiar difficulty.

158

JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

This is the relation that was earlier expressed by saying that A
and B were connected. We might define a zero-length as the length
of a solid which can not connect any solids except those the distance
between which is zero. But we are not to assume the existence of such
solids. If we did, we should very naturally reserve for them the
name of "points."

XXXVI. (6) If M, N, and P are such that X and T exist, such
that the distance between X and Y is equal to the length of M, and
such that V and W exist such that V is just as long as N, and W is
just as long as P ; and if the distances between X and V, V and W,
and W and Y are zero; and if no solid M' exists, such that M' is
longer than M and stands in this same relation to N and P; the
length of M is said to be the sum of the lengths of N and P.

XXXVI. (a) Sum (of two distances).

In the same way, we may define the sum of any number of
lengths or of distances, or of both lengths and distances. The sum of
a length and a distance may, by convention, be regarded as a dis-
tance.9

• Attention may be called to the fact that these metrical definitions are
entirely independent of those which precede them in the present series, for they
go back directly to the indefinable relation, "can connect." Accordingly,
it is possible, and for some purposes it may be advantageous, to substitute
metrical definitions of the relations of whole and part, containing, etc., and
these deserve a passing mention.

(In place of Definitions II and I.) If the distance between A and B
is zero, they are said to be connected; otherwise they are said to be disconnected.

(In place of Definition III.) If A and B are such that X does not exist
such that the distance between B and X is greater than the distance between A
and Z; and if F does exist such that the distance between A and Y is greater
than the distance between B and T; A is said to be a part of B.

In other words, if no solid is farther from B than from A, and there is a
solid that is farther from A than from B, A is & part of B.

POINT, LINE AND SURFACE 459

The distance between a point and a solid, and the distance be-
tween two points require special treatment,

XXXVII. If the point A and the solids B and C are such that C
can connect B and any member of A, but for all values of C', where
C' is a solid and C is longer than C", there is a member of A which
C' can not connect with B ; the distance between A and B is said to
be the distance which ig equal to the length of C.

XXXVIII. If the points A and B and the solid C are such that
C can connect any member of A and any member of B ; but for all
values of C', where C' is a solid and C is longer than C', there is a
member of A and a member of B which C' can not connect ; the dis-
tance between A and B is said to be the distance that is equal to the
length of C.

The definition of the between-relation and of collinearity is now
effected as in the first article of this series.

XXXIX. If the points A, B, and C are distinct, and are such
that the distance between A and C is the sum of the distances be-
tween A and B and between B and C ; B is said to be between A and
C.

XL. If either the point A is between the points B and C, or B is
between A and C, or C is between A and B, the three points are said
to be collinear.

The straight line, as an abstractive element, may now be defined.

XLI. A straight line is a line such that every three points that
lie in it are collinear.

Are there straight lines of infinite length? That depends upon
the question whether there are solids of infinite length; which in a
Euclidean geometry is as much as to ask whether there are solids
that can connect any two solids whatsoever. It is of very slight im-
portance whether an affirmative or a negative answer is assumed.

A matter of far greater importance is the "fixing" of the
straight line by any two of its points. This amounts to the proposi-
tion, that if the points A, B, and C are collinear, and the points A, B,
and D are collinear, then A, C, and D are collinear. In the choice of
postulates upon which a system of geometry is to be founded, this
is one of the essential aims to be held in view.

(In place of Definition VII.) If A and B are such that no X exists such
that X is separated from A and such that the distance between A and X is not
greater than the distance between B and X ; A is said to contain B.

The definition of abstractive seta and elements may be left unchanged.
The following suggests itself as the appropriate metrical definition of the
point:

(In place of Definition XI.) If an abstractive element A is such that for
every solid X there is a member of A that is not longer than X, A is called a
point.

JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

What, now, is the philosophical significance of this, or an equiva-
lent, series of definitions. And, in particular, what significance has
the identification of the point with a class of solids f I believe it to
be considerable, but that it is open to serious misinterpretation.

Recent theories with respect to the relation between geometry
and mechanics have given rise to a demand for the definition of the
point in definitely experiential terms. For points are not primary
data of experience — if there are such data. They are never perceived
by us, and their existence is never made evident by any distinguish-
able effect, however delicate, of their presence. We can not infer
their existence from the perturbation of the orbit either of a planet
or of an electron. They are conceptual constructs; and it is a
problem for analytical science to exhibit the mode of their construc-
tion.

i On its face, the method of extensive abstraction is an application
of "Occam's razor." Instead of the point, which we do not per-
ceive, we are given a class of solids such as we do perceive ; and thus
entities are not multiplied unnecessarily. But the point, as we find
it in geometrical tradition, is not an altogether distinct kind of
entity. It is a solid, remarkable in only one fundamental respect,
namely, that its length is zero. To be sure, no solids of zero length
are perceived by us ; but we could not perceive them if they existed.
And, furthermore, although we perceive solids, we perceive no ab-
stractive sets of solids ; and there is no indirect empirical assurance
that such sets exist — only suggestive evidence that entitles us to
assume that they exist. In accepting the abstractive set, we are as
veritably going beyond experience as in accepting the solid of zero-
length.

It may be replied that the assumption of the abstractive
set is in any case more economical than that of the zero-
solid, because if there are zero-solids there are abstractive
sets, while there may be abstractive sets without zero-solids. But
this statement, I believe, is only superficially correct. Just because
the zero-solid is an entity that lies beyond the limits of any possible
direct or indirect perception, the assumption of its existence means
less than the formal proposition indicates. A real point (as I have
elsewhere had occasion to urge) means no more or less to us than a
possible point. Hence the method of extensive abstraction has not
so much eliminated the zero-solid as it has analyzed it. The method
has made us realize more distinctly than ever before what the as-
sumption of the zero-solid logically amounts to.

Thus, if I am right, the method of extensive abstraction simply
gives us one more illustration of Galileo's great principle: that the

POINT, LINE AND SURFACE 461

laws of physics — among which the laws of geometry may here be
included — are descriptions of ideally simple cases, which no experi-
ence presents to us, but which the objects of our experience do with
various degrees of closeness approach. The formal elimination of
the limit itself, in the case of geometry, and the statement of the
laws in terms of an infinitely continued approximation, only brings
out with a new clearness what their real nature has always been. I
say it does only this ; but is not that sufficient ?

Meanwhile we ought not to forget that the geometrical solid itself
is not given in experience.10 It, too, is the product of an idealization
— if not individually, then as a member of its class. If we say that
the physical solid is a geometrical solid and more, we forget that no
perception assures us that it has the most elementary properties of
a geometrical solid ; for those properties are relative to the existence
of other geometrical solids which are not physical solids. As of the
point, so we must say of the geometrical solid itself: the distinction
between the possible and the actual has no place. To define the point
as a class of solids is not to find a place for it in the real world. That
can only be done by analyzing those properties of the physical solid
upon which geometry, as an empirical science, is founded.

If the point can be conceived as a set of solids, so the solid — the
geometrical solid — can be conceived as a set of points. So far as the
formal logical relations are concerned, there is not a particle of ad-
vantage in the matter, either on the one side or on the other. Histori-
cally, as I have elsewhere urged, the conception of space had to wait
upon the development of the point. Psychologically, the point has
this advantage over the geometrical solid: that its very smallness
accounts sufficiently for its absolute imperceptibility, and it is thus
able to serve as a middle term for the thought-transition from the
physical to the geometrical solid. Practically, it is the point that
gives space its excuse for being. A space without points would be
little more than an obstacle between us and the physical world.

Every new scientific perspective is valuable; and the method of
extensive abstraction has given us a new perspective of very great
value indeed. But we must not let ourselves fall into the illusion
that the novel order which it presents is truer, or necessarily more
fundamental, than that which has long been familiar to us.

THEODORE DE LAGUNA.

BRYN MAWB COLLEGE.

10 I should, of course, say the same of Professor Whitehead 's ' ' events. ' '

462 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

DOING WITHOUT DISTRIBUTION IN FORMAL LOGIC

IN the following paragraphs I shall maintain that it is feasible to
expound formal logic without making any use of the notion
of a distributed term ; that the exposition is, indeed, simpler and more
readily understood without the doctrine of distribution than with it.
Lest this should be regarded as a recantation, let me remind anyone
who may have read my article on "The Distribution of the Predi-
cate, ' ' * that I expressly reserved judgment concerning the pedagog-
ical utility of the doctrine of distribution, while defending its
validity against the destructive criticism of Professor Toohey in his
Elementary Handbook of Logic. If one succeeds in mastering them,
the rules of distribution very conveniently sum up certain of the
conditions of validity in conversion and the categorical syllogism.
Beginners in the study of logic, however, find the notion of a dis-
tributed term exceedingly difficult, and usually apply the rules in a
very mechanical fashion. If, then, some alternative tests of validity
can be devised which will be easier for the learner to understand,
and more nearly in accord with the way in which he naturally tries
to "reason out things," the rules of distribution may wisely be laid
on the shelf.

By a slight change in the customary order of exposition I have
found it possible to get along very well without distribution. This
change consists in discussing the hypothetical syllogism before taking
up immediate inference and the categorical syllogism, both of which
may then be explained in the light of the principles of hypothetical
reasoning. That in a general way the categorical and the hypothet-
ical forms of reasoning are equivalent is not, to be sure, a new idea.
The traditional view has been, however, that the categorical argu-
ment is somehow the normal and natural form ; that the categorical
syllogism should therefore be explained first ; and that the hypothet-
ical should then be shown to be equivalent to the categorical. My
suggestion is that in presenting formal logic to beginners this tradi-
tional order of exposition should be reversed.

1. Testing the Validity of Conversion. — Of the various forms of
"immediate inference," the only one which we need to consider is
conversion ; for it is the only one to which the rule of distribution
is applicable. In my former article I advanced the view that a term
is not distributed or undistributed absolutely, but only with respect
to some other term. Now, in inversion the subject of the original
proposition is replaced by its contradictory. In the case of the
partial inverse, accordingly, where the rule of distribution seems to

» This JOURNAL, Vol. XVII, pp. 519-522.

DOING WITHOUT DISTRIBUTION 463

be violated, the rule is really irrelevant. "All 8 is P," being the
original proposition, and "Some non-8 is not P," the partial in-
verse, it is true that P is distributed in the inverse and undistributed
in the invertend; but in the invertend it is undistributed with re-
spect to S, while in the inverse it is distributed with respect to non-$;
and from lack of distribution with respect to 8 we have no right to
infer lack of distribution with respect to non-8. Indeed, as Mr.
Hammond points out,2 if non-S exists (that is to say, if the inversion
of "All 8 is P" is possible), P is distributed with respect to non-8
in the original proposition as well as in the partial inverse. If, then,
we remember that distribution is a relative notion, that a given term
may be distributed with respect to one term and undistributed with
respect to another, it is manifest that the rule of distribution is
relevant to no form of immediate inference except conversion;
since in all the other forms, — obversion, contraposition, inversion, —
we change one or both of the terms of the original proposition. In
the case of conversion, however, the rule is pertinent. Neither term
of the converse may be distributed with respect to the other, unless
in the convertend it was distributed with respect to the same term.
Professor Toohey, it must be conceded, is quite right in maintaining
that the attempt to prove the validity of any given process of conver-
sion by simply appealing to this rule would involve us in a circle.
The rule of distribution as applied to conversion is not an indepen-
dent proposition, but rather a corollary from the demonstration of
the validity of the processes in question. Nevertheless, admitting
this to be its status, it serves as a convenient summary of what is
possible and what is impossible in the simple conversion of the four
types of the categorical proposition, A, E, I, and 0.

If, then, we are to expound conversion without using the notion
of distribution, we ought to find another way of summing up these
results which is at least equally convenient. This, as I have said,
is afforded by the possibility of reducing our propositions to the
hypothetical form.

The question is, which of our four typical propositions can be con-
verted simply. Consider first the E proposition, "No 8 is P." Its
simple converse is, "No P is 8." "We wish to prove that we can pass
from the truth of either of these to the truth of the other. Now the
hypothetical equivalent of the former is, "If x is 8, x is not P"
while that of the latter is, "If x is P, x is not 8." And it is evident
by the principle of the modus tollens that the truth of either of these
hypothetical propositions may be inferred from that of the other.
Consequently the first of the categorical propositions implies the

2 This JOUENAL, Vol. XIX, p. 127.

464 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

second, and vice versa. If, however, we attempt to convert the A
proposition simply, we should pass from, "All 8 is P," to "All P is
8." Now these propositions are equivalent respectively to the hypo-
thetical, "If x is 8, x is P," and, "If x is P, x is 8." But these
are not equivalent to each other; for the attempt to pass from the
truth of one to the truth of the other involves the fallacious prin-
ciple of the "affirmation of the consequent." Consequently the first
of these categorical propositions does not imply the second, nor the
second the first. Therefore, simple conversion is not valid in the
case of the A proposition.

Granted the results just established for E and A, granted also
the principle of the "square of opposition," it is easy to show whether
or not 7 and 0 may be converted. Let E' be the simple converse of
E, 1' of 7, etc. Then, if I be true, E is false, E' is false, and I' is
true ; while, if 7 be false, E is true, E' is true, and 7' is false. In
other words, from the truth of 7 we can infer the truth of 7', and
from the falsity of 7 the falsity of 7'. Therefore, the 7 proposition
is convertible. In like manner, if 0 be true, A is false, A' may or
may not be false, and 0' may or may not be true; while, if 0 be
false, A is true, A' may or may not be true, and 0' may or may not
be false. In other words, we have no right to reason confidently
from the truth or the falsity of 0 to the truth or the falsity of 0'.
Therefore the 0 proposition is not simply convertible.

These results may be stated briefly in the formula that the simple
conversion of E is analogous to the denial of the consequent, and
that of A to the affirmation of the consequent in the hypothetical
syllogism ; while, as regards simple conversion, the case of each of the
particular propositions is the same as that of its contradictory.

2. Testing the Validity of the Categorical Syllogism. — If distri-
bution is a relative notion, the rules of distribution in the case of
the categorical syllogism become, "Neither term of the conclusion
may be distributed with respect to the other, unless in its premise
it was distributed with respect to the middle term"; and, "The
middle term must be distributed with respect to at least one of the
other terms." These rules, as necessary (but not sufficient) condi-
tions of validity, proceed from the relations of inclusion and exclu-
sion upon which the categorical syllogism is founded. For the sake
of brevity I employ the letters, 8, M, and P to indicate, not only
the three terms of the syllogism, but also the classes denoted respec-
tively by those terms.

The first rule is evident, then, from the following considerations :
(a) To prove that 8 is wholly within (or without) P, we must know
that M is wholly within (or without) P and that S is wholly within

DOING WITHOUT DISTRIBUTION 465

M. (&) To prove that P is wholly without 8 (or a part of 8}, we
must know that P is wholly without M and that M includes (at
least a part of) S.

The necessity of the condition prescribed by the second rule is, if
possible, even more obvious. The rule requires, in effect, that if M
is not distributed with respect to P, it must be distributed with
respect to 8. Now suppose that M is not distributed with respect
to P. Then so far as our information goes, M may be partly within
and partly without P. In this case, however, it is evident that the
knowledge that 8 is wholly within M would not justify any conclu-
sion as to the relation of 8 to P, since 8 might not be contained
(even partly) in the part of M which is within P. On the other
hand, the knowledge that 8 is wholly without M would justify a
conclusion, other conditions being fulfilled, — for that which is with-
out M must also be without the part of P which is included within
M. But in this case, in the only case in which a conclusion is pos-
sible when M is undistributed with respect to P, M is distributed
with respect to 8.

It is clear, then, that the notion of distribution, which is irrele-
vant in the case of the partial inverse, is applicable not only to the
converse but also to the categorical syllogism. It is, accordingly,
with a certain degree of bewilderment that I read Mr. Hammond's
comment that I am ' ' quite right in pointing out that the distribution
of a term is not an absolute matter," but that Professor Toohey is
also " quite right in maintaining that to make a term distributed or
undistributed relatively to some other term and to deny any perti-
nency to this distribution elsewhere is equally to take all value from
distribution." To say that a rule or concept is irrelevant in one
specific situation is obviously not the same as to say that it is irrele-
vant all along the line.

If, then, we are to expound formal logic without making any
use of the notion of a distributed term, we ought to find a substi-
tute for such of the traditional rules of the syllogism as involve this
notion. This we find in the- reduction of all categorical syllogisms
to the hypothetical form, when they may be tested by the rules of
the hypothetical syllogism. Syllogisms of the third or of the fourth
figure are, of course, readily reducible by the conversion (or partial
contraposition) of the minor premise to the first or the second fig-
ure. It remains to show with what ease we may then complete the
reduction to the hypothetical form. Consider these moods of the
first figure :

All M is P All M is P All M is P All M is P

All 8 is M No Sis M Some 8 is M Some 8 is not M

All 8 is P No 8 is P Some 8 is P Some 8 is not P

}»;»; JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Let us now throw the common major premise into the hypothetical
form. "All M is P," is equivalent to, "if £ is Af, then x is not P."
Let x equal "any 8." We now have:
If any S is M, then it is P

All S is Af No 5 is M Some 5 is M Some 5 is not M

All S is P No # is P Some 8 is P Some S is not P

It is clear that only the first and third are valid. Next consider
several moods of the first figure which have a major premise of
type E :

No if is P No M is P No If is P No M is P

All 8 is Af No 8 is M Some 8 is M Some 8 is not M

No 8 is P No S is P Some 5 is not P Some 8 is not P

"No M is P," is equivalent to, "if s is M, it is not P." Again let
x equal "any $." We now have:
If any 8 is Af , then it is not P

All 8 is M No 8 is Af Some S is Af Some 5 is not M

No 5 is P No 5 is P Some 5 is not P Some 5 is not P

Here, again, it is clear that only the first and the third are valid.
The valid moods of the first figure are then equivalent in each
case to a hypothetical syllogism in which the minor premise affirms
the antecedent. In other words, the first figure of the categorical
syllogism, if valid, reduces to the modus ponens. We shall now
show that if the second figure is valid it reduces to the modus
tollens. We shall prove this for but one mood, leaving it to the
reader to prove it for the rest.

No P is M = If any 8 is P, it is not M

All 8 is Af All 8 is Af

No 8 is P No S is P

We notice that the minor premise disagrees with the consequent of
the major. The syllogism is therefore valid, — a modus tollens.

No mood has been examined in which the major premise is
particular. Suppose the major premise to be, "Some Af is P."
Thrown into hypothetical form this would give us nothing stronger
than, "If x is Af, then x may be P/' or, "If x is Af, there is a certain
degree of probability that it is also P." But from a major
premise no stronger than this, no trustworthy inference can be
drawn. Accordingly, if the major premise is particular and the
minor universal, the premises should be transposed; while if there
is no universal premise, the syllogism is invalid. On the other
hand, if there are two universal premises, and with one of them as

DOING WITHOUT DISTRIBUTION 467

major the syllogism appears to be invalid, the premises should be
transposed; for in a few cases the syllogism will be found valid
when one of the universal propositions is chosen as major premise,
although apparently invalid if the other is taken.

It may now be helpful to recapitulate the steps which have been
proposed. In each case as many are to be employed as may be
necessary.

1. If the major premise is particular, transpose the premises.
(The transposition of the premises obviously requires the conver-
sion or the contraposition of the conclusion.)

2. If the syllogism is of the third or the fourth figure, reduce
it to the first or the second, as may be the more convenient. In
some cases this can be accomplished most readily by converting (or
contraposing) the minor premise; in others by transposing the
premises.

3. Reduce the syllogism thus obtained to the hypothetical form.

4. Test it by applying the rule of the hypothetical syllogism.

5. If the syllogism has two universal premises, and the test indi-
cates invalidity, transpose the premises, and repeat the test.

Not only is it possible in this way to avoid the use of the difficult
notion of a distributed term, but by applying the principles of
hypothetical reasoning the other rules of the categorical syllogism
may be established :

1. In every valid categorical syllogism there are three terms,
and only three; for otherwise there would be no term common to
both premises, and in the equivalent hypothetical syllogism, the
minor premise, instead of affirming the antecedent or denying the
consequent of the major, would be entirely irrelevant, i.e., would
say nothing about the major premise at all.

2. If both premises are affirmative, the conclusion must be af-
firmative ; for it is evident that the corresponding hypothetical syl-
logism, if valid, will be a modus ponens.

3. If both premises are negative, the syllogism is invalid. For
the major premise will then be equivalent to, "If x is A, then x is
not B"; and, as the minor premise is also negative, it can neither
agree with the antecedent nor disagree with the consequent of the
major.

4. If either premise is negative, the conclusion must be nega-
tive. Suppose it is the major premise which is negative. Then, if
the equivalent hypothetical syllogism is valid, the minor premise
must either agree with the antecedent of the major, in which case
the conclusion must agree with the consequent ; or the minor prem-
ise must disagree with the consequent, in which case the conclusion

468 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

must disagree with the antecedent. But in either case the conclu-
sion must be negative. On the other hand, if it is the minor premise
which is negative, the syllogism must be a modus tollens, and the
conclusion will be negative.

5. If both premises are particular, the syllogism is invalid. We
have already seen that in the first and second figures the major
premise must be universal; and there is no way by which a syllo-
gism with two particular premises can be reduced to an equivalent
syllogism having a universal premise.

6. If either premise is particular, the conclusion must be particu-
lar. For, when the syllogism is reduced to the first or the second
figure, the particular premise will be the minor premise, and its
subject will be the minor term and consequently also the subject
of the conclusion.

With a little practice the student will learn to tell by inspec-
tion, without completing the reduction to the hypothetical form,
whether a given syllogism is valid or invalid. In general, if there
is a universal premise of which the middle term is the subject, and
the other premise is affirmative, the syllogism is, or may readily
be reduced to, a valid syllogism of the first figure. If, however,
after the syllogism has been reduced to the first figure, the minor
premise is negative, the syllogism is invalid. For it is clear that
an affirmative minor premise in the first figure will affirm the ante-
cedent, while a negative minor premise will deny the antecedent
when the major premise is expressed in hypothetical form.

Likewise, if there is a universal premise of which the middle
term is the predicate, and the premises differ in quality, the syl-
logism is, or may readily be reduced to, a valid syllogism of the
second figure. If, however, after the syllogism has been reduced to
the second figure, the premises do not differ in quality, the syllo-
gism is invalid. For if the premises differ in quality it is clear that
when the major premise is expressed in hypothetical form the minor
premise will deny the consequent; while if the premises are of the
same quality, it will affirm the consequent.

My position is, then, that the doctrine of distribution is valid,
but that for pedagogical reasons it may well be dispensed with. By
adopting the order of exposition outlined in the preceding para-
graphs, the "deductive" part of logic is given a unity and inter-
connectedness such as is not otherwise attainable. An incidental
advantage — which has already been hinted at — is that the forms of
thinking employed in the exposition are more nearly akin to those
of other sciences and of everyday life. The rules of distribution
are not likely to be used outside the class-room devoted to the study

ROOK REVIEWS 469

of formal logic. On the other hand, the hypothetical forms of
reasoning are employed every day, everywhere. They are ' * identical
elements ' ' in many diverse intellectual operations.

This method of exposition is, of course, not wholly new. Mr.
L. J. Russell, for example, approximates it very closely in his Logic
from the Standpoint of Education. But even he — whether because
of deference to tradition or for some other reason — presents the
hypothetical syllogism after the categorical. And most of the text-
books proceed on the assumption that the categorical type of argu-
ment is somehow the genuine, true and fundamental type, of which
the hypothetical is but a more or less unwieldy derivative ; as witness
the desperate efforts of Jevons and others to reduce all hypothetical
propositions to the categorical form. Is it not simpler to reverse
the traditional order, to treat the hypothetical as the generic type,
of which the categorical is a specific modification? There may be
some recondite objection to this procedure; but until it is pointed
out, the simpler organization of the subject-matter appears to be
preferable.

RAY H. DOTTERER.

PENNSYLVANIA STATE COLLEGE.

BOOK REVIEWS

Human Nature and Conduct: An Introduction to Social Psychology.

John Dewey. Henry Holt & Co. 1922. Pp. 336.

If pragmatism is not the sanctification of commercialism, and
of course no one soberly supposes that it is, it may none the less be
the intellectual accompaniment of the machine process — of industrial
rather than commercial civilization. There is nothing incompatible,
so at least Veblen asserts, between a high commercialism and the
densest animism — indeed, quite the contrary. A well-matured ma-
chine technique, however, presupposes and directly cultivates the
scientific temper. The reconstruction of philosophy in modern times
must be regarded as a refunding operation through which philosophy
is being merged with modern science. This process began with the
starry heavens above; Professor Dewey 's latest book suggests the
speculation that its consummation may be the moral law within.

Naturally the development of empiricism from Bacon and Hobbes
to the present revolt against Hegelian absolutism has not been with-
out incident: that wave of absolutism in the nineteenth century is
its chief incident. The unsurpassed scientific objectivity of Hume
and Kant was swamped in the decades that brought the Holy
Alliance and the Wesleyan revival by a general resumption of the

470 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

medieval habit of mind. And through the exigencies of university
organization this habit has persisted well into the twentieth century
so that a world which has become thoroughly trained in the scien-
tific bent can contemplate the persistence at the centers of its intellec-
tual life of a tradition which, conceiving the human soul in the spirit
of the medieval church, proceeds to impute its characteristics to the
universe at large, to the utter neglect if not the denial of the con-
trary scientific preconceptions of all the rest of the world.

The presence and continued (though weakening) vigor of this
tradition accounts for the posture of contemporary empiricism, as
distinguished from that of the period which the course books call
"modern." The modern philosophy of Bacon, or even of Descartes,
represented the first onslaught of physics and mathematics upon the
glorified animism of medieval theology — of the solar system upon
the soular system. Contemporary instrumentalism, speaking in a
world now overwhelmingly scientific, is directed against the last
stand of animism (for McDougall is right in identifying mentalism
as animism) in the field of human behavior. The most bitterly
contested issues in contemporary philosophy (arising between ideal-
ism and pragmatism) are psychological issues. The first great
breach in the tradition of absolutism was made by a psychologist
trained in medicine and physiology; Professor Dewey's most dis-
tinctive achievement also is behaviorism. The Essays in Experi-
mental Logic, so metaphysical in tone, have as their principal burden
the maintenance of the psychological (behaviorist) assumption that
thinking is a part of human behavior and must be treated as such
against a school which rejoices first to abstract thinking from the
rest of the universe and then to bring the universe over into thought.
Similarly the educational principles of Democracy and Education,
etc., derive from the behaviorist assumption on the nature
of education: the behavior of children, intellectual and other-
wise, can be guided successfully only in such an environment as pro-
vokes the desired responses and allows them to integrate into habits.

Perhaps it is owing to his absorption in educational theory that
Professor Dewey's own interest in the study of behavior and the at-
tack upon animism has become increasingly social and has now re-
sulted in a volume of lectures on social psychology. Perhaps it is
also due to his large preoccupation with public affairs during the
war and the peace — since the time of Randolph Bourne's devoted
though "savage indignation" that he was not then "out in the arena
of the concrete, himself interpreting current life. ' ' * Probably a
deeper reason lies in the character of social psychology.

i Nev Bepvblic, March 13, 1915.

BOOK REVIEWS 471

The vital issues of behaviorism are at this moment to be found
in social psychology. The inevitable extension of the experimental
technique from biology to psychology at first involved no abatement
of mentalism. Certain mental states seemed to be susceptible to the
technique, which was accordingly applied — particularly of course
to sensations, since the sense organs are the most accessible. In the
course of time the physiological character of both investigations and
data has come to be recognized and a rapprochement established be-
tween neurology and psychology, until now so large a proportion of
the actual labors of all the psychologists is experimental that the
distinction between behaviorists and others seems largely a matter of
terminology. Simultaneously, however, has come a quite general
sense that mentalism, unwittingly pushed out of individual psychol-
ogy by the experimental technique, can make a stand on instinct in
social behavior. Particular reactions may be experimentally reduci-
ble to neurological (or glandular) terms; general tendencies may
still be couched in terms as mystical as one could wish. The spirit
world, excluded from the reflex arc, the tropism, and the hormone,
may still make its entrance through the magic potencies of instinct,
precisely as it once did through Descartes 's pineal gland. The Car-
tesian dualism of mystical and scientific principles in human behavior
is today the dualism of instinct and habit. To be sure, general inter-
est in the problem has shifted from theology to sociology; but the
issues remain unchanged.2

Upon this problem Professor Dewey now takes his stand as un-
compromisingly as in his most polemical metaphysics. Human Na-
ture and Conduct presents Dewey 's theory of the organization of
human behavior, in individuals and communities, by habit and
custom. Its fundamental postulate is the abandonment of the old
individual psychology of separate and independent minds by which
mind has been conceived as a mysterious intruder, or a mysterious
parallel accomplishment of the natural world (pp. 84, 5). The cor-
responding antithetical assumption that is postulated in its place
is the one which has been much more familiar hitherto in anthro-
pology than in psychology. There the formula is: Omnis cidtura
ex cultura. "The problem of social psychology," writes Dewey, "is
not how either individual or collective mind forms social groups
and customs, but how different customs, establishing interacting
arrangements, form and nurture different minds" (p. 63). "We

2 Professor Dewey emphasizes this shift of interest, attributing it to the
general "decline in the authority of social oligarchy" (p. 3), and interest in
"doing away with old institutions" (p. 93). Of course magic potencies may
be displayed on both sides of such controversies. Carleton Parker drew on
McDougall's instincts in his defense of the I. W. W., though MeDougall reserves
them for God, for country, and for home.

472 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

often fancy that institutions, social customs, collective habit, have
been formed by the consolidation of individual habits. In the main
this supposition is false to fact. . . . Customs persist because indi-
viduals form their personal habits under conditions set by prior
customs" (p. 58). That is, the indispensable condition of the
organization of behavior is preexisting organized behavior.

Such a theory of conduct has conspicuous implications for ethics.
Professor Dewey accepts them at once, and accordingly makes
moral conduct the chief subject of his analysis throughout the book.
For such a theory of behavior as this, "morals mean customs, folk-
ways, established collective habits. This is a commonplace of the
anthropologist, though the moral theorist generally suffers from an
illusion that his own place and day is, or ought to be, an exception.
But always and everywhere customs supply the standards for
personal activities" (p. 75). By accepting the hardly more than
Darwinian hypothesis that the facts of man are continuous with those
of the rest of nature we can ally ethics with physics and biology;
by accepting the anthropological dogma of the continuity of all hu-
man activity we can link ethics with history, sociology, jurispru-
dence, and economics (p. 12). Even moral philosophy can be as-
similated to modern science!

The three lectures, on habit, impulse, and intelligence, which
make up the bulk of the book, seek to indicate how this may be
done. They are an introduction not so much to the subject of so-
cial psychology, or of ethics, as to the problems : not a syllabus out-
line of a fully developed science but a preliminary statement of the
presuppositions upon which a science may be developed. Habit is
the framework and custom the content of behavior. Impulse is the
propelling, energy-releasing force behind all activity — not in the
form of the familiar instincts (there are no separate instincts), but
as a tremendous multiplicity of exceedingly circumscribed reac-
tions to specific stimuli.8 They require to be organized by habit
into modes of behavior and only thus assume form as the activity
of civilized man. And if we do not know, at least we know how
with our habits. Knowledge lives in the muscles, trained muscles,
not in consciousness. Thought is the interruption, the clash, the
readjustment of habits.

• Professor Dewey give* the reader every reason to suppose that the impulses
which he retains as the basis of all behavior after the rejection of "separate
instincts" are the reflexes and tropisms and so on, familiar to the neurologist.
For some reason, to my mind highly questionable, he refrains from any direct
assertion to this effect either in the form of a reference to the literature of
neurology or by the use of identifying technical words. Perhaps neither could
be done in lectures ; but as an " Introduction ' ' the book ought to introduce.

BOOK REVIEWS 473

All this becomes concrete when it is applied to the problem of
conduct. Morality is custom-organized, habitual behavior; there
are no bad habits but custom makes them so. No moral order is
based on instinctive, eternally unalterable behavior, nor can moral
order result from /the abrogation of all organizing conventions.
Morality is the ordering of habit by intelligence. Rejecting all
ethical principles that would identify morality with some special
type of impulse or experience, Professor Dewey describes it essenti-
ally as Kant did — as order. " Intelligence is concerned with fore-
seeing the future so that action may have order and direction" (p.
238). Morality is the outcome of practical reason.

And then — strangely enough, for, from the Outlines of Ethics
(published at Ann Arbor in 1891) to the present work, Dewey has
devoted more space to the criticism of Kant than of any other phi-
losopher, and always for this very peculiarity — he recommends in-
telligence !

This is no new thing, of course. "Creative intelligence" has
been as much a slogan as a description among pragmatists since
James. Professor Dewey 's constant insistence in his philosophical
writing upon the functional, experimental character of the think-
ing process seems to express a very deep-lying and in the end hyper-
logical belief in its efficacy; while in the magazine articles his en-
thusiasm for intelligence approximates that of the revivalist.*

It is not my object here to give Kant an inning against his most
insistent critic, nor even to assert the futility of advising the world
to be intelligent, to organize its habits flexibly, and all that. Pro-
fessor Dewey has made the best possible case against an ethics of
mandatory principles in this book.5 Simply to note that the cate-
gorical imperative appears from chapter to chapter is interesting,
however.6 In his famous essay on the influence of Darwin on phi-
losophy Professor Dewey summarized as follows: "No one can

* E.g., "The American Intellectual Frontier," New Republic, May 10, 1922.

5 E.g., p. 27. ' ' Keeently a friend remarked to me that there was one
superstition current among even cultivated persons. They suppose that if one
is told what to do, if the right end is pointed out to them, all that is required
in order to bring about the right act is will or wish oa the part of the one who
is to act." Etc., etc.

e An individual ' ' can, if he will, intelligently adapt customs to traditions ' '
(p. 75). "The most precious part of plasticity consists in -ability to form
habits of independent judgment and of inventive initiation" (p. 97). "In
learning habits it is possible for men to learn the habit of learning. Then
betterment becomes a conscious principle of life" (p. 105). "The moral is
to develop conscientiousness, ability to judge the significance of what we are
doing. . . . Therefore the important thing is the fostering of those habits and
impulses which lead to a broad, just, sympathetic survey of situations" (p. 207).

474 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

fairly deny that at present there are two effects of the Darwinian
mode of thinking. On the one hand there are making many sincere
and vital efforts to revise our traditional philosophic conceptions
in accordance with its demands. On the other hand, there is as defi-
nitely a recrudescence of absolutist philosophies." Is it certain
that the two will be wholly separate? Perhaps the gospel of sci-
ence contains its own absolutism, its own rationalism, its own infi-
nite,7 its "appeal through experience to something that essentially
goes beyond experience" — beyond, that is to say, the coolly skeptical-
experimental observations of the scientist.

Without doubt this is a lapse in logic. Yet for the discriminat-
ing reader it may serve to make the book a human document with-
out materially affecting the clarity of the issues. Life is a continu-
ous lapse of logic, and this book seems to me rather more alive, more
directly and humanly expressive, than any other that Professor
Dewey has yet written. This is yet another reason why, though it
is an introduction, it is not a syllabus. One feels in reading that
the whole range of interest of a most flexible mind is being played
upon the text. The harmonies are rich and varied, and sonata-form
gets lost in their depths. Indeed, the organization of the book is
very loose — much less rigid even than the analytical table augurs.
In general it follows the three-fold division indicated above; but
apart from that the ideas flow down their natural and broken course
rather than through the concreted channel of a pre-determined
order.

The course provides many interesting moments. "All habits
are demands for certain kinds of activity; and they constitute the
self. In any intelligible sense of the word will, they are will" (p.
25). "For will means, in the concrete, habits; and habits incorpo-
rate an environment within themselves. They are adjustments of
the environment, not merely to it" (p. 52). "Were it not for the
continued operation of all habits in every act, no such thing as
character could exist. There would be simply a bundle, an untied
bundle at that, of isolated acts. Character is the interpenetration
of habits" (p. 38). "Why have men become so attached to fixed,
eternal endst Why is it not universally recognized that an end is
a device of intelligence in guiding action, instrumental to freeing
and harmonizing troubled and divided tendencies? . . . Ends are,
in fact, literally endless, forever coming into existence as new ac-
tivities occasion new consequences" (pp. 231-2). "As we account

'"Beligion, aa a sense of the whole, is the most individualized of all
thing* .... Instead of marking the freedom and peace of the individual
as a member of an infinite whole, it has been ... " (p. 331).

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 475

for war by pugnacity, for the capitalistic system by the necessity of
an incentive of gain to stir ambition and effort, so we account for
Greece by power of esthetic observation, Rome by administrative
ability, the middle ages by interest in religion, and so on. We have
constructed an elaborate political zoology as mythical and not
nearly as poetic as the other zoology of phrenixes, griffins and uni-
corns" (p. 111). " Current democracy acclaims success more bois-
terously than do other social forms, and surrounds failure with a
more reverberating train of echoes. But the prestige thus given
excellence is largely adventitious. The achievement of thought at-
tracts others not so much intrinsically as because of an eminence
due to multitudinous advertising and a swarm of imitators" (p.
66). "It is only by accident that the separate and endowed
'thought' of professional thinkers leaks out into action and affects
custom" (pp. 68-9). "... think of the insolent coercions, the in-
sinuating briberies, the pedagogic solemnities by which the fresh-
ness of youth can be faded and its vivid curiosities dulled. Educa-
tion becomes the art of taking advantage of the helplessness of the
young; the forming of habits becomes a guarantee for the mainte-
nance of hedges of custom" (p. 64).

In short this is the most eminently readable and quotable book
Professor Dewey has written.8 But it is not a "text"; it will not
suit the orderly and sterile mind of the efficient teacher. And it
will be a hard book for professional attackers and defenders of the
pragmatic faith, for the word "pragmatism" occurs only in the in-
dex, the word " instrumentalism " not at all.

C. E. AYRES.
AMHEEST COLLEGE.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

REVISTA DE PSIQUIATRIA Y DISCIPLINAS CONEXAS (Lima). IV, 2.
April, 1922. Los Mitos Medicos peruanos: Hermilio Valdizan y
Angel Maldonado. Confusion mental en la encefalitis epidemica:
Max. Gonzales Olaechea. El Mongolismo: E. 8. Guzman Barron.
Reaccion subepidermica a la adrenal ina como metodo de exploracion
del sistema nervioso simpatico: Dclfin C. Espino. La negacion de
la paternidad como sintoma psicosico (conclusion) : Honorio F.
Delgado. Tratameinto de la epilepsia por el luminal: Honorio F.
Delgado.

s This in spite of the lack of tonality of its author 's style — frequently
noted by reviewers — which allows him to use the jarring form "morals is,"
and to pass over slips in construction like that on p. 22, line 16, or the "one-
them " of a sentence quoted above.

476 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

REVUE PHILOSOPHIQUE. XLVII, 5-6. May-June, 1922. Le
renouvellement des conceptions atomistiques: L. Brunschvicg.
William James d'apres sa correspondence: J. l\V//»/. L'ennui mor-
bide: L. Dupuit. La psychoanalyse et le probleme de 1 'inconscient,
II : A. Ombre dane.

University of Iowa Studies in Psychology: No. VIII. Edited
by Carl E. Seashore. Psychological Monographs : Vol. No. 31, No. 1.
Princeton. Psychological Review Co. 1922. 382 pp.

Nys, D. : La Notion d'espace. Bruxelles: Les Editions Robert
Sand. 1922. Pp. 448. 30 fr.

Sainsbury, Geoffrey: Polarity. London: Favil Press. 1922.
48 pp. 3s 6d.

NOTES AND NEWS

A joint session of the Mind Association, the Aristotelian Society
and the British Psychological Society was held in Manchester from
July 14 to 18. Most of the papers read at that time will be pub-
lished in the October issue of Mind.

Professor June E. Downey, head of the department of psychology
at the University of Wyoming, has been granted leave of absence
for travel and study during the academic year 1922-23. Miss Louisa
C. Wagoner will be acting head of the department during Professor
Downey's absence, and will be assisted by Mr. Donald A. Laird of
the University of Iowa.

VOL. XIX., No. 18 AUGUST 31, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF 'PHILOSOPHY

VALUE AND WORTH1

HE purpose of this article is to seek common ground on which
-L two opposed schools of value-philosophy may meet. One
school, represented recently by Perry, Prall, and Pepper, finds the
definition of intrinsic value in the affective-volitional relation of
interest. These writers conceive value to have a psychological
basis in feeling and to designate relations between an individual
and objects or acts liked or disliked. The other school, defended
ably in America by Urban, finds value asserted in a unique type
of judgment, and defines it as a category of being. I shall not dis-
cuss a third view, presented by Moore and Russell, that value is a
quality, for I agree with Urban 's position that this view is en-
cumbered with insuperable difficulties. Incidentally, in the course
of the article, I shall reply to Mr. Urban 's generous review of my
book.2

I

The exponents of a relational value-theory maintain that value
defined as a relation of interest is a sufficient description of value
wherever it occurs. My first task will be to consider Mr. Urban 's
objections to the relational theory. I shall not, however, be con-
cerned to defend Sheldon's ' ' ontological definition" of value3 as
"the fulfilment of any tendency whatsoever." Here I accept Mr.
Urban 's criticism. I shall hope to show, however, what is the true
bearing of the latter 's criticism of the definition that is psychologi-
cal and relational.

Mr. Urban believes that a relational definition of value is circu-

1 The articles most frequently cited in this paper are those by Urban, this
JOURNAL, Vol. XIII, pp. 449-465, 673-687; Vol. XIV, pp. 309-327; Vol. XV,
pp. 393-405. I also cite, from the same JOURNAL, those by Perry, Vol. XI, pp.
141-162, and Fisher, Vol. XIV, pp. 570-582. Also, the monograph by Prall,
A Study in the Theory of Value, Univ. of Cal. Publications in Philosophy, Vol.
3, No. 2, 1921, and my book, Values, Immediate and Contributory, and Their
Interrelation, New York Univ. Press, 1920.

2 This JOURNAL, Vol. XIX, pp. 53-55.
s Hid., Vol. XIII, pp. 453-455.

477

478 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

lar in character. What he means, I think, is that this attempt at
definition leaves out an essential (to Mr. Urban the essential)
mark of value. For he says* that "the denial that value can ulti-
mately be defined as a relation does not mean that relational
definitions are not useful." It is of great importance, therefore,
to discover just what is omitted in a relational definition. Mr.
Urban 's criticisms8 will point the way.

1. "Why, it may well be asked, should fulfilment of interest be
a good? Why should pleasure confer a value T In all such defini-
tions valuableness is already assumed — as an intrinsic quality of
pleasure or of fulfilment, as the case may be." The sequel will
show that I recognize that all included under the word value can
not be defined as affective-volitional relations of interest. But it
is true that one class of values, sometimes spoken of as immediate,
can be defined adequately in such terms. I may like or dislike
given objects or acts apart from any reflection. A bright color or
a warm breeze may arouse in me a thrill of pleasure. To defend the
application of the term value to such experiences, it is necessary
only to indicate that it has a clear meaning when so used. Now
when I speak of my likings and dislikings as having to do with
value, I use the term to designate relations between a feeling indi-
vidual and certain objects or acts. Value is not assumed to be "an
intrinsic quality of pleasure," for the relations are between a
pleased or displeased individual and liked or disliked objects or
acts. "Interest" may be used in almost the same meaning, although
"interest" frequently emphasizes the first term and "value" the
second term of the same relation.

2. So far we have avoided the circularity which Mr. Urban
thinks to beset a relational definition of all value. He tells us,
however, that the circularity appears in another way. "The value
of an object consists, it is said, in its satisfaction of desire, or more
broadly, fulfilment of interest. But it is always possible to raise
further questions which show conclusively that the value concept is
already presupposed. Is the interest itself worthy of being satis-
fied? Is the object worthy of being of interest? In other words,
the fact of intrinsic value requires us to find the essence of value
in something other than this type of relation."

To defend the adequacy of a relational definition of immediate
values, I may point out that such a definition is adequate because
the questions raised by Mr. Urban are not a part of the experience.
They need not be answered because they are not asked. My liking
for a hot bath may have no reflective basis. Reflection might con-

«/&id., Vol. XIII, p. 455, footnote.
• Ibid., Vol. XIII, p. 453.

VALUE AND WORTH 479

vince me that the worth of a hot bath, at the time it was taken,
was entirely negative. Surely we are not compelled to analyze our
feelings in order to have them, and I can see no objection to call-
ing the relations that come into being when things are liked or dis-
liked, relations of immediate value.

It is quite another thing, however, to maintain that all that
passes under the name of value may be defined in terms of affec-
tive-volitional relations. The usual criticism of the position that
judgment plays an essential part in determining some values is to
the effect that, although relations of interest may be modified by
judgment, such judgment does not alter the essential nature of
value which is still to be described in terms of interest. It is said
that although I may begin by liking jazz and end by liking Brahms,
value first and last is my interest in the one or the other. As Mr.
Prall says,6 ' ' Judgment, while it may be instrumental in our coming
to the point of assuming the attitude of liking toward one thing
rather than another, never itself constitutes that attitude. The
liking is all we have. We may be able to inquire why we like ; but
when we do thus inquire, we only analyze, our liking into its re-
spective parts or else show that one judgment of value implies the
existence of another value than the one judged."

The nature of these contrasting points of view is best brought
out when we ask how each is related to conscious activity. On the
one hand, those who define all value in affective-volitional terms
assert that the valuing individual is related to the objects or acts
valued through feeling. On the other hand, other writers main-
tain that this type of definition leaves out the essential element of
value, and they find this essential element in judgment. Neverthe-
less, those who hold this second view consider that feeling plays a
part in the value-experience, so that it may be said that they de-
scribe the individual as both knowing and feeling in the experi-
ence of value. The first view is that of Perry and Prall ; the second
is held by writers of such different viewpoints as Dewey, Urban,
Eickert, and Windelband. The latter writers have no psychological
scruple in thus blending two aspects of consciousness, for they be-
lieve that the value-experience partakes of the character of both.
I can not agree with this viewpoint for reasons which I shall cite
below. My suggested solution of the problem will lie in the direc-
tion of maintaining that there are two broad types of values, one
of which may be defined adequately as affective-volitional rela-
tions of interest, the other as worth which lies wholly within the
realm of cognition.

« Prall, op. cit., p. 267.

480 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

II

Mr. Urban feels that the affective-volitional definition leaves
out the element of the worth of the feeling. Three possible view-
points may be taken as to the position that worth occupies in con-
scious experience. (1) Worth may still lie within feeling when it
is not determined wholly by feeling-relations. In other words, there
may be some aspect of being, independent of the individual, which
is of the nature of feeling, or at least near enough like feeling to be
felt. To describe the relation of the valuing individual to such an
"over-individual" worth-determinant, we should have to invent a
term in the language of feeling to correspond with "apprehension"
in the language of cognition. (2) Worth may be apprehended in
the value- judgment which is the cognitive aspect of a whole ex-
perience of value in which cognition and feeling are blended. (3)
Worth may be cognized only, and this worth-experience may be
quite distinct from the feeling-relation of value between the indi-
vidual who has the worth-experience and the object esteemed. The
desirability of making a distinction between value and worth was
first suggested to me in a letter from Miss Mary Case. Mr. Pepper 's
paper, "Primitive and Standard Value," recently read before the
American Philosophical Association (1922), also led me to think
of the implications of such a distinction.

I shall first consider the position that worth is in some way ex-
perienced through feeling. To describe this view adequately re-
quires delicate handling. It is substantially that of Mr. Fisher,
although I am not always clear as to his full meaning. Both he
and Mr. Urban believe that value (Urban) or an object's value
(Fisher) is apprehended in the value- judgment. But Mr. Fisher
denies7 that value itself is apprehended by the cognitive aspect of
consciousness, although he holds that the complex " value-of -an-
object" may thus be apprehended. I think that he means that a
cognitive element enters our experience of value when we attribute
worth to a particular object. This judgment of worth of an ob-
ject is to be distinguished from worth itself which is "apprehended"
through feeling. I caji not help feeling that much remains unsaid
by Mr. Fisher regarding the relation of the worth apprehended by
feeling to the worth attributed to objects in the value-judgment.
But I am not concerned here with enlarging on this question; the
more fundamental question is whether worth may lie wholly within
the sphere of feeling.

Mr. Fisher believes that we are unable to have knowledge of
worth because worth is apprehended through some form of feeling.

T Thia JOUBNAL, VoL XIV, p. 578.

VALUE AND WORTH 481

He accepts, therefore, one horn of Perry's dilemma8 ("The attitude
of interest either constitutes values or it cognizes them"), and very
logically denies that worth can be cognized at all. Knowledge
about worth we may have, as we have knowledge about feeling, but
we can no more cognize worth itself than we can inspect feeling
through a microscope. I can not but feel that Urban impales
Fisher on the wrong horn of the dilemma. Because he fails to see
the importance of Fisher's distinction between value and an ob-
ject's value, and because Fisher uses the term "apprehension" of
worth and speaks as if feeling "merely furnishes the requisite
sensibility" for such apprehension, Urban takes it for granted that
he believes that worth may be cognized. This misapprehension
arises partly through lack of a proper nomenclature, and partly
through the lack of sufficient explanation by Fisher as to how ob-
jects get a value that lies within the realm of feeling. On the other
hand, if he holds that worth is apprehended by feeling, he can
suitably deny that worth itself can be cognized.

"What is the bearing of a theory that worth is apprehended by
feeling? The answer to this question would be contained in a
discipline concerned with feeling much as epistemology is con-
cerned with cognition. Is there objective worth which is affirmed
(for want of a better term) by feeling, and which is an attribute
(not a quality) of the objects of certain feeling-relations, but
which lies outside that portion of given experience which is open
to cognition? Empirical evidence for such a theory might be
sought among primitive esthetic satisfactions produced by colors,
harmonies, etc., if some of these might be found to be without
adequate psycho-physical explanation. In other words, it might be
proved that we face a kind of brute reality in the worth-experience
which can be explained only on the assumption that there is a
category of feeling within the realm of being that is just as un-
alterable as the reality underlying the objects of cognition.

If such a theory were proved a fact, beauty would be shown to
be independent of its apprehension; it would transcend relations
of interest; and I doubt the wisdom of applying the term "value"
to it at all. The evidence bearing on the theory is of such great
complexity that after several years of reflection I am yet unable
to form an opinion. I should welcome light from Mr. Fisher. If,
however, it should be proved that worth of a certain kind is ap-
prehended through feeling, such worth would be entirely distinct
from the cognitive worth that I am about to discuss.

Having considered Mr. Fisher's position, I now turn to the

s Ibid., Vol. XI, p. 152.

482 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

second and third possible standpoints regarding attribution of
worth. Worth, as Mr. Urban thinks, may be attributed to an object
in a value-judgment, the whole experience being of both a cogni-
tive and an affective character. Mr. Urban 's treatment of the
value- judgment leaves no room for doubt that this is the meaning
intended. He claims that we know value by affirmation in judg-
ment,6 and also that in making a value-judgment we are governed
by an a priori law which works in us as "on essential form of inter-
est and volition as such."10 I am not at the moment concerned
with his theory that value is a category of reality apart from our ex-
perience, but solely with the one point that whenever we experience
value, we are said to do so through both cognition and feeling. An
experience of worth, under this view, must be referred to conscious
activity as a whole if it is to be given a psychological description.

Against this view, I hold that value and worth, when analyzed,
prove to be distinct, and that the term "intrinsic worth" has been
applied ambiguously to designate now the one, now the other.
First, I shall give instances of this confusion; secondly, I shall
proceed to develop the view that the two types of intrinsic worth
have distinct psychological bases, a task that will involve a criti-
cism of Mr. Urban 's theory of value-judgments.

1. I find a common assumption underlying the radically differ-
ent views of Perry, Urban, Prall, and Dewey. It is that the in-
trinsic values defined as affective-volitional relations of interest are
the same sort of entities as the intrinsic values which appear when
we ask questions as to whether the worths are justified. Perry ana-
lyzes the complex state of mind when one judges a value into judg-
ments of fact plus feeling for the object judged.11 This feeling,
for him, constitutes the value. Perry's position, therefore, is that
intrinsic value, whether it be reflective or immediate, is equally
constituted by feeling for an object, i.e., that intrinsic value is
always affective-volitional.

Prall12 has shown recently in a forceful way that a judgment of
contributory value such as "The pen is good for writing" implies
the intrinsic worths of the "higher values" of truth, goodness, and
contemplation. But Mr. Frail's thesis is that of "the identical na-
ture of value as it appears in all cases of valuing."18 Prall and
Perry agree that value is constituted by interest, and that judg-
ments of value do not affect the basic nature of value itself or bring

• This JOURNAL, Vol. XIII, p. 463.

10 Ibid., Vol. XIII, p. 677.

" Ibid., VoL XI, pp. 161-162.

" Prall, op. cit., p. 266.

»«/&«., p. 254.

VALUE AND WORTH 483

to light any new class of values. Urban, as we have seen, assumes
the identity of the value defined as relational with the worth that
appears after questions are asked as to its justification. Further-
more, in his later theory of value, he attempts to identify in kind
all cases of intrinsic value by claiming that value is apprehended
in a special kind of judgment, while maintaining at the same time
that value is "an essential form of interest and volition as such." 14
Finally, Dewey,15 while recognizing the distinctness of many classes
of values, speaks of certain judgments plus subsequent acts bring-
ing into existence new intrinsic values. He thus regards affective-
volitional values as of the same nature as the new intrinsic values
which appear in consequence of judgment, in so far as interest is
concerned. The new values differ, of course, in their cognitional
aspect. Dewey and Urban, therefore, blend feeling and cognition
in their descriptions of the values of appreciation in different ways.
They make feeling an essential element of the worths affirmed in
value-judgments, and neither of them would agree that the intrin-
sic worth affirmed in judgment does not contain the same element
of feeling that creates simple, immediate values.

I submit that each of these writers fails adequately to analyze
intrinsic value. I believe that much diversity of opinion will dis-
appear when it is recognized that this term has been applied indis-
criminately to value and worth. Although Miss Case first suggested
the desirability of the distinction, I can not say, of course, that
either she or Mr. Pepper, who recalled it to mind, would accept my
development of it.

2. Let me begin with a word of caution. I do not assert that
feeling and cognition may be separated in existence. Elsewhere10
I have amplified this statement. While describing conscious activ-
ity as related to environment in two ways, I have not departed
from the accepted psychological fact that feeling and cognition
never occur in isolation. I do claim, however, that the affective and
cognitive elements are always distinct upon introspective analysis,
and that we can say of no conscious state that it contains a blend of
feeling and cognition that defies analysis into two distinct aspects.17
The purpose of this article is to prove that intrinsic value never
properly designates the relation of objects to both aspects of con-
scious activity at once, but that there are two distinct types of in-

i* This JOURNAL, Vol. XIII, p. 677.
15 In a paper now in press.

I8 ' ' The Coordinate Character of Feeling and Cognition, ' ' this JOURNAL,
Vol. XVIII, pp. 288-295.

17 Values, Immediate and Contributory, and Their Interrelation, pp. 94-104.

484 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

trinsic worth, concerned with the relation of objects to feeling and
cognition, respectively.

(1) Interest and Worth. — Consideration of an objection to the
distinction between immediate value and cognitive worth may
serve as our starting-point. Perry and Prall claim that however
modified our ascription of worth may become in consequence of
judgment, the constitutive factor of both immediate value and cogni-
tive worth always remains the element of interest. My enjoyment of
a Bach fugue, however increased by study of its counterpoint, must
in the end be referred to my liking for it, and this enjoyment is of
the same nature as that which I experience when I taste a savory
morsel. I reply that this statement, if adduced as an argument for
the identity of the factor that constitutes immediate value with that
which constitutes intrinsic worth, is a non sequitur. Since feeling
is never divorced from cognition in conscious experience, it goes
without saying that there are affective value-relations present in
every moment of conscious activity. This fact, however, does not
take into account the additional element of worth that may appear
upon the reflection. Perry and Prall uncritically identify affective
interest with interest that is wholly cognitive. To separate the two
kinds of interest, it is only necessary to reflect that immediate value
may be positive while at the same time cognitive worth is negative,
and vice versa. I may continue to like a certain picture that my
newly acquired esthetic taste condemns. I may heartily dislike music
that I know and recognize to be "good." The confusion of these
writers is due to an uncritical identification of two distinct types of
interest.

In the moral and esthetic spheres, recognition of worth and lik-
ing for the object or act esteemed have too often been identified by
philosophers. In the case of ethics, the moral conflict that often
occurs between what I like and what I recognize to be best would
seem to be sufficient empirical evidence to destroy this notion.
Knowledge and virtue and pleasure would go hand in hand if an
ideal of harmonious functioning were stipulated and attained, but
practically I may reflect with little pleasure upon an act to which
I ascribe great moral worth. Again, Dewey's discussion of "valua-
tions" that are not final until I have performed an act in conse-
quence of a preliminary judgment goes to prove that not only
reflection, but also practical activities may contribute to the modifi-
cation of worths previously ascribed, but it does not imply that my
liking has changed gradually in the process in the positive direction.
That may or may not be the case. To claim that the recognition of
moral worth is the same as the felt value of moral worth is to dis-

VALUE AND WORTH 485

regard the experience of moral conflict. And if it is true that
certain ethical systems base their standards of moral worth en felt
pleasure, it is also true that other systems are equally well able to
entertain the notion of moral worth that becomes pleasurable only
after the natural affections have been suppressed in its favor.

In his definition of the esthetic experience, Mr. Prall gives an un-
conscious illustration of this distinction. He says,18 "We may value
for itself the good act which expresses the good will ; but the more
completely we value it in itself, the more completely do we simply
dwell upon it in contemplation, give ourselves over to it as total ob-
ject, lose ourselves in it. And what we are interested in in this com-
plete way, in pure contemplation, in disinterested attentiveness, is
what we call the esthetically valuable" (italics mine). It may be
said fairly that an interest which may be described as ' ' disinterested
attentiveness" is quite other than the interest of which we speak
when we discuss affective relations.

(2) Value-Judgments and Worth. — The distinction between im-
mediate value and worth rests on empirical grounds. But we have
still to show that the experience of worth does not in itself contain
an element of feeling. Undoubtedly, there are affective elements
present at the time one has the worth-experience. The question is
whether the worth-experience itself is partly constituted by feeling,
or whether it is wholly cognitive (in the same sense as we say that
to know is not to feel, although we must do both at each conscious
moment). Any writer who confuses affective with cognitive inter-
est is likely to define the experience of worth partly in terms of
feeling, partly in those of cognition, if, indeed, he does not restrict
both value and worth to the affective factor. Dewey and Urban
both describe classes of worths that are neither wholly cognitive nor
wholly affective. I shall content myself here with a criticism of
Mr. Urbaji's position, that being the more extreme.

Value-judgments may or may not imply the recognition of stand-
ards of worth. One class of value- judgments contains no implica-
tion of worth. "I like smoking" may serve merely to bring to
conscious attention a fact of affective value. No question need be
raised as to the worth of smoking, because none is raised. But once
that I do raise such a question, it becomes of importance to investi-
gate the nature of the worth that is affirmed. If Mr. Urban would
accept this standpoint, he might contribute much toward our knowl-
edge of worth-affirmation. He would argue, I believe, that the ob-
jective nature of worth lies in the form rather than in the matter of
affirmation. Value-judgments do not guarantee any particular

" Prall, p. 266.

486 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

worths, such as happiness or goodness, but they all have a common
form, and this form is of the nature of a category of judgment. But
let us see how Mr. Urban leads up to his theory of value-judgment.

After rejecting definitions of value in relational or qualitative
terms, Mr. Urban investigated the possibilities latent in the substan-
tival form of expression of values. Often we say, "This is a worth."
One who still clings to the relational form of definition can readily
explain this usage by calling attention to the fact that we frequently
use single words to designate relations. "James shows backwardness
in his studies" means that James has other boys ahead of him. But
Mr. Urban believes that it is not only possible to use value in sub-
stantival fashion, but that the notion of value can be rendered ade-
quately only in the proposition "that A ought to be on its own
account," and he concludes that value is an objective, so far as it is
amenable to expression in language.19 More explicitly, the value-
judgment involves, in addition to the judgment itself, "on essential
form of interest and volition as such." 20

Limitation of space prohibits me from entering in detail into the
minuticB of the controversy between Urban and Fisher over the pos-
sibility of conceiving value as an objective in Meinong's sense. For-
tunately for my purpose, such discussion will not be required. It
will be sufficient to show that the alleged typical value- judgment
imports a special connotation into the term "intrinsic worth," and
then to show that any expression of worth in judgment conforms to
a type that I shall make clear.

Mr. Urban, as against Fisher, holds that oughtness in the value-
judgment is quite distinct from obligation, and that the latter is a
special case of the former. In his reply to Fisher,21 he refers to his
previous argument.22 As I think, he made two points. (1) "Nor
have I space to rehearse how, after showing that intrinsic value is
ultimately indefinable in terms either of quality or relation, it can
be finally stated only as equivalent to 'ought to be.' My critic does
not even refer to these arguments, much less meet them." (2) "Of
many things we can say that they ought to be, when it would be
wholly absurd to think that this notion involved a command to any
person or group of persons. ' ' Now since I have admitted that worth
involves something more than affective-relational value, and since
I believe that an adequate definition of worth can be attained in some
other way than through the "typical value- judgment," the first point
may await the sequel. But I would join with Fisher in denying that

»»This JOURNAL, Vol. XIII, p. 462.
*> Ibid., Vol. XIII, p. 677.
»i Ibid., Vol. XV, p. 398.
» Ibid., Vol. XIH, p. 462.

VALUE AND WORTH 487

ought is ever used (except by Mr. Urban) without the notion of
obligation. Mr. Urban says,28 "Is it not sufficient to recall again that
we often say that things ought to have been otherwise when we
have not the slightest intention of ascribing obligation to them?"
This, however, was hardly Fisher's point. The latter argued that
ought involves always the notion of obligation of a person or group
of persons, not of the things concerned. One wishes that Mr. Urban
had given concrete examples. He shows 24 correctly that Perry 's
criticism does not touch the point because his illustrations are ill-
chosen. Perhaps the following examples will suffice : ' ' The Lusitania
ought not to have been sunk. ' ' Here it is stated that an event should
not have taken place. Is there not, however, in the mind of the
speaker the notion of moral obligation unfulfiled by those who were
responsible for sinking the ship? "John ought to have been happy,
for he was a good man, but circumstances were against him. ' ' Does
not this imply that some beneficent Power should have arranged
circumstances otherwise? I can not protest too strongly against the
practise of making the judgment of moral worth typical of all in-
trinsic worth.

In his review 25 of my book, Mr. Urban says that I deny that
there are judgments of intrinsic value. I presume that "of" is
here the sign of an objective genitive, and that he means that I deny
that judgment is the means whereby intrinsic values are apprehended.
From what I have said, it will be obvious that I am now engaged in
proving that worth, as distinguished from immediate value, is brought
into being by reflection, and that intrinsic worth therefore is affirmed
in judgment. My book did not treat of worth-judgments from this
point of view. To be clear, let me mention briefly some of the values
that are associated with a judgment of intrinsic worth.

' ' Goodness is valuable in itself. ' ' First, there is the contributory
value of the act of judgment, this particular judgment, like all judg-
ments, being a means to the end of self-expression. Secondly, there
is the value of the content of the judgment for the one who judges,
which varies according to the range of application to practical activi-
ties— here the range is wide. This is also contributory in character.
Thirdly, there is the value that springs from my liking or disliking
the object judged (goodness). This is value of the immediate type.
With these values I was chiefly concerned in the constructive portion
of my book. Finally, there is the affirmation of the worth of goodness,
which I should rate as a type distinct from either immediate or con-

23 This JOURNAL, Vol. XV, p. 398.

2* Ibid., Vol. XV, p. 401.

25 /bid., Vol. XIX, pp. 53-55.

488 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

tributary value, but which is more nearly allied formally to con-
tributory value than to immediate.

Mr. Urban believes that I use the term "contributory value"
equivocally, now as signifying a means to an end, now in the mean-
ing of "adding to the functioning of conscious activity." I have
guarded, however, against such an equivocation. The sense in which
all judgments are contributory because they add to the functioning
of conscious activity is, as Mr. Urban fails to note, from the stand-
point of an observer. Now while the judging individual is not him-
self making a judgment about intrinsic worth as additive to con-
scious activity, an observer who looks upon the activity of the indi-
vidual must regard all judgments, nay, every instance of conscious
functioning, as a means to the end of modifying in some way the
contact of the individual with his environment.

Here I wish to go further than I did in my book and maintain
that judgments of worth fall into a form common to them and to all
contributory values. And I shall take care to exhibit this fact in its
naturalness, rather than to "force" these judgments, "in pragmatic
fashion, into the instrumental mold."

To begin with, worth is not fully expressed in such a judgment
as "A has worth." We ask what kind of worth it has. Is it a means
to an end T Then it will be of contributory value. Or is it worthy in
itself T Then it has intrinsic worth. Observe that Mr. Urban 's typ-
ical value-judgment contains the words "on its own account." Some
such expression is needed to clear the meaning, to distinguish worth
that is contributory from worth that is intrinsic. Now I find a com-
mon structure and a common element in judgments of both contribu-
tory and intrinsic worth. The common element is a point of refer-
ence of the worth to some object or act. In the case of contributory
value, A is worthy as a means to an end. In the case of intrinsic
worth, however, the worth of A is referred back to itself, and descrip-
tion of the worth is incomplete until this backward reference is made.
On the basis of these considerations, it would be allowable to treat
all worth as referential, and to discuss two types of worth, of which
the differentia is the point of reference.

Nor only do all worth-judgments exhibit a common referential
characteristic; they also exhibit a common structure. I find this
structure most conveniently described as that of a triadic relation.
In this way it may be distinguished from the structure of immediate
value which is dyadic — the terms here being individual and object
or act. A worth-relation has three terms: individual, the object or
act judged, and the object or act to which the judged object is
referred.

MIND IN THE MECHANICAL ORDER 489

From these considerations, based upon empirical evidence and an
analysis of judgments of worth, I hope to have established (1) the
distinct natures of immediate value and intrinsic worth, (2) the
psychological basis in cognition of all kinds of worth, (3) the ade-
quacy of relational definitions of both value and worth, one as
dyadic, the other as triadic, (4) the common form of judgments of
contributory value and judgments of intrinsic worth.

I have not space to discuss in detail Mr. Urban 's interesting
metaphysical speculations. I would, however, instance a most un-
warranted assumption that he makes. He says,26 "That a specific
object has positive or negative value, as the case may be, and why it
has value, are matters of interest, feeling, and desire; but that it
must fall somewhere in the scale of value, this is an essential form of
interest and volition as such, logically prior to any experience of
desire or feeling. Over against the world of mere objects as such
are the categories of being and value, all-inclusive forms of the
world." Why "of the world"? Surely, only on an assumption of
the truth of idealism. As an epistemological dualist I am con-
strained to remark that the category of value may only be inferred to
be a category or form of the judgment-process; whether or not it
extends beyond the given to the world will depend upon what kind
of a world we have.

I believe that I have replied to most of Mr. Urban 's criticisms.
It is strange, however, to read that I "describe myself as a Pragma-
tist with certain reservations." The agreement with pragmatism
expressed in my book was restricted to one point of method. I men-
tion this more personal matter because it affords an instance of the
danger of affixing labels to philosophical standpoints which recognize
that truth is not the prerogative of any single sect of philosophical
opinion.

MAURICE PICARD.

BARNAKD COLLEGE.

MIND IN THE MECHANICAL ORDER

T~ F I have properly understood the intent of the article on ' ' Prag-
•*• matism and the New Materialism, ' ' x Professor Lovejoy 's
criticism is directed not altogether against pragmatism and be-
haviorism as such, but rather in part at least against certain phil-
osophies which, having on some points misunderstood the meaning
of these movements, have yet taken on their insignia and ended by
deforming the spirit of their thought. While it is not always easy

ze This JOURNAL, Vol. XIII, p. 677.
i This JOURNAL, Vol. XIX, no. 1.

I.)!) JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

to distinguish between the behaviorists and those who only call
themselves such, I have unavoidably the impression that a part at
least of the polemic is directed against some of the neo-realists, who
have "joined forces" with behaviorism, rather than against the
original representatives of the school itself.2

When Mr. Lovejoy proposes to the pragmatist, or to any one
else, his five conundrums about the place of mind in the mechanical
or "physical" order, one has a right to know what he means by
his terms. "Physical" means, he says, "occupying a position in
objective space and existing as a part of the sum of masses and
forces dealt with by physical science." This he quotes. Does he
agree to the meaning or does he even think that the statement is
clear? Does any one suppose that the physical order is independ-
ent of mind! Or does not its nature change as the mind succeeds
more and more in imposing it upon the world? For the mechani-
cal order may not be absolute; it may be slowly evolved by means
of the twin factors of experience and reflection. Let it not be for-
gotten that mass and space and time change their meaning as ex-
perience is enriched and reinterpreted; that the mechanical order
of nature is not the absolute and static system it was taken to be,
when it achieved its first successes. Does any one suppose that
throughout the age-long effort to describe nature in mechanical
terms those terms will retain their original and primitive meaning?
Will mass forever and infallibly suggest the name of Galileo or
Democritus, or space the name of Euclid, or time the name of Kant
or Newton? To a student of the history of scientific conceptions
nothing could appear more improbable, nothing could appear more
unnatural than this.

The difficulty of a number of gentlemen who call themselves
"realists" consists, or so it seems to me, in the assumption of an
absolute mechanical order, which, if not grasped, is at any rate
grasped approximately. Approximately to what? Why, to that
absolute which he assumes, but about which he remains inarticulate.
Let him define what he means by the real order of nature and I
shall understand what is meant by a knowledge which approximates
to it. But define it in his "sense" he can not.

Choose as an illustration, if you will, the simplest experiment
to be found in the laboratory list. Suppose that your problem is
to find the distance between two scratches on a piece of glass. He
will say perhaps that there is an observed or approximate length

2 The thesis that mind is describable in terms of behavior was first elabo-
rate! by Professor Singer in a series of articles in this JOURNAL; 1911, p. 180;
1912, pp. 15 and 206; 1914, p. 645; 1917, p. 337. These papers easily remain
the best formulation of the beharioristic standpoint.

MIND IN THE MECHANICAL ORDER 491

and there is also an absolute length, which, because of the error at-
tached to every observation, remains forever unobserved. The real
length is the limit of a series of approximations, a Grenzbegriff.
You focus the cross wires of your micrometer microscope upon the
object and you take in succession a number of readings. These
readings differ inter se. They can not all be "true." It is mean-
ingless to speak of any one as ' ' correct. ' ' The arithmetical mean is
the "best" approximation. Approximation to what? Why, to the
Grenzbegriff.

Now I can understand what it means to speak of a limit to the
series,

because each term is formed from its predecessor according to a
definite law. But what does it mean to speak of the limit of the
fraction,

10.7 -f 10.1 + 10.3 -f- • • • + (the nth observation)

divided by n (where the numerator contains the sum of your scale
readings), when n is increased without limit? Each reading bears
no necessary relation to its predecessor or to its successor. Each one
is accidental and for any finite number of readings, which is the most
you can take, the arithmetical mean is accidental too. And so I
assert that it is meaningless to speak of the limit of such a series.
Or to state the general truth, of which this case is a simple exem-
plification, the real object of perception can not be conceived as
Grenzbegriff or as the limit of a series of approximations. What
these conflicting observations betray is the presence of a mind as an
essential part of the total situation and not the presence of an ab-
solute object.3

If there is no absolute object, no more can the mechanical sys-
tem, in which objects are found, be taken to be absolute. Thus it
is not uncommonly supposed that, while the future is in some small
measure under man's control, the past must remain irrevocable and
quite unchanged. "What is past is past," and "what has happened
has happened," are the tautologies, which are supposed to force
this truth upon us. No doubt at all about the tautology itself. But
what is past and what has happened are exactly the matters which
ever have been and will ever be in dispute, world without end.
Having gone thus far I am quite prepared to go further and I shall
venture to assert that the past is no more irrevocably determined
than is the future. It is just as plastic, just as amenable to our

s See the article, ' ' A Spirit which Includes the Community, ' ' this JOURNAL,
Vol. XVIII, No. 18.

1 •_' JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

interpretations. What was the azoic age, you may well say, when
no one was there to observe it? An sick it was like nothing so much
as nothing at all. It all depends upon what observer you imagine
to have been present. It is nothing, if not the product of his ex-
perience and his reflection. To the soul of Empedocles, seated it
may be these two millenniums on the rim of Saturn, it has seemed,
you may be sure, a mingling and unminpling of the four elements,
earth, air, fire and water, guided by the opposite principles of love
and hate. To the "Copernicus of antiquity" and some of the
later Pythagoreans it would have had a heliocentric cast, and to
Newton it would have been without doubt a collection of masses
attracting one another directly as the product and inversely as the
square of the distance between their centers. Not only is the past
plastic in the same sense in which the future is plastic, but it is
ever being made to conform more and more to deep-lying human
desires. I mean, too, that these desires, being as often as not mis-
guided, are as constantly being given up in the light of an experi-
ence that is ever enriching itself.

There remains the question: what is the place of consciousness
in a world thus mechanically ordered? Our answer must be brief,
for the argument is already well known. Let one illustration suf-
fice. I am quite unaware, of course, physiologically speaking, what
a "prick" of conscience may turn out to be. In order to have be-
fore us a concrete example, which in the case contemplated is to
speak medicynically, let be granted that a "prick" of conscience is
the same thing as a spasm along a yard or two of the intestinal
tract. Does any one suppose that the owner of this "apparatus"
of conscience is the only one in a position to observe the significance
of its behavior? No doubt he is favorably "placed" to interpret
it as a summons to action of some appropriate sort. But is he the
only one in a position to offer judgment? In point of fact the op-
posite is very frequently the case. His physician, or it may be his
father confessor, who is privy to some shady financial transaction
of his, may easily diagnose his case better than he can judge it him-
self. He may not even recognize his persistent malady as a prick
of conscience at all. His physician, or his friend, it may be, recom-
mends him to go and do otherwise; his malady disappears and is
followed by a peace which surpasses even that small understanding
which he has of himself and his world. It is nowise affirmed that
a physiological description of what a prick of conscience may be
exhausts all of the meaning therein contained, for such a happen-
ing may have far-reaching social and esthetic consequences. Set
down in New England and become universally "bred in the bone,"

THE ANCIENT LANDMARKS 493

it may be fairly decisive of the character of a literature and of the
domestic habits. A spasm along a yard or two of the intestinal
tract may or may not be a great deal more than just that. This
simple view, that more than mechanism can be seen in a world seen
to be mechanically ordered, will yield an answer, I think, to all of
Mr. Lovejoy's five conundrums.

HENRY BRADFORD SMITH.
UNIVERSITY OP PENNSYLVANIA.

THE ANCIENT LANDMARKS : A COMMENT ON
SPIRITUALISTIC MATERIALISM

"Kemove not the ancient landmark." Proverbs, XXII; 28.

" Philonous. Tell me, Hylas, hath every one a liberty to change the current
proper signification annexed to a common name in any language? For
example, suppose a traveller should tell you, that in a certain country men
might pasa unhurt through the fire; and . . . you found he meant by the
word fire that which others call water. . . . Would you call this reasonable?

"Hylas. No; I should think it very absurd. Common custom is standard of

propriety in language. And for any man to affect speaking improperly, is

to pervert the use of speech and can never serve to a better purpose than

to protract and multiply disputes where there is no difference of opinion."

— Berkeley, Dialogues between Hylas and Phttonous, II.

In my recent philosophical wanderings I have met a surprising
number of travellers who seem to mean "by the word fire that which
others call water." I have, for example, encountered, in the suc-
cessive spring numbers of the Philosophical Review, two who appear
to me to play very fast and loose with the terms "spiritual" and
"material." (i) One of these, Professor Sheldon, writes in defense
of what he calls "positive" or "enlightened" materialism,1 though
he fills the greater number of his pages with "the indictment of
materialism"2 of the popular type, the description of mind and
consciousness ' ' in terms of physical process. " 3 In these pages Dr.
Sheldon sets forth what he calls "the definite incompatibilities be-
tween admitted facts of consciousness and . . . material process."4
Of the specific properties of consciousness which are incompatible with
the conditions of material reality he especially stresses the following :
first, the "presence of the past in memory"; 5 second, the annihila-

i ' ' The Soul and Matter, " by W. H. Sheldon. Bead as the President 'e
Address at the December, 1921, meeting of the American Philosophical Associa-
tion (Eastern Division). Philosophical Review, 1922, XXXI, pp. 103-134.

2 Ibid., p. 1102.

sibid., p. 109s.

* Pp. 1282 et al.

B Pp. 110* f.

•I'.M JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

tion of distance, in the perception of far-away objects ; * third, the
fact that "in selective attention what physically is, psychically is
not";7 fourth, the effectiveness of the future event in purposed
action;8 finally, the "self-continuing" aspect of pleasure" and
the self-checking tendency of pain.10 The first three of these
are "incompatibilities of cognition" from which Sheldon derives
the conception of mind as "a unity both inclusive and exclusive, or
preferential."11 From the incompatibilities of affection-conation
he argues that mind possesses "an organic systematic character that
makes [it] into an independent agent."11 For he rightly insists
that "there are no impersonal bits of consciousness," that "there
is no consciousness that has not selfhood";12 and he stresses over
and over again "that individuality which constitutes a self."18
His general conclusion is that "materialism, conceived in exclusive
terms, denying unique spiritual being, is false. ' ' 14

But at this point Sheldon's argument makes a sharp turn. He
reminds us that the mind "occupies space and time," that "it acts
upon the external world," that "it resides in living organisms and
extends itself far beyond the limits of those organisms, without los-
ing its place in the latter." " The student of philosophy will recog-
nize this as little other than Henry More's conception of the extend-
edness of spirit. But Sheldon, so far from concluding that exten-
sion is spiritual, teaches explicitly that "mind is material, because
it displays all the positive attributes of matter, ' ' that while ' ' dualism
is right in declaring that mind as compared with the matter of our
sense-world is unique; dualism and spiritualism are quite wrong
. . . when they deny materiality and substantiality to mind. ' ' ie
And he enlarges this initial doctrine of mind as "material" by a
hypothetical conception of matter in a new sense. "There might
be," he says, "a kind of body which . . . would be material be-
cause it offers resistance and possesses inertia" which would yet
"have one surface in two places at once"; and "there might well
be atoms," unlike those "which the evidence of sense observation
leads us to believe in ... equally material, because equally potent

« Pp. 112* f.

^ P. 117».
«P. 118.
• P. 1243.

10 P. 126».

11 P. 128«.
"P. 128».
is P. 1162.

i« P. 128*. Cf. p. 132i.
" P. 132i.
132i.

THE ANCIENT LANDMARKS 495

in controlling the motions of other atoms, which exercise their powers
in many places at once. ' ' 17

The theory thus briefly summarized is immensely significant in
its stress on the substantiality and individuality of mind and in
its call upon "a spiritualistic psychology" for a statement of the
"precise laws" of mind.18 As enlightened materialism the doctrine
may, to be sure, be challenged at several points. One may, for
example, call attention to Sheldon's unargued identification of
the "physical" with the material 19 and to his parallel claim of "the
evidence of sense observation" for materialism.20 Or again, one
may point out that so long as Sheldon "deliberately" neglects to
take into account personalistic philosophy 21 he can hardly argue
that his "enlightened materialism, freed from the negations . . .
men have read into it, forms the only warrant of subtantiality to
the self. ' ' 22 For substantiality, in the sense of persistence through
change, is precisely one of the characters of the personalist's self.
But the main purpose of the present paper is neither to emphasize
the significance of Sheldon's rediscovery of mind nor to criticize his
doctrine of its extendedness but simply to challenge his right to the
term "materialism" as descriptive of his doctrine. For Sheldon's
conception of "the absolute reality of both matter and mind"23 is,
as he himself sometimes recognizes, 24 a form of dualism. And cer-
tainly a philosophy which begins by arguing the existence of unique
spiritual being is not materialism in the sense which the usage of
centuries has given to the word; a doctrine which "forms the only
warrant of substantiality to the self" is neither "positive" nor
"enlightened" materialism. Anybody with a vestige of respect for
"ancient landmarks" in language will protest to the end against
this "perversion of the use of speech."

(ii) Professor Sheldon, as has appeared, seeks to materialize
the mind. The aim of Professor Loewenberg is, on the contrary, to
spiritualize matter. 25 This feat he readily accomplishes by the
simple device, on which his whole argument turns, of identifying the
"spiritual" with the "valued," or "significant." Thus he refers
to "meaning, significance, dignity, rationality — in short, spiritual-

" Pp. 1302-131.
is Op. oit., p. 133.
i» Pp. 131i et a\

20 p. 13H. Cf. p. 1332 et al.

21 p. 1063.

22P.1291. Italics mine.

23 P. 1333.

2* P. 129i.

25 cf. J. Loewenberg, ' ' The Apotheosis of Mind in Modern Idealism, ' '
Philosophical Eeview, 1922, XXXI, pp. 215 ff.

}'.»•; JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ity";*8 and he explicitly uses "spirituality" as synonym for "con-
gruity with ideals."*7 Once this meaning is attached to the term,
Loewenberg brilliantly demonstrates that mind may be "essentially
unspiritual" *• and that "matter is capable of sublimation as much
as is mind." *' For on the one hand, mind may be, as Schopenhauer
describes it, "blind, foolish, capricious, sordid and miserable";*0
on the other hand, materialism is "accepted by its votaries" as satis-
fying both the spiritual "sentiment of rationality"81 and "the
quest for unity . . . behind and beyond the superficial medley and
flow of things."*8

I have no quarrel with these conclusions. Like all technically
trained contemporary "idealists," I do not dream of denying either
the "speculative possibility" of a world that is "through and
through mental, but ... at variance with our ideals"88 or the
fact that materialism may well satisfy genuine "human needs" of
those who hold it. Nor am I concerned with the virtual implications
of Dr. Loewenberg's closing paragraphs: that philosophy reduces
to a form of differential psychology or to biography,84 that "the
assertions of philosophy" are essentially "expressions of conflict-
ing motives and needs" and that "the strife of rival theories in
philosophy is a tragic struggle not of competing . . . hypotheses but
of incompatible passions and values."85 My main purpose is, once
more, to protest against the wresting of a word from its time-honored
meaning. The term "spiritual," whatever the divagations in the
use of it, has always carried a meaning directly opposed to that
of "material." Many idealists, doubtless, before and after and in-
cluding Leibniz and Berkeley, have combined with a spiritualistic
doctrine an uncritical optimism ; but, however unfounded their in-
ference from the mental nature of the world to its value, they have
not (to my knowledge) confounded the meaning of the term "spirit-
ual" with that of "valued," or "significant." "Spiritual" means
simply "pertaining to spirit." The ambiguity in the use of the
term is due mainly to the diverse tendencies now to identify "spirit"
(after Berkeley's fashion) «• with "mind," "soul," and "self,"

"Op. cit., p. 219.

" Op. cit., p. 218i. Cf. pp. 2173, 230.

a« P. 219 el al.

*• P. 229.

»« P. 219.

•i P. 229.

« Pp. 2301-231.

»» P. 218.

8* This ia the writer '0 inference, not a statement of Loewenberg himself.

»• P. 236.

»« Cf. Principle* of Human Knowledge, II.

BOOK REVIEWS 497

again to limit the meaning of spirit and to denote by the word,
"mind (or self) in its higher reaches." In either of these uses,
however, the spiritual is roughly speaking the personal and, as such,
sharply distinguished from the material. 37 Dr. Loewenberg's es-
sential conclusions are, of course, unaffected by this criticism of his
use of terms. But, stripped of its paradoxical and unhistorical iden-
tification of "spiritual" and "material," this portion of his paper,
it would seem, reduces to a dispute "where there is no difference of
opinion."

MARY WHITON CALKINS.
WELLESLEY COLLEGE.

BOOK REVIEWS

The Nature of Existence. Volume I. J. M. E. MCTAGGART. Cam-
bridge University Press. 1921. Pp. xxi -f 309.

There are some systematic works, even works of philosophy, that
may be read as a sort of austere recreation. They may be
read for the sheer pleasure of watching the thought sprout
and grow in this direction and in the other. We are saying a great
deal about Dr. McTaggart's new work when we say that it can not
be included in this class. If there is any one who has the gift of mak-
ing crooked paths straight and reducing an obscure or complex argu-
ment to absolute lucidity, it is the author of this work. Nevertheless,
there are passages, whole chapters indeed, in The Nature of Exist-
ence, where the reading is about as fluent as the middle chapter of
a Symbolic Logic. All has been done, one feels, that language
can do ; yet the thought itself is so involved that, as Professor Broad
has said, "it is a remarkable achievement for a writer to have kept
his head among all these complexities without the help of an elaborate
symbolism. ' '

That this difficulty may not be found in the forthcoming second
volume of the work is suggested by the author's statement of his
plan. In the first volume he considers "what can be determined as
to the characteristics which belong to all that exists, or, again, which
belong to existence as a whole." In the second volume he proposes
to consider "what consequences of theoretical and practical interest
can be drawn from this general nature of the existent with respect
to various parts of the existent which are empirically known to us. ' '
Throughout this first book the reasoning is rigorously a priori. There
are only two occasions on which Dr. McTaggart makes any appeal to
perception : once to prove that something exists, and again to prove

37 Since Hume wrote, the term ' ' spiritual ' ' has served also to differentiate
the personalistic from the ideistic form of idealism.

498 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

that this something is not simple; and even of these cases, it is only
in the former that he feels such appeal to be necessary. This resolute
adherence to the a priori is not in metaphysics a matter of choice,
he contends; it is a matter of necessity. When the question is what
characteristics belong to everything that exists, or to existence as a
whole, the use of induction is absurd. Induction proceeds by noting
the resemblances among the members of a class: but existence as a
whole is not a member of a class of such existences. Again, the num-
ber of existent things is infinite, and hence no possible inductive dili-
gence could bring within its purview more than "an infinitely small
proportion of the whole. " This abjuring of sense experience and ad-
herence to "the high priori road" naturally suggests Hegel; and
while Dr. McTaggart is careful to distinguish his own method from
the Hegelian, he admits that it stands "much closer to Hegel's
method than to that of any other philosopher." He is so entirely
unimpressed with the arguments that have been brought against the
fertility of the deductive method in metaphysics that he offers only
a very brief defense, and refers the reader to the answer that has
been given by "Mr. Bradley in a passage which I regard as by far
the most important and illuminating comment ever made upon
Hegel."1

Some of McTaggart 's chief positions may be set in relief by a
comparison with those of the contemporary to whom he here so ap-
provingly refers. Bradley, as well as McTaggart, is a metaphysician
who still believes that final truth may be gained by the speculative
route about the nature of reality and the nature of truth itself. Both
believe that "nothing exists but spirit." Both emphasize the dis-
tinction between "what" and "that," the "nature" of a thing and
its existence. Both maintain that neither of these sides can be
without the other ; and they would hence agree that such entities as
propositions, possibilities and ' ' floating ideas, ' ' if regarded — as many
realists would regard them — as real but non-existent, are quite gra-
tuitous. Both would regard every judgment as ultimately a judg-
ment of existence, and all reality as ultimately existent. It is no doubt
because he holds this view that Dr. McTaggart has given his work
the title that it bears, since in studying what exists he considers that
he is examining the character of all that is real. Both thinkers, again,
agree in the doctrine of degrees of truth and would hold that since
the nature of a thing is not independent of its relations to other
things, our conception of it must change as its relations are more
completely apprehended. And though Bradley 's sweeping disbelief
in the reality of all relations would set him at last apart from Mc-

» Logic, Book III, Pt. I, Ch. II, E.

BOOK REVIEWS 499

Taggart, both, would hold that our knowledge approaches perfection
in the degree to which we lay hold of an order of necessity which in-
volves everything in its web.

But with this general agreement, there are striking points of
difference which appear at the outset of McTaggart's work. It is
evident, for example, that neither reality nor truth means to him
what it does to Bradley. For while McTaggart would admit degrees
of truth, he would deny that there can be any degrees of the real.
" 'A is X' may misrepresent the nature of A less than 'A is Y/ but,
unless it is quite true that A is X, then A is not X, and AX is not
real at all" (p. 5). Again, what constitutes the truth of a belief is
not its coherence with a system of beliefs, but its correspondence with
the specific fact about which it is entertained. Correspondence does
not mean copying ; but while we can say what it is not, and can point
to examples of it, we are unable to say what it is; it is a relation
which is unique and therefore undefinable. It is this difference of
view regarding the relation of judgment to reality which explains,
I think, the other difference just noted. In Bradley 's view the
reality judged about is actually present in judgment; "the real
Caesar beyond doubt must himself enter into my judgments and be a
constituent of my knowledge. ' ' 2 There is no external and real object
to which my judgment, if true, must correspond. My judgment is
reality affirming itself in part through my mind. Truth and reality
become identical, and hence the degrees of each are the same. But
for one who holds that the content of judgment is distinct from the
fact referred to, and that the truth of the one is quite distinct from
the reality of the other, it is clear that a judgment may become more
true without the fact's becoming more real. Indeed, since truth
belongs to beliefs, and beliefs are psychical events which are con-
tinually coming and going, truth too must come and go. Thus a
fact may be real but can not be true; while a judgment or belief may
be true, but except in its character as psychical event, apparently
not real. If I dream of Mrs. Gamp, my dream itself is real, but
Mrs. Gamp is not; and if Mrs. Gamp were real, that reality would
belong to her and not to any judgment about her. And reality, like
existence, is either there or not there. Indeed, although McTaggart
distinguishes the existent as prima facie only a species of the real,
it seems to me that throughout he means by "real" "existing" and
nothing more.

Perhaps the most interesting feature of Dr. McTaggart's discus-
sion of truth is its incidental criticism of the doctrine of proposi-
tions. These, he maintains, are needless intermediaries between

2 Essays on Truth and Seality, p. 409.

500 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

thought and fact, and on principles of economy may be eliminated.

All cases both of true and false beliefs he thinks sufficiently covered

1 y the formulae that truth is correspondence with the fact referred

iiid that falsity is a relation of non-correspondence to all facts.

The argument of this volume, after the introductory book, is at
once so compact and so complex that nothing beyond an indication of
the trend of the argument is here feasible. Having proved that
"something exists" by showing in Cartesian style that to doubt it
involves the existence of the doubt, and having shown that existence
without qualitative content is meaningless, the author maintains
that all qualities belong to substances, substance being defined as
"something existent which has qualities without being itself a qual-
ity." A substance is infinitely divisible, and since each part is also
a substance, the number of substances is infinite; while, further,
the nature of each is distinct. The author's main problem is now
to determine the types of relation which bind substances and their
qualities together. Of these perhaps the most important are what
McTaggart terms intrinsic and extrinsic determination; the first
of which is the implication between characteristics in virtue of which
inference is possible, and the second of which is a relation of inter-
dependence which unites every quality and every substance in such
a way that, given the alteration of the slightest detail anywhere,
we could not with confidence expect anything to be the same. With
this relation established, McTaggart proceeds at once to the con-
tention that the universe is an "organic unity," a conception which
(probably with memories of the bitter history of the term) he takes
a separate chapter to define. The last division of the book is de-
voted largely to the working out of a very elaborate relation called
"determining correspondence" between the various substances in the
universe, a relation which is devised to meet, and which McTaggart
believes does meet, the contradiction apparently presented by the
infinite divisibility of substance.

It seems likely that this work will first gain its proper estimation
at the hands of that increasing group of thinkers who are at home
on the borders of mathematics and philosophy rather than from
those who have confined themselves to the more traditional modes of
thought. Whatever their verdict, it is clear that Dr. McTaggart
has given us one of the most lucidly written, thoroughgoing and
competent books on metaphysics that have appeared in many a year.

BRAND BLANSHARD.

UNIVERSITY or MICHIGAN.

BOOK REVIEWS 501

The Truths We Live By. J. WILLIAM HUDSON. New York : D. Apple-
ton & Co. 1921. Pp. x + 308.

A presentation of truths we live by need not be startling. On
the contrary, a veracious work of art makes us feel at home. "We
recognize its truths as old friends and commend its essential trite-
ness. There is a sense of familiarity but of a different sort, to be
had from reading Professor Hudson's book. It continues a phil-
osophic tradition but lacks the feeling of reality.

It is addressed to men and women "who have not specialized in
philosophy, and are, nevertheless, interested in life's greater prob-
lems" (p. x). It proposes to forward moral reconstruction by at-
tacking a certain current skepticism which adduces the findings of
science and the history of morals as evidence that no ideals are
absolutely valid.

The conflict over the comparative value of such specific ideals
as self-sacrifice and pleasure, Mr. Hudson disposes of by the argu-
ment that "all conflicting moral ideals imply a moral end that in-
cludes them all and transcends every one of them" (p. 27). This
end may be called self -realization.

His second and larger aim is to show that the beliefs necessary
to moral confidence are as certain as the presuppositions of science
and are arrived at in the same way. They are outside the range
of specific sciences but are as demonstrable as scientific laws are.

He says, "We justify the great underlying laws of science, such
as the Law of Universal Causation, by the fact that we want sci-
ence ; we justify science in turn through the fact that we want life ' '
(p. 107).

Since desire is the fundamental characteristic of life, reason
must serve it by accepting what it demands. The truths, there-
fore, that are necessary for a moral life must be received in the
same way that the scientist assumes Universal Causation. Mr.
Hudson thinks there are four beliefs which are thus "demonstra-
ble."

The first of these is the belief "that the universe is at bottom a
moral order ; that is, an order in which righteousness will certainly
triumph or at any rate has a chance to triumph" (p. 53). For the
purpose of the argument this latter reservation is dropped and we
are told that "we are to believe in the utter triumph of the good
if our moral confidence is to be sure; and it must be sure" (p. 55).
Such confidence involves belief in personal immortality, in God and
in freedom of the will.

The will to live, which is at the center of the evolutionary proc-
ess, becomes, in human beings, the will to live a specific kind of life.

502 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

And the ideal life of perfect goodness, truth, and beauty for which
men strive requires infinity for its development. Immortality is
thus one of the great verities.

Analysis of the idea of God turns, in Mr. Hudson's mind, into
a demonstration that God is real, not only ideally, but existentially,
"as you and I are real" (p. 175).

The ideal is a dynamic good which includes the struggle to reach
it; it includes nature, since nature is not wholly indifferent to
man's uses; and it is the ideal for all humanity. Professor Hud-
son's unexpected conclusion is, "The Perfection we seek is the in-
finite Series of our deeds including all of nature and the lives of
all our fellows" (pp. 182-183).

"This 'totality of things' suddenly emerges as something more
than that God which science gives us under that phrase. It is no
longer, rightly interpreted, a mere aggregate of facts . . . but it
is a moral order, a Life, realizing itself through infinite time" (p.
183).

To the belief in immortality and God, thus achieved, Mr. Hud-
son adds the conviction that our wills are absolutely free. If we
are to be held accountable for our deeds we must have the power
of freely choosing ' ' regardless of previous events in the outer world,
in spite of our previous character and of all the experiences that
have tended to make us what we are up to date" (p. 228). For
such choosing, Mr. Hudson is forced to conceive of an ego behind
the scenes. In order that it, in turn, may be free from any taint
of influence, 'he says we may think of it as uncreated and co-eternal
with God.

The argument will doubtless be convincing to many of the read-
ers to whom it is addressed. The painstaking care with which it is
presented will perhaps nullify the effect of the unexpected con-
clusions which so often, to use Mr. Hudson's own word, emerge.
Some of the most evident objections to his argument the author
has met. He admits his proof to be dialectical but denies, quite
correctly, that he sanctions any belief which we merely wish to ac-
cept. He has shown what many "moderns" need to remember,
that the science which is quoted as authority in every field of hu-
man thought has in reality nothing to offer upon many subjects of
the utmost importance. This merely means that intelligent in-
vestigation still has something to do. It does not mean that we
must have recourse to dialectic in order to discover the facts of ex-
istence.

Mr. Hudson's argument is confused whenever it touches upon
the nature and validity of scientific hypothesis. It is true that

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 503

science is justified as a human pursuit only if it contributes to hu-
man well-being; that fact, however, is neither the basis nor the
justification for its hypotheses. Speaking with tongues might be
justified on the grounds of edification; its deliverances would be,
none the less, nonsense.

Again, when he speaks of ideals, Professor Hudson's argument
is not clear. He sees that human desire is the first word in the
moral life and that harmony is the form which the good life will
take. Yet he falls back into an absolutism which can conceive
"only one Perfect." Furthermore, he is not content to let ideals
be ideal. God must exist.

Professor Hudson has attempted to clarify popular ideas of the
relation of science and ethics, but his contribution misses its aim
because it is based upon a confusion in method. The most signifi-
cant parts of his book are the distinctions which he makes and then
ignores.

NEW YORK CITY.

MARY SHAW.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

THE PHILOSOPHICAL REVIEW. XXXI, 4. July, 1922. Valua-
tion and Experimental Knowledge : John Dewey. Humor and Bosan-
quet's Theory of Experience: Katherine Gilbert. Possession and
Individuality: E. Jordan. An Approach to Idealism: Frank E.
Morris. Rosmini, Bonatelli, and Varisco, on Consciousness: James
Lindsay.

REVUE PHILOSOPHIQUE. XLVII, 7-8. July-August, 1922.
Numero exceptionnel : Les Theories d 'Einstein sur la Relativite.
La signification philosophique de la theorie de la relativite: H.
Reichenbach (trans, par M. Leon Block}. Pour 1'intelligence de la
relativite: G. Cerf. Einstein et la metaphysique : Ed Goblot. Le
temps et 1'espace du sens commun et les theories d 'Einstein: E.
Richard-Foy.

PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW. XXIX, No. 3. May, 1922. The Onto-
genetic Significance of Instinct, Habit, and Intelligence: James L.
Mursell. Practical Logic and Color Theories: Christine Ladd-
Franklin. The Significance of Psychical Monism: Leonard Tro-
land. Synaesthesia, A Form of Perception : Raymond Wheeler
and Thomas Cutsforth. A Comparison of Mental Abilities of Mixed
and Full Blood Indians on a Basis of Education : Thomas R. Garth.
Discussion: Induction and Radical Psychology: Victor S. Tarros.

504 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Bergson, Hi-nri: Duree et Simultan&te. A propos de la
Th4orie d 'Einstein. Paris: Felix Alcan. 1922. viii + 245 pp.

Carr, H. Wildon : A Theory of Monads. Outlines of the Phil-
osophy of the Principle of Relativity. London: Macmillan & Co.
1922. 350 pp.

Cox, George Clarke : The Public Conscience. New York : Henry
Holt & Co. 1922. xix + 483pp. $3.00.

Ginsberg, Morris: The Psychology of Society. New York: E.
P. Dutton & Co. 1922. xvi -j- 168 pp. $2.50.

Nordmann, Charles: Einstein and the Universe. Trans, by
Joseph McCabe. New York: Henry Holt & Co. 1922. xvi +
240 pp. $2.50.

NOTES AND NEWS

We have received the first number of Volume I of the Arkiv
for Psykologi och Pedagogik from the Library of the Royal Univer-
sity of Upsala, Sweden. The Arkiv is a continuation under a new
name of the Revue Psyke which ceased publication in 1920.

During the academic years 1922-23 and 1923-24, the Gifford
Lectures at the University of St. Andrews will be given by Professor
C. Lloyd Morgan of Bristol. "Evolution, Emergent and Creative"
will be the subject of these lectures.

VOL. XIX., No. 19 SEPTEMBER 14, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

TIME, MEANING AND TRANSCENDENCE
I. THE ALLEGED FUTURITY OF YESTERDAY

I AM greatly obliged to Professor Dewey for the careful and ex-
tended comment1 with which he has honored my contribution
to Essays in Critical Realism. Philosophers of eminence have not
always been equally ready to enter the lists and join issue directly,
and point by point, with their critics. Mr. Dewey 's two papers,
therefore, are an encouraging manifestation of belief in that con-
ception of the philosophic quest of truth which makes it consist in
an essentially social and cooperative process of intellectual experi-
mentation, wherein all philosophical theses, arguments and distinc-
tions are cast into the alembic of searching, patient, analytic dis-
cussion by many and diverse minds. I do not, indeed, find that, in
the present instance, great progress has as yet been accomplished
towards actual agreement. But that, doubtless, is a result which
could hardly be expected after a single exchange of views. Mean-
while Mr. Dewey 's articles seem to me to do a good deal to make
more clear the nature, the grounds and the causes of disagreement.
And I am hopeful that a continuance of the discussion may still
further clarify not merely these matters, but the important philo-
sophical issues which they involve.

"What those issues are it is doubtless well to remind the reader.
In the essay with which Mr. Dewey 's articles are concerned I at-
tempted to vindicate, among others, the two following theses: (a)
that all practical or instrumental knowledge is, or at least includes
and requires, ' ' presentative " knowledge, a representation of not-
present existents by present data; (6) that "pragmatically con-
sidered, knowledge is thus necessarily and constantly conversant
with entities which are existentially transcendent of the knowing
experience." As the simplest and least dubitable example of such

i ' ' Realism without Monism or Dualism, ' ' this JOURNAL, XIX, pp. 309-
317, 351-361. These papers will be here cited as B. M. D., and the Essays in
Critical Realism as E. C. R.

505

506 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

transcendent reference, and therefore as a crucial instance, I cited
our judgments of retrospection and anticipation. In them, it seems
obvious to most men, we "mean" and know entities which are not
directly given in experience at the moment when they are known,
inasmuch as they do not then form a part of the existing world.
In justifying both the general theses mentioned, and the particular
instance of judgments about the past, I was under the necessity of
controverting views which had been expressed by Mr. Dewey and
which seemed to me an aberration from the true logic of his own
pragmatic doctrine. Though not without some ambiguity of lan-
fruage, he had seemed to maintain that the object meant or known
in valid judgments must always be "directly experienced" — an
assertion which, if taken literally, would imply the impossibility
of intertemporal cognition, of the knowing of one moment's ex-
perience at another moment. And in fact, with respect to the
special case of knowledge of the past, Mr. Dewey had been led by
his "principle of immediate empiricism" into an apparent denial
of it.s possibility.2 Because the past object is transcendent of the
experience that knows it, is "past and gone forever," Mr. Dewey
had in numerous passages betrayed a curious reluctance to admit
that the past as such can be said to be "known" or "meant" at
all. This paradox is in truth, as I have previously contended, an
inevitable consequence of the attempt to escape epistemological
dualism by denying the transcendence of the object known.

The same paradox the first part of Mr. Dewey 's reply seems to
reaffirm and even sharpen; for its argument leads up to such as-
sertions as: "the present or future constitutes the object or genuine
meaning of the judgment about the past";8 in retrospective judg-
ments "the actual thing meant, the object of judgment, is pros-
pective";4 "the past occurrence is not the meaning of proposi-
tions" of this type.5 And since he has, as he thinks, overthrown
this supposed crucial instance of the transcendent reference of
knowledge. Mr. Dewey concludes that he has proved it "possible
to drop out the epistemological theory of mysterious 'transcend-
ence.' ' While, for reasons to be mentioned later, I doubt whether
these propositions mean what they say, I shall first assume that
they do so, and shall review Mr. Dewey 's argument as an attempted
proof of them.

2 For example see E. C. B., pp. 42-4, 62-4, 63-71.

» See R. it. D., p. 313.

« B. M. D., p. 314.

• K. If. D., p. 312; italics in original.

TIME, MEANING AND TRANSCENDENCE 507

1. The first argument consists in the contention that it is "only
when the past event which is judged is a going concern having ef-
fects still directly observable" that "judgment and knowledge are
possible." But this proposition, which is given the emphasis of
italics, is, I suppose, denied by no one; I, at least, am far from
disputing it. Obviously, the ground of present belief must be a
present ground; the evidence which can to-day justify a judgment
about yesterday's events must be evidence existing to-day, not
yesterday. Nor do I see any objection to converting this truism
into Mr. Dewey's proposition that " the true object of a judgment
about a past event may be" (I should even add: in the case of
scientifically verifiable judgments, must be) "a past-event-having-
a-connection-continuing-into-the-present-and-f uture. ' ' Since we do
not regard as now knowable (in the usual sense of "knowledge")
past matters of fact which have left no now discoverable trace of
or witness to their reality, we may properly enough say that the
complete "object" of any genuine piece of verified knowledge of
the past is a past having effects, direct or indirect, surviving in the
present (memories being included among these effects). In other
words, continuity — usually of the causal sort — with the present is
undeniably a part of the meaning of the expression "known past
event. ' ' But the part is not the whole ; and it is upon a distinction
so simple as this that Mr. Dewey's first argument breaks down.
For the matter at issue has to do solely with that part of the total
object of a judgment about the past which is past. Mr. Dewey
seems to suppose that when it is shown that any valid and verified
retrospective judgment contains at least an implicit reference to
the present and future, we are thereby relieved of all logical con-
cern about its primary reference to the past. It is as if an astrono-
mer, observing in the spectrum of a star both red and yellow rays,
should say to himself: "This red is evidently merely a red-in-con-
nection-with-yellow ; it will therefore suffice, in my study of the
star, if I consider only the yellow, disregarding any problems
which may have to do solely with the red." But, as Mr. Dewey's
own expressions inevitably and repeatedly concede, the past refer-
ence still remains, an essential aspect of the present cognitive ex-
perience; and with it remains the justification for the contention
of the portion of my paper under discussion.

2. Mr. Dewey, however, seeks to justify the monopoly of his
philosophic attention enjoyed by the present and future part of a
retrospective judgment's reference, by means of a distinction be-
tween "object" and "subject-matter"; and it is upon the applica-
tion of "this generic and indispensable distinction" to that class

r,os JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

of judgments that he seems finally to rest his case. By "subject-
matter" he signifies the "accepted considerations" in any inquiry,
the tliinirs known, or taken as known, in order that they may lead
to a knowledge of something else which at the outset of the inquiry
is not known. The "object" is this something else, which becomes
a "thing known," an accepted consideration, at the successful con-
clusion of the inquiry. Thus in a court of law the verdict "con-
tains the object, the thing meant; evidence presented and rules of
law applied furnish subject-matter." The distinction itself is un-
exceptionable, though more sharply contrasted terms might have
been found to express it; but Mr. Dewey's way of applying it "to
analysis of judgments about the past" seems to me really very odd.
In such a judgment it is "the nature of the past event" which he
identifies with the "subject-matter," on the ground that it is "re-
quired to make a reasonable judgment about the present or future";
the latter "thus constitutes the object or genuine meaning of the
judgment." Hence, "there is nothing forced or paradoxical about
the view that in all such cases the actual thing meant, the ob-
ject of judgment, is prospective."6 Q. E. D. The paleontolo-
gist will thus learn, with some surprise, that when he is seeking to
determine whether a certain fossil animal was contemporaneous
with paleolithic man, the "actual thing meant" by his inquiry, the
"object or genuine meaning" of the judgment which he reaches
at the end of it, is not an organism that has been extinct for ages,
nor even present fossil remains, but something "prospective." As
for that class of judgments about the past which are the specialty
of courts of criminal law, Mr. Dewey's previous application (cited
just above) of his distinction to these judgments now manifestly re-
quires not merely revision but reversal. In a coroner's inquest,
for example, the "nature of the past event" under inquiry is the
manner in which the deceased came to his death ; which is there-
fore the "subject-matter" of the inquiry; which in turn means, by
Mr. Dewey's definition, that it constitutes the "accepted considera-
tions" in the case; while "the evidence presented" — though it is
classified as "subject-matter" only a few lines earlier in Mr.
Dewey's paper — must in the light of his present conclusion be re-
moved from that class (and so from that of "accepted considera-
tions") and be described as the "still unattained object" of the
inquiry 1

« B. M. D., pp. 313, 314; italics mine. The distinction between object and
subject-matter, as here used, seems to be merely another phrasing of that be-
tween ' ' reference ' ' and ' ' content ' ' employed for the same ends in The Influence
of Darwin upon Philosophy, p. 61. Cf. my comment on this, E. C. E., p. 67.

TIME, MEANING AND TRANSCENDENCE 509

How has it come about that Mr. Dewey thus reverses, in the
course of a single page, the meaning of his own terminology for ex-
pressing this "indispensable distinction"? The origin of the con-
fusion is perhaps not beyond the reach of analysis. If he had ad-
hered to his original definitions, it would have been obvious that,
in any inquiry into the nature or reality of a past event, the "ac-
cepted considerations," and therefore the "subject-matter," must,
as he himself in other passages often reiterates, consist of present
data — the testimony of the witnesses, the character and situation
of the fossil. Thus the superior status of "object" would have
fallen to the lot of the past event to which the inquiry relates. This
result, however, would be contrary to Mr. Dewey 's main thesis ; and
consequently, another distinction seems to have been unconsciously
substituted for the original one, while the same pair of terms is re-
tained to express it. The new distinction actually seems to turn
upon a play on the double meaning of the word "object." In the
original distinction the word, of course, meant simply the thing
referred to in a judgment; it now means the purpose or interest
which leads one to ask the question which the judgment answers:
"the object is the fulfilment of an intention." Thus — as Mr.
Dewey illustrates — if I ask myself whether I mailed that letter
yesterday, the "object" of my inquiry is to get answers to such
questions of present or future interest as these: "What is the state
of affairs between some other person and myself? Is his letter ac-
knowledged or no; is the deal closed, the engagement made, the
assurance given or no?" Now, of course, the "object" of an in-
quiry or judgment — i.e., of the raising of the inquiry or the mak-
ing of the judgment — in this sense of the term is undeniably always
present or future. My object, the fulfilment of my intention, in
doing anything is necessarily synchronous with or subsequent to
the doing. But the illicitness of the substitution of this sense of
"object" for the former needs no pointing out. Yet it is solely
by means of this unconscious pun that Mr. Dewey gives even a
semblance of plausibility to his conclusion that "the object of a
judgment is always prospective."

When we revert to his original, and only pertinent, definition of
object — "the true object of a judgment about a past event [must]
be a past-event-having-a-connection-into-the-present-and-f uture ' ' T
— it becomes evident that it is not only arbitrary but absurd to
single out from that total "true object" of the judgment one part,
the present and future part, and apply to it exclusively the eulogis-
tic descriptions of "the object or genuine meaning of the judg-

f B. M. D., p. ail.

510 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ment," "the actual thing meant." The absurdity, of course, con-
sists in the fact that, if any part were to be singled out for such
preferential treatment, it would be precisely the part to which Mr.
Dewey, in his final conclusion, refuses recognition; as his own lan-
guage shows, the judgment is, after all, "a judgment about a past
event." In other words, the present and future facts included in
what he regards as the total object of such a judgment are ad-
mittedly logically instrumental to a knowledge of the past fact.
True, the past fact, once known, may in a subsequent moment, when
reflection is directed to other issues, serve as the means of proof of
something else. But to let this obscure the respective logical roles
of past fact and present and future facts in the original, actually
retrospective, inquiry is to fall into the fallacy against which Mr.
Dewey himself has warned us — that of failing "properly to place
the distinctions and relations which figure in logical theories in their
temporal context," of "transferring the traits of the subject-matter
of one phase to that of another, with a confusing outcome. ' ' 8 Hav-
ing arrived at the retrospective conclusion that A killed B, a court
may then proceed to the prospective conclusion that A ought to be
hanged. Doubtless — if Mr. Dewey insists on his pun — the court's
"object" in the former inquiry was to determine whether or not A
shall be hanged. But this does not alter the fact that during the
trial the court's function consists in looking backward, and that the
distinction between the verdict, which is mainly the business of one
ret of men, and the sentence, which is usually the business of an-
other man, is that the former constitutes an assertion about what
has happened and the latter implies an assertion — in American
courts, of a rather low order of probability — about what is going
to happen. If, indeed, pragmatist writers could only be persuaded
to master the distinction between a verdict and a sentence, they
might discover why it is that their critics find in their writings a
constant and baffling confusion of temporal categories.

Let me now briefly recapitulate. Mr. Dewey 's attempt to justify
the thesis that in judgments about the past "the actual thing meant,
the object of judgment, is prospective, ' ' consists of two arguments :
(a) He observes that the "true," i.e., the total, object of any ret-
rospective judgment, if regarded as verifiable, includes present
and future facts which are the means of its verification. This is
true but irrelevant. The object of such a judgment also includes
past facts; these do not lose their pastness by their "connection
with the present"; and it is with them that the issue raised in my
paper had to do. (6) His other argument resolves itself into the

• Essays in Experimental Logic, p. 1 ; cited in E. C. S., p. 78.

TIME, MEANING AND TRANSCENDENCE 511

substitution of one sense of the expression "object of a judgment"
for another sense — namely, of the sense "fulfilment of the inten-
tion which prompted the making of the judgment" for the sense
"thing or event logically referred to by the judgment." The proof
of the " prospectiveness " of the judgment's reference is based upon
the former meaning, but the conclusion is illicitly transferred to the
latter. Both arguments thus fall to the ground. Yesterday, qua
yesterday, still remains irreducibly external to to-day, existentially
transcendent of all the present thinkings and knowings which have
to do with it and all the present, immediately experienced data
which give circumstantial evidence concerning it. Mr. Dewey,
therefore, has in fact done nothing to "eliminate the machinery of
tanscendence and of epistemological dualism," or to show (in the
sense required by the argument) that "we are never obliged, even
in judgments about the remotest geological past, to get outside
events capable of future and present consideration."9

3. The sentence just quoted, however, is worth dwelling upon;
for it excellently illustrates a certain elusiveness of import which
seems to me highly characteristic of the entire argument. The
reader will have observed that everything, in the interpretation of
the sentence, depends upon the meaning assigned to the words
"capable of future and present consideration," and that these
words may bear either of two meanings. They may most naturally
be taken to mean "capable of being thought of in the present and
future." So taken, the sentence embodies the most harmless of
truisms; undeniably, "even in judgments about the remotest ge-
ological past," we never "get outside events" which may be ob-
jects of present or future thought. But here it is the thought and
not the thought's object that is present or future; and therefore,
so taken, the sentence has no pertinency to its context. It is by no
means equivalent to the proposition with which it seems supposed
to be synonymous, viz., that "the actual thing meant, the object of
judgment, is prospective." To make it fit the context, therefore,
the reader's mind is likely to transfer the futurity or presentness
mentioned from the thought to the object. So taken, the sentence
becomes pertinent but it also becomes the most glaring of paradoxes.
And it is, so far as I can see, from this quick and delicate, — and,
of course, unconscious — shifting of meanings and of matters-re-
f erred-to, that the argument must gain whatever interest and plausi-
bility it can conceivably possess, for Mr. Dewey or anyone else. It
is the paradoxical sense of the ambiguous proposition which gives
it its interest, its appearance of novelty and importance, and it is

9 B. M. D., p. 316.

512 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

its platitudinous sense which gives it its appearance of truth and
even self-evidence; and either end of the thing, or both in rapid
alternation, may be turned towards the bewildered critic of prag-
matism, as the exigencies of controversy require. It is just such an
unwitting shift of meanings that renders in some degree intelligible
(certainly nothing else can do so) Mr. Dewey's insistence that
' ' there is nothing forced or paradoxical ' ' about his principal thesis.
Taken as stated and in the natural sense of its terms, the proposi-
tion that the "actual thing meant" by a retrospective judgment is
prospective, is as evident and as queer a paradox as philosopher
ever penned. But taken with certain qualifications which are some-
times suggested — and which really reverse the meaning — it is in-
deed no paradox, but a commonplace. The qualified meaning of
the statement seems to be that already discussed, namely, that among
the things at least implicitly "meant" by a judgment about the
past, in so far as that judgment is conceived as verifiable, are pres-
ent and prospective data of experience. But for this simple and
unimpeachable statement is speedily substituted language which,
by the usual rules of English speech, should signify that the sole
"actual thing meant" in such a judgment is something present or
prospective. And here again the truth of the first proposition
throws its mantle over the paradoxically of the second, while, re-
ciprocating the service, the paradoxicality of the second gives to
the truth of the first an air of unfamiliarity, of deep and stirring
revelation.

And in this lies, I think, the real nub of the difficulty in the
present discussion. It is, I am convinced, this fashion of treating
as equivalent and interchangeable the two meanings of an ambigu-
ous proposition that gives the pragmatist the illusion of having dis-
covered a new way of escape from old dilemmas; and it is this, he
ought at any rate to be told, which makes his reasonings, to some,
of his readers, puzzling and elusive to the last degree.10 And now
that the point has been made explicit, I venture to hope that Mr.
Dewey will face the distinction indicated and will tell us plainly
which of these two very different things he means to assert: (a)
the flagrant paradox that the only "thing meant," in a judgment
about the events of yesterday, is future or ' ' prospective ' ' — ' ' a blank
denial that we can think of the past," as a philosophical corre-
spondent of mine puts his understanding of Mr. Dewey's meaning;
or (&) the familiar commonplace that we form judgments which
relate to actual past events, but that these judgments constitute

10 The play upon the moaning of ' ' object, ' ' already noted, is another case in
point.

TIME, MEANING AND TRANSCENDENCE 513

verifiable knowledge only in so far as the past events are causally
connected with present or future existents which can serve as
means of verification, and that our motive in judging is always
some present interest. The choice of either alternative would com-
pel Mr. Dewey to abandon one part or another of the complex of
propositions making up his form of pragmatism. If he elects the
first, he will thereby deny such judicious observations as he himself
has often made, to the effect that "detached and impartial study
of the past is the only alternative to luck in assuring success to
passion"; and, in general, will repudiate not merely a primary
conviction .of common sense, but a necessary presupposition of the
method of the empirical sciences. If he elects the second meaning
of his equivocal thesis, he is — as has already been sufficiently
shown — then faced with the admitted existential externality of the
past object — or, if he prefers the phrasing, the past part of the ob-
ject— of the judgment. The case for epistemological dualism based
upon the actual pastness of the object, or an object, of the retro-
spective judgment would therefore remain unshaken. And, it must
be added, even if the more extreme version of his contention about
these judgments were made out, the main issue concerning tran-
scendence would not be vitally affected; for a "prospective" ob-
ject is as manifestly transcendent as a past object. In short, all
that Mr. Dewey even attempts to do is to substitute one mode of
transcendence for another.

4. Mr. Dewey concludes his first paper with a counter-attack,
charging me, and apparently critical realists generally, with a
' ' subjectivism ' ' " from which he represents his own version, though
not all versions, of pragmatism as free. The subjectivism alleged
consists in the view that, since our retrospective judgments mean
but do not actually include and possess the past, belief in their
validity, in the existence of the past to which they refer, involves
an element of alogical faith, explicit or implicit. At any given
moment of reflection the testimony of his memory is the only evi-
dence any man possesses as to any empirical fact whatever, beyond
the immediately present sense-data; but the testimony of memory
can not itself be empirically verified. My entire store of recollec-

11 It is unnecessary to comment at length on Mr. Dewey 's assertion that my
view — and any dualistie or monistic realism — implies that "isolated, self-com-
plete things are truly objects of knowledge." "Isolated" past events are, in
the sense that they are external to the present; isolated they are not, and axe
not by the realist held to be, in any sense which denies their "connection with
past and future. ' ' Mr. Dewey is here (p. 315, foot) attacking a man of straw,
the misdirection of his attack being due to a failure to discriminate between
logical distinction and lack of causal connection.

514 JOURNAL OF FHILOSOI'II Y

tions may conceivably bo illusory; that they are not can not be
proved, mid belief in their general trustworthiness is therefore an
instinctive and practically necessary assumption which outruns
proof. This I had always supposed to be a universally accepted,
though an important, truism. But Mr. Dcwey rejects it. Never
will the true pragmatist "isolate the needs or propensities of the
agent and regard them as grounds of belief in the validity of mean-
ing." As against the realist's weak yielding to "instinctive pro-
pensities," the pragmatist insists austerely upon "logical verifica-
tion."

Now if Mr. Dewey has really discovered a way out of this an-
cient impasse of thought, has found a strictly "logical" means of
verification of the reality of yesterday and the validity of retrospec-
tion as such, he has, assuredly, made a most momentous contribu-
tion to philosophy. But the discovery, if made, is not disclosed in
his paper. None of the three considerations which he adduces prove
the possibility of any such verification, (a) He apparently thinks
that those who deny the possibility of a strict verification of the
general belief in a real past and of the general trustworthiness of
memory, as it exists from moment to moment,- must dispense with
logic altogether and follow merely their "instinctive propensities"
in deciding what particular judgments about the past they will be-
lieve and what reject. But this by no means follows. The structure
of any logical system of empirical beliefs is obvious enough. We
first postulate, or implicitly assume, that there was a past and that
our present memories constitute a source of knowledge concerning
it, except in so far as they are subject to certain conflicts inter se.
We then find these memories exhibiting certain prevailing uniformi-
ties of sequence and coexistence among the things remembered;
from these we derive our conception of a regular order of nature;
and finally we reject as spurious any memory-content which con-
flicts with this order, and as doubtful any which our present memo-
ries of the fortunes of former rememberings render suspect. But
the necessity for that initial postulation the pragmatist can as
little escape as any other man who will take the trouble to reflect
at all upon the logical grounds of his beliefs. (&) Mr. D<-
however, seems to suppose that he has escaped it by his "account of
knowledge involving past events" — which presumably refers again
to the proposition that "the actual thing meant" in such knowl-
edge is "prospective." But this proposition must, once more, be
taken either in its literal and paradoxical, or in its qualified and
truistic sense. In the former, it signifies that we never mean, and
therefore never have as objects of our knowledge, any past events

DR. MCTAGGART AND CAUSALITY 515

whatever. Such a thesis is hardly favorable to the view that knowl-
edge of the past is "logically verifiable." In the qualified sense,
the proposition, as we have seen, means that we do actually know
the past, with the aid of present memory-images and sense-data.
But how the present existences constitute a true "logical verifica-
tion" of past existences, the proposition does not explain, (c)
Finally, Mr. Dewey tells us, in familiar pragmatistic language, that
a belief about the past is "verified or condemned by its conse-
quences." This, however, is another example of the error from
which the pragmatist, of all men, should be most free — the con-
fusion of the traits of one temporal phase of experience with those
of another. When the consequences of a prior belief arrive, that be-
lief is already "past and gone forever"; and how, at the later
moment, we can — except by means of a faith in memory — know
even that there was a prior belief of which these are the conse-
quences, Mr. Dewey does nothing to make clear.

Considered as historical phenomena, most of the aspects of Pro-
fessor Dewey 's view about judgments of the past which I have here
criticized seem to me to be simply manifestations of the working
of the old leaven of epistemological idealism, and of the wrong sort
of intellectualism, of which pragmatism has not yet purged itself —
expressions of an obscure feeling that nothing ought to be treated
as "known" which is not immediately given, actually present,
totally verified on the spot. For the critical realist, on the con-
trary, all our knowledge (beyond bare sensory content) is a kind
of foreign commerce, a trafficking with lands in which the traffickers
do not live, but from which they may continually bring home good
store of merchandise to enrich the here-and-now. And like all such
traffic, it requires first of all a certain venture of belief, instinctive
with most men, deliberate and self-conscious with those who re-
flect.

ARTHUR 0. LOVEJOY.
JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY.

DR. McTAGGART AND CAUSALITY

MANY different persons compose the public, which thus contains
a multitude of minds. Sociologists dispute with one another
over the existence of a single public mind that combines this multi-
tude, into one. It is convenient to assume, for some purposes, this
unitary combination of many individual minds, as any particular
mind is composed of many thoughts. It is convenient when so many

516 JOURNAL OF PH1L08OPH Y

members of the multitude think alike that one common mind seems
to have one thought. There are such occasions and the public esti-
mate of Dr. McTaggart 's The Nature of Existence would very
probably be one of them. Dr. McTaggart has himself supplied a
sentence to express this public estimate. Most people, perhaps even
including many professional philosophers, would only see in The
Nature of Existence an elaborate and unnecessary amplification
of the sentence on page 136 which reads: "But things which are
unimportant are none the less real." The public adoption of this
sentence to characterize the book would not adopt the motive which
prompted it. Dr. McTaggart 's sympathies center on the word
"real," but the public emphasis would fall on the word "unim-
portant." The unanimous public mind would probably admit, with-
out troubling to inquire further, the possible truth of Dr. McTag-
gart's opinions, and then decline to discuss them. The writer himself
probably only expects to appeal to a few minds who will study the
problem of existence without requiring an immediate connection
with the interests of practical life. He does hope to derive some
insight into questions of practical interest from his discussion of
the general nature of the existent (p. 51), but he probably expects
the public mind to prefer a more immediate study of the practical
to such a long metaphysical detour.

The most practically minded person may feel the fascination of
the principle stated on page 87 :" when any substance changes, all
substances must change." The pen of the astronomer, it has been
said, as it records or calculates the motions of the planets, alters
these motions by its own movements. The imperceptible effect on
a giant planet of the insignificant pen appeals to imagination as
a revelation of the sensitiveness of the universe to its most micro-
scopic occurrences. It appeals also to the innate human desire to
exert control by suggesting that the slightest human action spreads
its influence through society. But the imaginative appeal of theo-
retically existent but imperceptible and irrelevant influences can not
stay the vehement human hunt after effects more patent, more im-
pressive and more palpably enduring. The susceptibilities of the
universe of substances to the changes in one of them, as stated by
Dr. McTaggart, have too little dramatic flavor to inspire a reformer.
There is a suggestion of important possibilities if it is tme that
Brown's body changes when Smith, after being thinner than Brown,
becomes fatter than he. If Smith can change Brown's body by a
change in his own body perhaps he can affect Brown's political
opinions by altering his own : a vista of entrancing possibility is
promptly opened. Dr. McTaggart, however, is thinking of change

DR. MCTAGGART AND CAUSALITY 517

in a very practically unimportant sense, though it is very real.
When Smith was thinner than Brown, Brown's body was related
to Smith's body by being fatter. This relationship generated in
Brown's body the quality of being fatter than Smith's. When
Smith becomes the fatter of the two Brown's body alters its quality
of being fatter than Smith's to the quality of being thinner. The
ardent reformer might reflect, as he is faced with this illustration
of universal interaction, on his stupidity in reading past page 7.
''On the other hand," Dr. McTaggart there remarks in a footnote,
"the possibility that it might be raining now, when in point of fact
it is not raining, has no practical interest for me." The first seven
pages should have shown to anybody, the reflecting reformer might
well think, that the whole book was devoted to precisely such prac-
tically unimportant possibilities.

If the practically minded representative of the public reads
paragraphs 30 to 33 he will probably think that the study of "the
characteristics which belong to all that exists, or again, which belong
to Existence as a whole" (p. 3) promotes peculiarity of thought as
well as devotion to practically unimportant possibilities. Any two
things, selected from the vast store of the universe, have, he learns,
the same number of characteristics, and he may be too contemp-
tuous of the proof to relish its deftness. A poker is hard and long
and shining and, it may be supposed, to the north of London. An
idea in a mind has corresponding qualities — but it has the quality
of being not-hard, of being not-long, of being not-shining and is,
presumably, not to the north of London. If the idea is vivid the
poker has a corresponding quality of being not-vivid and so, by
ascribing to everything every relation or quality, either positively
or negatively, any single thing has precisely the same number of
characteristics as any other. Since a shiny poker is not only more
shining than an unpolished one but also has the quality of possess-
ing a total group of qualities which, because it includes shininess,
is different from the group of qualities possessed by the dull poker,
since this development of qualities and relations could be indefinitely
extended and since a similar unending development of qualities and
relations could proceed from any one point of comparison between
the poker and any other existent thing the poker has an infinity
of characteristics — qualities and relations. The hypothetical single
public mind, which can be conveniently substituted for many gasp-
ing individuals, will probably marvel at the peculiar preference of
the metaphysician for researches which diffuse themselves over un-
important suppositions and very dubious speculations.

Our natural practical instincts incline us to a sharp distinction
between mere mechanical aggregates, like a heap of stones, and

518 JOURNAL OF FHILOSOI'II V

organic unities, like a plant or a tiger or a human society. When a
handful of stones is removed from the heap it becomes smaller with-
out appearing to be further sensitive to the change in its parts.
The whole tiger is more sensitive to the removal of his tail and the
loss of its chief sends an emotion through the whole of a
human group. We think naturally of tigers and societies as
"genuine wholes in which no part nor characteristic is indif-
ferent to any other." A triangle, Professor Bosanquet adds
to this definition of "a genuine whole," is imperfectly genuine
in this sense because there is some indifference: its angles
have the same sizes, however big or small it may be, if it
keeps the same shape (Implication and Linear Inference, p. 7).
For non-metaphysical wisdom the heap of stones is even less sensitive
to its parts and less genuinely a whole than the triangle. If we
accept hints from Dr. McTaggart we observe a greater sensitiveness
in the heap to its parts. If it has as many stones as a neighboring
heap before it loses a handful, it alters its quality of being equal
to its neighbor to the quality of being less. It may become less
than many other heaps which were previously larger than itself and
each new relation involves a new quality in the heap. Dr. McTag-
part would probably suggest to Professor Bosanquet that the angles
of a large triangle do differ from the angles of a triangle which
is smaller and has the same shape. The angles in the larger tri-
angle are angles which have the quality of being related to a triangle
which is larger than the smaller triangle, and the angles in the
smaller triangle, since they are related to a triangle which is smaller
than the larger triangle, have a different quality from the angles of
the latter. If Dr. McTaggart is right then "all wholes are really
organic unities" because "since the whole as a unity is what it is,
the parts must be what they are" (The Nature of Existence, p. 161).
These Hegelian refinements touch a sympathetic chord through the
practical crust on our minds. Dr. McTaggart gets the whole uni-
verse into an organic unity which is sensitive to all changes in its
parts. He seems to turn our ears to Blake as he says "For not
one sparrow can suffer, and the whole universe not suffer also"
(Jerusalem, Ch. 1, XXV, 8).

There is more appeal in Blake's sparrow than in Dr. McTaggart 's
more bloodless multitude of abstract qualities and relations. Dr.
McTaggart realizes that suffering appeals more to our sense of
life than does the cold recognition that the pain of a sparrow alters
in a regardless passer-by the quality of being near a happy sparrow
to the quality of being near a sparrow which suffers. He would
doubtless insist on the equal reality of both forms of sensitiveness

DR. MCTAGGART AND CAUSALITY 519

in the universal whole without denying the greater importance for
practical life of sympathy with suffering. He insists that our
customary standards of value determine our customary division of
things into biological organisms and beautiful objects, which are
organic unities, and into more mechanical aggregates which are not.
The decrease in size of a stony heap is only important for special
purposes ; slight changes in living or beautiful things produce differ-
ences which affect our sense of value (p. 161). His deduction from
a survey of the less impressive, and apparently very unimportant,
modes of sensitiveness in wholes to changes in their parts, that all
wholes are organic unities, is a reminder of the disturbance which
practical common sense notions may exert on the effort to under-
stand the real nature of the universe.

This lesson may be drawn from The Nature of Existence if all
else is rejected. The way of philosophical understanding opens out
of the way of life because before becoming philosophers we must
first live. But it is not merely its continuation. The impression of
hopeless irrelevance first made upon our minds by The Nature of
Existence is the response of men who spontaneously estimate every-
thing by its direct bearing on their lives to a problem which in-
cludes them as items in a vaster, universal whole. The notions of
relevance and irrelevance imposed upon us by the exigencies of
life, which only demand from us knowledge adequate for our pri-
mary purposes, may have to give way before the wider demands
of knowledge. "We do not, in any ordinary relevant sense, alter
objects by perceiving them. An apple retains the same shape, color
or taste whether it is or is not being looked at. There are differ-
ences, however, between the perceived and the unperceived apple
which are usually ignored because they are practically irrelevant.
When A looks at the apple it is cognitively related to him and has
the quality of being perceived. It sheds this relation and the
quality generated from it when A turns away to look at something
else. Its characteristics do not diminish, on Dr. McTaggart's doc-
trine, because it is now unperceived by A and has a corresponding
negative quality. An exhibitor of pictures need not sharpen his
apprehension of their qualities and relations by studying The Na-
ture of Existence. Neither he nor his patrons will affect his paint-
ings by merely looking at them in any way relevant to esthetic ap-
preciation : their colors will not fade nor any other of their physical
qualities be altered by simple inspection. It is less certain that
the epistemologist can say dogmatically: "Knowing is never making.
It is just knowing." (Laird, A Study in Realism, p. 35.) Since
epistemolcgy is wider than exhibiting pictures it may be its duty to

JOURNAL OF PHlLOSOl'll Y

remember that a painting is never the same under inspection as it
:> in the dark. The contemplating mind appears to common sense
to select its object from a world of being which is distinct from, and,
in this sense, independent of itself (Alexander, Space, Time and
Deity, i, 15). If the process of selection determines in the object
the quality of being thus selected, the quality of being perceived
and many other qualities determined by these two, the serenity of
this conclusion is disturbed. The impression of hopeless irrelevance
begins to pass into an impression of ultimate and philosophically
significant relevancy. The geometer can often come down success-
fully upon a problem relating to lines and triangles in two dimen-
sions by considering the analogous problem in three dimensions.
Perhaps the abstract qualities and relations discussed by Dr. McTag-
gart may serve the philosopher as the higher dimension serves the
geometer. He may be able to descend successfully from the study
of the characters of all existents, or of existence as a whole, irrele-
vant and hopelessly abstract as they may at first appear, upon
problems which have been discussed on the tacit assumption of
their irrelevance.

By such a descent organic unities may cease to be regarded as
intruders into an unorganized world. The epistemologist who sup-
poses his perceived object to be unaffected by his perceptions may,
by making his survey more comprehensive, discover more universal
interaction than his theories contemplate. The past is not fixed if
the coronation of Queen Victoria ceased to be the last British coro-
nation in 1903. (The Nature of Existence, p. 87.) Will a per-
sistent exploration of the ultimate characteristics which belong to
existence or existents as a whole as such permit a successful descent
upon the vexed question of causation? Will "cause" and "effect"
obviously disappear or be obviously confirmed under Dr. Mc-
Taggart's dialectic? Dr. McTaggart has no doubts and firmly
restores the concept of causality uhich has been dismissed by the
anti-causationists of the day. The concept has been a little distorted,
though not seriously draggled, during its passage into exile and
back, but it does return.

Mr. Bertrand Russell has a favorite device for discrediting the
causal relation. He delights in interrupting causal sequences by
interventions: if a man is shot immediately after taking a fatal dose
of arsenic the dose is deprived of its causal effect (The Analysis of
Mind, p. 94). This compels a shortening of the time-interval be-
tween cause and effect to avoid the intrusion of such interventions
which ultimately coalesces them into indistinguishableness. This
cup-and-mouth argument strikes hard at the inevitableness of con-

DR. MCTAGGART AND CAUSALITY 521

nection which the causal relation implies. Science can get no nearer
to the traditional causal law than to say, "A is usually followed by
B" (p. 96). Mr. Russell selects favorable ground for this crusade
against causality. "I put my penny in the slot, but before I can
draw out my ticket there is an earthquake which upsets the machine
and my calculations." Rigid determinations will be less discernible
in complex phenomena and amid the stir and fuss of the varied
world of events and things it is necessary that "to be sure of the
expected effect we must know that there is nothing in the environ-
ment to interfere with it. ' ' They will be less discernible also because
''as soon as we include the environment, the probability of repeti-
tion is diminished, until at last, when the whole environment is in-
cluded, the probability of repetition becomes almost nil" (Mysticism
and Logic, p. 187). Repetition is not necessary to rigid determina-
tions, though, if it occurs, it assists in their recognition. Obviously,
the examination of complex phenomena favors the application of the
cup-and-mouth argument because rigid determinations will neither
be prominent in repetitions nor lie nakedly in the complexities ex-
amined.

The differential equations which supersede spurious causal laws
in advanced sciences (p. 194) conceal causality by summarization.
Buckle was greatly impressed by the statistical constancies dis-
covered by Queletet. He mentions, among others, the constant an-
nual number of unaddressed letters (History of Civilization in
England, i, 32). Supposing, to fix ideas, that for every 10,000
people in the British Isles one letter is posted every year without
an address, the equation unaddressed letters X 10,000 = population
represents this statistical constancy. This simple equation, assum-
ing it to be more stringently true than in reality, illustrates the
mathematical ignoring of causes. The statistician anticipates the
number of unaddressed letters during any year by dividing the
number representing the population by 10,000. The mathematical
result, as such, is independent of causes, but it is only possible be-
cause causes operate. There is a cause for the posting of each un-
addressed letter : absence of mind in some instances, hurry in others
and many more besides. The mathematical summary drops the
causes out, but if they were not it would not be. The choice of
the differential equation to confute the pro-causationists is even more
effective than the choice of complicated phenomena to conceal causal
connections. "With the latter the cup-and-mouth argument is needed,
but is effective because it is difficult to uncover connections in their
nakedness. But it is not needed with the former because differen-
tial, or other, equations bury causal connections quite out of sight

522 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

in a summary. Bertrand Russell crusades very successfully on his
chosen ground but will his conclusion that "The Law of Causality
. . . like much that passes muster among philosophers, is a relic
of a bygone age, surviving, like the monarchy, only because it is
erroneously supposed to do no harm" (Mysticism and Logic, p. 180)
survive a descent upon it from the ultimate characteristics of exist-
ents and existence?

Anything which has a quality must be related to that quality
in that it possesses it. (The Nature of Existence, p. 112.) This
change of ground supplies McTaggart with a route of descent into
the rigid determinations which Russell so successfully conceals. He
discovers the relation of intrinsic determination among the ultimate
characteristics of existents. "If it is true that, whenever something
has the quality X, something has the quality Y, this involves that,
besides the relation between the two propositions 'something has the
quality X,' and 'something has the quality Y.' there is relation
between the qualities X and Y. I propose to call this relation In-
trinsic Determination" (p. 111). If anything is blue it is spatial
(p. Ill) ; if a certain man is a husband, a certain woman must be
a wife (p. 112) ; if anything stands in a relation it has the quality
of being a term in that relation (p. 112). There are inevitable
or rigid connections which are proof against all interventions and
can not be summarized away in a formula or by a differential equa-
tion. Two qualities may intrinsically determine one another di-
rectly or they may determine one another more indirectly. "The
two qualities of Snowdon, being a mountain and being M feet high,
do extrinsically determine one another. For anything -which had
not the quality of being today M feet high would not be the sub-
stance which we call Snowdon" (p. 115). There is no intrinsic
determination between being a mountain and being M feet high, as
there is between being a mountain and spatiality, because a moun-
tain may be any height above 1,000 feet. But since Snowdon is
M feet high and is a mountain these two qualities are extrinsically
co-determinate because of their connection with that particular
mountain. "All qualities of a substance extrinsically determine one
another" (p. 114) : if a quality of a substance changes, its nature
changes, and each other of its qualities becomes a member of a
different group, though the difference may be slight, of qualities.
"All oxistonts are thus bound together in one system of extrinsic
determination" (p. 151), but the relation of intrinsic determination
bears more directly on causality. The discussion of the peculiar
form of Intrinsic Determination which is defined by Dr. MeTaercrart
a* determining correspondence (p. 214) can be avoided in following
the descent from Intrinsic Determination into causality.

DR. MCTAGGART AND CAUSALITY 523

The death of Charles I and his execution seem to preclude any
intervention that could separate them or violate their Intrinsic De-
termination. The execution might have been prevented, and pre-
vented even as the axe descended, but when his head was severed,
Charles had to die. We are very close to a discovery of causal
connections, for the execution of Charles would be ordinarily re-
garded as the cause of his death and as inevitably producing it.
Fifty years hence, or earlier, surgery may intervene successfully
between decapitation and death. This abstract possibility, which
could not be disproved, saves the cup-and-mouth argument from
defeat at this point: it is not easily defeated on its own ground.
Meanwhile, a reasonable argument might run, in our particular part
of the universe and pending a possible achievement of surgery : be-
heading determines death and the two are tied together as cause
and effect.

Intervention between antecedent and subsequent is more ob-
viously possible between drinking alcohol and intoxication. A
draught of alcohol normally enough to result in drunkenness may
leave a drinker who is abnormal or abnormally situated still sober.
Determination can be approached more closely by reversing the order
earlier-later to the order later-earlier and by taking the qualities
more precisely (p. 238). Any man who is drunken with all the
characteristics of alcoholic intoxication must have taken alco-
hol: alcoholic intoxication intrinsically determines drinking alco-
hol in sufficient quantity. This inversion of the direction of
determination qualifies the ordinary conception of causation
which contemplates only a forwards determination of effect" by
cause without a backwards determination of cause, by effect. Causa-
tion becomes a particular instance of intrinsic determination where
the terms are temporally distinguished — the cause being merely
the earlier and the effect merely the later. The relative positions of
the cause and effect in time alone distinguish causation from other
instances of intrinsic determination (p. 227) — the cause exerts no
activity on the effect (p. 224). Dr. McTaggart includes in the
conception of causation its occurrence as a relation between qualities,
since all intrinsic determination is between qualities, though these
qualities include relational qualities (pp. 220-221), i.e.. qualities of
substances which arise directly out of their relations. This version
would probably not satisfy all pro-causationists — not Mercier who
thought causes entered into permanent phenomena to disturb their
tranquillity, as events (On Causation with a Chapter on Belief,
Ch. 2), and not Lossky, for whom the idea of causal connection im-
plies one event actively producing another (The Intuitive Basis of

524 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Knowledge, Duddington's trans, p. 23). Dr. McTaggart also in-
cludes in the conception of cause the involvement of general laws
(The Nature of Existence, p. 154).

Causality thus reduces to a temporal distinction in Intrinsic
Determination. Dr. McTaggart 's restoration of the concept of caus-
ality has obviously involved it in some critical reconstruction. A
tie or necessary connection is left between cause and effect, but ef-
ficacy or agency is rejected.

Alexander, in one place, describes causation as "the continuous
connection in sequence of two events within a substance" (Space,
Time and Deity, ii, 153). This apparent acquiescence in the ex-
traction of the effective element from the causal sequence is ap-
parently contradicted by a recognition of "the influence of one
thought in our minds over another" (ii, 152). He seems to avoid
the introduction of efficacy into physical causation : physical causa-
tion is the continuous transition of one physical event into another
(i, 97), and causality is a relation of continuity between two differ-
ent motions (i, 279). When he adds that "our power is an instance
of causality," that power or necessity is not contained in the con-
ception of causality as a category and that "our awareness of
power is but our consciousness of the causal relation between our
will and our acts" (i, 291) he seems to acquiesce in the expulsion
of efficaciousness from causation. "Self-initiation" results from
the addition of "the consciousness of activity" to "simple causality"
(ii, 154), minds and external things, as compresent, are in causal
relation (ii, 155) : he thus seems in sympathy with McTaggart 's re-
duction of this much disputed category to a " ... modest but per-
vasive category of causation" (i, 290), for McTaggart takes from
the anti-causationist a modest remnant of the originally potent
causal sequence, though he is less certain about its pervasiveness
than Alexander — causality may not be universal (The Nature of
E. riat r nee, p. 231).

The fortunes of the concept of causality may be compared to
the fortunes of the notion that chemical elements may be a mixture
of atoms with different atomic weights. The statistical method of
enquiry imposed upon science for many years, obliging it to study
reactions involving large groups of atoms, prevented the detection
cf the different atoms constituting these groups — of isotopes.
Crookes thought he had found an element whose atoms differed in
weight because he obtained different spectra from sifted groups of
these atoms. His "meta-elements," however, were finally identified
with real elements and elements again assumed their apparent atomic
homogeneity. The more effective methods of analysis of the present

BOOK REVIEWS 525

century have established the existence of substances with practi-
cally identical chemical and spectroscopic qualities but different
atomic weights (Aston, Isotopes, Ch. 1). When causal sequences
are grossly taken, the threads of causal or determinate, connection
are concealed. These connections were suspected and their possi-
bility haunted the mind. But phenomena taken in the gross as
causes and effects are liable to the interventions that the cup-and-
mouth argument employs so effectively. Statistical resumes in math-
ematical formulae still more effectively conceal these threads of deter-
mination that run through the complexities of the world.

By singling out, with more delicate analysis, the fundamental
connections in the simple final characters of the world, Dr. McTag-
gart reveals Intrinsic Determination containing temporal distinc-
tions. He reveals causal connections threading together the com-
plexities of empirical existents. The bunches of causal connections,
of temporally distinguishable Intrinsic Determinations, that repre-
sent the gross, complex causes and effects of empirical life, often
have no rigid connection though they may present themselves in
very uniform sequence. They are often sequent by the general per-
mission of the universe — the business man regularly catching his
morning train because the ground does not open to swallow him,
and the human race continuing to exist because the atmosphere is
not swept off into space. But the conviction implanted in the human
mind by the reasonably trustworthy regularity in its experience
seems to be. justified, though by more ideal causal relations than the
first causal relations it affirms. Gross rigid connections are less
rigid than they first appear and many sequences are broken or under-
stood to be breakable. None the less, the degree of regularity in
the. world, which is very great, seems to depend upon fundamental
determinations which are often temporally connected or causal.

JOSHUA C. GREGORY.

BRADFORD, ENGLAND.

BOOK REVIEWS

Senescence. G. STANLEY HALL. New York: D. Appleton and Co.

1922. Pp. xxvii -f 518.

In this 500-page volume, with neither index nor bibliography, but
with a well-analyzed table of contents, Dr. Hall gives a running
account of "how the ignorant and learned, the child, the adult and
the old, savage and civilized man, pagans and Christians, the an-
cient and the modern world, the representatives of various sciences,

526 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOI'Il V

and different individuals" have viewed the latter half of life, "let-
ing each class >pr;ik for itM-lt'. " Tliis compendium of opinions, for
the most part not critically synthesized, is interspersed with the
author's own reflections, with experiences and autobiographical in-
cidents, personal articles of faith, and with reverberations of sev-
eral doctrines long associated with this writer, — the recapitulation
theory, the infantilism of women, the role of unconscious and racial
memories, and the utilization of fragmentary questionnaire returns.

Such a book is not easily reviewed, for it is in itself an organ-
ized series of reviews, under chapter headings. To begin with, such
a book has long been needed, for the study of dotage has too long
been limited to the literary and medical accounts of pathological
cases. Presenting the various opinions, the dilemmas and the situa-
tions of senility as now on record serves to expose a lack of scien-
tific data concerning age and ageing, and Senescence should serve as
the beginning of a really scientific study of the latter half of life,
its approaches, duration and terminal. The author constantly
laments the non-existence of anything that could be called a science
of gerontology.

Chapter I on "The Youth of Old Age" reviews the general
drama of the latter half of life, the changes that come with senes-
cence and precede senectitude. A series of "typical cases" is of-
fered, which however, unfortunately for a science of old age, repre-
sent in the main well-marked clinical pictures of dementia. "The
History of Old Age" in the second chapter reviews the data of
longevity in plants and animals, treatment of the aged in savage,
ancient, medieval and modern societies, and quotes many pictures
of the nature and meaning of age. The "Literature by and on the
Aged," in Chapter III, relates in a hopeful vein the accomplish-
ments of many old people and reports an assorted series of recipes
for happy and efficient senility, ranging from licorice, astrology
and cathartics to sleep, piety and eugenics. The authorities quoted
range from Walt Mason to N. S. Shaler. Typical poems and quota-
tions relating to age and death are given.

Chapter IV treats of "Statistics of Old Age and Its Care" and
includes a study of mortality tables from the point of view of lon-
gevity and changes therein. These show increased average length
of human life and both relative and absolute increase in the num-
ber of old people. The care of the aged, old-age insurance and
pensions, problems and methods of retirement, are all considered.
The importance of the conservation of age is stressed and "a senes-
cent league of national dimensions, ' ' with its own journal, suggested
by a correspondent, is favored.

BOOK REVIEWS 527

Under the heading "Medical Views and Treatment," summaries
are given in Chapter V of many accounts of the causes and symp-
toms of decay, and of the physical basis of longevity. The view
that longevity is chiefly dependent on heredity, though admittedly
"doubtless correct in general," is depreciated because "it is fatal-
istic and tends to lessen the confidence" in the efficacy of medical
administrations. Nor is this the only place in the book in which
views are rejected because of their "psychological effect," in spite
of the observational data on which they are based. The general
conclusion, with respect to medicine, is that individual differences
among the aged are much greater than is usually recognized, and
that each must be in the main his own physician. Chapter VI, on
"The Contributions of Biology and Physiology" reviews the work
of Weismann, Hering, Semon (spelled Simon), Metchnikoff, Minot,
Child, Loeb, Carrel, Steinach, Voronoff and others on such topics
as heredity, growth, prolonging life, rejuvenation, artificial pres-
ervation of tissues, endocrinology, and gland transplantation.
Much significance is attached to the contemporaneous exploitation
of the sex glands and that of the unconscious erotic and it is sug-
gested that in these related fields the cure of man's most grievous
ills must be sought.

In Chapter VII questionnaire returns from "a few score of
mostly eminent and some very distinguished people" are discussed.
These are admittedly "far more suggestive than conclusive" al-
though the selected replies tend more or less constantly to be gen-
eralized or taken as indications of "types." In the next chapter on
"Some Conclusions" the author gives vent to his own reflections
and views and describes many of his own experiences and experi-
ments in growing old. The main themes are the physical and
mental hygiene of age and a protest against the conventional at-
titudes toward the old. Sexual and marital problems, sleep, food,
mood, emotional life, general mental and occupational adjustments,
and the "Indian Summers" of the aged are considered. Especially
emphasized is the preeminence of the old in religion, politics, phi-
losophy, morals and as judges. It is this chapter that will most
interest the general reader. In it, besides the readable accounts of
the psychology of dotage, the author presents his personal views
and advocates his main thesis, "which is that intelligent and well
conserved senectitude has very important social and anthropologi-
cal functions in the modern world not hitherto utilized or even
recognized. The chief of these is most comprehensively designated
by the general term, synthesis."

528 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

A final chapter reviews the literature and opinions on the psy-
chology of death and the various forms and determinations of the
hope for immortality or survival. Of special interest is the advo-
cacy of Stekel's thesis that life is full of "thanatic symbolism" and
that many of the details of poetry, folk-lore, myth, dreams and
neuroses, ordinarily given a sexual significance by the Freudians,
may be better treated as death symbols. "Thanatopsis" and "Cross-
ing the Bar" appropriately close the volume.

Certainly but few topics or solutions have escaped the inquir-
ing eye of Dr. Hall in this exploration of the literature of senility.
The reviewer wishes that at least one adjustment that seems to him
obviously to solve at once many problems both of infancy and of
senility had been fully considered, or at least recognized. On the
one hand, society is burdened by the prolongation of infancy and
education. On the other, it faces an increase in the average span
of life and in the number of the old. The former need some one to
care for them, the latter something to care for. Could not social
organization profit from the skipping of a generation in the pro-
gram jof care ? How can the old better employ their preeminent
judicial capacity and their power of synthesis than in the training
of the young? If children were, by general expectation, the estate
of their grandparents rather than the property of their fathers and
mothers the active generation would be released from its chief
handicap and the two problem-generations both provided with care
and motivation compatible with their dignity. Dr. Hall makes
much of "the eternal war between the young and the old" and as-
serts in the same chapter that in the aged "there is a new type of
interest in young people and in children." It seems far from ab-
surd to suggest that the skipping of a generation in the social pro-
gram of care and responsibility might utilize this new interest in
the resolution of that warfare, and at the ' same time afford so-
ciety an added basis of stability.

H. L. HOLLINGWORTH.
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

The Thirteen Principal Upanishads, translated from the Sanskrit,
with an outline of the Upanishads and an annotated bibliog-
raphy. ROBERT ERNEST HUME. Oxford University Press. 1921.

This is a book of which American scholarship has a right to
be proud. "With little fear of contradiction it may be called the
first adequate English translation of the Upanishads. It is the
result of many years' careful work and of a life-time of preparation.
Himself born in India and brought up in its intellectual atmosphere,

BOOK REVIEWS 529

familiar with the vernacular as well as with Sanskrit, intimate with
Indian as well as with European scholars, at home in both Oriental
and Occidental thought, Professor Hume was in an unusually favor-
able position for rendering the service which he has so painstakingly
performed.

The book contains, in addition to the scholarly translation of the
thirteen principal Upanishads in what is thought to be their chrono-
logical order, a seventy-page Outline of the philosophy of the writ-
ings translated, a discriminating bibliography, and a carefully made
Sanskrit and general index. For the special student, the bibliog-
raphy by itself would be of as much value as many an excellent
book. It is a selected, classified, and annotated bibliography, giving
not only the title and author, but also a brief account and evalua-
tion of all the important translations of the Upanishads, of the chief
editions of their texts, and of the more valuable linguistic and ex-
pository treatises concerning them.

The introductory Outline is an admirable piece of work, tracing
the probable development of the Brahma concept into the first
Indian pantheism, the parallel development of the Atman concept,
the identification of the two, the rise of the distinction between
phenomenon and noumenon as a result of the apparent conflict be-
tween the many and the one, and the reconciliation of the two in
a form of Absolute Idealism. It is perhaps unfortunate that Pro-
fessor Hume so often refers to this final synthesis as "Pantheism"
— a name which surely should be reserved for a more realistic world
view. It is questionable, moreover, whether Professor Hume's ex-
position of the ultimate nature of Brahma and of union with It
really gets to the bottom of the thought of the Upanishads. I would
at least suggest that the real meaning of these ancient thinkers was
that this final union is not to be understood as "an unconscious con-
dition," but rather as a hypothetically pure intuition, consciousness
without an object, — comparable in some respects to Aristotle's
v6rjffi.s vo^Vews (cf. Brihad-Aranyaka, IV, 3 and 5, Kena, 4-8). Of
course this view has difficulties of its own, but it points a way out
of some of the difficulties which Professor Hume seems to regard
as insuperable.

As to the translation itself, too much praise can hardly be given
to its conscientious scholarship and to the aids which it offers the
student for understanding what the Upanishads actually say and
probably mean. In this respect it is superior to both the other
great translations, namely, Eucken's and Max Miiller's. Eucken's
is, of course, a much more inclusive work than Professor Hume's —
as its title indicates, "Sechzig Upanishads des Veda" — and it is a

530 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

work of equal scholarship. In the opinion, however, of several San-
skrit scholars of eminence, it is not so close to the original as is Pro-
fessor Hume's; and the occasional rendering of the verse portions
of the text into doggerel detracts somewhat from its literary charm.
Over Max Miiller's English translation, Dr. Hume's work has even
greater advantages. The older translation is considerably farther
from the original and it is regularly impossible to distinguish within
it what the Upanishads actually said and what Max Miiller added.
The shortcomings of Miiller's version have long been recognized,
and are, indeed, undeniable. Yet I can not refrain from saying one
good word for his great book. Just because of the greater freedom
with which he treated the text he was able to give full swing to his
very great literary power, and the result was a translation which
from the point of view of English was a work of art. The quiet elo-
quence of Max Miiller's noble prose in many of the finer passages is
quite unmatched in any other translation of the Upanishads with
which I am acquainted. Like Gilbert Murray's renderings of the
Greek dramatists, it takes many liberties with the original ; but one
may well question whether the general impression which the be-
ginner takes away from both Murray and Miiller is not more true
to the original work as a whole than he would get from the more
literal and scholarly translations. Personally, I am glad that it
was Max Miiller who introduced me to the Upanishads. I shall
never forget the tremendous impression I got from my first reading
of the Katha and the Brihad-Aranyaka, in his version, twenty-five
years ago. If I had begun with either Eucken's or Professor
Hume's more literal presentations I am not sure I should have re-
ceived any such impression or should have taken away with me any
such desire as I actually did to know more of these unique ancient
writings. I do not think, therefore, that Max Miiller's translation
has as yet been fully replaced or ever will be. The student will
still do well to begin with his translation and go on for his more
exact study to Eucken and Hume.

Tn spite of the fact, however, that in the swing of its diction
Professor Hume's translation is necessarily inferior to Max Miiller's
— necessarily so if it was to have the greater merit of literal render-
ing— it may well be called the first adequate English translation of
the Upanishads. Professor Hume has made it possible for the
student of Indian philosophy and religion who has no Sanskrit to
with a great deal of exactness what it is these ancient books
contain. And it may be added that few books are moro worthy of
study for all who are interested in the human mind and human
thought than these age-long guides to India's meditation. Professor

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 531

Hume has therefore done a work for which he should have the
profound thanks of a host of readers.

JAMES BISSETT PRATT.
WILLIAMS COLLEGE.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

REVUE DE METAPHYSIQUE ET DE MORALE. XXIX, No. 2. April-
June, 1922. Le realisme philosophique en Amerique: R. B. Perry.
Les facteurs kantiens de la philosophic allemande de la fin du
XVIII6 siecle et du commencement du XIX6 (suite) : V. Delbos.
La philohophie d'O. Hamelin: D. Parodi.

THE MONIST. XXXII, No. 3. July, 1922. The Philosophy
of Possibility: James Lindsay. Dewey's Theory of Value: T. V.
Smith. History and Philosophy: C. Delisle Burns. The Relation
of Space and Geometry to Experience (Concluded) : Norbert
Wiener. The Failure of Critical Realism: J. E. Turner. Ein-
stein's Theory of Relativity Considered from the Epistemological
Standpoint: Ernst Cassirer. The Psycho-Genesis of Space: C.
0. Weber. The Realism of Tongiorgi : James Lindsay. The Fal-
lacy of Exclusive Scientific Methodology: Wesley R. Wells.

MIND. XXXI, No. 123. July, 1922. The Philosophy of
Chance : F. Y. Edgeworth. Sense-Data and Sensible Appearances
in Size-Distance Perception: H. N. Randle. Mr. Russell's Theory
of the External World : C. A. Strong. Visual Images, Words and
Dreams: Joshua C. Gregory. Discussions: A Word About "Co-
herence": B. Bosanquet. Relativity, Scientific and Philosophical:
J. E. Turner.

PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW. XXIX, No. 4. July, 1922. Psychology
and Psychiatry : Shepherd Ivory Franz. What is Psychology ? :
B. H. Bode. Suggestions for a Compromise of Existing Controver-
sies in Psychology : W. B. Pillsbury. An Analysis of Psychological
Language Data : J. R. Kant or. A New Approach to the Study of
Genius: Lewis M. Terman. A Practical Definition of Character:
Raymond 0. Filter. Discussions: Conscious Analysis, Introspec-
tion, and Behaviorism: F. A. C. Perrin. The Term "Practise":
E. B. Titchener.

Chiocchetti, Emilio: La Filosofia de Giovanni Gentile. Milan:
Societa editrice Vita e Pensiero. 1922. 480 pp.

Gentile, Giovanni : The Reform of Education. Authorized
translation by Dino Bigongiari. An Introduction by Croce. New
York : Harcourt, Brace and Company. 1922. xi -f- 250 pp.

532 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Williams, James Mickel : Principles of Social Psychology. New
York : Alfred A. Knopf. 1922. xii + 458 pp.

The Works of Aristotle: De Caelo. De Generatione et Comip-
tione. Translated into English by J. L. Stocks. New York: Ox-
ford University Press. 1922. $3.35.

Biavaschi, G. B. : La Crisi attuale della Filosofia del diritto.
Milan: Societa editrice Vita e Pensiero. 1922. 336 pp.

NOTES AND NEWS

The Joint Meeting of the Eastern and Western Divisions of the
American Philosophical Association will be held at Union Theo-
logical Seminary, New York City, December 27, 28 and 29. Pro-
fessor Dewey will deliver the Paul Cams Lectures, which will be
four in number.

Dr. H. M. Halverson, of Clark University, has been appointed
professor of psychology at the University of Maine.

Dr. Floyd H. Allport, of Harvard University, has been ap-
pointed associate professor of psychology at the University of North
Carolina.

VOL. XIX., No. 20 SEPTEMBER 28, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

TIME, MEANING AND TRANSCENDENCE

II. PROFESSOR DEWEY'S Tertium Quid

T T would appear from their title that the chief purpose of Pro-
-*- fessor Dewey's recent articles in this JOURNAL* is to vindicate
a third variety of realism which is neither dualistic nor monistic.
The considerations which seem to him to support this, however, are
fully broached only in his second article, to which I now turn.

1. The first question which it would seem pertinent to ask is
whether such a tertium quid is logically conceivable, i.e., whether
the two other species of realism do not exhaust the possibilities of
the genus. Upon this question Mr. Dewey does not neglect to
touch. He finds that — in consequence of a general "addiction to
uncritical use of the principle of excluded middle" — I have too
hastily assumed that "the disjunction between monistic and dual-
istic realism is exhaustive. There remains pluralistic realism. . . .
The things which are taken as meaning or intending other things
are infinitely diversified, and so are the things meant. Smoke
stands for fire, an odor for a rose, different odors for different
things, . . . and so on ad infinitum."2 This is much as if one
should argue that the division of the class of finite whole numbers
into odd and even is not exhaustive because "there remain also
telephone numbers." In other words, Mr. Dewey's "pluralistic"
species of realism, as his illustrations show, is distinguished by means
of a fundamentum divisionis different from that by which dualistic
and monistic realism are distinguished. By the last-mentioned is
meant the doctrine that in perception and thought the object known
is always present immediately, without duplication or "representa-
tion, ' ' in the cognitive experience ; by dualistic realism is meant the
doctrine which denies this universal direct presence of the thing
known in the knowing, and declares that the object of knowledge

i" Realism without Monism or Dualism," XIX, pp. 309-317; 351-361;
here cited as B. M. D.
2 R. M. D., p. 356.

533

534 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

may be, and in at least some cases can be shown to be, existentially
other than the content of knowledge. Since the essence of the
second theory is the negation of the immediacy asserted by the
first, the dichotomy is complete ; 8 no other realistic view is possible
with respect to the matter to which the doctrines in question refer,
namely, the universal identity or possible non-identity of object
and content. Mr. Dewey's "pluralistic" class does not lie outside
this two-fold division ; it might be a sub-species of one of the classes
mentioned. Certainly there is nothing in epistemological dualism
which requires anyone to deny that "different odors stand for dif-
ferent things," or even that "the things which mean other things,
and likewise the things meant, are infinitely diversified." "Dual-
istic realism" does not, as Mr. Dewey's antithesis would seem to
imply, mean the theory that there are only two "things" in the
universe.

And, in fact, it turns out that his own view is epistemologically
dualistic, in one sense of the word "knowledge," and monistic if
the word is used in another sense. "Wherever inference or reflec-
tion comes in," we are told — and Mr. Dewey would "not call any-
thing knowledge in a logical or intellectual sense unless they do
come in — there is, clearly, mediation of an object by some other
entity which points to, signifies, or represents it." Here is an
obvious dualism. But, he adds, "knowledge in the complete sense
of the word" requires that "the object" shall be " 'reached' even-
tually," that "the indication or signifying" be "borne out, verified,
in something immediately present." Until this is accomplished,
we have (in spite of the definition of a different kind of "knowl-
edge" cited just above) only "a claim to knowledge," not knowl-
edge itself. Here, then, since (apparently) the actual object known
—though it gets its "cognitive status" from "a prior mediation "-
is required to be "immediately experienced," we have an equally
obvious epistemological monism. But this employment of the term
"knowledge" in two senses does not show that the disjunction
which Mr. Dewey challenges is not exhaustive. When he is using
the term in any one sense, his account of knowledge falls on one

• One might, of course, be a dualistic realist with respect to some parts of
the field of supposed knowledge (e.g., to the objects of thought) and monistic
with respect to other parts (e.g., the objects of perception). But the distinc-
tion of meaning (not of application) of the two theories remains unchanged —
as does the irrelevancy of Mr. Dewey's remark about the "pluralistic" variety.
In other words, with respect to any given known object, a realist must take
either the monistic or the dualistic view; and the application of the dualistic
to any object contradicts the universal proposition which defines the position
understood by the term "monistic realism."

TIME, MEANING AND TRANSCENDENCE 535

side or the other of the antithesis; and even with the aid of both
senses, it never succeeds in offering us an example of any third way
of knowing.

In the main, it is epistemological dualism that prevails in Mr.
Dewey's paper. In the "knowledge" which constitutes most of
our science, things are known — as he not merely concedes but in-
sists— not by their direct presence at the moment of judgment about
them, but through "surrogates." The geologist does not, after all,
"immediately experience" extinct animals, even "eventually." But
Mr. Dewey's essential contention is that such epistemological dual-
ism does not imply a psycho-physical dualism. The "surrogates,"
he seeks to show, are not psychical entities, such as "ideas" or
"mental states," but simply other objective "things."

2. To understand his reasons for this contention, it is necessary
to examine his remarks about "meaning," which seem to me the
most significant part of the second paper. "The problem of mean-
ing," Mr. Strong has recently said, "is well adapted to take us to
the roots of things."4 With this Mr. Dewey would apparently
agree. "Meanings," he writes, "are the characteristic things in in-
tellectual experience. They are the heart of every logical func-
tion." But his treatment of this all-important notion seems to me
throughout ambiguous, sometimes inconsistent, and in great part
irrelevant to the issues raised in my paper in Essays in Critical
Realism, to which he is replying. Three distinct, though not by
him clearly and steadily distinguished, senses of "meaning" are
discoverable in his argument.

(a) In the more frequent and more definite passages on the
subject, "meaning" signifies the relation or "function" of causal
or other implication between facts or existents. One thing "means"
another when its existence, or presence in experience, furnishes the
ground for a valid inference to the existence or empirical occur-
rence of the other. Thus smoke "means" fire, an odor "means"
a flower still to be smelled, the oscillation of the needle of a seismo-
graph "means" a distant earthquake. In this sense, Mr. Dewey
observes, meanings as well as things meant are objective; but they
(meanings) are not physical, nor are they mental "in any psychical
dualistic existential sense. ' ' 5 Mr. Dewey is, indeed, willing to
admit the word ' ' mental ' ' into the vocabulary of philosophy in this
connection, but only in a new sense, namely, to designate any entity
(e.g., a physical one) in so far as it is conceived as "exercising the
function of being a surrogate of some absent thing." But this

* Mind, January, 1922, p. 71.
» B. M. D., p. 358.

536 JOURNAL OF PIIILOSOPII Y

terminological concession does not imply that the object pc
meaning only by grace of the activity of some mind or knower ; for
we are told that "the relation, connection or mediation of one thing
by another is," rather, "an essential feature of the subject-matter
of knowledge."6 Or, as it is written in an earlier paper of Mr.
Dewey's, "meanings are intrinsic; they have no instrumental or
subservient office because they have no office at all. They are as
much qualities of the objects in the situation as are red and black,
hard and soft, square and round. " 7 It is, to be sure, difficult to
see how this is to be reconciled with the repeated remark that it is
only when physical things "become implicated in a reflective in-
quiry"— only when we "ask what they stand for or indicate" and
"when it is asserted that they mean or support a certain conclu-
sion"— that they "acquire a representative capacity which they
did not inherently possess," or "exercise a representative function,
though not in (their) own existence representations." 8 However,
it is fortunately not essential to my purpose to try to harmonize
Mr. Dewey's utterances on this point.

What seems fairly clear is that, in the first sense of meaning, the
thing which means and the thing meant are both physical objects;
that the relation between them is not necessarily one of similarity;
and that the "meaning" itself, is neither psychical nor physical,
but a "neutral entity" or "essence."9

(6) But a footnote gives us a second definition of "meanings":
"of course, upon my theory they are, existentially speaking, the
operations involved in any situation having a cognitive refer-
ence. ' ' 10 These ' ' operations, ' ' I take it, are not essences, but defi-
nite temporal activities performed by cognitive agents or, if the
expression is preferred, by intelligent animals; and we are else-
where expressly told that they are physical.11 No particular use,
however, seems to be made of this definition in Mr. Dewey's present
argument.

« R. M. D., p. 354 ; italics in original.

• E$says in Experimental Logic, 1916, p. 17. The "situation" referred to
is "the situation which follows upon reflection." If this signifies that, unless
they had been reflected upon, the objects would not possess ' ' meaning ' ' at all,
the sentence would suggest rather a subjectivistic conception of meaning. But
the context of the passage seems to indicate that Mr. Dewey here is writing in
his realistic rather than his idealistic or "immediate empiricist" vein.

• B. M. D., p. 352.

• £. M. D., p. 357. Of this surprising resort of a pragmatist to logical
realism I shall speak further below.

10 R. M. D., p. 358, n. 9.
« B. L., p. 14.

TIME, MEANING AND TRANSCENDENCE 537

Now if these two were the only sorts of "meaning" which Mr.
Dewey recognized as pertinent to the experience called knowing, it
is quite true that no argument for the presence of anything "psy-
chical or mental as a term in the judging process" could be drawn
from any premise admitted by him. For in the one case, two of
the factors concerned (the thing which means and the thing meant)
are described as objective physical things, while the third is ap-
parently regarded as a real neutral or logical entity; while in the
other case all three factors are described as physical. There is,
however, unmistakably distinguishable at certain points in Mr.
Dewey 's reasoning a third kind of "meaning"; and it is this kind
alone which is relevant to those conclusions of mine which Mr.
Dewey controverts.

(c) This third sense appears in those passages in which Mr.
Dewey recognizes that, whenever thought occurs, something must
necessarily be " present-as-absent. " This obviously will not fit
into the first account of meaning. In that account we were told
that "there is something indubitably present, say, smoke," and
that it is this that means or represents the "something absent,
say, fire." But, clearly, in the case supposed the smoke is not
present-as-absent; it is just present, an immediate perceptual
datum. It is rather, as Mr. Dewey himself goes on to note, the fire
that ' ' is presented as absent, as intended. ' ' 12 And if the fire is
"presented," or made present, it is the presented fire — not, as in
the first account, the smoke — that means or represents the absent
fire. (There is, of course, an absent fire somehow concerned in the
business, else no inference would be necessary.) And the relation
between that which means and that which is meant is, in this sort
of meaning, necessarily one of similarity, at least of pattern or
relational schema. A fire obviously does not become "presented,"
or present-as-absent, solely by virtue of the presence in experience
of something that is not a fire, and is not like a fire, and is in no
sense absent. It is not smoke-characters but fire-characters that
must be given, and yet referred to a not-present temporal or spatial
locus, "in any situation having a cognitive reference" to a fire.
But this, of course, is simply the ordinary dualistic conception of
ideas or images which can "re-present" absent objects because they
in some degree resemble or reproduce them. To some sort of pre-
sentative dualism, in short, Mr. Dewey is committed as soon as he
acknowledges, with respect to the absent fire inferred from pres-
ent smoke, that "it is not a case of sheer absence, such as total

" B. M. D., p. 354.

538 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOI'Il Y

ignorance would imply."1* At the moment when he wrote these
words, Mr. Dewey must have had at least a transitory realization
of the fact that to constitute a knowledge of an absent fire a pres-
ent smoke is not enough ; that the fire too must in some fashion be
recognized as a part of the present content of the experience; and
yet that, since the actual fire is truly absent, it can not, so to say,
also be present in propria persona, but must be represented by a
sort of deputy-fire, a true "surrogate."

What prevents Mr. Dewey from seeing the dualistic implica-
tions of this third sort of meaning is apparently a confusion of the
type pointed out in my previous paper — a tendency to fluctuate be-
tween two or more senses of an ambiguous term or proposition, and
to use arguments based upon the one sense to justify the rejection
of unwelcome conclusions that would follow from the other. In
the present instance he seems to treat the first and third senses of
"meaning" as interchangeable; and since he is able to show that
the first, as defined, has no objectionably duali.stic consequences, he
fails to see the consequences of the third. All that he has to
say about the first is, in fact, irrelevant not merely to the particular
issue which I had raised, but also to the cognitive experience in
general. An "objective" or "intrinsic" reference of one physical
thing to another is not the same as an apprehension of that refer-
ence. "A thing, res, actually present, smoke, rock" may to the top
of its bent objectively mean "something else of the same order of
existence as itself, a fire, or geologic animal"; but in doing so it
presumably does not recreate, bring into temporal coexistence with
itself, extinct animals or dead fires. Such a meaning is known, how-
ever, only when there are simultaneously given in the field of aware-
ness of a reflective organism both the "thing actually present," and
the "presentation" of the something else which is not actually pres-
ent, and which may at the moment of the experience be physically
non-existent. A present rock is not, by itself, the thought of a de-
ceased dinosaur, nor a smoke-cloud here the thought of a spent fire
beyond the mountains.

3. Does, then, the epistemological dualism involved in the kind
of "meaning" which is essential to cognition lead to psycho-physical
dualism f The reasons which have seemed to me to require (of a
realist) an affirmative answer to this question Mr. Dewey states
briefly but not incorrectly: " Present-as-absent, or the presence of
the absent, is an impossibility as regards any physical thing.
Hence there is an admission of a psychical entity." For "psychi-
cal" in my usage means any indubitable content of experience
i* B. M. D., p. 354.

TIME, MEANING AND TRANSCENDENCE 539

which can not be assigned to the physical world as simultaneously
constituted. To this argument, however, Mr. Dewey takes excep-
tion on the ground that it unwarrantably "assumes an exhaustive
disjunction between the physical and psychical." My unhappy
addiction to the principle of excluded middle has, it seems, again
been my undoing; it has caused me to ignore "the growing num-
ber of persons who hold that certain entities are neutral to the dis-
tinction of psychical and physical," and to "assert by implication
that all meanings, relations, activity systems, functions, affairs like
mathematical entities, etc., . . . are psychical." Until I have
"wrestled with the question of essence in its bearing upon the ex-
haustiveness of the disjunction between the physical and the psy-
chical, and until many non-pragmatists are disposed of, ' ' Mr. Dewey
feels entitled "to leave the matter here."

With respect to the principle of excluded middle I am afraid
that I am a confirmed habitue; for I still find myself convinced of
the exhaustiveness of the particular disjunction presupposed by
the argument in question. Mr. Dewey 's criticism of it is, to be
plain, beside the mark in three respects:

(a) The "question of essences" has nothing to do with the uni-
verse of discourse with which my discussion was, and is, obviously
concerned, viz., the universe of particular concrete existents in time.
Within that universe a logically exhaustive disjunction of the physi-
cal and the psychical can very well be made out — and that wholly
without prejudice to the doctrine of the "neutrality" of purely
logical entities. A given bit of empirical content present here and
now in my consciousness, and possessing the attribute of extension,
either is or is not assignable to the "public" spatial order of the
physical sciences and to the system to which the equations of ther-
modynamics apply. And the sole issue with which my inquiry had
to do was whether there are any such concrete particulars in experi-
ence, the characteristics of which forbid their allocation to the
physical world. If there are such, their non-physical status does
not prove that they are mere "essences." The argument, there-
fore, for their psychical character — in the sense defined — remains
entirely unaffected by Mr. Dewey 's Macedonian cry to the logical
realists.

(6) Moreover, the particular class of things of which the psy-
chical character was asserted was not, as Mr. Dewey seems to sup-
pose, the class of "meanings," in the sense in which he here uses
the term. So far as the present argument goes, a meaning may be
as "neutral" as anyone may choose to think it — if it is simply a
logical relation subsisting between two concrete things. In the

540 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

dualistic view, the psychical entity involved is primarily the thing
which means — not the "meaning" nor, necessarily, the thing meant.
It is, in other words, the idea that stands for an absent real object.
It is the same entity to which Mr. Dewey ascribes the status of
present-as-absent ; and this, clearly, is not a mere essence.

(c) Finally, I should — before reading Mr. Dewey 's last paper —
have thought it wholly redundant to discuss logical realism in an
essay devoted specifically to an examination of the position of the
pragmatists. For I had supposed that no doctrine could be more
foreign to their position. Now, I confess, I am uncertain how Mr.
Dewey really stands on this matter. Much of his language seems
to suggest a belief in an independently existing realm of logical
reals. But I take refuge again in an excluded middle ! Either Pro-
fessor Dewey is a logical realist or he is not. If he is, we shall all,
assuredly, have to revise profoundly our conceptions of the mean-
ing and doctrinal affinities of pragmatism; yet, as has been shown,
the status of the particular question here under discussion would
remain untouched. If he is not an adherent of that view, the in-
troduction of it into the discussion would seem reminiscent of the
well-known red herring. For there is not, I believe, any generally
accepted rule of the etiquette of philosophical debate which re-
quires that a critic, before examining the opinions which a given
school of philosophers hold, shall first refute the opinions which
they do not hold.

Since, to my great regret, I have not thus far in these papers
been able to express a very large measure of agreement with Mr.
Dewey, I shall take as the text for a summing-up a sentence of his
which seems to me both true and truly "pragmatic." "Imagina-
tive recovery of the bygone," he has written, "is indispensable to
successful invasion of the future. ' ' 14 That embodies neatly in a
single phrase four truths about our intertemporal cognition which
underlie both man's life of action and his life of feeling. Drawn
out into full and formal statement, the propositions implicit in this
pregnant sentence are these: (a) It is things actually "bygone"
that man requires to know, if his adventure into the future is to be
guided by intelligence. Hence it is a confounding of fundamental
categories and a denial of an indispensable postulate of the practi-
cal intelligence, to speak of the "object" of such knowledge — the
matters of fact concerning which it informs us — as exclusively
"prospective," or even as present. (6) Yet the bygone must in
some way be "recovered," i.e., brought into the field of present
thought, if it is to serve as a guide for further inquiry or for future

" Creative Intelligence, p. 14 ; already cited, E. C. B., p. 53.

TIME, MEANING AND TRANSCENDENCE 541

action. Its characters and their relations, or such of them as are
pertinent to the contemplated "invasion of the future," must be
actually before the agent here and now, to be reviewed and ana-
lyzed, (c) The recovery of these, however, is "imaginative," not
literal or physical. As physical existents the bygone things remain
forever irrecoverable. Memory does not raise the dead nor history
rebuild Babylon. It is in some realm or order other than that of
present physical objects that the recovered characters of the by-
gone have their present being — in the realm, namely, of "images."
(d) Since the things which are the objects of our backward-looking
knowledge are bygone and since some of them, at least, were when
existent, physical, while the things in which we now believe our-
selves able to read off their characters and relations are present
and imaginal, these two classes of things can not be called existen-
tially one. In any true inventory of the concrete particulars in
the universe, they would constitute distinct items.

These four truths of common sense do not, of course, give us
an exhaustive theory even of intertemporal knowledge. Yet they
set one upon the way to it, and they embody the primary facts or
necessary presuppositions to which any such theory, and any ra-
tional logic of practice, must conform. If, then, Professor Dewey
will but reflect seriously upon the implications of this true saying
of his own, he will, I can not but think, find reason for accepting
all the conclusions which in his recent papers he has the air of de-
nying: viz., that we make judgments which truly "mean" the past
and not merely the "prospective"; that consequently epistemologi-
cal dualism — the doctrine that the present content of a cognitive
experience and the absent object "meant" by that experience are
two entities, not one — is unescapable ; that the present content, if it
is to function as a practically serviceable means of information
about absent objects, must in some degree reproduce the characters
or relation-patterns of those objects; that it is necessary to "admit
the psychical or mental as a term in the judging process"; and
that, since the present means of learning the characters of the past
or other absent object is indirect, the general validity of that means
can not be verified in immediate experience, but can only be postu-
lated, as a thing necessary to be believed if we are, in the present,
to employ intelligence for the shaping of the future.

ARTHUR O. LOVE JOT.
JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY.

542 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Till: PREDICATE TERM

IN a former paper > I argued that, since the partial inverse of the
A proposition is valid, the doctrine of the distribution of the
predicate breaks down. The partial inverse, Some non-8 is not P,
contains a distributed term, P, which is undistributed in the
proposition, All 8 is P, from which the partial inverse is derived.
According to the advocates of the distribution of the predicate, when
the O proposition is converted or the conclusion, Some 8 is not P,
is drawn from the premises, All M is P, Some 8 is not M, the result
is invalid ; and the reason they assign for the invalidity of the con-
verse and the conclusion is that the term in the predicate is distrib-
uted, whereas it is undistributed in the convertend and the major
premise. My contention, in brief, is this: If that reason invalidates
the converse or the conclusion, it must also invalidate the partial
inverse of A ; but it is admitted that it does not invalidate the partial
inverse of A ; therefore it does not invalidate the converse or the
conclusion.

In an article which was recently published in this JOURNAL* Dr.
Hammond discusses my paper, but he adduces no argument which in
any way affects the justice of the foregoing contention. He occupies
himself in showing by a process distinct from the ordinary one that
the partial inverse of A is valid and that in this partial inverse P
must be distributed with reference to non-S. Again, he says (p. 128) :
"The formal violation of the rule as to distribution is apparent in
one case only. . . . The partial inverse of A is the only case in which
an originally undistributed term reappears distributed." This is
exactly what I maintained in my paper. I there said : ' ' The partial
inverse of the A proposition violates this rule [as to distribution]
and yet it is valid." But then I continued: "I infer from this
that the doctrine of the distribution of the predicate breaks down"
(p. 322). Dr. Hammond does not himself draw this inference, but
neither on the other hand does he advance any reason to show that
it is unwarranted. I do not wish to misinterpret Dr. Hammond. It
may be that by the word "apparent" in the passage I have quoted
he means that the formal violation of the rule as to distribution is
merely apparent and not real. If this is his meaning, he gives no
proof that it is not real.

The following quotation contains a summary of his argument:
"The assumption of the existence of the contradictory of the original
predicate validates the partial inverse : not that we manufacture any
promise therefrom, but that, if that contradictory exist, the term by

» This JOURNAL, Vol. XVIII, pp. 320-326.
« Vol. XIX, pp. 124-137.

THE PREDICATE TERM 543

its very nature will always be distributed with regard to it ; and that
obviously in the A proposition with which we start, if the contra-
dictory of the predicate exist, then the subject must have a contra-
dictory which in some part must coincide with the contradictory of
the predicate ; and with regard to that part the predicate will always
be distributed. . . . The case, then, in the matter of the partial in-
verse is this. The explanation does not lie in any premise, but does
lie in the assumption of the existence of the contradictory of the
original predicate. For if that contradictory exist, then the predi-
cate, being always distributed with regard to it, must also be dis-
tributed with regard to whatever portion of the contradictory of
the original subject coincides with it; and somewhere within the
same universe these two infinites must at least partially coincide.
We have thus the right to say Some not-8 is not P, since P must be
distributed with regard to some portion of not-8" (p. 127).
This passage suggests the following remarks :
First : The utmost that is achieved by Dr. Hammond 's argument
is that P must be distributed with regard to not-8, and hence that
we have a right) to say Some not-8 is not P. It does not touch, even
remotely, the question whether there is not in the partial inverse a
formal violation of the rule as to distribution. If Dr. Hammond's
argument constitutes a separate proof of the validity of the partial
inverse it also constitutes a separate proof of the correctness of my
contention that the doctrine of the distribution of the predicate
breaks down; for my contention is based upon the fact that the
partial inverse of A is valid, that P must be distributed with regard
to non-S.

Secondly : If in the case of any concrete A proposition inversion
is impossible, this is never due to the fact that P is distributed in
the partial inverse. The partial inverse of A is never invalid unless
the full inverse, Some non-S is non-P, is invalid, and there is no
distributed P in the full inverse. In fact, in the process of inverting
A the full inverse is obtained before the partial inverse ; and if the
partial inverse is in any instance invalid, this is because it is validly
derived from an invalid full inverse.

Thirdly : The partial inverse of A is much more fortunately cir-
cumstanced than the converse. It is an exceedingly rare occurrence
to find an A proposition which can not be inverted; but the A
propositions which can not be converted meet us at every turn. Even
the example offered by Dr. Keynes as incapable of inversion, namely,
All human actions are foreseen by the Deity, admits of a true and
valid partial inverse. The Deity does not foresee Himself. Hence
we are warranted in inferring Something not a human action is not

544 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

foreseen by the Deity. The example should have read All human
actions are known to the Deity. Moreover, it is notorious how com-
mon are the E propositions which can not be converted or inverted.
Consequently, any argument directed against the inversion of A on
the score that some A propositions can not be inverted will tell with
indefinitely greater force against the conversion of A and E. It
should be observed in addition that, if a single invalid inverse be
deemed sufficient to condemn the process of inversion, then conver-
sion and obversion must also be condemned if in a single instance
they issue in an invalid proposition. The only A propositions which
can not be inverted are those in which the predicate is a term which
extends to everything whatsoever — such as "entity" or one of its
synonyms. This is the only kind of term that does not imply a con-
tradictory from which it is distinct. All other terms have it as their
very function to mark off their object from other objects.

Fourthly: Dr. Hammond says: "The assumption of the exist-
ence of the contradictory of the original predicate validates the
partial inverse. " It is just as true to say : ' ' The assumption of the
existence of the original subject validates the converse of A." These
statements are equivalent to the following: ''All 8 is P can not be
inverted unless we assume Some things are non-P, and it can not be
converted unless we assume Some things are S." As they stand, both
statements are open to serious misinterpretation. The accurate
wording would be: "All 8 is P can not be inverted unless (we as-
sume that) it implies Some things are non-P, and it can not be con-
verted unless (we assume that) it implies Some things are S." If
All S is P does not imply Some things are non-P, the mere assump-
tion that Some things are non-P will not help us to invert All S is P.
Thus, the proposition, Every tree is an entity, does not imply Some
things are nonentities, and therefore it can not be inverted, no matter
what assumption be made. It should also be remarked that, if A and
E be interpreted as implying the existence of their subject, the ex-
ample we have just mentioned can not be contraposited ; for "non-
entity" would be the subject of both the partial and the full contra-
positive.

It must be remembered that logic has to start with concrete ex-
amples. Without an initial knowledge of concrete examples symbols
are unintelligible. We can only know that Some P is S is the con-
verse of All S is P because this is true of the concrete examples with
which we started. We know by experience that many A propositions
imply the existence of their subject, and therefore they can be con-
verted. We also know that nearly all A propositions imply the
existence of the contradictory of their predicate, and therefore they

THE PREDICATE TERM 545

can be inverted. But we let All 8 is P stand for all universal af-
firmative propositions whatever, regardless of the question whether
they can be converted or inverted. This has been the main factor
in creating the problem of the existential import of propositions.
Dr. Keynes has truly said : ' ' Strictly speaking, a symbolic expres-
sion, such as All 8 is P, is to be regarded as a prepositional form,
rather than as a proposition per se. For it can not be described as
in itself either true or false. ' ' 3 Accordingly, logicians have been
led to inquire how eduction and the doctrine of opposition would
be affected when the terms of the various propositions were inter-
preted as implying now one thing, now another. But in practically
every case the result of the discussion is determined by what the
terms of the proposition are interpreted to imply, not by something
which is assumed independently of the proposition. The following
quotation from Dr. Keynes is pertinent to what has just been said.
On pages 223 and 228 he deals with the propositions under the fol-
lowing supposition : ' ' Let every proposition be understood to imply
the existence of both its subject and its predicate and also of their
contradictories. ' ' And then on page 228 he adds this footnote : "It
would be quite a different problem if we were to assume the existence
of 8 and P independently of the affirmation of the given proposition.
A failure to distinguish between these problems is probably responsi-
ble for a good deal of the confusion and misunderstanding that has
arisen in connection with the present discussion. But it is clearly
one thing to say (a-) 'All 8 is P and 8 is assumed to exist,' and
another thing to say (&) 'All 8 is P/ meaning thereby '8 exists and
is always P.' In case (a) it is futile to go on to make the supposition
that 8 is non-existent; in case (&), on the other hand, there is nothing
to prevent our making the supposition, and we find that, if it holds
good, the given proposition is false."

One further observation suggests itself in connection with the
partial inverse of A. In my last paper I pointed out that the O
proposition gives no information whatever, even by implication, about
its predicate. This has a very vital bearing on the doctrine of the
distribution of the predicate. The following question demands a
distinct answer in the affirmative or the negative : Does a distributed
predicate term give information about more individuals in the ex-
tension of the term than does an undistributed predicate term? If
this question is answered in the affirmative, the partial inverse of
A is invalid, in spite of whatever device we may employ to justify
it ; and if it is invalid, conversion and obversion are illicit processes.
If the question is answered in the negative, then it is obviously in-
3 Formal Logic, 4th ed., p. 53.

546 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

adequate and misleading to pronounce a given conclusion in 0 invalid
on the sole ground that its predicate is distributed. Why shouldn't
it be distributed, if the mere fact of its being distributed conveys
no information about it? If the conclusion in O is declared to be in-
valid on some other ground than the fact that the predicate is distrib-
uted, that is a different matter altogether. But is it not unusual for
a work on logic to indicate any other reason when it sets about prov-
ing the rules of the categorical syllogism and determining the moods
of the four figures f Consider the following argument : All M is P,
Some 8 is not M, therefore Some 8 is not P. It must be remembered
that all A propositions, with hardly an exception, imply Some things
are not P. If this implication validates the partial inverse, Some
non-8 is not P, why does it not validate the conclusion, Some S is not
Pt It is plainly no answer to say that P is distributed in Some 8
is not P.

Dr. Hammond takes exception to an expression which occurred in
my argument against the class mode of interpreting the categorical
proposition. Since he does not expressly dispute the point I was
there making, there might seem to be little use in discussing his ob-
jection. But his criticism tends to obscure the issue of my argument
and therefore calls for a word of comment. His general theory as
to the distributive and collective use of terms need not engage us
here. He seems to hold that only collective terms can be used col-
lectively. He says that in the proposition, Any regiment is made
up of soldiers, "regiment" is used collectively and is distributed. I
had thought that a term must be used distributively in order to be
distributed. Since the predicate "made up of soldiers" is asserted
of every regiment, that is, of all regiments taken one by one, I should
think that the subject "regiment" is used distributively. In the
proposition, The American regiments won the victory, I should say
that "the American regiments" is used collectively, because the
predicate "won the victory" is not asserted of the American regi-
ments taken one by one. Take the propositions, The pupils of the
class are boys, The pupils of the class weigh three tons. In the first
proposition I should consider that "the pupils of the class" is used
distributively and that the subject is distributed; in the second,
that "the pupils of the class" is used collectively and that the
subject is a singular term. But, as I said, there is no need to discuss
Dr. Hammond's general theory. In my paper I had written: "In
the proposition, All the angles of a triangle are equal to two right
angles, no logician would speak of the subject term, 'angle of a tri-
angle,' as either distributed or undistributed." Dr. Hammond says
that the subject is not "angle of a triangle," but "all the angles of

THE PREDICATE TERM 547

a triangle." If the example 'be taken out of its context, there may
be something to be said for Dr. Hammond's view; but considered
in its context and in relation to the point it was intended to illustrate,
there was a special appropriateness in speaking of "angle of a tri-
angle" as the subject. I was arguing against the class mode of
reading categorical propositions and I used this example to illustrate
the incorrectness of reading the propositions in that way. On the
class interpretation of propositions the subject in All men are ani-
mals stands for a class, that is, for a collection, and this collection is
affirmed to be included in another collection. In spite of this, the
subject is said to be "man," not "all men." And yet unless "all
men" be taken together as a collection (i.e., collectively), and not one
by one (i.e., distributively), the class mode of reading the proposition
is not employed at all. The point I was endeavoring to make was
this, that if the logician interpreted the subject and predicate of
that proposition as classes, he had no more right to call "man" the
distributed subject than he had to call "angle of a triangle" the
distributed subject of All the angles of a triangle are equal to two
right angles.

The point which has just been discussed suggests another remark.
When the logician borrows a term from common language because
its meaning renders it suitable to a given purpose, he should hesitate
to employ it in such a way that its original meaning is lost.
Dr. Hammond says: "If the term be singular, then in any asser-
tion made of it it will be distributed, even though it have no exten-
sion in the sense of component species, since the assertion is taken
as true of the only instance of the term there is" (p. 134). Now, of
course, no fault can be found with Dr. Hammond personally for
holding this opinion, since it is shared by others. But it is obvious
that ' ' distributed ' ' has been emptied of all its original meaning when
it is applied to a term which refers to a single object. It is as if we
were to say, ' ' The mother distributed the apple to her son, ' ' and then
were to defend our use of the word "distributed" by the plea that
that was the only apple the mother had. It is bad enough to speak
of a singular proposition as "universal" without calling its subject
"distributed." Over and above the inappropriateness of calling a
singular proposition universal, there is this further disadvantage
connected with it, that a pair of universal opposite propositions (All
8 is P, No 8 is P) may in a given instance be false together, but
this is never the case with a pair of singular opposites (This 8 is P,
This 8 is not P). The universal and the singular proposition have
this in common, that their subject is definite, and thus they serve
the purpose of securing identity of reference when employed along

r, 18 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

with another proposition in a syllogism. Identity of reference is
the main consideration in dealing with the premises of the categori-
cal syllogism, and if a terminology could be invented which should
set this forth simply and unambiguously and which should be uni-
versally applicable, it would be a distinct gain to logic. As it is,
separate provision has commonly to be made for arguments like
the following : Most M is P, Most M is 8, therefore Some 8 is P. "We
may, however, construct dicta for the third figure which will cover
every possible syllogism in that figure; thus: 1. // [every M or]
some M is both 8 and P, then some 8 is P. 2. // {every M or] some
M is 8 and not P, then some 8 w not P. "Every M " is enclosed in
brackets because the dicta are really complete without it. The first
dictum provides for the moods Darapti, Disamis, and Datisi; the
second provides for Felapton, Bocardo, and Ferison; and the two
together provide for every possible mood in the third figure, whatever
be the sign of quantity which is employed. Moreover, they give us
the three rules which are required to justify any combination of prem-
ises in the third figure, namely: 1. The subjects of the premises
must overlap. 2. The minor premise must be affirmative. 3. The
conclusion must be particular.

In the concluding paragraph of his article Dr. Hammond quotes
me as follows : ' ' The use of the doctrine of the distribution of the
predicate involves a vicious circle. . . . The logician . . . first calls
upon the student's knowledge of the implication of propositions to
prove the doctrine, and then he bids the student call upon his knowl-
edge of the doctrine in order to find out the implication." Dr.
Hammond claims that this objection "involves final questions of the
nature of logic." I do not understand how the objection can involve
such questions unless the doctrine of the distribution of the predicate
is so deeply imbedded in the substance of logical theory that there
can not be a science of Logic without it. Surely no one would main-
tain that this doctrine is absolutely essential to Logic. But perhaps I
have misunderstood the drift of Dr. Hammond's remark. The point
is touched upon very briefly in his article ; and it would be unprofit-
able to continue a discussion which, after all, may be based upon a
misunderstanding.

JOHN J. TOOHEY.

GEORGETOWN UNIVERSITY.

BEHAVIORISM 549

BEHAVIORISM AND THE PROGRAMME OF PHILOSOPHY

THE peculiar value of a behavioristic approach to the problem of
knowledge is that it renders possible a definitely factual method
of treatment. Knowledge, of course, consists of propositions or
judgments. But judgments are not ultimate entities, and unless we
are able to push back to the conditions under which they arise, our
theory of knowledge can not be on a secure foundation. Judgments
are essentially reactions, and they arise only in the context of highly
developed organic life. Furthermore, the possession of meaning is
the distinctive mark of judgment. Thus our problem may be formu-
lated as follows: Under what conditions is it possible to have reac-
tions which possess meaning? We may think of epistemology as
dealing with the laws exhibited by such entities. In order to make
this conception clearer, I shall go on to apply it to three fundamental
questions, namely, the lower limit of judgment, the functioning of
the universal in behavior, and the nature of truth.

First, then, let us consider the lower limit of judgment. Here we
are face to face with the double requirement that every judgment shall
be regarded as a reaction and that every judgment shall mean some-
thing or symbolize something. Now since every response ex hypothesi
is occasioned by a stimulus it might appear that in a sense every
response must be regarded as standing for or meaning something
other than itself, i.e., its stimulus. This, however, would be a serious
confusion. If we are asking why such and such a judgment in fact
comes to be made — that is, if we enquire as to its efficient cause — we
must always trace it back to some specific, direct nexus of stimulus
and response. But this causal relation of stimulus and response
which must be present in the history of all judgments can not be
treated as equivalent to the relation of the judgment to its denota-
tion. A judgment may mean something in the future, or something
non-existent, or it may be a universal or it may be false, and in such
cases its denotation obviously can not be its cause.

Nevertheless we must still deal with the relation between judg-
ment and denotation, between symbol and object, in terms of stim-
ulus and response. When we say that a judgment stands for an
object, we can only mean that it is the effective equivalent of that
object in behavior. If the object itself were present as stimulus it
would modify behavior in a determinate respect. We may say that
a judgment symbolizes this object when its presence as stimulus in
the absence, usually, of the object, modifies behavior in the same
respect, as would the present object, within certain limits. I say

550 JOURNAL OF

within certain limits because the effect of a symbol is likely to differ
considerably, though in no merely arbitrary manner, from the effect
of the object. It is one thing to read a sign to the effect that tres-
passers will be prosecuted, and a very different matter to be haled
before the law.

Here, however, we have obtained a clue to the lower limit of
judgment. Judgment, or the significant use of symbols, is possible
only where reactions have become so refined and so highly individ-
ualized that they maintain an identity and possess an intrinsic inter-
est which makes them serviceable as stimuli, quite apart from the
stimuli which occasion them. When a dog digs frantically we must
not say that he judges that there is a rabbit near by, for his reac-
tion can not be dissociated from its occasioning cause. It possesses no
special and separate interest and individuality of its own. But if
a man says "There is a rabbit in that hole" we have a unique reac-
tion which can be sharply and if necesary permanently distin-
guished from raillons of others and so is eminently fitted to serve
as a symbol or cue to specific action. Judgment, then, depends
wholly on the capacity to produce reactions which can serve as
symbols, reactions as distinctive, as varied, and as unmistakable as
the innumerable physical objects for which they stand. Now this
capacity presumably depends to some degree, perhaps to a very con-
siderable degree, upon cerebral development. A dog with a human
brain might conceivably invent a system of conventional signs,
though with the canine organs of response these could hardly be very
adequate. All this, however, is more or less speculative. What is
quite certain is that the capacity to produce reactions well adapted
for serving as judgments depends most importantly upon the action
system. As John B. Watson points out, the vocal mechanism with
all its exquisite delicacy is a very distinctive organ of human intelli-
gence and most, if not all thinking can actually be reduced to laryn-
geal work. The reasonable conclusion seems to be that given the
world of organic life as we actually know it, only those individuals
physically equipped for true speech can make judgments or possess
knowledge in the proper sense of the word. It should be noted that
this does not rule out gestures, such as pointing in reply to a ques-
tion, from the category of judgments. But I would maintain that
such bodily movements only acquire the force of conventional symbols,
that is, judgments in beings already schooled to the use of language
reactions proper. Language behavior alone seems to possess the
subtlety and be capable of the uniqueness to be the adequate instru-
ment of a symbolism.

BEHAVIORISM 551

I turn now to the second problem mentioned above, that of the
functioning of the universal. We have already seen that when a
symbol occurs as stimulus it may modify behavior less dramatically
than would the presence of the object for which it stands. Some-
times, to be sure, this is not the case. If I hear a sudden shout of
"There's an automobile behind you!" my reaction is likely to be
just as decisive as if I had seen it. If, however, some one tells me that
ultimately I shall die I do not immediately take tearful farewells of
all my friends, deliver myself of deathbed sentiments, and generally
act as though in articulo mortis. The furthest I am likely to go is
into a fit of philosophic pessimism and a resolve to make my will.
Once more, if I am told that the returned soldiers ought to be taken
care of in the reconstruction, my response is likely to be no more than
a somewhat vague assent unless it is my misfortune to be a politician
and liable to be confronted with large bodies of angry veterans at
short notice.

Now the essential difference between these three cases is that
they exhibit progressively increasing generalization. The relation
of symbol and object in the first instance is simple. The sight
of the oncoming automobile inspires the saving shout, and it is
this immediate relationship which makes the shout so very effective
a symbol for the vehicle. In the other two instances the nexus be-
tween symbol and object is much more complicated. Here the judg-
ments are the results of long and highly elaborate social experience,
that is, many people have been concerned in making them. Thus the
peculiar value of language reactions is that they enable us to take
advantage of wide areas of experience, and furthermore to adjust
ourselves more wisely though less dramatically to a more inclusive
environment than would otherwise be possible. Events remote in
time and place play an effective part in life, and we are able to adjust
ourselves adequately to distant facts and to benefit by abstractions
and analyses of indefinite complexity. Hence the theory of univer-
sals as envisaged in behavioristic terms must show first how universal
assertions actually build up as responses to stimulation, and second
how they function in connecting present behavior with remote or
unapproachable facts.

Elsewhere I have dealt with the truth problem from this point
of view.1 What we obtain is in effect a correspondence theory of
truth, but we are able to avoid the central difficulty of the traditional
correspondence theory since our concept of the behavior mechanism
provides us with an agency which links up judgments with their

i" Truth as Correspondence: a Re-definition," thia JOUKNAL, Vol. XIX,
No. 7.

552 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

objects. If we ask why a judgment stands for a certain object, our
reply will be that somewhere or under some conditions judgment and
object are related as response and stimulus. If we try to confine
ourselves to propositions or objectives by themselves, and systemati-
cally refuse to treat them as elements in actual causal sequences, the
above question can not be answered, and consequently the whole
account of truth in terms of correspondence has to be given up.

II

Much more briefly I will now try to suggest how a philosophy
operating with behavioristic concepts can approach the problems
of conduct. Here we find ourselves committed to what in effect is
nothing less than an ethic of self-realization. Given a complex and
subtle behavior mechanism, which is surely an individual in the
fullest sense of the term, the obviously fundamental problem of life
is to set up and maintain conditions propitious for its most effective
working. On the negative side, this means that we must strive to
build up habit structures in the individual such that functional
conflicts with their accompanying suppressions and distortions either
do not occur or are reduced to a minimum. That such suppressions
and distortions may easily occur and may work infinite harm is
impressively shown by Freudian psychology and the literature of
psychoanalysis generally. Since functional conflict most character-
istically arises between habit structures which are allowed to develop
in the individual and the conventional demands of society, we may
look for a theory of harmonious relations between individual and
society in terms of the general concept of sublimation. An interest-
ing point here is the status of genius. Creative genius usually
amounts to a violent but only partially successful effort at complete
sublimation. For the genius himself, then, his gift, apart from any
collateral rewards it may bring in the form of reputation or money,
is more or less a misfortune, as implying a disharmony and so a de-
parture from the ideal of the good and happy life. For society his
gift is likely to be of vast value in that it tends to improve the social
medium and thus make successful adjustments easier for others.
Then, on the positive side, our world-view demands that we look for
such a development of the individual as will adjust his desires and
needs so that all of them can come to maximum satisfaction. To
sum up the whole matter, we begin with the concept of concrete
personality, which is precisely what the behavior mechanism amounts
to, and our theory of life naturally requires the conservation and
development of personality to the highest possible degree of effective-
ness.

BOOK REVIEWS 553

Evidently such a program will result in one thing only, a philos-
ophy in the legitimate and historical sense of the word. Our method,
to be sure, will be that of science — that is to say, logical analysis —
but only because this is the only possible mode of discursive thought.
And our terms will all be ponderable entities with which science can
and does deal. But our questions will not be those of any science.
We ask how knowledge is possible and what are the norms of the good
life. And our replies will be worked out in terms of actual fact,
in terms of knowledge as it actually arises and life as it is actually
lived.

JAMES L. MUESELL.

LAKE ERIE COLLEGE.

BOOK REVIEWS

The Meeting of Extremes in Contemporary Philosophy. BERNARD
BOSANQUET. Macmillan. 1921. Pp. xxviii + 220.
Dr. Bosanquet's volume, in spite of its comparative brevity, is
unusually comprehensive and suggestive; first because his survey
of the current conflicting types of thought bears the stamp of his
exceptionally wide knowledge and clear insight, and further on
account of the highly interesting developments which, in his opinion,
must mark the future. "You are no longer taking a single bearing
with a single compass, but covering a whole region with a systematic
survey" (p. ix). This interest centers — as may be inferred from
his title — in something approaching paradox. For his analysis of
the present situation is directed to show that the opposed schools
whose vigorous polemics animate modern speculation share so much
in common that they really are — often unconsciously — allies rather
than antagonists, and the explicit principles which mark their di-
vergence have implicit consequences which logically lead to a con-
vergence that is still more fundamental; and thus the perspectives
of philosophy are completely transformed. This result springs
mainly from the rapidly changing character of philosophic dis-
cussion; it is becoming subtler, more refined, and the old "bombard-
ment at long ranges" has given place to "sapping and mining"
(p. vii). Whither this concealed activity leads and where the next
explosion will occur thus constitute fascinating problems. I ven-
ture to add that in my opinion Dr. Bosanquet's own position on
several fundamental points seems to be more clearly expressed
than in his earlier volumes — with regard to sense-data, the relation
between existence and thought, and between philosophy and religion ;
but this again is merely the more explicit formulation of what has
always been implicit in the author's idealism.

:,;,4 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOril Y

This ground of agreement, however, is to be found not in mere
devotion to truth or sincerity of conviction. The trenchancy of
the "extremes" is well illustrated by the case which first attracted
the author's notice — "the startling difference and agreement" be-
tween Italian neo-idealism, and the neo-realism of Professor Drake
and his collaborators, together with Dr. Alexander (p. viii) ; be-
tween the system for which "reality is thinking," and "being" or
"mind" are "mutually contradictory terms," and that which assorts
the non-mental nature of reality. * It would be unfair to summarize
Dr. Bosanquet's treatment of the basis wherein he finds the identity
of these antithetical standpoints; it must suffice to draw attention
to the degree of their divergence as one indication of the fresh
interest which his analysis gives to the issues involved ; I shall refer
to an equally striking instance later.

The readers of this JOURNAL will probably be mainly concerned
with the attitude taken up by the writer, as representing an old
and established type of idealism which has in recent decades aroused
a good deal of vigorous criticism, towards American neo-realism. I
ventured recently to express the opinion that nothing "prevent*
realism from taking its place within a system of absolute ideal-
ism";2 and it appears to me that this suggestion finds much to
support it in Dr. Bosanquet's volume. He accords the fullest recog-
nition to the value of the arguments advanced by the realists.
"Speculative philosophy welcomes the assertion that the world of
sense-perception has being in its own right. . . . Hegel's and Green's
position is that a chair is a chair right enough. . . . The speculative
philosopher re-cognizes as a comrade the neo-realist who demands a
place for all that sense-perception has to give us" (pp. 2, 5, 7).*
I think all realists will agree that this, in connection with the de-
tailed discussion of the relation between thought and existence in
Chap. IV, is sufficiently definite; it detracts, further, very much
from the weight of the adverse criticism to which I have just alluded,
which has always seemed to me completely to ignore the true ab-
solutist standpoint towards these problems. ! Dr. Bosanquet, of
course, proceeds to indicate the difficulties which realism has to
face; these may be best summed tip in his statement that "sensa
may exist per se, but we can not get them so" (p. 13), and in the
conclusions which he draws from this; but these will doubtless rc-

» Gentile, Theory of Mind at Pwre Act, pp. 66, 19. Drake, Etsays in
Critical Bea'irm.

* This JOURNAL, March 16, 1922, p. 157.

* Of. p. 75 ; " the neo-realist . . . building the foundations of that specula-
tive philosophy whose super-structure already exists . . . they enrich and amend
it."

BOOK REVIEWS 555

ceive due attention from the writers most directly concerned ; and not
the least interesting of their comments will surely be their reaction
to the alliance which Dr. Bosanquet discerns between the critical
school and Mr. Bradley in "the parallel movement between absolut-
ism" and critical realism, and the analogy which persists even be-
yond "the. point at which, primd facie, they sharply diverge" (pp.
127-130). The divergent principles are, naturally, repudiated —
the critical realist "analysis is a fundamental error" (p. 137) ; and
I may be permitted to express my pleasure in finding that Dr. Bosan-
quet regards the complete critical theory as involving a noumenalism
akin to Kant's — a position that I have myself attempted to sub-
stantiate,4 Thus the tangle of "isms" presents yet another "meet-
ing of extremes" — in this instance a "common error, the confusion
of transcendence of experience and transcendence of immediacy,"
characteristic equally of American critical realism and Italian neo-
idealism (p. 149).

Next in degree of interest is the author's brief discussion of
the philosophical bearings of the relativity theory ; here again I am
glad to find that, in his opinion, "the moral of relativity is not the
permeation of the universe by mind or minds" (p. 16). This con-
clusion, or one closely analogous to it, has undoubtedly unduly im-
posed itself upon current philosophic thought, and been adopted
as a fresh basis, if not indeed the final proof, of various modes of
subjectivism. Such inferences, in my opinion, are altogether ground-
less, and Dr. Bosanquet 's analysis of the subject may be recom-
mended to the many who desire to apprehend the real value of this
latest Coperaican transformation in scientific theories. The phil-
osophical aspects of the problem center in the nature of space-time.
Dr. Bosanquet emphasizes the importance of the relation between
"our primitive sense of time" and "uniform time," and concludes
that "the spatio-temporal universe (has) no single space-time of
its own" (pp. 152-154). Whether this is true or not appears to
me to depend on the. distinction between the scientific concept of
the (physical) universe, and the absolutist (or idealist) conception
of the Whole. The first seems to demand a universal, common, basal
space-time of which the varying "relativity" systems are all sub-
sidiary aspects depending upon their relevant physical conditions;
or as Lord Haldane has expressed this, "change in standpoint gives

* "It is futile to maintain that [the object of thought] is not a Ding-an-
sich" (p. 146). Cf. Tl\e Monist, July, 1922; "The Failure of Critical Real-
ism. ' '

s The Beign of Belativity, p. 402. I may refer to a fuller discussion of
the subject in Mind, Jan., 1922, p. 40.

556 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

no change in the actual."5 If, on the other hand, we advance to
the profounder philosophical distinction "between time in the Ab-
solute and the Absolute in time, ' ' 6 then it becomes possible to ac-
cept Dr. Bosanquet's suggestion of the space-time-lessness of the
Whole.7

The nature of time, further, presents us with what is perhaps
the most striking of all "extremes" — the connection between time
itself and the widest aspects of ethics and religion. For time is an
element in all evolution or development; and hence arises "the ulti-
mate crux of speculation; the place of time, progress, and change
in the universe" (p. 125). In facing these issues, argues Dr. Bo-
sanquet, modern philosophy stands at a parting of the ways. ' ' The
sentiment of religion," to begin with, "begins in its own right,
though it has an intimate relation, but one never passing into
identity, with morality"; this position provides a common basis for
"Alexander the realist, James the radical empiricist, and Bradley
the absolutist" (pp. 68, 69). Once more, "our two extremes, crea-
tive thought (Gentile) and creative time (Alexander), meet in the
demand that true being must engage in progress" (p. 158). The
general standpoint of Italian neo-idealism is subjected to a searching
criticism which goes (in my opinion) to the root of the vital issues
involved. "Sociality, religion, metaphysic, are forms for which
the system can find no place" (p. 163) ; but these demand, in their
own inherent nature without being whittled away or transformed,
full recognition in any philosophy that merits the name; they call
therefore for ' ' an element of stability as well as an element of altera-
tion." As to where this stability is to be found, the author's own
position is perfectly definite, although its difficulty, until it is fully
developed, gives it a superficial quality of paradox. "The whole —
the universe — all that in any sense is — can not change. All that
is includes all that can be." Thus we have, at first sight, both the
"block universe" of James,8 and the tout est donne of Bergson;
but for Dr. Bosanquet's counter-arguments to these all too hasty
impeachments of absolutism I must refer readers to his own volume,
restricting myself to their bearing on the crucial dichotomy between
religion and morality. "We must distinguish, to begin with, "be-
tween a movement within, and a movement or change of, the all,
of the ultimate foundation of being as such";9 and this distinction

« Meeting of Extremes, p. 126.

' Cf . Green, Proleg. to Ethics, p. 57 ; " neither in time nor in space, im-
material and immovable, eternally one with itself."

• ' ' The radical misapprehension of English idealism which appears to pre-
vail in recent American writers" inherited from Royce and James (p. 198).

• Pp. 177, 179, 182.

BOOK REVIEWS 557

then involves the essential inadequacy of mere moralism, despite the
high value of its principles and aspirations so far as these carry us.
' ' Man 's perfectibility as realized in the, unending series of events is an
obvious contradiction." In fundamental contrast with all types of
such ethicism Dr. Bosanquet upholds "a unity in which the finite
spirit is at peace, and raised above the moralistic contradiction, in
faith by the religious attitude and in speculation by philosophy";
and the most fitting conclusion to my inadequate attempt to present
the essence of a rich and profound philosophy is provided by the
author's insistence upon "a total perfection, which to approach and
apprehend through the finite and its essential nexus with the in-
finite is the touchstone for a man, for life, and for philosophy. ' ' 10
It is to be hoped that his book will further the better appreciation
of an idealism that has too long been misrepresented and misunder-
stood.

J. E. TURNER.
LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND.

Platonism. PAUL ELMER MORE. Princeton University Press. 1917.

Pp. ix + 307.
The Religion of Plato. PAUL ELMER MORE. Princeton University

Press. 1921. Pp. xii -j- 352.

These volumes are announced as the first two of a work having
to do with the beginnings and early environment of Christianity.
The earlier one is introductory to the other four (three of them
being not yet prepared), and of the second, the subject is "the re-
ligion of Plato as part of the great spiritual adventure of the ancient
world from the death of Socrates to the council of Chalcedon just
eight centuries and a half later." These two volumes are not in-
tended to be works in history, and one infers the whole work when
completed will not be primarily an historical one. The introductory
volume is called by its author rather an invitation to philosophy
and to the kind of philosophy that he takes Platonism to be.

The two volumes are naturally controlled, to a great extent, by

the subject matter they approach. The philosophy they invite us to

practise is austere and elevated, a system of reflections that is evoked

/by what Mr. More calls dualism and by which he means, I think, any

I two elements or forces that clash, each one seeking to dominate the

other. The most significant of these, and the one to which Plato

gave its classical formulation, is the one that includes pleasures as a

sequence of states and happiness, the fruit of an enduring organism.

Plato's discussion of this dualism in the Republic is the heart and

center of Platonic wisdom.

10 Pp. 187, 200, 213.

658 JOURNAL OP PHILOSOPHY

A review of these two volumes in any adequate detail would
require a considerable essay, in spite of the fact that so much is left
out that is contained in the dialogues themselves, as Mr. More con-
fesses with regret. A many-sided thinker like Plato is bound to
make different impressions on different readers. It seems to the
present reviewer that Mr. More sees Plato too much with the eyes
of a Christian Platonist, but what he sees is very interesting and
many things are admirably said, for instance this about the ideas:
"These imaginative projections of the facts of the moral consciousness
are the true Platonic ideas."

Mr. More is not a radical or a "progressive" where essentials are
concerned, and the great essential is to control the dualism that so
often disrupts a human character. His conviction is, he says, that
behind such movements as the English revival of philosophic religion
in the seventeenth century and the rise of romanticism in the eight-
eenth, "the strongest single influence has been the perilous spirit of
liberation brought into the world by the disciple of Socrates, and
that our mental and moral atmosphere, so to speak, is still permeated
with inveterate perversions of Plato's doctrine." And this: "Only
through the centralizing force of religious faith or through ite equiva-
lent in philosophy can the intellectual life regain its meaning and
authority for earnest men."

Of the two volumes, the earlier one is, I think, much the more
interesting. While perhaps nothing new is said, much is very well
resaid, and it is what can be said many times and in many ways. Mr.
More can make his own translations into English whenever he chooses
to, and he has given his own translations at considerable length,
particularly in the volume on religion. The volume on Platonism
contains a study of the Parmenides, which ought to be a help to the
understanding of that perplexing dialogue.

Mr. More takes his Plato very literally indeed. What is put into
the mouth of Socrates must be accepted as Plato's opinion without
qualification. Of Plato the artist, the poet, the dramatist, capable
of humor and irony, there is hardly a suggestion. But then, the
work thus far is really not so much about Plato as it is about the
value of Platonism to a shell-shocked world.

WENDELL T. BUSH.
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

THE BRITISH JOURNAL OP PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. XIII, Part 1. July
1922. John Locke on the General Influence of Studies: William
Phillips. Recent Contributions to the Theory of 'Two Factors.': C.
Spearman. Some Problems of Adolescence : Ernest Jones. A Vindi-

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 559

cation of the Resonance Hypothesis of Audition. IV : C. R. G. Cosens
and H. Hartridge. Individual Differences in Listening to Music:
C. S. Myers. Age Standards for the Separate Northumberland
Tests: O. H. Thomson. The Biological and Social Significance of
the Expression of the Emotions: Camille Nony.

REVISTA DI FiLOSorfA. Vol. VIII, No. 4. July, 1922. La fil-
osofia espanola en el ultimo trienia (1919-1921) : Q. Saldana.
Economia del estado, social y mundial: A. Goldschmidt. Argu-
mentos escepticos y objeciones dogmaticas : L. Maupas. El Derecho
Social en Mejico : J. C. Torres. La doctrina eugenica y la inf ancia
anormal: L. Ciampi.

REVUE NEO-SCOLASTIQUE DE PHILOSOPHIE. XXIV, No. 95. Au-
gust, 1922. L 'Analogic de Proportion chez Saint Thomas d'Aquin:
B. Landry. Les Elements de la Moralite des Actes chez Saint
Thomas d'Aquin: D. Lottin. Un nouvel essai de Realisme en Amer-
ique : R. Kremer.

ZEITSCHRIFT FUR PSYCHOLOGIE. Bd. 89, Heft 4-6. Zur Theorie
der stroboskopischen Bewegungen : F. Hillebrand. Die Erblichkeit
der musikalischen Begabung : V. Haeker und Th. Ziehen. Umrifs-
skizze zu einer theoretischen Psychologic : J. Lindworsky.

JOURNAL DE PSYCHOLOGIE: XIX, No. 7. July, 1922. L 'inter-
pretation du reve chez les primitif s : M. Halbwachs. Une expres-
sion organique de la defense psychique: 7. Boas. Auto-observation
d'une hallucination et d'une illusion: P. Quercy. L 'adrenaline et
1 'emotion: A. Mayer.

Dasqupta, Surendranath : A History of Indian Philosophy.
London: Cambridge University Press. New York: Macmillan
Company. 1922. Pp. xvi + 528.

Dickinson, Zenas Clark: Economic Motives. A Study in the
Psychological Foundations of Economic Theory. Cambridge: Har-
vard University Press. 1922. Pp. 304. $2.50.

Dupreel, Eugene: La Legende Socratique et les Sources de
Platon. Bruxelles: Les Editions Robert Sand. New York: Oxford
University Press American Branch. 1922. Pp. 448. $6.00.

Gemelli, Fr. Agostino : Religione e Scienza. 2nd edition.
Milano: Societa eclitrice Vita e Pensiero. 1922. 369 pp.

Goldenweisser, Alexander: Early Civilization. New York:
Knopf. 1922. 428 pp.

Kanovitch, Abraham: The Will to Beauty. New York: Gold
Rose Printing Co. 1922. 192 pp.

Smith, Henry Bradford: Foundations of Formal Logic. Uni-
versity of Pennsylvania Press. 1922. 56 pp.

Tassy, Edme: La Philosophie Constructive. Paris: Etienne
Chiron. 1922. 321 pp.

'.(.I) JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Stephen, Karin: The Misuse of Mind. Series: International
Library of Psychology, Philosophy and Scientific Method. New
York : Harcourt, Brace & Co. 1922. Pp. 107.

Thompson, C. G. : The Ethics of William Wollaston. Boston :
Gorham Press. 1922. 235 pp.

Coburn, Charles A.: Heredity of Wildness and Savageness in
Mice. Behavior Monographs, Vol. 4, No. 5. 1922. Baltimore:
Williams and Wilkins Co. 71 pp.

Papini, Giovanni: Four and Twenty Minds (Essays) Trans-
lated by Ernest Wilkins. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Co.
1922. 350pp.

NOTES AND NEWS

At the recent meeting of the British Association at Hull, dele-
gates from the University of Toronto extended a formal invitation
to the Association to meet in Canada in 1924. They promised an
enthusiastic welcome and $50,000 toward defraying the expenses
of British scientific colleagues. They requested, however, that the
date of the Toronto meeting should be the second week of Septem-
ber, that excursions to the Pacific should be arranged beforehand,
and also that any other meeting that year at home should be subse-
quent and strictly subsidiary, so that Toronto would have the real
British Association meeting of 1924. The offer was unanimously
and gratefully accepted.

VOL. XIX., No. 21 OCTOBER 12, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ANEW conception that is thorough-going always simplifies. In
fact it usually originates when a prevailing point of view has
got overloaded, cumbrous and involved. The notion of behavior is
already having a simplifying and reducing effect upon epistemology
and in my opinion is only beginning its career. But a new point of
view also tends to oversimplify, to neglect, ignore and thereby in
effect to deny. It is one thing, for example, to deny qualities, mean-
ings, feelings, consciousness, etc., as they have been defined by prior
theories, especially by modern psychology with its helplessly subjec-
tive and private metaphysics. It is another thing to deny the facts
which common sense and common speech independently of any
theory call by these names. Personally, I believe that the identifi-
cation of knowing and thinking with speech is wholly in the right
direction. But, with one marked exception, I have not seen any
analysis of speech which appears adequate or which does not lay-
itself open to the charge of omitting and virtually denying obvious
facts.1

1. When it is asserted that speech as thought is a reaction, the
question at once arises : What is its stimulus ? The easy and simple
reply is wrong. We are likely to say that speech is a reaction to a
thing sensibly present, that, for example, I say "this is a knife" be-
cause a knife is sensibly present as a stimulus to speech. The be-
haviorist, of all persons, can not afford to give this account of the
stimulus to speech. For if he does, he subjects himself to a final
retort. The sensible presence of the knife is, then, already a case of
knowledge, and speech instead of constituting knowledge merely
voices, utters or reduplicates a knowledge already there in full ex-
istence. If the stimulus is not a thing sensibly present, neither is it
merely some prior complete act or piece of behavior which causes con-
tractions in the vocal organs. The utterances of a talking-machine

i The exception is the remarkably clear and comprehensive paper by Mead,
in this JOURNAL, Vol. XIX, No. 6, on "A Behavioristic Account of the Signifi-
cant Symbol. ' '

561

562 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

are induced by an internal mechanism but they are not speech or
knowledge; neither is a hiccough or groan or sigh, although it is
caused in the vocal musculature by prior organic conditions.

There is a difference between the concept of stimulus-reaction and
that of cause-effect. The former includes, of course, the latter, but it
adds something. It has, in addition, the property of an adaptation,
or maladaptation, which is effected. But adaptation alone is not
enoilgh to differentiate stimulus and response in the case of speech.
A sigh may relieve suffering and in so far be adaptive. Seeing as
an act may be part of the stimulus to saying "that is a knife," but
it can not be the entire stimulus. For seeing as a complete stimulus
gives rise to the response of reaching and taking or withdrawing,
not of speech. What has to be accounted for is the postponement
of the complete overt reaction, and its conversion into an intermediate
vocal reaction. There must be some break in the seeing-reaching
sequence, some obstacle to its occurrence, to induce a diversion from
the hand to the voice. There must be a defective or hesitant connec-
tion between seeing and handling which is somehow made good and
whole by speech. Hence the stimulus to speech can not be identified,
per simpliciter, with its object. The latter is its consequence, not
its antecedent.

2. Before fully developing the implications of this point we
must turn to another phase of speech reaction. Not every speech
reaction, even when genuine and not a mere vocalization, is a cogni-
tive statement even by implication. Story-telling need not purport
to state "facts" or "truths"; its interest may be increased by vrai-
semblance, but this trait serves a dramatic or imaginative end, not
an intellectual one. A reader of Shakespeare may become a student
of the sources upon which Shakespeare drew, and make speech reac-
tions to this study. Then the reaction is cognitive. But he need
not do so; he may be content to confine his speech reaction to a
dramatic production. Again the reader may become interested in
whether Shakespeare meant to represent Hamlet as mad; then his
reaction is a judgment. But he may be satisfied merely to use
speech as a means of re-creating a Hamlet either sane or mad ; as a
mode of story-telling or drama it makes no difference. There is no
outside criterion till we go outside of mere story-telling. The
play's the thing and it has no object of knowledge.

These remarks are intended to call attention to the need of dis-
covering some differential trait of those speech reactions which do
constitute knowledge. A story or play is there, and the re-enacting of
it in a speech mode is purely additive. It makes another piece of
behavior, but this new mode of behavior does not react back into

KNOWLEDGE AND SPEECH REACTION 563

the play or story or its conditions. It is complete on its own account.
A play of Shakespeare may mean a hundred different things to a
hundred different audiences or a hundred different persons in the
same audience, and the diversity of the hundred speech reactions
evoked is no matter. The speech reactions need have no connection
with what Shakespeare himself meant in his reaction, beyond being
caused by the latter. But a judgment or thought about what Shake-
speare himself meant does not have any such self-sufficing independ-
ence. It has to link up with something outside itself. It has to be a
reaction not merely to the play as a provocative cause, but has to be
a response which somehow fits into or answers to the play as stimu-
lus. Our problem is to name that distinctive feature of a speech
reaction which confers upon it the quality of response, reply, an-
swer; of supplying something lacking without it.

"We thus return to our prior analysis. The statement "this is a
knife" is cognitive because it is more than a mere evocation oi a prior
piece of behavior. It serves to supplement or complete a behavior
which is incomplete or broken without it. As response it is reaction
in another sense than when we say in physics: action and reaction
are equal and in opposite direction. Some physical reactions are
quite independent of that action to which they are reactions except
in a casual sense. But a response in statement is intimately con-
nected with that to which it answers. It is not merely to it or away
from it, but is back into it : that is, it continues, develops, directs
something defective without it. Without speech reaction the action
which causes it is blind trial or error ; with it, or rather through it,
the evoking action becomes purposive, that is, continuous, cumulative.
To be more specific the response "this is a knife" is produced by
reactions of seeing and incipient reactions of reaching, touching,
handling, which are up to the point of speech reaction fumbling,
choked and conflicting. Speech reaction unifies them into the atti-
tude of unhesitant readiness to seize and cut. It integrates or co-
ordinates behavior tendencies which without it are uncertain and
more or less antagonistic. This trait is the differentia of judgment
from speech reaction in the form of story telling and vicarious dra-
matic reproduction. Unless we acknowledge and emphasize this trait,
the behavioristic theory falls an easy victim to the contention that
language merely echoes or puts into verbal form an apprehension
that is complete without it. The dilemma is unescapable. Either
the speech reaction does something to what calls it out, modifying it
and giving it a behavior characteristic which it otherwise does not
have, or it is mere utterance of what already exists apart from it.

This fact throws light upon the oversimplification referred to at
the outset. It is easy to overlook the modifying, re-directive and

564 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPII Y

integrative function of speech as a response. Then only one side of
it is recognized, that of its being caused by a prior action. The
result is an identification of stimulus and object of knowledge which
not merely goes contrary to facts but which undermines the behavior-
istic statement. For since the stimulus as cause is there when the
reaction takes place, the object must also be there, if stimulus and
object are simply identified. Then, cognitively speaking, speech is
a futile echoing, however useful it may be as a practical device for
fixing attention or supplying a convenient memorandum for recol-
lection.

Mr. Mursell, in his recent interesting article,2 seems to me to
illustrate the oversimplification in question and also its consequences.
Speaking of perceptual judgments — speech reactions which state
perceptions — he says they are "those Judgments where the stimulus
of the speech reaction is that to which the judgment has reference.
I see a colored patch and respond by saying 'that is red.' I see
my desk light burning and the muscles of my vocal organs are in-
nervated to make the assertion 'the light is burning.' ' So far the
account is inconclusive with respect to our problem. No one would
deny that speech reaction has reference to its stimulus or that an
act of seeing is at least part of its stimulus. But the passage con-
tinues as follows: "In such cases the relation between the judg-
ment and its object seems sufficiently clear. The object is the
cause of the judgment, the causal nexus taking an intricate path
through the nervous ganglia." (Italics mine.) Here the nature
of the reference is unambiguously stated. Stimulus is cause, and
as cause it is also the object of judgment.

If the stimulus is not simply a tendency to see, that is, an innerva-
tion of the optical apparatus, but is a seeing of "desk-light-burning,"
the non-behaviorist can adequately retort that seeing the light and
the desk and their respective positions is already a case of knowing
or judgment, so that speech is merely an addition, supernumerary
for judgment though doubtless of practical and social utility. The
case stands otherwise if the stimulus is an obstructed or incomplete
act of vision, and speech serves to release, to direct and clinch it.
In the latter case, the patch would not be known as red, say, or the
light as the light of a lamp on the desk until the speech reaction
definitely determined a stimulus. There is nothing paradoxical in
this conception. We constantly react to light by using it, without
knowing or naming it — without an explicit distinction and identifica-
tion, and we very well know in dealing with novelties how names
clear up and fix otherwise confusing and confused situations. Be-

* This JOURNAL, Vol. XIX, p. 187, "Truth as Correspondence."

KNOWLEDGE AND SPEECH REACTION 565

havioristically, above all, we must conceive that speech response is
not something final and isolated, but that it operates in turn as con-
dition of some more effective and adequate adjustment. While prac-
tically this function may be often performed in a direction away from
its cause, as when we call out to a person in danger to look out, with-
out stopping to tell him why he should look out, intellectually its office
is turned toward the cause to modify it. And the object of judgment
is thus not the cause simply; it is the consequence, the modification
effected in its cause by the speech reaction. The speech response
is retroactive as it were ; not that it can modify anything which has
passed out of existence, but it influences a contemporary act of
vision and a tendency to reach or handle so as to give them a di-
rected unity which they would not otherwise achieve save at the
termination of a period of trial and error.

3. The analysis is still oversimplified. Speaking is connected with
an ear and auditory apparatus, and their neuro-muscular and intra-
organic connections. It is contrary to fact to identify a speech
reaction with simply the innervation of the vocal organs. This gives
no differentia of speech from a sigh, or grunt, or ejaculation due to
respiratory reactions to pain. A speech reaction is the innerva-
tion-of-vocal-apparatus-as-stimulus-to-the-responses-of-other-organs-
through-the-auditory-apparatus. It involves the auditor and his
characteristic reaction to speech heard. Often and primarily the
auditor is another organism whose behavior is required to complete
the speech reaction, this behavior being the objective aimed at in the
speech reaction.3

When the speech reaction consists in a "silent" innervation the
principle is the same. It is then addressed to our own ear and the
total connections thereof. Instead of making a command, or giving
warning or advice to another agent for him to react to, we address
it to ourself as a further re-agent. The agent issuing the stimulus
and the one receiving it form two agents or persons or behavior sys-
tems. Failure expressly to note the implication of the auditor and
his further behavior in a speech reaction is, I think, chiefly respon-
sible for the common belief that there is something arbitrary, con-
ceived in the interest of upholding a behavioristic theory at all cost, in
identifying thought with speech. For when speech is confined to
mere vocal innervations, the heart of knowledge is clearly not there.
But neither is the heart of speech. Introduce connection with the
responsive adjustments of the audience, and the forced paradox dis-
appears. We have, as Mr. Mead has shown, the conditions for
meaning.

a This is the point which is brought out so effectively in the article by
Mead already referred to.

:>MJ JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

A speech reaction is a direction to subsequent behavior: Look
and see; listen and hear; jump, turn to the left — remarks ad-
dressed to another who is in connection with ourselves, a partaker
in the same behavior system, and then to ourselves, as a further
re-agent, when there is no other person present.

Commands, optatives and subjunctives are the primary modes
of speech reaction; the indicative or expositive mood is an ampli-
fication. For example, even a treatise by a mathematician or chem-
ist is a guide to the undertaking of certain behavior reactions — a
series of acts which when executed will result in seeing the things
which the author has responded to with certain statements. It fol-
lows that the object of a speech reaction is the concordant responses
which it sets up. Antecedent stimuli are a part of this object but
are not the complete object of knowledge; the latter involves the
further determinations which antecedent stimuli undergo by means
of behavior evoked by speech. The object of knowledge or speech
is the ultimate consent of the coordinated responses of speaker and
hearer; the object of a/firmation is the confirmation of co-adapted
behavior. Its object is that future complex coordination of serial
acts into a single behavior-system which would not exist without
it. One's responses are co-adapted to the auditor's and the audi-
tor's to one's own. Certain consequences follow.

1. The first is the refutation of solipsism. Not only can two
persons know the same object, but a single personal reaction can
not know an identical object. As a single and singular being I may
make a primary non-cognitive reaction to a stimulus. I may shiver
when the ear is stimulated in a certain way. But when I say,
"that is the noise of a saw" the statement is addressed to the re-
sponses of an auditor in such a way as to demand a concordant re-
action. He listens and looks, and says, "no, that is the sound of
an axle of a wheel. ' ' Then I have to look, to respond with further
behavior. The speech reaction is not complete till a concordant re-
sponse is established. In other words, speech is conversation ; it in-
volves a duality of experiences or views. A single presence or view
does not constitute judgment or statement. This particular
manner of putting the fact may be unusual but there is nothing
strikingly novel in the conception. Cognition involves recognition,
acknowledgment, a contrast and connection of two different times
or places of experience by means of which a distinctive identifica-
tion is set up. A single act can not, as singular, establish the identi-
fication required to characterize an event as an object. There must
be recurrence in a slightly different context. This is a thing that
requires a response like that made before, or which will exact a

KNOWLEDGE AND SPEECH REACTION 567

like response in the future, or of some other re-agent in the present.
And without the sameness or correspondence of the responses of
the two times or places, there is literally, contra-diction. An ob-
ject of knowledge must consistently cover or comprehend responses
to at least two distinct stimuli.

2. This conclusion has a direct bearing upon the nature of the
correspondence which defines truth. The correspondence is found
in the inclusion in a single contemporary behavior system of di-
verse behavior reactions. No correspondence can be conclusively
established between a present response and a past one in their
separation, or between a present one and a future one in their
separateness. There must be one harmonious behavior function
which includes the elements of both. Mr. Mursell in the article
referred to makes correspondence retroactive. He says:4 "When I
assert that Caesar crossed the Rubicon, I am reproducing the
original reaction made by observers two thousand years ago, who
saw him splash through the stream and found in the sight a stimu-
lus to the response 'He has crossed the Rubicon.' ' This account
involves the mistake pointed out in the case of the statement "this
is red color." It assumes that the object is known and also truly
known prior to the speech reaction. How do I know that some
former observer made the speech reaction ascribed to him? This
ascription is the point at issue, and the account quoted merely begs
the question. A correct statement of the data that Mr. Mursell
recognizes would be: "I say that an observer two thousand years
ago said that Caesar has crossed the Rubicon; then I reproduce
that saying on my own account. Then I say that the two sayings
agree or correspond." Undoubtedly they do. But at no point
have I got beyond my own sayings. The correspondence is merely
between a saying of my own about what some one else said with
another saying of my own. There is only a new kind of solipsism,
that of private speech. In this historical case, I clearly can not
direct my remark to a man long since dead and secure concordant
behavior response from him. But I do address myself to others
and say that if they will look at historic records, including those
of a subsequent course of events, their responses will correspond to
mine — or that the different reactions will all enter into a single com-
plex behavior system.

Another illustration of Mr. Mursell 's brings out the same points.
He says: "Suppose I say Napoleon's tomb is in Paris. Let us as-
sume that I read the words somewhere. Pushing back along the
chain of recorded responses of which the printed symbols that I
* P. 187.

568 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

saw are the last, I come finally to the place where the original ob-
server, who started tne whole series, stood. I am directed to a
particular locus, and there I receive a stimulus that issues in the
response, 'Yes, Napoleon's tomb is in Paris.' And this it is which
constitutes the truth of the judgment. . . . The chain of recorded
responses always directs us to some specific locus."8 The last
statement must be unqualifiedly admitted. But what and where
is the locus ? If it is merely past — and not a stimulus- response con-
tinuing into the present — then I can only state that "I say that an
original observer said that the tomb is in Paris." In short, as I
push back along the chain, I finally come after all only to my own
saying about what another said. If I go to Paris then indeed I
come upon quite another saying which is congruous with my prior
saying that the tomb is in Paris, but in this case the object is not
one of a retroactive response. Or, I may respond without going
to Paris in such a way as to call out reactions from other persons
who make the same deliverance — that the tomb is in Paris. Here
also the object is the attained co-adaptations in behavior.

Supposing we take a judgment about an event in the geological
ages preceding the existence of human beings or any organisms
possessed of speech reactions. In such instances, it is clear that
there can be no question of correspondence with the speech reac-
tion of a contemporary observer. By description the retroactive
correspondence of sayings is ruled out. Yet no one doubts that
there are some judgments about this ancient state of affairs which
are truer than others. How can this be possible, since there can be
no question of reproducing the judgment of an observer! If we
say that what we now judge is what a contemporary observer would
have said if he had been present, we are clearly begging the ques-
tion. Nor could a contemporary observer have made as accurate
and comprehensive a judgment in some respects as we can make,
since we can also judge what occurred at a given period in the
light of what happened afterwards. Clearly our speech reaction
is to observations of present perceptions of data, rocks, fossils, etc.
The other auditor and speaker to whom the statements are ad-
dressed are other possible observers of these and similar data. The
ulterior "object" is the concordant, mutually reinforcing behavior
system, including, of course, the speech responses. Sciousness in
this, as in other cases, is con-sciousness. And this equating is not
a mere figure of speech ; it gives the original meaning of the word.

Summing up, we may say that there are three types of response
which it is necessary to distinguish. First, there is direct or-
gan ic response-of -th e-autonom ic-and-sensori-central-mot or-sy stems-to

• Op. ci*., p. 188.

KNOWLEDGE AND SPEECH REACTION 569

stimuli. These stimuli are not, for and in the reaction, objects.
Their connection with response is causal rather than cognitional.
The reaction is physico-chemical, though it may terminate in a
spatial or molar change. Neither the stimulus nor the response is
an object of knowledge, though it may become part of an object-
to-be-known. If the stimulus were adequate or complete, complete
adaptative response or use would take place. Being incomplete,
it is a challenge to a further response which will give it determinate
character. Thereby the to-be-known becomes an object of knowl-
edge; it becomes an answer instead of a query.

Secondly, the speech response occupies an intermediate position.
By clinching, fixing its stimulus, it releases further modes of re-
sponse. Saying that the colored patch is red enables us to take it
as the thing we have been hunting for, or to react to it as a definite
warning of danger. The prior activities form part of the subject-
matter of the thing thus known. But they are not the object
known. The object known is the coordination of the prior behavior
with the consequent behavior which is effected by the medium of
speech. Till the assumption is banished that stimulus to knowing
and object of knowledge are the same thing, the analysis of knowl-
edge and truth will be confused. Thirdly, the eventual coordina-
tion of behavior involves the response of a further re-agent, namely,
the auditor, whether another organism or one 's own. This coordina-
tion of the activity of speaker and hearer forms the ulterior object
of knowledge. As a co-ordination or co-adaptation of at least two
respondents, it constitutes that correspondence which we call
knowledge or truth. Correspondence of past and present responses
can be determined only by means of a further response which in-
cludes both of them within itself in a unified way. The theory ex-
plains the relation of truth to consistency as well as to correspond-
ence. The different responses must consist, cohere, together. Con-
sistency gets an objective, non-mentalistic meaning when it is under-
stood to mean capacity for integration of different responses in a
single more comprehensive behavior.

We may conclude by suggesting a possible explanation of the
oversimplification of the behavioristic account of speech which has
been pointed out. Introspective psychology of necessity broke up
the subject-matter of psychology into a number of disjecta membra,
of disjoined fragments treated as independent self-sufficing wholes.
I say "of necessity" because the connecting links of these frag-
ments are found in a context of environmental conditions and or-
ganic behavior of which the introspectionist can not be aware.
Now behaviorism has too often confined itself to finding behavior-

570 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

istic counterparts of the same material and topics with which intro-
spective psychology has dealt." Consequently actual and concrete
behavior has been broken up into a number of disjoined pieces
instead of being analyzed freely on its own account. Thus certain
errors of introspective psychology have been reduplicated in the
very behavioristic psychology which is a protest against introspec-
tionism.

JOHN DEWET.
COLUMBIA UNIVIBSITT.

present age may not unfairly be characterized as one inl<-ni
J- upon immediate results. The remarkable achievements of the
sciences, pure and applied, seemingly put the philosopher, the plod-
ding student of ultimate principles, to shame, unless he, too, can
produce for the edification of an insatiable public some new and
novel contributions pointing directly to the advancement of the in-
dividual and social good. While psychologists are busy devising
intelligence tests, or performing hypothetical experiments upon the
human being, under the inspiration of "behaviorism," quite as if
man were a lower species of animal, the philosopher must evidently
do something to "save caste," at least by way of showing his inter-
est in such scientific advances.

To the attempt to keep in touch with these latest developments
and to express his views on the various ethical and sociological
problems associated with them, Professor Ralph Barton Perry is
devoting his best attention; it is, therefore, by the study of his
writings that one may hope most conveniently to gain an under-
standing of the philosophical implications involved in these move-
ments. It is possible, however, that in his preoccupation with the
treatment of specific details, the reader may sometimes lose sight of
the fundamental principles upon which Professor Perry's particular
solution of these problems depends. Such being the case, it seems
essential to pass in review Professor Perry's various utterances
with the special purpose of bringing: these principles and presup-
positions to light ; to see in general how he conceives of the relation

« The case is quite analogous with the situation described by Mr. Kantor
with reference to the nervous system. See his article in this JOURNAL, Vol.
XIX, p. 38, on "The Nervous System, Psychological Fact or Fiction?" As
Mr. Kantor states, too often "the nervous system ia taken to be the tangible
counterpart of the intangible psychic." Similarly, certain modes of behaviors
have been treated as objective substitutes for prior subjective entities and
processes.

PROFESSOR PERRY'S EMPIRICISM 571

between science and philosophy; and in particular what is his
theory of the nature and functions of the mind.

In his Presidential address before the American Philosophical
Association, December, 1920,1 Professor Perry presents a brief
summary of many of the views expressed in his previous articles,
so we may conveniently use that paper as the starting point of the
present discussion, supplementing it, when necessary, by reference
to his other writings.

Professor Perry declares in this address that "... the great
philosophical enterprise of the immediate future is the naturalistic
study of man as a part of nature, interchangeable and interactive
with his environment. " 2 To accomplish this purpose entails, to his
mind, what some of his readers may consider a particularly novel
conception of the relation between philosophy and the natural sci-
ences, including within that division psychology. "The leaders of
contemporary thought, such as James, Bergson, Dewey, and Russell,
are distinguished by the utter lawlessness with which they intro-
duce philosophy into their psychology and psychology into their
philosophy. Perhaps they do not know the difference; in any case
they ignore it. ... Scorning schematic barriers and scientific eti-
quette they bluntly assume that the facts about human nature are all
to be found in one place, and that it is not ^ significant by what door
you enter. ' ' 3

In other words, both philosophers and psychologists are in
search of the same facts, and, forsaking dialectics, are to "observe
what actually transpires."4 Not "idle speculation," but "direct
observation " is to be the source of all our knowledge, both scientific
and philosophical. And, to make more explicit his point of view,
Professor Perry remarks that "... a careful effort to describe the
act by which a knower selects his object, or the act of meaning, or
the act of sense-perception, will inevitably lead an empiricist, . .
to attach central importance to the functioning of the physical or-
ganism. ' ' 5

What, first of all, is said in general of such a notion of the rela-
tion between philosophy and science? Professor Perry has stated
his case with such cheerful and dogmatic assurance that the reader
is justified in demanding conclusive evidence in its favor. Cer-
tainly it is not supported by a historical study of the course of hu-
man thought ; never in the past have philosophy, and either science

i"The Appeal to Keason," Phil. Rev., XXX, 2, pp. 131-169.

2 Phil. Rev., XXX, 2, p. 136.

«J6id., p. 137.

* Present Philosophical Tendencies, pp. 322-3.

s Phil. Rev., XXX, 4, p. 407 (italics mine).

572 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOI'JI Y

in general, or philosophy and any particular science, for long em-
ployed the same methods or oc<Mipi«'<l themselves with identical
problems. In the very nature of the case, and for the sake of clar-
ity in defining issues, it would seem that certain fundamental dis-
stinctions between philosophy and science must be maintained. So
long as science must resort to abstraction in order to attain its
legitimate ends, just so long must philosophy point out and even
insist upon the necessity of a reinterpretation of scientific conclu-
sions in the light of the more ultimate principles, immanent in ex-
perience as a whole rather than in any one part of it, which it is
the proper business of the philosopher to bring to expression.
Surely it is to the advantage both of the scientist and of the phi-
losopher to recognize such a distinction as this, and it would not be
difficult to suggest other important differences, e.g., those concerned
with the problem of values.

Then again it is a question whether or not the "leaders of con-
temporary thought" whom Professor Perry mentions as his sole
authority in support of his contention of the present-day intercon-
nection between psychology and philosophy, would themselves ac-
cept his statement on their behalf. Bergson, for example, insists
that science fails to grasp the concrete nature of things simply be-
cause it is doomed to proceed by means of the abstract categories
supplied by the intellect ; to get at reality the philosopher must em-
ploy another faculty, more suited to its task, namely the intuition.
There could hardly be a sharper distinction, at least in method-
ology, between the two fields. And of course there are other con-
temporaries, whose views are quite as worthy of respect as are those
of the authorities he cites, who would very definitely reject Profes-
sor Perry's viewpoint.

Nevertheless, the adoption of any other point of view than that
represented by his fellow empiricists, is contemptuously cast aside
as due to "sentimental" or "religious" prejudices.* Such "pure
speculation," it is urged, may be a harmless enough pursuit, like
a day-dream, but it is as little in touch with actual experience and
the "facts" of human existence. That is to say, Professor Perry
deliberately refuses to recognize as facts worthy of serious philosoph-
ical consideration, any particular facts other than those involved
in the functioning of the physical organism. To be a fact means,
then, it would seem, to be expressible in biological categories.

With the material adequacy of this conception we shall deal in
the later part of the discussion. Our immediate concern is with
the nature of the "scientific" method which is held to be so all-im-

• Cf . The Pretent Conflict of Ideal*, pp. 378-9 and pastim.

PROFESSOR PERRY'S EMPIRICISM 573

portant. It seemingly is implied in the passages quoted above that
by mere observation we may hope to discover the facts about hu-
man life and experience, and then, presumably, will go on to formu-
late the significant laws of human nature on the basis of these
previously discovered facts. But quite irrespective of the identity
or non-identity of philosophical and scientific methodology, sci-
ence, simply qua science, does not, and logically can not, follow
such a procedure. Scientific experience flatly contradicts the as-
sertion that there are bare original particulars, existing by them-
selves, as, e.g., the doctrine of external relations would seem to im-
ply, upon which the scientist proceeds to direct his observation,
for the purpose of later framing laws and hypotheses about them.
For the scientist a fact is a fact — can only be a fact — in so far as
it is already associated, or capable of association, in his experience,
with other facts, forming a more or less consistent system. In other
words, to possess any scientific significance, to exist at all for the
scientist, or for that matter, for anybody, particular facts and gen-
eral laws logically imply each other, and are inseparable aspects of
a systematic dialectic.

It seems, therefore, that not only is Professor Perry's concep-
tion of the relation of science to philosophy open to criticism on the
basis of the nature of the problems with which they are respectively
concerned, but that so long as the methods of science itself are in
dispute, no correct solution of the larger problem can be hoped for.
Let us, however, except for these cursory remarks, waive for the
moment both the very dubious conception of philosophy as sharing
the same problems with psychology or any other sciences, and the
complementary assertion of identity of method in the two cases.
Let us rather turn to an examination of the particular facts which
Professor Perry has discovered, by observing "what actually trans-
pires ' ' about human consciousness and some of its typical products.
For after all, "the proof of the pudding is in the eating," and in
a certain sense the proof of any method in philosophy lies in the
results which it achieves ; in the degree to which it serves adequately
to explain our actual experience. We shall see that not only do
these facts fail to represent the real nature of man's mind, but —
what is, if possible, even more serious from Professor Perry 's stand-
point— that they even prove adequate to the task of defining con-
sciousness in agreement with his own philosophical principles, and
therefore, require considerable supplementation from the abhorred
field of "pure speculation."

First as to consciousness. In Present Philosophical Tendencies7
it is defined, in accordance with the principle of attaching "central

7 Pp. 322ff.

.,71 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

importance to the functioning of the physical organism/' as "a
species of function exercised by an organism." It is "a selective
response to a pre-existing and independently existing environment."
Now, however adequate such a definition may be for the immedi-
ate purposes of psychology — and perhaps we may leave it to the
scientific psychologist to decide the question for himself — the phi-
losopher, it would seem, is in duty bound to point out the obvious
abstraction contained in it. For of what "fact" can a serious em-
piricist be more certain than that an "independently existing en-
vironment" is not a part of his actual experience? At every in-
stant, to examine the matter no further, man is transforming this
supposedly independent environment; indeed his very presence in
the world is already an implicit transformation in the shape of added
values and deeper meanings. Thus a more flagrant case of "pure
speculation" it would be difficult to mention. There is no element
in concrete experience that it serves to explain ; it stands there on
its own merits as an unwarranted assumption which the philosopher
would do well to avoid until all other more concrete possibilities had
been exhausted.

But Professor Perry does not rest here; he proceeds to locate
consciousness existentially in space and time. We find (would Pro-
fessor Perry say "observe?") that it is "only one kind of thing
among many " ; 8 it intervenes as an arc in the causal circuit of the
nervous system, comprised of stimulus at one end and response at
the other.9 But here is where observers apparently disagree, since
the thoroughgoing behaviorist, the essence of whose method is ob-
servation, denies the existence of any such factor as consciousness.
Parenthetically, we may remark that such confusion is due in part
to an uncritical use of the terms "stimulus" and "response";
terms which some physiologists are learning to- treat with more
circumspection and care than formerly.10

However that may be, the further question naturally arises as
to why it is necessary to conceive of consciousness, for scientific
purposes, in existential terms at all. Many psychologists, except
perhaps those who reject the concept altogether, would rest con-
tent with defining it, as indeed Professor Perry himself does at the
outset, as a process, an activity, exercised by the natural organism.
And, moreover, this is all that consistency with Professor Perry's
psychological principles demands. Then why attempt to ascribe to

• Present Philotophical Tendencies, pp. 322-3.

•Of. "A Behavioriatic View of Purpose," this JOURNAL, XVTII, 4, pp.
86-105.

"McDougall, "Prolegomena to Psychology" in the Psychological Review,
XXIX, 1, pp. 1-43.

PROFESSOR PERRY'S EMPIRICISM 575

it characteristics usually associated with physical thinghood? The
answer is, as indicated above, that the merely scientific account
proves inadequate for philosophical purposes and hence must be
supplemented by certain hypothetical principles of nee-realism.
Thus the account of the neo-realistic solution of the riddle of the
dualism of mind and body runs as follows : ' ' Consciousness is homo-
geneous with the rest of the world in the sense that it is composed
ultimately of the same elements"11 — or "neutral entities." That
is, consciousness, a tree, man, a mathematical system, — in short,
whatever in any sense exists, or may be thought about — reduces by
realistic analysis to these same neutral entities. But a neutral
entity, whatever else it may be, is not an empirical fact; it pos-
sesses no properties amenable to scientific or to logical scrutiny ; it
has nothing to do with the functioning of the physical organism,
empirically considered; it is simply a metaphysically postulated
element conceived, principally, it would seem, for the purpose of
constructing reality out of bits.

Such is the stratagem to which Professor Perry's neo-realistic
empiricism is forced by a natural logic more powerful than any
resolution- an individual thinker or group of thinkers may form
not to recognize it. However much he may insist upon construing
reality "scientifically" in terms of particular observed facts only
externally related to one another, however much he may resolve to
focus attention solely upon the particular physical organism, the
neo-realist is at last driven to posit some sort of a logical connec-
tion, an artificial universal, to take the place of the real universal
binding these particulars together. Having forsaken the real uni-
versals displaying the identity in diversity actually found in ex-
perience, he is obliged to adopt as a substitute some logical fiction
such as the neutral entities, thereby reducing the articulated uni-
verse to a bare and formal identity wholly unlike that known to
concrete experience. In other words, we are contemplating the logi-
cal results of artificially separating factors, such as the individual
and the external environment, which actually are intimately bound
together in the concrete whole of things. It is the attempt to em-
ploy in philosophy the method so successful and legitimate in sci-
ence— the tool of abstraction. So that how Professor Perry is to
reconcile his insistence upon the employment of solely empirical
"scientific" methods of direct observation in the acquisition of the
"facts" of experience with the purely speculative theory which he
as a philosopher sees fit to adopt, we must leave to him to explain.
One thing is evident, namely, that not the facts alone or even

11 The Present Conflict of Ideals, p. 376.

576 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

principally, but certain assumptions, furnish the real basis of his
conception of the nature of consciousness. Yet it is not against the
making of assumptions that one may complain, for all thinking in-
volves such a factor, — though, incidentally, Professor Perry's own
principles seem logically to preclude for him the making of them —
but rather the uncritical, dogmatic assertion of these particular
ones, as if they required no examination as to adequacy but were
self-evident and directly derived from the facts of experience.

Thus the net result of the application of Professor Perry's em-
piricism to the facts of consciousness is failure to derive a consis-
tent or satisfactory account of its nature. The great wonder, how-
ever, is, not that the outcome of such a self-contradictory procedure
should have resulted in failure, but rather that it could ever have
been thought to possess any possible value as a method of philosoph-
ical explanation. It should serve as a concrete example of the
results to be expected from the attempt to disregard the logical
principle that form and matter mutually condition each other; that
there is no general abstract logical constant or bare identity such
as a neutral entity, which can be applied effectively and indiscrimi-
nately as a principle of explanation to each and every part of
experience on the general assumption that all experience is reduci-
ble to the existential or quasi-existential terms of natural science.

Indeed, a close inspection of Professor Perry's various writings
only goes to confirm the first impression that we have to do with
a serenely nai've point of view with regard to, for example, such
problems as that of the nature of the mind, quite on a level with that
of the ordinary uncritical writer of text-books on physiological psy-
chology. He makes no attempt to examine the presuppositions in-
volved in such an attitude, and the outcome, thus far at least, of the
identification of science and philosophy, as proposed by Professor
Perry, is, therefore, a mere juxtaposition of certain philosophical
principles, not cogent to the problems at hand, with the uncriticized
results obtained from a narrow field of scientific investigation.

And when we turn from a consideration of his conception of
the nature of consciousness itself to his application of the concep-
tion to an interpretation of such mental products and activities as
• purposiveness and belief, we shall see that here, even more ex-
plicitly, the attempt to unite philosophy and science in a single,
identical enterprise, results in a merely scientific outlook, with all
of its attendant abstractions and na'ivetS.

"Biologists," Professor Perry declares, "and even chemists are
discussing teleology with open and receptive minds."12 This re-

» Phil. Bev., XXX, 2, p. 136.

PROFESSOR PERRY'S EMPIRICISM 577

mark is important because our writer says elsewhere: "Man and
his faculties belong to the fields of the biological sciences and are
therefore subject to the methods and laws which are proper in that
field. ' ' 13 Evidently we may expect that human purposiveness as
| well as consciousness will be defined in accordance with the biologi-
cal categories. We may conceive of the human mind, Professor
Perry explains, as a "unified reaction-system which . . . will con-
trol both the internal adjustments of the organism and its dealings
with the external environment." If the response be impeded by an
obstacle a series of trials and errors ensue until a reaction occurs
"by which the impediment is removed."14 "The object exciting
the successful response will thereafter be charged with a meaning
or will partially reawaken that same response. . . . When a re-
sponse occurs on that account, that is, when an act is performed be-
cause in its implicit form it coincides with the unfulfilled phase of
a determining tendency, we may say that it is performed purpo-
sively. ' ' 15 Note, moreover, that ' ' a belief of some sort, an act of
the intellect which is either true or erroneous, is ... invariably
one of the factors in a complete human act. . . . These two factors
[belief and determining tendency] unite to constitute purposive
action. . . . " 16 That is to say, we use our intellect as a comple-
ment to our other faculties to perform ideal experiments to de-
termine how particular ends may successfully be attained. In Pro-
fessor Perry's own words, "The function of the intellect is the
acquisition, testing and application of true beliefs. A belief is an
anticipatory response set for a specific occasion, and its truth lies
in the complementary relation between the response and the oc-
casion. [The truth of] a belief is tested by trying the response on
the occasion, or by trying it conjointly with other responses whose
truth is assumed, or by comparing it with the responses of others. ' ' "
So far human purposiveness seems simply to refer to "an or-
ganism endeavoring to find its way in the midst of nature. ' ' 18
But, as if convinced of the inadequacy of this purely biological
point of view Professor Perry seeks to do justice to the claims of
more particularly "spiritual" interests. "That there is an interest
in truth, or a specifically theoretical activity, which may assume a
dominant role in an individual life, is a brute fact of human be-
havior. ' ' 19 Surely here, if anywhere in Professor Perry 's system,

is "The Integrity of the Intellect," Harv. TTieo. Rev., 1920, pp. 222-3.

i-* Phil. Eev., XXX, 2, p. 139.

is Ibid., p. 139-40.

i« Ibid., p. 143.

IT Ibid., p. 157. (Italics mine.)

18 Ibid., XXX, 2, p. 140.

is Ibid., p. 139.

578 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

we may hope to come upon a distinctively human end. Here at
last we shall discover the mark that raises man above the brute,
and reveals him as more than a merely life-desiring physical organ-
ism. Here we shall learn the true meaning of the phrase, "it is the
nature of the mind to know." And we read on, ". . . truth being
the value which attaches to a hypothesis or idea in so far as it fits
the environment. The technique of induction is the technique of
contriving such determinate expectations as can bear the ordeal of
empirical fact."20

But this is only to repeat what we had already learned; the
"independent" activities of the intellect neatly narrow themselves
until they fit wholly into the previously prepared biological cate-
gories in accordance with the cardinal principle of attaching cen-
tral importance to the functioning of the physical organism, —
which is, after all, we must admit, as much as we could expect of a
naturalistic empiricism if it is to be self -consistent. That is to say,
we have discovered the empirical facts about human nature, and
"all in one place," as it was promised that we should. Purposive-
ness, belief, truth, as well as consciousness are construed on the
basis of the relation of the independent, i.e., merely subjective, in-
dividual to the external environment. The sole function of man's
mental attributes consists, in the last analysis, in the fitting of
specific responses to determinate occasions. And this, we must
bear in mind, not merely for the more immediate purposes of natural
science; it is considered to be an ultimate philosophical position.

Now the principal criticism that may be directed against such a
conception of the nature of purposiveness, belief, and truth, — or of
mind in general — is, not that it is wholly false to the facts of ex-
perience, but rather that it does not cover all the facts. Obviously,
however, it follows from this objection, if valid, that Professor
Perry's views do not adequately account even for those facts as-
sumed to be the sole ones observable as constituting human experi-
ence. And it may be said at once that his failure to do justice to
the nature of such conceptions is largely inherent in the previously
noted logical weakness of his abstract, "scientific" method of inter-
pretation of experience. In the following paragraphs, therefore,
we shall attempt to indicate some of the most obvious shortcomings,
as we see them, implied in Professor Perry's assumptions.

We have already pointed out the abstraction contained in the
use of the phrase "external environment," while tentatively admit-
ting its validity under certain definite conditions, for the purposes

aofforv. Theol. Bev., 1920, p. 228. (Italics mine.) Of. also Present PhVo-
tophifol Tendencies, pp. 323ff.

PROFESSOR PERRY'S EMPIRICISM 579

of science. But indeed one may question even the scientific rele-
vancy of the term, if it is taken to signify pure externality. Yet this
is apparently its meaning for Professor Perry, based as it is on his
doctrine of external relations. We must insist again, however, that
such abstractions have no place in an ultimate account of things
such as philosophy professes to be. Philosophy, if not science,
must recognize that man is not superadded from the outside to a
strange and foreign world ; rather he is part and parcel of his world
and it of him. If now we find it necessary to consider the environ-
ment apart from man's relation to it, as, e.g., in the physical sci-
ences ; or if we may profitably consider man apart from his environ-
ment, a very doubtful hypothesis for any science, we have always
to remember that ultimately the two factors are not independent
but complementary. We began by making an obvious abstraction;
we should conclude by reuniting what we momentarily tore asunder.
This is only to say that the distinctions which we make between
mind as such and nature as such ultimately fall within the concrete
whole of things.

Granted that this be true, it is obvious that an attempt to ex-
plain or describe purposiveness, belief, or truth in terms of the
relation of an individual to an "independent" and "external" en-
vironment, however broad a sense we may apply to the latter term, is
bound to result in failure. At the very start of our attempt to at-
tain an adequate philosophical insight into the nature of things we
prejudice our cause by limiting our vision to an arbitrarily speci-
fied field bounded by abstract biological categories.

A specific example will perhaps serve to make clear the distinc-
tion between Professor Perry's views and those of a more satis-
factory alternative position. A human being, let us say, is a physi-
cal organism, in time and space, composed of chemical elements, and
possessing a life-history. But what is thus true at certain stages of
knowledge, e.g., the biological — falls far short of the whole truth at
the stage at which such a human being assumes his place in society
as a member of a family, a friend, a political associate. What binds
him to other members of society depends in part upon physical and
biological conditions, but certainly not less upon intellectual, esthet-
ic and ethical considerations. These higher phases include and
transform the significance of the lower ones. The merely external
aspects are transcended, though preserved, through the recognition
that mind is the binding thread which unites the particular indi-
viduals in a systematic whole.

In such a sphere, which, be it noted, is only the rightful herit-
age of man as a human being, thought is not forced to satisfy its

580 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

natural tendency by seeking identity in artificial abstractions, e.g.,
neutral entities, below the range even of the physical sciences.
Rather the difficulty of finding this identity becomes less as the
standpoint progressively approaches that of thinking, rational be-
ings,— our fellow-men. Once past the mechanical standpoint of phys-
ical science, perhaps even in physics, this bare and formal identity
begins to develop within itself the complementary aspect of divers-
ity— a diversity which does not destroy but only adds to the rich-
ness and concreteness of the identity.

Prom this standpoint we may retain, so far as valid, Professor
Perry's interpretations of purposiveness, belief, and truth, but it
is highly important to recognize that while retained, they are also
quite as surely transcended. For example, it is doubtlessly true in
a sense that the individual must occupy himself with the framing
of "determinate" responses to "specific" occasions in which he
finds himself involved in the round of daily experience. But it is
quite obviously an abstraction to seek the whole meaning of his
conduct in such transient acts. A life organized on such a plane
of animal existence is just the one Socrates cried out against as not
fit for a man to live. And besides all this, there is to be accounted
for in any system of philosophy worthy of the name, the fact of
man's interest in — quite as they are for themselves, and apart from
any survival value they may incidentally possess — "the good, the
beautiful, and the true."

Religion, art, and philosophy, we like to believe, are more than
mere expressions of animal behavior, or the result of sentimental
prejudice for idle speculation. They are ways of giving utterance
to man's sense of oneness with, and of participation in the universe
(including of course the natural environment) as a whole. As such
they possess a value, a meaning, not expressible, it is true, in bio-
logical categories or in terms of abstract empiricism, but none the
less real and philosophically significant for all that.

H. R. SMART.

COBNKLL UNIVERSITY.

BEHAVIOR AND PURPOSE

THROUGH the importance assigned to objective conditions as
contrasted with subjective, and to methods of behavior as
contrasted with beliefs, the present century has witnessed the de-
velopment of a new emphasis in philosophic and psychological in

BEHAVIOR AND PURPOSE 581

terpretation. We no longer attribute preeminent importance to the
individual's conviction, but ask for objective biography rather
than for introspective autobiography. Not what a man says but
what he does gives us the fruitful insight into his character; when
saying and doing tell different stories we accept the latter as the
faithful record and call the former misstatement. Our interest in
the latter, in the doing, is not to be explained as getting us nearer
the truth, since we may as correctly ascertain what a man thought
as what he did ; it is to be explained as due to our feeling that the
latter method gives us better insight into what is of most impor-
tance. This method of interpretation has been fruitful of results
and promises even more than present performance, indeed, is but
the threshold of a new understanding. The path along which it
beckons leads into a land of promise whose first fruits are hearten-
ing. But, as happens with new points of view, there are misunder-
standings and misapplications.

The behavioristic view is sometimes interpreted by its cham-
pions as ruling out purpose and "ethics," as being in itself self-suf-
ficient and irreconcilable with our previous standards of procedure.
We believe this to be true only in part, and to a smaller extent than
is commonly admitted by the supporters of behaviorism. So far
from true is it that "ethics" is irrelevant to behavior that one
might say it is never irrelevant. The possibility of reducing all
ethics to forms of behavior has, as its supplement and counterpart,
the possibility of reducing all behavior to ethics. Analysis of altru-
ism into sympathetic behavior which simply behaves in that classi-
fiable manner does not preclude ethical analysis of sympathetic be-
havior, nor of the behavioristic classifier.

Behavior is not just behavior. It is behavior of a certain drift
or drive, — otherwise it were useless to classify it as behavior.
When the behaviorist puts forward his thesis he does so with a
purpose in his behavior, not merely that he may behave. Behavior
is not of equal or indifferent significance. Some sorts are of great
importance for human beings, others are relatively unimportant —
a truth so obvious that only a persistent blindness to it in some
quarters can justify the near tautology. The test of behavior should
be behavior itself, indeed, must be in terms of behavior. But by
what sort of behavior shall we test behavior? What shall be our
standard and how shall it apply?

The significance of behavior, let it be submitted, must be ad-
judged in the light, not of similar nor of less, but of larger and
more inclusive schemes of behavior. At any moment my walking
from my house to the letter box can be analyzed as putting one step

582 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ahead becau.se the other is behind, as a continual catching myself
from falling in the direction in which my body is moving, as an in-
tricate system of muscular checks and balances calling into service an
intricate nervous system of finely adjusted interactions. Such a
cross-section analysis of my activity may be correct in every detail
yet be relatively meaningless as an explanation of my activity. Its
explanation can be found only when the cross-section is made length-
wise, and includes my whole procedure from house to mail box.
The significance of the detailed behavior becomes evident only in
the light of my larger and more inclusive behavior. This last-men-
tioned behavior is, again, only relatively self -complete, and for more
complete understanding must be related to my larger schemes of
behavior. In other words, any detail of my behavior is a phase of
all my behavior, often as important a phase of my future behavior
as of my recent or remote past.

The systems of behavior represented by various living species
of animals are not of equal import, much less are the systems of be-
havior represented by various individuals of equal import. Often,
the significant thing about the behavior of an individual is its
relation to the behavior which characterizes his historical epoch
or his class. Man as a species represents types of behavior and man as
a historical creature represents progressive changes in types of be-
havior. The importance we assign to individual behavior must de-
pend upon the importance we assign to types of behavior. These
types may be potential as well as actual ones, unrealized as well as
completed histories.

As history itself, though concerned with the past, can never be
concerned with the past as such, but must possess selective insight
and philosophic guidance, so a psychology concerned with behavior
can never be concerned only with behavior. It must be concerned
with some types more than with others, with the significant rather
than the insignificant. Behaviorism is a point of view and must
justify itself by its fruits. It can classify under its categories, but
must itself submit to classification. By whatever behavioristic term
the test be called, behaviorism must submit to the test of significance
and value.

WILSON D. WALLIS.
REID COLLEGE.

BOOK REVIEWS

Evolutionary Naturalism. ROY WOOD SELLARS. Chicago: The
Open Court Publishing Company. 1922. Pp. 343.
This volume invites attention as the first published attempt to

base a metaphysical system upon critical realism. Professor Sellars

BOOK REVIEWS 583

believes that a new naturalism, supplanting the older materialism,
is indicated when the categories are examined in the light of an
adequate epistemology and when principles derived from a study
of the biological sciences are given due importance in metaphysical
explanation. The insufficiency of the older materialism is ascribed
to its tendencies to hypostasize scientific concepts and to reduce
biological to physico-chemical processes without a remainder.

Two chapters are devoted to an account of the epistemological
foundation on which the author's metaphysics is based. This ac~
count does not differ from his earlier writing on the same subject.
He maintains that physical entities are not objects in their own
right, but are made such by the selective activities of the organism.
Objects are known by means of data in consciousness which, how-
ever, are wholly subjective and existentially distinct from the ob-
jects known. Thus knowledge is not intuitive, as idealism and
naive realism suppose, but mediate. Nor is knowledge obtained
from data which are copies of physical entities, for by means of data
we know objects, not our subjective states. The adequacy of cogni-
tion rests on the fact that nature controls the knowledge-process in
the interest of biological adaptation. The categories, therefore, are
truly informative of the physical world, for "nature itself would
need to change before they would become invalid" (p. 81).

The major portion of the book is given over to discussion of the
individual categories. It is emphasized that there are different
levels and contexts of interpretation from sensation to conception
and abstraction, and that a true estimate of the value for knowledge
of any category can be obtained only by a genetic consideration.
The author finds these levels of interpretation continuous in the
main and informative of the physical world. Thus the sensational
elements of our spacial experience connect naturally with the con-
ceptual, and even abstract mathematical space gives information
about real space.

"Space as a category is not an external reality. To assert that
the physical world is spacial, means, not that the physical world is
in a non-dynamic receptaculum analogous to mathematical space,
but that certain predicates are interpretative of its actual constitu-
tion and nature" (p. 99). These predicates are found in judg-
ments of position, relative size, contour, distance, and direction.
"These elements give the very meaning of space as a category" (p.
99). In like manner, "temporal contrasts should not be read too
naively into nature" (p. 120). The world is temporal, rather than
in time. Sellars subordinates the category of time to that of
change; real time is change in the physical world.

584 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPll Y

In his treatment of things and their properties, the author
reaches the conclusion that the distinction between substance and
properties is epistemological rather than ontological. A substance
is the subject of predication in a judgment. Hence it was sup-
posed that there was a unitary and unknowable substance support-
ing properties. The true view, however, is that properties are
simply the elements of our tested thought of the thing. Things are
(partially) their known properties. All sense-data are materials
for knowledge; all qualities are contentually subjective; the dis-
tinction between primary and secondary qualities rests on either an
intuitional view of knowledge or a naive copy-theory. Qualities
and quantities are not opposed ; colors, tastes, and odors, as well as
shape and size, are indicative of physical conditions. But "in no
case is there assumed to be a resemblance between a sense-datum
and its external cause. What does hold is an ordered correlation
so that to every difference in the one there is a difference in the
other manifold. It is because of this ordered correlation that we
are able to infer the size, structure, behavior, position and internal
constitution of physical objects" (p. 188).

The evolutionary naturalist is a pluralist and is sympathetic
with the doctrine of external relations as against logical monism.
He finds, however, both continuities and discontinuities in nature,
and he maintains that the question whether any particular relation
is internal or external is to be decided solely on empirical evidence.
Many biological relations are internal, and the character of their
terms has become modified from the time when they entered into
relation. Relations themselves must not be reified; there are terms
in relation, not relations and terms.

Russell's mathematical analysis of motion, while defended, is
declared not to be exhaustive. Motion, for Professor Sellars, is a
case of behavior implying energetics, and back of motion lies force.
He recognizes that if we use the concept of force as a principle of
explanation instead of passing to a quantitative description of its
manifestations, we shall get nowhere, but he says that the limita-
tions of our knowledge should not be permitted to empty reality
of any content for which we have an empirical basis. (One may
question whether he has been equally scrupulous in respect to the
empirical content of colors and odors.) We are urged irresistibly
to the positing of force in objects by our fundamental realistic be-
lief that bodies are something in themselves and have a determinate
nature. But it is not admissible to follow idealism in its belief that
the activity which we experience in consciousness is the only type
of activity in nature.

BOOK REVIEWS 585

We must avoid interpreting the world in terms of human
agency, as well as the tendency to reduce causality to logical im-
plication. Like other categories, causality is informative of reality.
Causality is more than sequence, more even than a uniformity of
sequence. It tells us that change is not adventitious, but that it
''grows out of the very heart of that which changes. But, if so,
change throws light upon the nature of the changing system; it is
the kind of a system to produce this change as an end-term" (p.
248). A scientific treatment of causality as opposed to a naive
view seeks to appreciate, not two factors, but all the factors at work.
Causality is not purely temporal ; it is spacial as well, and it signi-
fies the activity of a changing system.

Freedom, treated in the manner made familiar by the writings
of Windelband and others, is reconciled with determinism by analy-
sis of the meaning of these concepts. These attempts fail alike to
explain the crucial instance of the exercise of freedom when the
self is "divided." Novelty is regarded as descriptive of the evolu-
tionary process, but not as in conflict with continuity. From Pro-
fessor Sellars' own standpoint, I can not but feel that novelty
would find more satisfactory interpretation as a subjective category.
If real time is change in the physical world, novelty would be a
concept that we would apply to the succeeding state as compared
with the former, when there was a striking alteration in data. Em-
pirical teleology is defended. It is especially apparent in organ-
isms, where each organ has its function which assists in the work-
ing of the whole. "This ordering is maintained by structural and
functional coordinations" (p. 337). We must be careful not to
inject naive anthropomorphism into the concept, but on the other
hand we must not underestimate the physical world. The chapter
which deals with mechanism and teleology is especially vague and
inconclusive.

The fact that the structure of consciousness reflects the position
and adjustments of the organism suggests that there is no exist-
ential independence of consciousness from the brain. The burden
of proof that there is a separation rests upon dualism. "Evolu-
tionary naturalism does not believe that the higher levels of nature
are purely mechanical; it accepts critical points with resultant
new properties" (p. 292). "Who has a right to say a priori how
great a novelty may arise and so set limits to the possibilities of
nature?" (p. 297). The author describes his view as a develop-
ment of the double-aspect theory based on critical realism (p.
294). Consciousness, however, is not an aspect of the whole physi-
cal world, but a novel aspect of brain-activity, functional in char-

586 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

acter. The biological sciences indicate that an organized system
is more than the sum of its parts, and that a whole may exert con-
trol over its parts. Thus consciousness is efficacious. The brain
is "a stream of tendencies lit up by consciousness" (p. 316). "The
contents of consciousness are correlative to neural processes which
are not found at the inorganic level. They come and go, and yet,
as memory shows, they are not completely lost. . . . The differ-
ence between the conscious and the unconscious must be one of de-
gree and not of kind" (p. 318).

Critical realism steers a middle course between skepticism and
intuit ionism. When a critical realist seeks to build a metaphysical
system in harmony with his epistemology, one is interested in watch-
ing how far his faith will carry him. Faith here is acceptance of
data as revelatory. The question arises (and the answer given
will vary with the individual thinker), what aspects of the consci-
ous content shall be accepted as mediating knowledge of a reality
beyond the knower? Professor Sellars finds his answer to this
question in his faith in the results of the special sciences, the
achievements of enlightened common-sense. That he is not en-
tirely successful from the metaphysical standpoint is partly due to
the limits which bound his faith. But one wishes that he had
broadened somewhat his own method of investigation. He is so
deeply interested in inquiring about the nature of the physical
world that it has not occurred to him that a correlative study is
that of the characteristics peculiar to conscious processes. He has
studied the character of data only in reference to their cognitive
value. Now science reaches knowledge that is formal in character.
And the knowledge of the physical world which Professor Sellars
defends is, correspondingly, a knowledge of "size, structure, be-
havior, position, and internal constitution of physical objects."
But he has not explained by a study of the conscious process the
reason why knowledge is thus limited. He has chosen rather, ex-
cept perhaps in his treatment of force, to ignore the fact that physi-
cal science can not do without a fundamental substance, whether
ether or electricity, and to assimilate naively substance and quality
to structure.

While this mode of procedure is not entirely unconvincing in
his discussion of the inorganic, it encounters vast difficulties when
he comes to treat the mind-body problem. Here the only correla-
tions of which he can speak are those of structure and function.
The warm, sensuous characteristics of conscious qualities have not
been anticipated by a slow evolution of substance. They burst out
of structural properties in a way that Professor Sellars can de-

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 587

scribe only by the word "novelty." We must not indeed "set
limits to the possibilities of nature," but reason herself sets certain
limits beyond which she encounters the irrational. If, as the author
himself avers, in conscious activity alone we are "on the inside,"
evolutionary naturalism might lead more readily in the direction
of pan-psychism or Haeckel's monism. Either of the latter would
afford a better escape from dualism — which, of course, is equally
compatible with critical realism.

Professor Sellars is to be commended in his attempt to square
critical realism with naturalism. His writing suffers, however,
from a disorderly style. The headings and sub-headings of the in-
dividual chapters are clear, but their matter often reads like a
note-book, rather than like a finished treatise. This fault is un-
fortunate in an age when philosophers are striving to reach mutual
understanding.

MAURICE PICAED.
NEW YORK CITY.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BULLETIN. Vol. 19, No. 6. June, 1922.
The Psychology of Taste and Smell: E. A. McC. Gamble. Flight
of Colors in the After Image of a Bright Light : W. Berry. Cutane-
ous Space: H. E. Burtt.

JOURNAL OF EXPERIMENTAL PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. V, No. 4. August,
1922. Individual Variations in Retinal Sensitivity, and their Corre-
lation with Ophthalmologic Findings: P. W. C0&6. Adult Tests
of the Stanford Revision Applied to University Faculty Members:
H. H. Caldwell. Cumulative Correlation: J. C. Chapman. Learn-
ing when Frequency and Recency Factors are Negative: J. Peter*
son.

PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW. Vol. 29, No. 5. September, 1922. Be-
havior and the Central Nervous System : A. P. Weiss. How are Our
Instincts Acquired ? Zing T. Kuo. Intelligence and Learning : J.
Peterson. The Organismal Point of View in the Study of Motor
and Mental Learning : J. A. Melrose.

REVISTA DE FILOSOFLV. Vol. VIII, No. V. September, 1922.
Amadeo Jacques: A. N. Ponce. El monismo estetico de Vascon-
celos: G. P. Troconis. La historia de un ciencia: R. A. Orgaz.
El pensamiento de Juan Montalvo: F. Cordova. El progreso y
los espacios de tiempo : A Spinelli. Antecedentes de la filosof fa en
Bolivia : D. Eyzaguirre. Ensenanza de la filosof fa en Bolivia : C.
Lopez. Merito, Tiempo, Estilo: J. Ingenieros.

588 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

JOURNAL OP EDUCATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. XIII, No. 6. Bep-
tember, 1922. An Experiment in Learning an Abstract Subject:
E. L. Thorndike and E. A. Lincoln. A Class Experiment in Learn-
ing: W. F. Dearborn and E. A. Lincoln. Language Error Tests:
6. M. Wilson. Some Evidence of an Adolescent Increase in the
Rate of Mental Growth : K. Murdoch and L. R. Sullivan. Tentative
Order of Difficulty of the Terman Vocabulary with Very Young
Children: M. V. Cobb. Some Retests with the Stanford-Binet
Scale: K. Gordon. "The Constancy of the IQ" again: F. M.
Teagarten.

Aliotta, Antonio: Relativismo e Idealismo. Naples: F. Per-
rella. 1922. 99 pp.

Aristoteles: Lehre vom Beweis — oder Zweite Analytik. A new
translation with an introduction by T. E. Rolfes. Leipzig: Felix
Meiner. 1922. 163 pp.

Kant, Immanuel: Vermischte Schriften. With Introduction
and Notes by Karl Vorlander. Leipzig: Felix Meiner. 1922.
324 pp.

McTaggart, J. McT. E. : Studies in the Hegelian Dialectic. New
York: Macmillan Co. 1922. 2nd edition, xvi + 254 pp.

NOTES AND NEWS

Professor A. N. Whitehead of Cambridge University has been
elected president of the Aristotelian Society for the coming season.
His inaugural address will be delivered on November 6th.

Dr. Henry H. Goddard, former director of the State Bureau of
Juvenile Research at Columbus, Ohio, has been called to a professor-
ship in abnormal psychology at Ohio State University.

VOL. XIX., No. 22 OCTOBER 26, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

IN isolating the logical aspects of "Critical Kealism" as set forth
in the recent volume of essays under this caption, certain ob-
stacles are early encountered. First, there are numerous and im-
portant differences of opinion among the writers which makes it
difficult to reach a common doctrine. Second, the discussions of
knowledge are confined almost entirely to perception. Keeping
strictly to perception, we could hardly expect it to carry us very
far into logical operations. Still, for critical realism perception is
knowledge; and though it involves no inference, it has the char-
acter of "truth," or "error," to which a special chapter is devoted.
In the role of knowledge and with the capacity for truth and error,
perception, while held to be "immediate," gets to be a very highly
mediated case of immediacy, requiring a lot of logical machinery
to run it.

Indeed, to my mind we have here that first disobedience,
which is the source of so much subsequent logical and epistemologi-
cal woe; namely, the confusion of the entities and machinery of
logical operations with the familiar things of immediate
experience. It is the old, old sin of the reflective fallacy, the
logician's vanity, which has dogged philosophy from the beginning.
As soon as we acquire a little reflective capacity and machinery
we are like a farmer with a new grinding machine, who wants to
run everything on the place through it, until even the members of
the family are in danger.

This generates a double set of difficulties. It reduces immedi-
ate experience, or, to use the critical realist's term, the given, to
the impoverished state of an hypostatized logical function called
"essence," with the result that this emaciated given has to be sur-
reptitiously fed up as the exposition proceeds. On the other hand,
it forces logical operations and categories in their attempt to play
the role of immediate experience to become a hybrid sort of meta-
physical entity, half subsistent and half existent, with little pros-
pect of ever reaching their own goal of truth and error.

589

.-><)<) JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

In perceptual knowledge, we are told, there are three funda-
mental factors. First, the given, the datum. This can not be an
existence, physical or psychical, else, so runs the tale, there is no
place for error. It must then be a subsistential, logical essence.
Second, there is an existential "mental state" which is the
"carrier," the "vehicle" of the essences. In passing, we may note
that the critical realist does not seem at all disturbed by the troubles
which the Greeks encountered in thinking of a subsistential essence
as a passenger in an existential taxi. Third, there is the physical
object of which essences are "instinctively" and "irresistibly" af-
firmed.

Such is the official cast of the characters in the drama of per-
ceptual knowledge. Whereupon someone may say that so simple
a plot for a one-act play scarcely warrants the charge of complica-
tions and entanglements. But those of you who have followed the
text will agree, I think, that we do not get very far before we dis-
cover that the official cast and plot is really only a part of one
scene. For it becomes evident, at once, that one of the star per-
formers— it is a little uncertain whether it is the hero or the vil-
lain— is left out of the official cast altogether; namely, the bodily
organism of the knower. For we are told that not only do mental
states, but the very constitution of the given essence, depend on the
bodily organism. As the plot thickens, we note, too, that some of
the other characters begin to assume new roles. The mental states
which at the beginning are simply "vehicles" for the essences soon,
like Locke's cabinet and sheet of paper, begin to do strange things
for vehicles. They perform operations which the authors call "as-
sociating," "willing," "having an interest," "turning the atten-
tion," etc. One writer speaks of turning on and off the searchlight.
The image of a psychical taxi turning its own headlights on its own
passengers is engaging. Whether the lights are properly dimmed
is not stated: but it doesn't stop with turning on and off the
lights. It begins to take liberties with its subsistential passenger.
For we are told that the total character of the passenger (the es-
sence) depends on associative operations of the vehicle (i.e., mental
states) as well as on the constitution of the bodily organism.

Not to overwork the figure, it is obvious, I think, that the vari-
ous problems of this account of perceptual knowledge center about
the origin and nature and function of these essences in their rela-
tion to the other three main factors, the mental states, the bodily
organism, and the physical object. On the one hand, in many state-
ments, especially of Santayana, to whom Professor Strong says he
owes the "precious" conception of essence, these data seem to be

SOME ASPECTS OF CRITICAL REALISM 591

detached, floating, subsistential essences quite in the Platonic and
neo-realistic sense. They include all possible qualities and com-
plexes of qualities, primary, secondary, and tertiary. These seem
to appear in the mental state on the occasion of certain activities
of the bodily organism, which may or may not be a response to the
stimulus of the physical object perceived according as the percep-
tion is veridical or illusory. When the perception is "true," the
essence given in the mental state is identical with the essence of the
physical object. Thus, in the case of veridical perception, the es-
sence has two loci, it rides simultaneously in two "vehicles," the
mental state and the physical object.

On the other hand, we find such statements as this: "Percep-
tual error is possible because data, that is the essences, are directly
dependent on the individual organism, not on the external object,
varying in their character, with the constitution of the sense organs,
and the way in which these are effected." Such passages might be
charged to careless composition, the meaning intended being that
the appearance of the essence depends on the organism. But there
is the phrase, "varying in their character with the constitution of
the sense organs." Moreover, three of the group, Lovejoy, Pratt,
and Sellers, insist that the essences are not floating, nomadic en-
tities, but are the characters of the mental states themselves, and as
such are existential, not subsistential.1

But how far is this determination of essence by the bodily or-
ganism and the mental states to be carried? and just what then is
to be their relation as so constituted to the physical object ? In the
first essay, Drake says, "It is the thesis of this volume that in so
far as perception gives us accurate knowledge, it does so by caus-
ing the actual characteristics of objects to appear to us. "In so far
as, ' ' but how far is this 1 Drake 's answer is that the essences which
we refer to the world about us, are not really there, except in so
far as they really were there before perception took place. And
(this is the interesting clause) "so far as secondary and tertiary
qualities and most of the primary qualities, they are never there
at all ! " One may well rub his eyes over this passage. It is cer-
tainly queer-looking realism. Over and over we are told that it is
the heart of the doctrine of realism that the what of the object,
that is, its qualities and character, are given in the essences. But
when all the secondary and tertiary, and most of the primary qual-
ities are thrown out of the what, we begin to wonder just what
"what" is left. The situation recalls a scene in the play "Happy-

i Prof essor Sellers' repeated references to the essences as "subjective,"
must be a source of great distress to Santayana.

592 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

go-lucky" in which a tipsy English constable is making an invoice
in bankruptcy of dilapidated furniture. Standing before an
unusually rickety piece, he makes this entry, "One wot-not,
more not than wot." Drake doesn't say what this poor remnant
of a "wot" is. Sellers, who is less cautious, ventures to
give a list. He says that "time, space, structure, causal relations,
behavior, are the only essences which can belong to the object in
case of veridical perception. ' ' This is a fairly substantial list. But
as Drake doubtless foresaw, its difficulties are proportionately nu-
merous. First, it is important to observe that Sellers puts time as
well as space into the essence, into the content, of the physical ob-
ject, as distinguished from its existence. With time and space and
all the primary qualities put into the "essence," what is left to
constitute the "existence" of the object? The neo-realists have
always carefully, if somewhat dogmatically, reserved space and time,
as — to speak in a paradox — the essence of existence. But what is
an existence that is neither of nor in time and space? How does it
differ from subsistence? Further, if time and space, and the pri-
mary qualities are essences, what is the difference between the physi-
cal object as physical, and the mental state? The difference can't
lie in existence, for the mental state is as much an existence (what-
ever that now means) as the physical object. If it be said that,
while the primary qualities are given in the mental state, they are
not given as its essence but as the essence of the physical object,
we can only ask again since time and space have been transferred to
essence, what constitutes the ' ' physicality ' ' of the physical object ? 2
But, conceding a physical object of some sort, and essences that
may somehow "belong" to the physical object, how do we determine
when they do and when they do not belong. This is of course the
question of truth and error. Next to the longest chapter in the
book is devoted to error. But most of the chapter is occupied with
difficulties in other theories, a little of it to the formal definition of
truth as consisting in identity of the essence in mental states with
the essence in a physical object, and practically none to the ques-
tion of how we find out whether and when these objects do really

* In the midst of such questions as these the reader is obliged to return often
for reassurance to the closing sentence of the preface, which says, "We have
found it entirely possible to isolate the problem of Knowledge" (i.e., from meta-
physics). In the midst of his struggle with these questions, which multiply at
a terrific rate, in dealing with the problem of introspection, Drake wistfully
says, "The writer has his own ontological views, the exposition of which would
clear up this whole situation!" For this boon I am sure most readers would
gladly absolve Professor Drake from his oath, however solemn, to avoid meta-
physics. (Italics mine.)

SOME ASPECTS OF CRITICAL REALISM 593

have them. In view of all the hard things said by critical realists
about the ' ' copy-theory ' ' of naive realism and the ' ' identity ' ' theory
of neo-realism and idealism, the definition of the nature of truth
as consisting in identity of essences, or of the reproduction, in a
mental state of the essence of the physical object, has a queer look.
To be sure, we are assured early and often that the true and proper
object of perception is not the essence, but the physical object,
which is not to be thought of as at all "like" the essence. But
while the object of perception must remain unlike the essence we
get truth only in so far as the latter "reproduces" and is identical
with the essence of the physical object. The essence must be un-
like its object, but it can be true only as it is not only like but
identical with the essence of the object. This implies that the "ob-
ject ' ' is different from its own qualities, which means that, through-
out the entire discussion the term "physical object" should stand
for nothing but the bare and empty concept of existence — an ex-
istence which has not even spatial or temporal character — since
these belong to essence.

It is as easy to lay down a formal definition of truth as of any-
thing else. It is quite another matter to show what we can do
with it, and how the requirements of the definition can be met.
If we search elsewhere than in the essay on "error" for an answer
to these questions, we get this meager response from Pratt : ' ' When
the question of veridical or illusory perception arises, first of all,
one appeals from one of the senses to the others to see whether
they confirm one another. Second, we may appeal to other persons ;
third, we may watch the supposed object function. If it works out
consistently with our own experience, and the experience of others,
we may conclude that there is a real object." How far this is short
of an answer to the problem appears when we recall that these for-
mulas are used by all theories alike and mean nothing until we go on
to show in detail how they can be applied to the particular definition
and description of knowledge which we have laid down. In the
case of critical realism, the question is how can these three tests be
applied to knowledge defined as identity of essence appearing in a
mental state with the essence of a physical object. Take the first
test — the appeal from one sense to others. Keeping in mind that
sense qualities are essences, when we pass to another sense we
simply pass to another essence. Now how can piling up any num-
ber of additional essences establish the existence of any one of
them, if there is no existence to start with? When Pratt speaks of
appealing from one sense to another, he, along with us, has in mind
the ordinary and salutary experiences of appealing from our ears

594 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

and noses to our eyes, from our eyes to our hands, and so on. But
we have to remember that in the theory we are discussing "all the
secondary qualities" and "most of the primary qualities" are out
of court on this appeal, since they never are existential. The ap-
peal to other senses and other persons must then be confined to a
remnant of the primary qualities. For example, in the case of ap-
peal from our noses to our eyes, we should first have to filter out
all of the secondary qualities, that is, the quality and intensity of
the odor and reduce the smell to its spacial and temporal form,
whatever that would be, and then repeat the performance with vision
to which we appeal. How far this is from what actually occurs
when we make these appeals is, I take it, sufficiently obvious. It
is equally obvious that the appeal to other persons does not touch
the real question at issue, which is, how they and we alike reach a
decision on this question of the identity of essences. As for the
third test, consistency with the rest of experience, this, for critical
realism, can scarcely be more than a summary of the other two—
that is, the appeal to the other senses and to other persons. And
even if it involves anything more than this, the question is what
kind of consistency can furnish evidence for this identity of es-
sences? Once more in raising these difficulties, I am not challeng-
ing these time-honored teste. On the contrary, assuming their
value, the challenge is on the definition of knowledge which it is
supposed they can test; it is on their availability as tests of truth
defined as identity of essences.

As said at the outset, all these difficulties flow from the initial
mistake of confusing logical and non-logical experience, or if you
shy at the term "experience," let us say logical and non-logical
things or affairs. The theory starts with the thesis that what is
given is simply a bare subsistential essence. Then we find: that
the essence is domiciled in an existent mental state ; that it is condi-
tioned by the constitution of the bodily organism; that it is af-
firmed— (Sellers) — "through the very pressure and suggestion of
experience," and — (Santayana) — "through the assault, the strain,
the emphasis, the prolongation of our life toward the not given," —
involving such things as interest and will and other persons, and
yet none of these things are supposed to be given. No existence
can be given. There is no doubt that this situation is "critical";
but is it "realistic"!

It is of course this complete evisceration of the given, this re-
duction of it to a pale, impalpable essence that still leaves critical
realism in the toils of the epistemological problem, which is just
the problem of the "leap," to use Santayana 's term, from subsis-

SOME ASPECTS OF CRITICAL REALISM 595

tence to existence. But why set the stage for this spectacular
"leap." Realism, "neo-" and ' 'critical," needs to become more
realistic ; it needs to make a truly realistic start with existence. In
so doing, it would at once be on good terms with that "common
sense" to which it appeals when it talks of "the physical object,"
and from which it appeals when it talks of "essences." That it
really does start with existences, such as bodily organisms, mental
images, urges, strains, other persons and things, as given, must be,
I think, now perfectly obvious. In an astonishing passage, in his
section on the biological truths of critical realism, Santayana ex-
plicitly utters this. He says: "That this object — (that is, the
physical object) — exists in a known space and time, and has trace-
able physical relations with all other physical objects, is given from
the beginning. It is given in the fact that we can point to it."8
How can the official doctrine of the volume stand alongside this
passage, indeed, alongside the whole section? Yet at the close of
the next section, on "the logical proof," Santayana writes:
"Knowledge has two stages or leaps, one the leap of intuition, from
the state of the living organism, to the consciousness of some es-
sence; and second, the leap of faith and action from this essence to
some ulterior existing object." But in the passage just quoted the
second "leap" comes first; and wipes out the first "leap"; for the
physical object in space and time "is given from the beginning."
But some one may ask, if we begin with existence as given, where
is the place for error? Now, if we were supposed to begin with all
existence, or with a static, fixed existence, the question would be
pertinent and embarrassing. But if we assume that we begin only
with some existence which is also a changing existence, and that
we as also existents have the capacity to determine in some measure
the direction and character of this change, we need not be alarmed
at the prospect of losing the possibility of making mistakes. It
should go without saying that these existencies with which we begin
are not the ultimate elements of physics, or biology, or psychology,
or any other particular science, nor are they "physical" or
"mental," or "true" or "false." So to take them, is again to fall
into the reflective fallacy. But whenever any given existence is
used to get some other existence, then it begins to take on the charac-
ter and function of a logical essence. It no longer exists for itself
as the object of admiration or fear or love or hate. It no longer
holds the center of the stage, but has become now a means, a basis
of inference, to another existence. This sudden change in the status
of the thing, from existing "for itself," from its position in the

8 Italics mine.

596 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

spot light, will seem to some a surrender or at any rate a degrada-
tion of its former existential glory. A good rationalist will of
course say that, on the contrary, this is a promotion of the thing.
It is thus lifted from the pit of existential particularity into the
glorious light of universality.

This change of status is further enhanced by the fact that usually
it is only a small fragment or quality of the original thing that is
used for this purpose of getting other things. And even this frag-
ment gets a new incarnation in words and other symbols and in the
nervous system of beings who continue to use it. But nowhere in
all this is there a detached, floating essence. Always there is some
remnant of the old existence, functioning in a new and wonderful
way, but existence, none the less. Freely conceding that in reflective
inferential operations specific qualities of given things may be "de-
tached" by attention to serve as logical data and as thus serving may
appropriately be called "essences," yet, if we are good realists,
"critical" or otherwise, we shall not begin by converting the perfectly
good "things and folks" of immediate experience into Bradley 's
celebrated "unearthly ballet of bloodless categories."

A. W. MOORE.
UNIVERSITY or CHICAGO.

BEHAVIORISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS

AS everybody knows, the quarrel of Behaviorism with introspec-
tive psychology is on no matter of detail but goes at once to
the fundamental question whether consciousness in the subjective
sense can any longer be made use of by science. Introspection
still clings to consciousness and hence, it is said, deprives itself
of the possibility of scientific accuracy and objective verifiability.
It is owing to this that it has "failed to yield results comparable to
those obtained in kindred sciences."1 Objective and accurate and
verifiable results can be obtained only by objective methods. Ob-
jectivity is the great solid advantage of Behaviorism, and through it
alone, it is maintained, can a truly scientific psychology be achieved.
Stimulus and response are measurable in a sense that subjective
states never can be, hence the whole hope of making psychology truly
scientific is based upon the success of the behaviorist method.

That psychology can never hope to be an exact science in the
physical or mathematical sense so long as it continues to deal with
subjective states as such is a contention to which I think all must per-
force agree. That it can be made into an exact science by the be-

» Perry, "A Behavioristic View of Purpose," This JOURNAL, XVIII, p. 88.

BEHAVIORISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS 597

haviorist method is, however, an entirely different proposition. The
task of constructing a psychology in which consciousness (in the
subjective sense) shall be entirely omitted and its place filled by
various forms of describable and measurable and verifiable behavior
is a much vaster undertaking than seems generally to be realized.
Except for the describability, measurability and verifiability of its
results, Behaviorism would have no claim to greater scientific value
than introspective psychology; and the likelihood of our actually
being able to measure or describe in detail these results and put them
into such uniform sequences as shall be useful for science, seems
remote in the extreme. Professor Watson himself speaks of one im-
portant type of behavior, central to psychology, as being "hidden
from ordinary observation and more complex and at the same time
more abbreviated so far as its parts are concerned than even the
bravest of us could dream. ' ' 2 And not only must this grave prac-
tical obstacle be faced by those who would throw away introspection
and trust to observation and measurement ; a more fundamental diffi-
culty is to be found in the fact that the same psychical process, if
translated into behaviorist terms, may require fifty different trans-
lations— in fact, may never be capable of being translated twice alike,
and hence may never be again verified and identified. Professor
Watson's colleague, Dr. Lashley, gets a different tracing every time
his subject thinks over a given sentence. The musculature of the
larynx and throat are so varied that "we can think the same word
by many different muscular combinations." Suppose now that we
should somehow succeed in observing and measuring the hidden
activities which are "more complex and more abbreviated than even
the bravest of us could dream ' ' ; how, if they vary as Professor Wat-
son admits they do, are we going to combine them into uniformities
that shall be worth anything to science ?

The various simple reactions and quasi-mechanical reflexes can,
of course, be objectively described and observed and put into se-
quences with their stimuli ; this, in fact, to some extent, was done by
most introspectionists for years before Behaviorism was heard of.
But when we get beyond these relatively simple processes and come
to study those forms of behavior which are expected in the new
scientific psychology to take the place of psychic states, we are as a
fact presented with very little that is measurable, describable, veri-
fiable or even observable. One of the most serious and successful
attempts to point out the real substitutes for psychic states is to be

2 Psychology from the Standpoint of a Behaviorist, p. 325.

598 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

found in a remarkable series of articles by Professor Perry,8 most
of which appeared in this JOURNAL. The writer takes up in detail
a number of typical objects of psychological study, such as curiosity,
docility, purpose, belief, and subjects them to a rigorous analysis
with the aim of putting them over into behavioristic and hence ob-
jective and scientific language. No one can fail to admire the sub-
tlety and patience with which Professor Perry has pursued his at-
tempt, but most careful readers, I think, will feel with me that the
results are so abstract, so lacking in exactness and verifiability, as to
be quite useless for science. Curiosity, for example, is to mean not
the psychic state of wonder but "a determining tendency [in the
nervous system] which moves the organism to acquire anticipatory re-
actions." This is good so far as it goes. But if the description is to
be scientific, surely we must know what determining tendency and
what anticipatory reactions we mean ; we must be able to define and
identify and observe them if they are to be of any scientific value.
I hold in my hands, for example, an unopened letter and wonder
what is in it. If our psychology is to be scientific, we are warned, it
must make no reference to my psychic state nor attempt to use my
feelings in explaining my subsequent action; to do so would be "to
commit the fallacy of obscurum per obscurius." * But I submit
that the situation remains no less obscure if I am referred simply to
determining tendencies and anticipatory reactions in the abstract.
And the moment we leave the abstract and seek to isolate and identify
these tendencies and reactions we find them more hidden, complex
and abbreviated than the bravest of us could dream, and so variable
and inconstant as to be incapable of formulation into any law that
will be concretely significant. Is the identification and description
of psychic states so much more "obscure" than the proposed be-
haviorist method? so much more obscure that it should never be
resorted to as even a supplement to "objective observation"!

What would become of behaviorist description if psychic states
were really left out by the behaviorist will be pretty plain to anyone
who reads carefully Professor Perry's behaviorist papers. If he did
not revert repeatedly to subjectivist, non-behaviorist terms, we should
be at a complete loss to know what he was writing about. Various
old psychological terms are taken up, stripped of their subjective

» ' ' Docility and Purposiveness, ' ' Psychological Review, XXV, pp. 1-20 ;
"The Appeal to Reason," Philosophical Review, XXX, pp. 131-69; "A Be-
havioristic View of Purpose," this JOURNAL, XVIII, pp. 85-105; "The Inde-
pendent Variability of Purpose and Belief," this JOURNAL, XVIII. pp. 169-80;
"The Cognitive Interest and Its Refinements," this JOURNAL, XVIII, pp. 365-75.

*" Docility and Purposiveness," Psychol. Rev., XXV, p. 16.

BEHAVIORISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS 599

significance, laboriously worked over into behaviorist terminology,
elaborated with hypothetical sets and reactions, almost all in abstract
formulation; and when at the end of ten or a dozen pages we are
beginning to wonder whether we surely are following the author's
thought, Professor Perry himself seems to feel that it is time to ex-
plain, and we learn with some surprise that the meaning of the whole
is that belief is different from purpose or that truth is not wholly
dependent on will or some other bit of insight which the introspee-
tionist had never supposed was in need of exposition. I can imagine
no one doing this sort of thing better than Professor Perry has done
it, but I hope he will pardon me if I say that the whole process is
likely to strike an innocent observer as a peculiar kind of tour de
force, — like a translation of English into Chinese or of a child's
primer into words of seven syllables — or of the mountain laboring
and bringing forth a mouse. I can not but wonder whether it struck
no behaviorist as a bit odd that the President of the American Philo-
sophical Association found it worth while to devote his entire Presi-
dential Address to a defense of the view that reason is not altogether
negligible in philosophy and life. I refer to this chiefly, however, to
point out that both in that admirable address and throughout his
behaviorist papers, Professor Perry has to have recourse repeatedly
to subjectivist terms, has to translate half a dozen behaviorist pages
into two lines of introspective psychology, in order to clear up his
meaning even to his behaviorist colleagues.

But not only is the behaviorist forced to make repeated use of
introspectionist materials in order to be intelligible; he also finds
it necessary to begin his investigations (if they are to be significant)
with introspective facts and to keep them in mind constantly through-
out his researches. The subjective facts both set his problem and
guide his methods. Take, for example again, that ablest of behaviorist
analyses, Professor Perry's series of papers. What are the signifi-
.cant things that he places before himself and his readers as objects
of investigation? Are they nervous sets and muscular reactions?
No ; they are docility and purposiveness, belief and cognitive interests.
The reason for this is plain. It is not physiological responses but
the various conditions of consciousness that are chiefly significant for
him and for us. How, moreover, does he come at his behaviorist and
physiological conclusions? How, for example, does he know that a
belief is an anticipatory set or implicit course of action correlated
with a specific object to which one has committed oneself ? B Or that
"it is the practical function of reason to effect certain internal ad-
justments by which preformed unit-responses are fitted to a govern-
5 This JOUBNAL, XVIII, pp. 171, 173.

600 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ing tendency"! * Or that the "reserved responses" of most human
action "must be conceived to possess unqualified physiological exist-
ence, even though they are not in action and even though they should
never be called into action " T T Does Professor Perry know these
things because he or any one else has observed in the nervous system
or in the body the "anticipatory sets," the "implicit" courses of
action, the "internal adjustments" or the "connecting channels"
which in a scientific psychology are to take the place of consciousness!
I am not denying that Professor Perry's physiological guesses may be
extremely lucky. The point is that his guesses are based only in
small part on objective observation and are chiefly arrived at by
interpreting into terms of the nervous system what he finds in
subjective, conscious life. Thus, so far is Behaviorism from being
able to dispense with consciousness that it has to fall back upon con-
sciousness for the setting of its problems and the construction and
verification of its hypotheses, and even for the interpretation of its
own terminology.

For the sake of closer insight into the behaviorist method, it may
be worth our while to examine at some length a typical case of be-
haviorist interpretation; and for this we can hardly find anything
better than Professor Perry's analysis of purpose, which appeared
in this JOURNAL in February, 1921. Purpose, according to Professor
Perry, has two well-recognized characters : (1) subordination of means
to end, and (2) determination by the future. Neither of these, we are
assured, requires any appeal to consciousness. The subordination
of means to end is to be interpreted as the subordination of various
auxiliary activities to a determining and persisting tendency or set.
Purpose is not to be found either in the persisting tendency or dis-
position alone, nor in the subordinate auxiliary activities, but in re-
lation of the two. What now is this relation ! Plainly it is not itself
an activity of the organism. Nor can it be a spatial or a temporal
relation. The auxiliary activity is not "subordinate" to the disposi-
tion in the sense of spatial inclusion nor of temporal precedence or
sequence. The relation of subordination, according to Professor
Perry, is essential to purpose ; but how is it going to be expressed in
behaviorist terms ! We are told that it is the relation between means
and end ; but how interpret either end or means ! It will not do to
say merely that the auxiliary activities are adapted to their environ-
ment nor that their working is successful,8 for this could be averred

« This JOURNAL, XVIII, p. 175.
ilbid., p. 96.

• At least as I understand Professor Perry, of. pp. 103-04 of his paper on
"Purpose."

BEHAVIORISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS 601

of every reflex. Does then the on-looking psychologist read purpose
into the relation and the activity? If so, where is the real purpose?
And would not the purpose which the psychologist reads into it
either be a conscious purpose in the old bad sense, or else in its turn
need to be interpreted as the purpose which some other on-looking
psychologist read into him, and so ad infinitumf Thus we seem
projected upon a very wild goose chase indeed ; for of course we are
forbidden to interpret the end or purpose as a conscious desire in
the mind of the actor. To do so would be to desert Behaviorism.

A similar difficulty awaits the behaviorist in his attempt to inter-
pret the second of the well-recognized characters of purpose, namely
"determination by the future." This essential characteristic of pur-
pose, Professor Perry tells us, has usually been explained by saying
that the "purposive act is governed by the antecedently existing idea
of a future result." This simple and obvious explanation, however,
can not be accepted by the behaviorist and must be refuted. One of
the chief aims of Professor Perry's article, in fact, is to refute dualis-
tic explanations of human conduct, and this particular dualistic ex-
planation he refutes in one short sentence. It can not be the true
explanation, he tells us, because "it goes to pieces on the rock of dual-
ism."9 The simple explanation having been rejected, we are pro-
vided with a scientific one. "The solution would seem to be in the
action of present dispositions which are correlated with future con-
tingencies. A calendar of engagements filled out for the next month
exists and acts in the present. Nevertheless, it is correlated serially
and progressively with the future. Similarly, the responses organ-
ized and serially adjusted so as to be executed in sequence exist now
among the determining conditions of present events. Nevertheless,
they are functionally correlated with a sequence of events in the
historical future — in their own future. A series of anticipatory dated
responses is thus projected upon the present spatial field and provides
a means by which the contingent future may be translated into the
physically existent present. ' ' 10

The question must be asked: Is this "determination by the
future"? If it is, then so is every reflex a case of determination by
the future and therefore of purpose ; so is almost every event in the
vegetable world and much in the purely mechanical world. Consider
the composition and potentialities and tendencies of the seed which
falls in the autumn, the decay of its enclosing shell, the long lying in
comparative inactivity during the winter, the gradual development of
the germ under the influence of vernal sun and shower ; or the care-

• P. 104.

"P. 104.

602 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

fully constructed watch spring and flywheel, so exactly correlated
to the future hours and minutes of coming days. Of both these one
could say as truthfully as of sets and tendencies in the nervous system
that "the responses organized and serially adjusted so as to be exe-
cuted in sequence exist now among the determining conditions of
present events. Nevertheless, they are functionally correlated with a
sequence of events in the historical future — in their own future."
Possibly the behaviorist will say that events and potentialities of
this sort in the vegetable and mechanical worlds are also cases of
purpose in which the present is "determined by the future." If so,
what shall we take as an example of that in which there is no deter-
mination by the future? If the phrase is capable of so wide an ap-
plication as to include watches and onions, it is, of course, hardly
worth using. Plainly, I should say, the word purpose loses all dis-
tinctive meaning unless it be given its natural interpretation — the
interpretation which every plain man, every scientist, every psychol-
ogist and every philosopher outside the behaviorist fold gives it —
namely, that of a present desire or idea of a future result determining
to some extent action toward that result. The only criticism of this
dualistic interpretation of purpose which Professor Perry gives us is,
as will be remembered, that it "goes to pieces on the rock of dualism."
In other words, dualism is refuted by being shown to be dualistic.

This refutation of a dualistic view of purpose is by no means the
only instance in behaviorist logic that looks suspiciously like begging
the question. To refer to no more details, the general insistence that
Behaviorism should supplant introspection in the investigation of
mind on the ground that it is objective and introspection subjective
is an open case of petitio. For the question at issue between behavior-
ists and introspectionists is exactly the question whether mind is
susceptible of direct study by objective methods. To this question
the behaviorist has two answers. One is the logical and metaphysical
one, which we shall come to presently, of denying the existence of the
subjective. The other and commoner is the methodological and illog-
ical answer of carefully observing and writing down — or quite as
often, imagining — various forms of human behavior and presenting
the results as an objective description of mind. The logical nature
of this procedure will perhaps be plainer if we apply it to an
imaginary discussion in another field. Two men are discussing the
question whether or not the value of a given individual to society is
susceptible of statement in monetary terms. One of the disputants
asserts that it can be so expressed, the other denies it. The former,
thereupon, triumphantly produces the exact figures, in dollars and
cents, of the man's income, and congratulates himself on having

BEHAVIORISM AND CONSCIOUSNESS 603

refuted his opponent. Behaviorism can not, as a fact, dispense with
the subjective in its attempts to describe mind; and could it do so,
it would not be mind that it described. All its technical equipment
and its hypothetical constructions are simply irrelevant to the main
question.

To attack this main question in direct and logical fashion it is
necessary for Behaviorism to deny the existence of consciousness (in
the old-fashioned subjective sense), as some of the bolder and more
clear-sighted behaviorists have been consistent enough to do. Thus
Professor "Watson identifies affection and emotion with sense processes
or "pattern reactions," particularly in the glands and viscera;11
while thought is to be interpreted as the activity of the language
mechanisms.12 In similar fashion Dr. Frost defines awareness as "the
relation between two neural arcs"; 13 and Professor Bawden defines
perception as "an attitude toward the object perceived, a reverbera-
tion within the sensorium. ' ' " For Professor Holt, volition is a
generating proposition or logico-mathematical entity descriptive of
the motions of a living body.15 There is, to be sure, a good deal
of hedging on the part of nearly all behaviorists on the question of
the denial of consciousness. Sometimes, it is true, they deny it only
from the methodological point of view. But with equal certainty (if
they mean what they say) at- times they deny it absolutely, that is,
they deny its existence as a subjective entity. "It is a serious mis-
understanding of the behaviorist position, ' ' writes Professor Watson,
"to say, 'Of course a behaviorist does not deny that mental states
exist; he merely prefers to ignore them.' He ignores them in the
same sense that chemistry ignores alchemy and astronomy horo-
scopy. " 16 " Thought is not different in essence from tennis playing,
swimming, or any other activity except that it is hidden from ordi-
nary observation and is more complex."17 "Consciousness is not
something inferred from behavior," Professor Singer wrote at the
very dawn of the behaviorist movement ; "it is behavior." 18 "What
we observe in so-called introspection," according to Professor Bawden,

11 "Image and Affection in Behavior," this JOURNAL, X, pp. 421-28, and
Psychology, Chap. VI.

12 "Image and Affective Behavior," Psychology, Chap. IX: "Is Thinking
Merely the Action of Language Mechanisms," Brit. Jour, of Psy., XI, pp. 87-
104.

is "Cannot Psychology Dispense with Consciousness?" Psychol. Bev., XXI,
pp. 204-211.

i* " Presuppositions of a Behaviorist," Psychol. Bev., XXV, pp. 171-190.

IB The Concept of Consciousness, Chap. XIV.

ie Brit. Jour, of Psy., XI, p. 94.

IT Psychology, p. 325.

is "Mind as an Observable Object," this JOURNAL, VIII, p. 180.

604 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

"is usually but the inner bodily beginnings, hidden from our view,
of the same behavior which in its overt manifestations is described
by external observation."19

This absolute denial of consciousness to mind is in fact a necessity
for Behaviorism. For if consciousness be admitted as a genuine
characteristic of mind, Behaviorism, which leaves it out of account,
cannot be the science of mind. And if consciousness be efficient as
well as real, Behaviorism cannot be a science at all — not even of beha-
vior. In so far, therefore, as Behaviorism admits the reality of con-
sciousness, but claims to be a real science of behavior, it takes up the
position of that form of Materialism which depicts consciousness as an
inefficient epiphenomenon. This, I think, is quite undeniable ; for the
moment you admit that consciousness has the least imaginable in-
fluence upon our motor activities, those activities cease to be explicable
by physiological conditions plus stimulus; there is a lacuna in the
series of physical explanation; the behaviorist 's description fails to
reach the whole relevant event, and such partial description as he
gives can never be generalized. If consciousness has any efficiency,
I repeat, Behaviorism cannot be even a science of behavior. It is, of
course, the realization of this fact that has led the bolder members of
the school into the actual denial of the existence of consciousness
in any other sense than as another name for behavior ; and obviously
to assert that consciousness is nothing but behavior is merely a some-
what shy and apologetic way of denying its existence, in the usual
sense, altogether. But, if the behaviorist who admits the existence of
consciousness is forced to take up the position of one branch of Materi-
alism, the behaviorist who denies its existence altogether plainly adopts
the position of the other branch. The difficulties of this school of
Materialism have long been obvious. In fact, I think it would be
safe to say that every one, including the behaviorists themselves,
knows that the denial of the existence of consciousness (in the old
and subjective sense) is really absurd. The question needs no argu-
ment— and in fact is hardly arguable. The recognition of the reality
of consciousness coupled with the denial of its efficiency is, however,
hardly less absurd. It demands an amount of credulity which very
nearly passes understanding. Yet unless one or the other of these
positions can be made tenable, Behaviorism falls even as a scientific
method. As a supplement to introspection it may be useful enough ;
but once the behaviorist uses, it independently or takes it as a science,
he is inevitably committed — no matter how little he may like it — to a
materialistic metaphysic with all its crudities.

JAMES BISSETT PRATT.
WILLIAMS COLLIGB.

l. Bev., XXV, p. 179.

KNOWLEDGE OF OTHER MINDS 605

KNOWLEDGE OF OTHER MINDS

EFORE we consider how it is that we know other minds we
-•— ' must state what we mean by mind. We shall not attempt
any exhaustive analysis of the nature of mind but simply endeavor
to point out some distinguishing feature by which mind may be
recognized as an object of knowledge. Excuse the dogmatic tone for
the sake of brevity.

I

Mind has two aspects that should be clearly distinguished. In
one aspect mind is that which is undergoing sensuous experience.
In the other aspect mind is knowledge of experience other than
that which it is now undergoing. Mind is not only conscious of
current experience but also of experience which occurred under other
spatial and causal conditions; also of experience which other minds
have undergone. Hence knowledge of experience is a very different
thing from the process of experience which the mind may undergo in
a given time, place and causal situation. To experience, and to know
the meaning of experience, which is knowledge, are two quite distinct
things. Mind is that which knows the meaning of experience.
The meaning of a given experience is that total unit of experience
of which the given experience is a fragment.

It is possible to experience an object without knowledge of the
object. This occurs when one hears a sound in the dark without
knowing what it means, or sees a glint of light in the distance with-
out understanding its significance or undergoes a stream of sensu-
ous experience without interpreting it or retaining it in mind be-
cause of preoccupation with other matters. It is also possible to
have knowledge of an object without experience of it, as when one
is told what another mind has experienced, or when one infers the
existence and character of an object which no one has ever ex-
perienced. Even in case of those objects which we say we have
experienced, our knowledge ordinarily runs far beyond our ex-
perience, whether past or present. When I look at a chair, for
instance, I say that I experience the chair. But what I actually
experience is only a very few of those elements that go to make up
the chair, namely, that color which belongs to the chair under
these particular conditions of light, that shape which the chair
displays when viewed from this angle, etc. I am able to know
the chair only because my mind can supplement this immediate
experience with the experience which was undergone in many
other situations vastly different from the present one with respect
to time, place and causal conditions. Also, in most cases, my

»,<)<; JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

knowledge of the chair is further supplemented by knowledge
gained from other minds, based upon orders of experience which
have never befallen me.

So we must distinguish between: (1) experience as a process
taking place at a certain time, within the bounds of a certain place
and under certain causal conditions, one of which is a sensitive
organism; and (2) experience as that which is known to have oc-
curred, or known to be about to occur, or known to be that which
would occur if certain temporal, spatial and causal conditions were
provided. We shall ordinarily use the word experience to desig-
nate number (1), while knowledge will indicate number (2). The
process of experience is limited to a certain time and place and to
certain causal conditions; knowledge of that process is not limited
to any particular time or place or causal conditions. Knowledge
surmounts time, place and cause. Knowledge is the gathering up
of experience into a region where the thief of time does not steal
and where the moth and rust of place and cause do not corrupt.
The unique characteristic of mind, which we wish to make plain,
is precisely this: Mind is knowledge and hence is not limited by
time, nor place nor cause.

Many objections might be raised to the statement that knowl-
edge is super-spatial, super-temporal and super-causal. But we
believe that all these objections arise from one or other of two
misunderstandings. There is first the misunderstanding that arises
from confusing experience and knowledge; second, there is the
misunderstanding that arises from confusing knowledge with
error. Let us take up these misunderstandings in order.

Experience and knowledge are confused because of the ambigu-
ous character of consciousness. Consciousness is partly process
of experience and partly knowledge. For the extrovert conscious-
ness is chiefly experience; for the introvert it is chiefly knowledge,
but it is always both to some degree. Because of this fact, who-
ever identifies mind with consciousness will confuse knowledge and
experience. Consciousness, in so far as it consists of experience,
is shaped by time, place and cause. In so far as it consists of
knowledge it is independent of time, place and cause. But mind,
as knowledge, is much more than consciousness. I know much
more than that of which I am immediately conscious at this mo-
ment. Whatever may be one's theories of subconsciousness, knowl-
edge is a word which refers to much else besides that which is at
the focus of consciousness. Mind is that which includes all that
a man knows. Mind as knowledge is not subject to the temporal,
spatial and causal conditions of consciousness.

KNOWLEDGE OF OTHER MINDS 607

The second misunderstanding arose from confusing knowledge
and error. Knowledge is truth. Erroneous knowledge is not
knowledge at all. Error is subject to time, place and cause. Truth
is not. Truth is that portion of reality which is known. Truth is
not affected by time, place or cause; but there are three things
which appear to be changes of truth. These three are: (1) true
knowledge may cease and error take its place; (2) error may cease
and knowledge take its place; (3) further knowledge may be added
to that already known. In none of these cases is knowledge changed
although lack of clear distinctions may lead one to think so. When
knowledge ceases and error takes its place we have a diminution
of mind, for mind is knowledge and where knowledge is not mind
is not. It is true that we say a mind is in error. But mind in
error is mind not by virtue of the error, but by virtue of whatso-
ever approximation to truth that mind may have; for mind may
be more or less fully mind. Error itself is a word that refers to
that which more or less remotely approximates truth. It is that
which aims at truth. Mind is identical with that which knows.
To know is to be identical with truth and truth transcends, by
comprehending, time, place and cause. Hence mind is super-
temporal, spatial and causal.

In case of error changed to truth, we have something which
does not apply to our present position because error is not knowl-
edge. Error is subject to time, place and cause and generally is
error precisely because of that fact. But error is not knowledge,
hence the case is beside the point.

In case of adding further truth to that already known there is
no change of true knowledge. We have further knowledge added
but no change in that already possessed. I may know a chair to
have a certain color. When the character of the light is changed
it reveals another color. My original knowledge is not changed.
It is still true that under the conditions of light first prevailing,
the chair bore a certain color and that truth can never be changed.
Throughout all time it will be true that the chair in that particular
situation bore that particular color.

So we conclude that mind, in so far as it consists of knowledge,
has a timeless, spaceless, causeless mode of existence. Minds are
associated with three levels of existence which may be called the
physical, the organic and the rational. The process of experience
appears at the organic level; but knowledge does not appear until
we reach the rational level. Rationality is the ability to survey the
experiences of other times and places and causal conditions than
those in which the organism is now placed ; the ability to survey the

608 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

experience undergone by other organisms; and finally the ability
to reduce all these experiences to a single unity and know them all
as one total object. This is knowledge. It is only at this level that
mind is completely developed. Organisms experience, but they do
not know. The physical and the organic are the foundations on
which mind is builded, rather than mind itself.

To know other mind is to know not only a physical object, and
not only an organism that experiences, but preeminently it means
to know that which reasons, i.e., that which surveys and unifies the
experiences of different times, places and causal conditions into one
timeless, placeless object of knowledge.

We do not pretend to have made an exhaustive statement of the
nature of mind. We have simply stated those features of mind
which it is necessary to have before us in order to deal with our
real problem, which is how we know other minds.

II

The knowledge of an object, whether that object be a stick or a
mind, is not immediately impressed upon the mind. An object is a
certain order of experience; but one can never know an object if
he knows nothing save the immediate experience. He must be able
to know the order of experience in its totality, which means that
he must know not only those elements which are now being experi-
enced but also those which have been experienced and those which
will be experienced in the future. To know the object which he is
experiencing he must know what is that total unit of experience of
which the immediate experience is but one small fraction. This
total unit of experience is what we shall call the meaning of the im-
mediate experience. To know a stick is to know the meaning of an
immediate experience. To know another mind is also to know the
meaning of an immediate experience.

Suppose I experience a strip of brownness against the side of
yonder hill. What is the meaning of this brownness? Perhaps I
say, at first, that it is a shadow on the ground. I then say that I
have knowledge of a shadow. But I discover that I am mistaken.
I next conclude that it is a discoloration of the soil at that point.
Then I opine it is a snake. No, it is some dried leaves. Finally I
ascertain it is a stick. This I do by the simple process of putting
myself in those situations in which I shall have other experiences
related to the original experience in such manner as to reveal to me
what would be that total order of experience which would ensue if
I placed myself in all conventional situations relative to the original
brownness. That order of experience is the stick.

KNOWLEDGE OF OTHER MINDS 609

But the immediate experience which means stick may also mean
tree in so far as it is the fragment of a tree. It may also mean
hurricane if it has been cast to the ground from a tree top by a
hurricane. It may also mean fire and warmth if it can be used to
kindle a fire. But most significant of all, it can also mean other
mind. Let us illustrate this.

As I observe the stick I may note that it moves back and forth.
It is the wind, I think, which causes it to sway. But suddenly to
my surprise I may discover that the movements of the stick de-
scribe the signals of a code with which I am familiar. The stick
is signaling a message to me which I understand. It is signaling
the question : Do you know me ? I am now sure that the stick
means not only stick but also other mind. I approach and find that
the stick projects above an embankment. I come nearer still and
find that, lying behind the embankment, and holding one end of
the stick, is my friend who laughs up at me and enjoys my surprise.

I say I see my friend beneath the embankment. But what do
I experience? I actually experience certain sensuous qualities in
a certain situation which have a dual meaning, just as the brownish-
ness had a dual meaning. The brownishness meant stick and also
other mind. These new sensuous qualities mean human organism
and also other mind. Human organism is not necessarily mind any
more than stick. If mind had expressed itself to me through certain
kinds of sticks as commonly as it had expressed itself to me through
human organism, I would recognize mind in the stick quite as
readily as in the flesh. To be sure there are many reasons why
human organism is better adapted to express mind than a stick.
It is highly probable that our instincts are so adapted to the hu^
man organism that we are much more attentive to it than we can
naturally be to sticks. Also the human organism, by reason of its
capacity for vocalization and gesticulation of all sorts, is better
adapted to the making of symbolic signs. But the principle still
holds that human organism is not the criterion of other mind.
Neither do we know other mind by reasoning on the analogy that
since I am a human organism and also mind, that other human
organism is likewise a mind. Neither do we know other mind by an
instinct which recognizes a human organism as the embodiment of
mind. There are, of course, instincts that cause human organisms
to associate with one another. But association of human organisms
does not necessarily involve mutual knowledge of minds.

It is symbolism that reveals other mind. The reason symbolism
reveals other mind is because it reveals knowledge which is inde-
pendent of the time, space and cause of the immediate situation;

610 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

and mind is precisely knowledge that is independent of the time,
space and cause of the immediate situation. Symbolism surmounts
time and space because it introduces into the immediate situation
meanings which can not become objects of immediate experience
except in situations which are far removed in time and place and
cause from the immediate situation. Symbolism introduces us to
a timeless, spaceless, causeless state of existence, or nullifies time,
space and cause, by flooding the immediate situation with foreign
meanings. When a symbolic object floods the present situation with
foreign meanings it expresses that which transcends the present
situation. That which transcends the temporal, spatial, causal con-
ditions of the present situation is precisely mind. In so far as any
object, through symbolism, reveals knowledge of that which is inac-
cessible to immediate experience, it reveals mind, because mind is
knowledge of that which is inaccessible to immediate experience.

We said that the stick might mean tree, fire and hurricane as
well as stick; and yet no other mind was involved. But in that
case the stick symbolized the meanings of my own mind. The stick
was simply the symbol by which I kept in consciousness, or brought
to consciousness, that which I myself knew. Of course the stick
might be a means by which I discovered further knowledge which
I had not theretofore possessed, but in that case the stick would
not be a symbol at all and we are now considering the stick only
as a symbol. The symbolism of the stick always expresses mind,
although it may be my own mind which it expresses. How one dis-
tinguishes between his own mind and that of others we shall con-
sider at once.

That portion of all possible experience which each mind
undergoes is different from that of any other mind. Differences in
constitution of the organism, differences in the sense organs, dif-
ferences in the time, location and causal conditions in which the
organism is placed when the experience is undergone, all conspire
to render the process of experience, which each mind undergoes,
distinctly different from that of every other mind. Hence that
knowledge which constitutes my mind is different from that which
constitutes another mind. When I am introduced to knowledge, a
timeless, spaceless totality, which is different from that which con-
stitutes my own mind, I am aware of other mind. No objects are
more readily distinguished from cne another than minds because
none are so different from one another. The complex diversities
of those total systems of experience that make up minds are more
different from one another than those fragments of experience
which constitute non-mental objects. We know other minds in the

BOOK REVIEWS 611

same fashion that we know our own and we know our own, oft-
times, no better than we know other minds. The symbolism which
floods the present situation with foreign meanings brings to our
consciousness a mind. This mind may be either our own or an-
other. Which it be is readily discerned.

Minds are constantly undergoing both mutual assimilation to
one another and also diversification from one another. They as-
similate one another in so far as they, by means of symbolism, com-
municate to one another that timeless, spaceless knowledge of ex-
perience which constitutes each. Thus minds comprehend one an-
other. But they constantly diversify in so far as the process of
experience which each undergoes is different.

So we conclude that to know other mind is to know a total order
of experience which, as process of experience, underwent time,
space and cause, but which, as knowledge, exists in a timeless,
spaceless, causeless unity. Such a unified totality, transcending
time and space, can make itself known as such to other mind by
means of symbolism. Symbolism serves to flood the immediate
situation with meanings which can be objects of immediate experi-
ence only at remotely distant times and places and under other
causal conditions. Hence symbolism in a sense surmounts time,
space and cause and reveals that knowledge transcending time,
space and cause which is mind.

HENRY NELSON WIEMAN.

OCCIDENTAL COLLEGE, Los ANGELES.

BOOK REVIEWS

Eastern and Western Cultures and their Philosophies. LIANG SHU-
MING. Shanghai. 1922.1

Those who are familiar with contemporary China know that
there recently has happened something known as the "New Cul-
ture Movement." To those who fear nothing but change and those
who, as Bertrand Russell said, take "moralization for philosophy,"
this movement is thought to mean the complete destruction of the
ancient Chinese culture, and therefore is too radical. But, in fact,
it means an evolution rather than a revolution of the Chinese cul-
ture. The "new" culture movement may be, after all, simply the
self -consciousness and self-examination of the old. Mr. Liang's
book is the first conscious and serious attempt to grasp the central

i The page numbers referred to in the following are based on a copy of
the preliminary Peking edition. There is no English translation.

612 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

idea and to show the excellences and the defects of the old Chinese
culture in comparison with the European and the Indian.

William James said that every great philosopher has his own
vision, and that if one gets that, one can easily understand his
system. This is Mr. Liang's method in treating the different types
of the world culture. To Mr. Liang the fountain of life is the ever
struggling and never ceasing Will. All peoples have this Will but
every people has its own direction to lead it to. There are three
possible directions:

1. To struggle to get what we want; to try to change the en-
vironment in order to satisfy our desires.

2. Not positively to solve the different problems of life, but to
find satisfaction in the given situation ; not to realize but to harmon-
ize our desires.

3. Not to solve the problems, nor to leave them unsolved, but to
try to get rid of the desires that cause them.

Proceeding along these three different directions and using these
different methods, the European, the Chinese, and the Indian
peoples work out independently their respective cultures, which,
according to Mr. Liang, are but moods of life. Thus the funda-
mental spirit of the European culture is the realization of desires;
that of the Chinese is the harmonization of desires; that of the
Indian is the negation of desires (pp. 62-72).

Since the European mood of life is to struggle forward, the Euro-
pean culture is characterized by ability in controlling nature, the
scientific method, and democracy in the sense that each and every
individual claims his own right to oppose authority. These are its
excellences. With them side by side come its defects. There is too
much intellect, calculation, and self-assertion along with selfishness.
The individual stands in the centre of the universe and treats every-
thing outside of him as either material or rivals. Means is for the
end ; present for the future. There is too much to do, but too little
to en joy (p. 232).

The Chinese mood of life, of which Mr. Liang chose Confucianism
as the representative, is just the opposite. Its fundamental idea is
to repudiate calculation and intellect. It teaches not doing for
something, but "doing for nothing." Following natural feeling,
or what Mr. Liang called intuition, a mother loves her baby, and
a baby loves its mother. This love is not means for the future,
but the end in and for itself (pp. 174-176).

Confucius also said: "I have no course for which I am prede-
termined and no course against which I am predetermined." This
means that one must not make any foregone conclusion and not

BOOK REVIEWS 613

insist on one reasoning. If one holds one reasoning and does not
admit change, one has to push to the extreme and thus miss the mean.
For instance, if one adhere to the doctrine of universal love, like
Jesus, one has to love one's enemies and, like Buddha, to refrain from
killing any animal. Furthermore, one must not destroy anything in
this world; there is no reason to stop midway. But, according to
Confucianism, since by nature one loves one's parents more and
others' less, so ought one to. The degree of one's love of different
people ought to be different, because towards others in one's intuition
there is a different intensity of love. To Confucius, it is wrong to
insist beforehand on any objective, changeless doctrine, but right to
follow one's natural feeling and let it go (pp. 160-161). These
aspects of Confucianism are included in the conception of Jen (this
Chinese word is often translated ''benevolence" but is more than
that) . Jen means the sensitiveness of the natural feeling or intuition
and the pursuit of it without calculation of the consequence or
reasoning about a general rule. Thus life is not dependent upon
what is without, but upon itself. So there can be neither gain nor
loss. There is always joy, but never sorrow.

As the European people have too much calculation, the Indian
have too much insistence. The Indian people want to get rid of the
problems of life, because they want to seek a fundamental solution
of them. They want to solve problems that are unsolvable. Life
itself is a flux, but they worry about its uncertainty and change.
They are too sensitive to the affairs of life, so they fall back to
the complete negation of it (p. 135). So the Indian mood of life,
of which Mr. Liang chooses Buddhism as representative, is to try to
return to the state of pure sensation or pure experience. According
to Mr. Liang, in pure experience there is no change and distinction.
In pure experience every impression of a flying bird is a motionless
image. It is our feeling that connects these successive images together
and puts them in motion. In pure experience there is no distinction
between object and subject. It is our intellect that makes this sharp
demarcation and antithesis. If we return to the state of pure expe-
rience, we shall have knowledge of nothing. There is real eternity,
since there is no change. There is real One, since there is no distinc-
tion. This is Absolute. This is Wisdom (pp. 108-112.)

These are the salient points of the three types of the world's
culture as Mr. Liang sees them. Mr. Liang advises the Chinese
people to accept completely European sciences and to resume critically
the Confucianistic attitude towards life. He also sees that the
European's life of calculation is near its end and that the "Western
people are bound to change their way and to follow Confucius. But

614 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

that is not all. There must be a time when mankind will become very
sensitive to the unsolvable problems of life such as death, old age and
sickness; they will then begin to appreciate the Indian culture and
to adopt it. In fact, the three cultures, according to Mr. Liang,
represent the three successive stages of human development (pp. 259-
263). But since science, as Mr. Liang points out, is an organic part
of the Western individualistic and utilitarian mood of life, how can
it be combined organically with Mr. Liang's Confucianism? Science
for science's sake; we may invent science for nothing; but it is
through and through a product of pure intellect. A life of feeling
and intuition is for art, not for science. I see quite clearly that
Confucianism is possible for science, but not the Confucianism of
Mr. Liang's interpretation. Mr. Liang's Confucianism presupposes
too much the pre-existing harmony of man's feeling and the goodness
of man 's nature.

Mr. Liang considers Bertrand Russell's appeal to man's instinct
of creation as an indication of the fact that the Western peoples are
going to assume the attitude of "doing for nothing." I may also
say that Professor Hobhouse's "rational good" and Professor
Dewey's "good of activity" are no less strong indications. Still I
do not quite see why the Western peoples should adopt Confucianism
completely and why future mankind should all be followers of
Buddha. It seems that Mr. Liang, being always a student of Buddh-
ism, has too strong a monistic preconception that leads him to suppose
that the three existing types of culture have exhausted all the possible
ways of life and that mankind is bound to take or reject one or the
other as they are.

Since Mr. Liang's book is dealing with so comprehensive a subject
matter and his prediction of the fate of the cultures is so far in the
future, it is unnatural to expect that every one should agree with
him. It seems to me that his interpretations of Buddhism and Con-
fucianism are of interest and value, no matter whether Buddhism
and Confucianism are really as he says or not. I think nobody can
read these two parts of his book without being impressed by his
originality and conscientiousness. Mr. Liang certainly has his vision.
This is enough for a philosophical work to justify its existence.

YU-LAN FUNO.
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

JOURNAL OP EXPERIMENTAL PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. V, No. 5. Octo-
ber, 1922. Influence of Vision in Acquiring Skill : H. A. Carr and
E. B. Osb&urn. Differences in the Oral Responses to Words of Gen-

NOTES AND NEWS 615

eral and of Local Significance : V. R. McClatchy. The Cardio-Pneu-
mo-Psychogram and its Use in the Study of the Emotions : J. A. Lar-
son. A Study in Grades and Grading under a Military System : R.
L. Bates. Studies in Dissociation : L. E. Travis. The Selectiveness
of the Eye 's Response to Wave-Length and its Change with Change
of Intensity : 7. A. Haupt.

GREGORIANUM. Vol. Ill, No. 3. September, 1922. Anglia quae-
rens fidem, II : L. J. Walker. Determinazioni idealiste — Metafisica :
G. Mattiussi. Salva illorum substantia, I: H. Lennerz. Novation
et la doctrine de la Trinite a Rome au milieu du troisieme siecle, I :
A. D'Ales.

JOURNAL~OF INTERNATIONAL ETHICS. Vol. XXXIII, No. 1. Octo-
ber, 1922. The Hindu Dharma: S. Radhakrishnan. The Commen-
surability of Values: R. K. Pemberton. The Genesis of the Moral
Judgment in Plato: Rupert C. Lodge. Sanctioning International
Peace : C. F. Taeusch. The Relation of Ethics to Social Science : 0.
F. Boucke. Hamlet : C. C. H. Williamson..

Pillsbury, W. B.: The Fundamentals of Psychology. Revised
edition. New York : Macmillan Company. 1922. xiv + 589 pp.

Warren, Howard C.: Elements of Human Psychology. Boston:
Houghton Mifflin Company. 1922. 416 pp. $2.25.

Dunlap, Knight: Elements of Scientific Psychology. St. Louis:

C. V. Mosby Company. 1922. 368 pp. $3.50.

Givler, Robert C. : Psychology. The Science of Human Behavior.
New York : Harper Brothers. 1922. 382 pp. $3.00.

Moore, G. E. : Philosophical Studies. New York : Harcourt, Brace
& Company, Inc. 1922. viii + 342 pp.

Moore, G. E. : Principia Ethica. Reprinted. New York: Mac-
millan Company. 1922. xxvi + 232 pp.

Rignano Eugenio : Come Funziona la Nostra Intelligenza. Bolog-
na : Nicola Zanichelli. 1922. 46 pp.

de Wulf, Maurice: Mediaeval Philosophy. Illustrated from the
System of Thomas Aquinas. Harvard University Press. 1922.
151 pp.

Hollingworth, H. L. : Judging Human Character. New York:

D. Appleton & Company. 1922. xiii + 268 pp. $2.00.
Micklem, E. R. : Miracles and the New Psychology. A Study of

the Healing Miracles of the New Testament. New York: Oxford
University Press, American Branch. 1922. 142 pp. $2.50.

NOTES AND NEWS

The Annual Meeting of the American Psychological Association
will take place at Cambridge, Mass., December 27, 28 and 29. The
sessions will be held in Emerson Hall, Harvard University.

616 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Papers of general and theoretical import will be placed in the
sessions on Wednesday, December 27. The business meeting will be
Wednesday evening. The sessions of Thursday will include a sympo-
sium arranged by Section I of the A. A. A. S. and the address of
Professor Bott, the retiring vice-president of Section I. The annual
dinner of the Association followed by the Presidential address and
smoker will be Thursday evening. Friday will be devoted to sessions
of the Section of Clinical Psychology. In the afternoon, the session
will be at the Boston Psychopathic Hospital.

Abstracts, not exceeding 400 words and written in triplicate must
be in the hands of Professor Edwin Boring, Emerson Hall, Cam-
bridge, Mass., by November 8th.

A joint meeting of the Eastern and Western Divisions of the
American Philosophical Association will be held at Union Theological
Seminary, New York City, December 27, 28 and 29. Professor John
Dewey will deliver the Paul Carus Lectures on the attempt to apply
a theory of experience to certain metaphysical problems.

The afternoon sessions will be largely devoted to the lectures by
Professor Dewey, and the morning sessions to the reading and discus-
sion of papers offered by members. On Wednesday and Thursday
evenings respectively, the smoker and annual dinner will be held, and
at these times also addresses by the presidents will be delivered.

Abstracts of papers should be in the hands of Professor G. A.
Tawney, University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio, not later than
November 10th. The papers offered should be limited to twenty
minutes in reading.

VOL. XIX., No. 23 NOVEMBER 9, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

THE GROUNDS OF PRESUMPTION *

THE note of pure skepticism, not mistakable for denial, has
always been more distinct in English and in Scotch philoso-
phy than it ever was in German philosophy either before or after
Kant, or in French philosophy before or after Comte. In Hume
it became dominant, and not for the last time. In Balfour, in 1879,
it became the theme of the composition.

A Defense of Philosophic Doubt never had the vogue it de-
served, or the consideration which, for the clarification of the hu-
man mind, it should have received. It got a bad name at the start,
as an attack on inductive science, in particular on evolution, which
it was not ; and as an apology, which it was not, for the Thirty-nine
Articles. For the first of these misapprehensions, incompetent re-
viewing and inattentive reading were to blame. For the second,
the author himself was to blame because, inadvertently or unwisely,
he used throughout the words ''belief" and "faith," colorful with
religious connotation, when he should have adhered to the white-
light philosophical terms, "assumption," "certitude" and "pre-
sumption. ' '

In part, however, the disappointing influence of the book is at-
tributable to the circumstance that it soon went out of print, and
for forty years was almost unobtainable. Meanwhile, the tide of
ideas ran swift, if not always deep, and threw up a resounding
surf. It required moral courage to reissue the Defense without
other revision than trifling verbal alterations and a few notes, made
a long while ago. This was, however, the right thing to do. It
saved a significant bench mark from obliteration.

Lord Balfour's major thesis is that not only all speculative phi-
losophy but also all inductive science, observational or experi-
mental, and all historical inference, rest upon assumptions that
are unproved and unprovable. These assumptions he calls "ulti-

iA Defence of Philosophic Doubt: Being an Essay on the Foundations
of Belief. By Arthur James Balfour, F. R. S. Member of the Institute of
France: Honorary Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. A new edition. Lon-
don, Hodder and Stoughton, Ltd. 1921. Pages x + 355.

617

618 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

mate beliefs" and "grounds of belief," using the two expressions
interchangeably. He identifies them with "self-evident proposi-
tions" (page 4) and tells us in italics that among the "full 'dif-
ferentia' of ultimate beliefs" is the fact that "we require no
grounds for believing them at all" (page 7). Grounds of belief
are always to be discriminated from the causes, or antecedents, of
belief. "The enquiry into the first is psychological, the enquiry
into the second is philosophical" (page 5). "It is strictly impos-
sible that any solution of the question 'how come I to believe this'
should completely satisfy the demand 'why ought I to believe it' '
(page 6). "The business of philosophy is to deal with the grounds,
not the causes, of belief" (page 5), but not, of course, to attempt
to prove them (page 8). However, "if philosophy is neither to
investigate the causes nor to prove the grounds of belief, what . . .
is it to do?" Its business, as Lord Balfour apprehends it "is to
disengage" the grounds of belief, "to distinguish them from what
simulates to be ultimate, and to exhibit them in systematic order."

Demonstration of this thesis is undertaken through a searching
and extraordinarily acute examination of empirical logic as set
forth by Mill; of the theory of historical inference; of Kantian
transcendentalism as restated by Caird ; of the argument from gen-
eral consent, the argument from success in practise and the argu-
ment from common sense; of psychological idealism (Berkeley);
of the test of inconceivability (Spencer) ; and of Mr. Spencer's
proof of realism. Not many conscientious readers have survived
these pages with unscathed doubt that all systems of thought, em-
pirical no less than a priori, are built upon unproved and improv-
able assumptions.

But tangled up with Lord Balfour 's major thesis are minor
theses, each of which has crept in as pure assumption. One of them
he obviously believes, and would defend. Whether he believes any
of the others I am not sure. I am not even sure that he meant to
present them. I am sure only that he has neither proved nor elim-
inated them.

Most obtrusive of these unproven but not eliminated theses is
the assumption that in self-evident propositions we find certitude.
The inattentive reader probably carries away an impression that
Lord Balfour holds this assumption to be true, but I find no incon-
testable evidence that he does. Somewhat less obtrusive is the as-
sumption, which Lord Balfour unquestionably does believe, that
the grounds of belief are themselves beliefs. Least obtrusive, but
neither insignificant nor unimportant, is the assumption that the
grounds of belief are equivalent to reality, or may be identified
with it.

THE GROUNDS OF PRESUMPTION 619

It is precisely upon the issues presented by these assumptions,
or minor theses, that philosophy has been engaged throughout the
years since the Defense was written. The product of criticism and
restatement is not inconsiderable. We have a new general philoso-
phy of relativism, and three particular varieties of it, namely, a
new logic, a new pragmatism, and a new realism. Over against
these we have a new absolutism.

The new relativism has conditioned our self-evident truths. It
denies that things which are equal to the same thing are necessarily
equal to each other eternally, or that parallel straight lines are
necessarily parallel to infinity.

Lord Balfour will, of course, object that if these denials are
empirical they are invalid. Einstein and the astronomers could
not perturb him. But the new relativism is not bounded by em-
piricism. It compels us to ask, and, if we can, to answer the ques-
tion, "To what intelligence is a self-evident proposition equiva-
lent to certitude?" The only answer we can make is, "To an
infallible intelligence," and human intelligence is not infallible.
So there we are. Our grounds of belief, our ultimate assumptions,
are not certainties. They are presumptions only.

Moreover, they are not beliefs. The grounds of presumption
are no more beliefs than the grounds of the validity of a contract
are beliefs. The grounds of the validity of a contract are the con-
ditions attached. If these are present and fulfilled the contract
holds; otherwise it does not. The grounds of presumption are the
conditions present and attaching to assumption. They are the ad-
jectives, not the substantives of assumption. They only can con-
vert assumption into presumption.

There are four imperative conditions of presumption, and three
of them are adjective factors of self-evident belief. There is no
discovery here, unless, possibly, to minds, if there are such, un-
aware that the self-evident can be factorized, and that no one fac-
tor is adequate. Each of the four conditions at one or another time
has been isolated by one or another philosopher as a test or criter-
ion of ultimate truth. Lord Balfour has not overlooked or ignored
any. Seriatim he has mercilessly scrutinized each and, in its isola-
tion, discredited it. But he has not seen, at least he has given us
no occasion to suspect that he has seen, that any one of the four
enters as an adjective factor into the self-evident.

To name the adjective factors of the self-evident is presumably
enough to obtain recognition of the subsistent relation affirmed.
No one whose attention has been called to it is likely to deny it.
They are, then, the insistent, the persistent and the consistent.

620 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Nobody calls a proposition self-evident unless it forces itself
upon consciousness uninvited. It is intuitive. Nobody calls a
proposition self-evident unless, as Spencer, with unnecessary ur-
gency, contended, it persists in consciousness in spite of efforts to
evict it. And nobody calls two or more propositions self-evident
if they contradict one another.

How, then, can we say that the self-evident is unconditional!
And if we admit that it is conditional do we not admit both that
the self-evident can be factorized and that its factors are the grounds
of its presumptive truth? If so, Lord Balfour, in saying both that
the grounds of belief are self-evident propositions, and that we re-
quire no grounds at all for believing them, has fallen into the lan-
guage of contradiction.

The fourth condition of presumption is best approached through
further observations. The new logic has not been content with
sharpening the edges of categorical discrimniation and following
the lure of quantification until logic and mathematics have been
exposed as one identity masquerading as two demons. It has ex-
plored the realms of causation as intrepidly as Mill did and has
made a better triangulation than his. The old base lines, "ante-
cedent," "consequent," and "condition," have been abandoned,
and the once outstanding peaks, "a cause" and "the cause" ap-
pear with diminished altitude. Each is seen now as one factor only
of a situation, and "the" is held to mean only relative size, or
other importance. A situation conceptually factorized, conceived
in terms of its factors, a wood thought of as trees, is thereby logic-
ally resolved, the new logic says, into its causes. The factors con-
ceived as integrated, the trees thought of as a wood, are thereby
converted logically, the new logic avers, into their effect. Actual
(phenomenal) causation is a kinetic process of integration. The
cause of a dynamic situation is the kinetic integration of its static
and kinetic factors,*

Moreover, the distinction here made between causation logical
and causation phenomenal is conceptual only. It has no dynamic
existence, a fact so nearly "ultimate" that Lord Balfour might
have been expected to take notice of it. He has not adequately done
so. His contention that philosophy has to do with the grounds of
belief only, and not with the causes of belief he has thrown into re-
lief by ignoring the question whether or in what way causes and
grounds are related.

As now conceived, causes and effects are not only equivalent,
(they have always been held to be that) and all causes are or have

2Cf. the chapter on "Order and Possibility" in Oiddings' Studio in the
Theory of Human Society, 1922.

THE GROUNDS OF PRESUMPTION 621

been caused (this also, with reservations as to a First Cause, has
always been held) but also, effects are not terminal points. Now,
this last assumption, oddly, has not always been held, at least not
always held in mind. Certain states of mind, and self-evident
truths preeminently, if not actually thought of as akin to nirvana,
have been dealt with in philosophical discussion as if they were.
Yet logically they are not, as, certainly, they are not dynamically.
All states of mind, including contemplation, are reaction states, and
all, including contemplation, react both logically and dynamically.
Insistence, persistence and consistence, therefore, the grounds of
presumption, resolve into causation. However, the grounds of as-
sumption (or belief) and the causes of assumption (or belief) are
not identical throughout the whole extent of causation. Not all
causes of assumption are grounds of assumption ; morons unhappily
(and notoriously) make assumptions; but all true grounds of as-
sumption are causes of assumption.

We here arrive at the new (or, should we say, at the newest)
pragmatism. The grounds of assumption do things. They cause or
participate in causing presumption. Presumptions, in turn, cause,
or participate in causing further assumptions, conclusions, beliefs,
what you will. Pragmatism has seized upon this aspect of assump-
tion. It has taken doing, working, productiveness as its ground of
belief.

Carefully defined, productiveness is a ground (one ground) of
presumption, but the careful definition is imperative, and the limita-
tion to one plot of ground in four is not removable by logical con-
veyance. Insistence, persistence and consistence can neither be
conveyed nor eliminated, nor, if they seem not to bear fruits of
esthetic or moral value, be condemned as unproductive (as the
withered fig tree was), unless we are prepared to say that it makes
no difference whether the product of presumption is truth, error
or obfuscation. If what we demand is truth and more of it, the
product of presumption must be a body of truths that hold together.
Presumptions must work as working hypotheses that work out. In
a word, the product of presumption must be not values, which Wil-
liam James, unhappily, and too many of his earlier disciples were
never able to eliminate, but philosophy and science. The whole
matter has been put as clearly and tersely as it probably ever will
be, by Lord Haldane, who says, ' ' The gap in the foundations of the
old beliefs has been largely the result of reflection, and it is not by
the stimulation of emotion, but only in further reflection, that there
can be hope of filling it up. ' ' 3

s The Eeign of Relativity, page 4.

622 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

All this means that assumptions which, being causes, as they
necessarily are, of further assumption, are acceptable as presump-
tions only if the new truths which they yield us are, like our older
presumptions, persistent and consistent and resolvable into truths
that are insistent. It means further, that each new crop of philo-
sophical and scientific products indefinitely must so qualify, and
that all of them must be consistent with the old ones. And this is
to say that they must be projective. They must be points of a curve,
the equation of which is constant. They must be components of a
body of coherent truths, insistent, persistent and consistent,
throughout the whole extent of experience, past and future.

Accordingly, the fourth ground of presumption is projection,
which may be defined as consistent philosophical working through-
out the range of experience, past and future. As working hypothe-
ses presumptions must turn out to be convertible into both new
abstracts and new concretes: new conceptions and new perceptions.
This brings us to the new realism.

The old realism was a bootless attempt to eliminate concreteness
from reality and to identify reality with abstraction or the abstract.
Its merit was that it was an attempt to arrive at consistency. Is
color real ? No, Lord Balf our says, following the older notions, be-
cause it is only a sensation produced by the vibrations of material
particles and "the smallest trial is sufficient to convince us that
to represent in imagination uncolored vibrating atoms is a task al-
together beyond our powers" (page 249). Is a lump of ice real?
No, because it melts into water. Is water real? No, because it be-
comes a cloud of steam. Is the cloud of steam real ? No, because it
disappears in invisible vapor. So, by negation of the negation ad
infinitum reality became the non-phenomenal. Thence, facilis des-
census, it became the absolute, the unknowable.

But step by step with this evolution grew relativism, and rela-
tivism became katabolic. Without pretending that we could get
rid of the unknowable, we balked at the absolute, and turned im-
patiently from nirvana. Without asking ourselves why, or on what
grounds, we first refused to think of reality as the statically per-
sistent, and then permitted ourselves to think of it as the persis-
tently kinetic, the kinetically persistent, the ceaselessly carrying
on and producing. Then neo-realism, actual and unabashed, set
about self-justification.

Assuming that the old realism had tried most, if not all, of the
possible ways of going wrong, and that the error of each lay in ex-
clusion or denial, the new realism turned to inclusiveness. It af-
firmed that the concrete is real, no less than the abstract. The ice

THE GROUNDS OF PRESUMPTION 623

is real, but as ice it is not total reality. The water and the steam
are real, but neither is complete reality. Nor would an infinity of
equivalent modes, forms, or manifestations be the whole of reality.
There is also the relation of one form or mode to another, through-
out the series, and the relation of this relation to the totality of rela-
tions, and these relations also are real. Or, to put it all now in
other terms, reality is total experience and more. It includes past
and future, actual and possible experience and more. That, at
least, is how we have to think about it, because we have been
driven to assume that all experience is real, in some sense or way,
but that we do not know, and may not presume, that human ex-
perience exhausts reality.

It follows that conceptions (abstractions) are convertible into
concretes (perceptions) and that these, in turn, are convertible
into new conceptions, and so on indefinitely. Reality, therefore,
to summarize all this in a formula, is not merely a (a concrete) or
merely p (an abstraction), or merely x (an unknown) : it is x(a p),
and x(a p} must be convertible into x(b q) or into y(a p) or into
y(b q).

So, at last, we are brought through these developments of rela-
tivism to a corrected view of the nature, functions and relations
of philosophy, logic and science. Distinctions are clarified.

Philosophy is concerned with the grounds of presumption, and
with ultimate presumptions. Its business is to bring our assump-
tions, beliefs and faiths face to face, and let those survive that can.
The survivors we may not accept as certainties, but we may accept
them as presumptions. The strength of presumption increases as
the death-rate of beliefs rises.

While philosophy may not confound itself with religious faiths
or with esthetic or moral values, nor lose itself in them, it should
not ignore them nor let them alone. All of them build upon pre-
sumptions. These presumptions philosophy should scrutinize, and
pronounce them philosophically valid or invalid, as impartially as
it judges the presumptions underlying inductive science. The
grounds of judgment are the grounds of presumption which have
been considered.

The business of logic is to scrutinize conceptions, and bring
about consistency among them. The business of science is to bring
about consistency between conceptions and perceptions, between
inference (or deduction) and observation.

The new absolutism that has developed in the face of the new
relativism has not been so much a product of philosophy, as here
defined, as of mathematics. The new mathematicians are adventur-

624 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ing where philosophers now hesitate to tread. I have commented
upon their venture in an earlier volume of this JOURNAL.*

FRANKLIN H. GIDDINGS.
COLUMBIA UNIVZBSITY.

MEMORY: A TRIPHASE OBJECTIVE ACTION

DEPLORABLE it is that the commendable enterprise of at-
tempting to study the facts of psychology in an objective
manner has not developed without regrettable aspects. To mention
only one of the unfortunate conditions, why should it be necessary,
in order to be objective, to reduce complex human behavior to ex-
tremely simple processes ? Such a reduction we find in the descrip-
tion of memory as simple habit actions. Accordingly, we attempt
in the following paper to make an objective analysis of memorial
behavior without transforming such activity into simple processes
easily described but not actually constituting a part of human be-
havior equipment.

I. THE NATURE OP MEMORY REACTIONS

Memory reactions constitute those delayed or postponed re-
sponses to stimuli in which (1) the adjustment stimulus is no
longer present when the response is made and consequently must
be substituted for; that is to say, a substitute stimulus-object or
condition must serve to call out the delayed reaction or response
phase of the memory behavior, or (2) the stimulus object itself
must again be available after some absence. In the latter case, al-
though the absence may be an exceedingly brief one, we must still
look upon the effective stimulus-object as a substitute for the ad-
justment stimulus which in this instance may be the same object but
in a different temporal setting.

More definitely may we characterize memory reactions by re-
ferring to them as suspended or continuous reactions. Probably
the latter description is much more to the point. The fundamental
characteristic of true memory reactions is that they start at some
period of time, pass through another time interval which is a less
active or suspended stage, and are finally brought to completion in
a third and active stage. Or when this last part of the reaction
does not occur we have the opposite fact, namely, forgetting. The
main emphasis in all cases, however, is on the fact of temporal con-

«"The Method of Absolute Posit," this JOURNAL, Vol. XIV, No. 1, Jan-
uary 4, 1917.

MEMORY: A TRIPE AS E OBJECTIVE ACTION 625

tinuity, although there is a period of indiscernible action in between
the two more active phases. The emphasis on the continuity of
memory reactions is made, first, because there is a period of ap-
parent non-action before the final phase of the memory act is ex-
ecuted, and secondly, because we are dealing with the actual be-
havior of a person covering a period of time. Consequently the
phases or partial acts might erroneously be considered as being
independent discontinuous activities. That a memory behavior seg-
ment is a single continuous action no matter how long a time is
required for its transpiration is clear when we agree that memory
reaction begins at the moment we make an engagement with some-
one to meet him at a definite time and to end when we actually do
meet him at the appointed time and place. That is to say, the
memory action goes on from one period to the other.

We find it exceedingly helpful if we study memory reactions
as the concrete actual responses of persons. For one thing,
it enables us to see how it is possible for a person, who,
although he does other things at the same time that he makes an
engagement, and also while keeping it as well as in between these
two points of time, is no less continuing the identical memory ac-
tivity throughout the whole series of -time periods. Is not the
situation very like the case of a person who is going somewhere
but who in the same time interval can greet a friend on the way?
The hypothesis of the temporal continuity of memory action is
rather strengthened than weakened by the analogy between these
otherwise very different sorts of behavior when the person can
actually stop to chat with his friend.

While we naturally choose for illustrative purposes types of
memorial behavior which lend themselves advantageously to the
presentation of our conception, we still insist that the case of mem-
ory stands no differently when we consider informational reactions
rather than grosser sorts of behavior. Here we must be more care-
ful, however, to avoid mere language habits or informational learn-
ing, which are quite different sorts of phenomena from memory ac-
tion, as we will presently point out.

A memory reaction, it follows then, can not be studied and
understood unless we consider the action from the standpoint of
all of the time periods involved. Of these time periods we may ob-
serve the distinct existence of three, namely, (1) the inceptive, (2)
the between stage, and (3) the cousummatory stage. To these three
time units there correspond three phases of a unit action, to wit,
(1) the projection or initiatory phase, (2) the middle phase, and
(3) the recollective or consummately phase. The middle phase, be-

626 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

cause of its relative invisibility and submerged operation we may
practically neglect although it is a genuine phase of all memorial
behavior. In general descriptions of memory we disregard the
middle phase although it is presupposed in both the projection and
recollective phases. Accordingly, the brief examination of each of
the two end phases will in our opinion not only reveal evidence that
a memorial behavior segment requires for its operation a definite
time interval, be it minutes or months, but also that memory con-
sists of a single triphase continuous action.

Whenever we start a memory reaction it is invariably implied
that the behavior initiated shall be continued or suspended until
some specified posterior time. The immediate act is initiated in
order that some related action should occur. We make engage-
ments in order to keep them; we memorize in order to recite after
some longer or shorter intervening time interval.

Furthermore, the intervening phase of action which superficially
appears as no action whatever must in fact be looked upon as
a positive mode of psychological adaptation, since the memorial be-
havior necessitates this interval between the initiation of the action
and its final consummation. A moment's reflection regarding the
inhibition of reaction is a convincing argument of the positive
actual character of the suspended phase of memorial behavior, and
here the consummatory phase of the action is only temporarily in-
hibited or postponed. After signing the contract the waiting of
ninety days to pay the amount nominated in the bond is very much
a part of the total memory action involved.

When the final or completion phase of a memory behavior seg-
ment operates, its mode of action is conditioned by and implies the
functioning of the middle phase. The final action must occur only
after a suitable given period which is conditioned by the stimulat-
ing circumstances of the entire action. Not only are the two termi-
nal actions incomplete and insignificant unless they are inextri-
cably intercorrelated, but they must also be in the same manner
tied up with the middle phases. In fact, while the three phases ap-
pear as morphologically distinct they are not so functionally at all.

Another important point for the understanding of memorial be-
havior and one which argues for the continuity of such reaction is
the fact that memory reactions involve very close connections be-
tween specific responses and particular stimuli coordinated with
them. A given stimulus must call out directly a specific name or
a specified act of some non-verbal sort. No substitution of response,
no new act not previously begun and postponed may now occur or
we are not remembering or are remembering faultily and ineffec-

MEMORY: A T BIPHASE OBJECTIVE ACTION 627

tively. With respect to directness or connection between stimuli
and responses, memorial behavior differs from thinking (another
type of delayed behavior) in which the action, when it occurs, may
be indefinitely determined by an anterior trial and error procedure.

To the important points which we have just made concerning
memory behavior segments, namely, that they operate between two
definite end time points, and that throughout this time a particular
coordination of stimulus and response is operating, we may now
add a third point, namely, that the time through which the con-
tinuous action operates may be more or less prolonged. That is to
say, even when memory reactions are intentionally projected they
may operate finally only after some indefinite time period. This
situation is illustrated by the person who is memorizing some ma-
terial for an examination although he is not fully informed as to
when that examination is to take place.

There remains now to point out, that what might appear plaus-
ible enough in discussing the continuous or postponing character
of memory reactions, when such delayed behavior is taken to be a
final reaction (that is, when the memory act is the adjustment or
adaptation in question) may equally well be true when the memory
act is precurrent to another act. In other words, even when the
memory action is only preliminary to some other act, the postponed
or continuous functioning is an integral feature of the total be-
havior situation. This point is really very important for it illumi-
nates greatly the general character of memory behavior. It is well
to appreciate the fact that memorial reactions constitute definite
types of psychological behavior in the sense that the memory act
may be a preliminary recalling of information upon which further
action is based or it might itself be the complete adaptation as in
reminiscence. In this connection it may be well to point out that,
once the second active phase of a behavior segment is operating, the
additional problem arises whether there will be a forward-looking
result or merely a backward-looking one, that is, one that merely
refers back to or repeats the projection stage of memory.

Corresponding to the precurrent and final character of memory
reactions are the simple and complex characters of such behavior.
Plainly, the precurrent reactions will be by far the simpler of the
two types. In fact, the complex final memorial behavior segments
may be replete with all sorts of component responses, many of
which if functioning alone would be far removed from the descrip-
tion and name of memory behavior.

628 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

II. MEMORY BEHAVIOR CONTRASTED WITH OTHER TYPES

The fact that memory reactions are delayed and consequently
require substitution stimuli constitute the essential criterion for
distinguishing such reactions from, say, perceptual responses. But
why contrast memory with perception? We answer, because it has
been traditionally held that since in perceptual behavior we react
to whole objects although we are in direct contact only with some
phase or quality of them, that we must therefore have a memory
reaction in each perceptual response. Now we hold that because of
the complete absence in perceptual behavior of the continuous and
temporally distributed features of memory action that the two are
totally unlike.

We assume that the fundamental feature of perceptual re-
sponses is the fact that a specific differential reaction is called out
by a specific stimulus-object or condition and that any changes in
the stimulus-object or in its setting will bring about or result in
some corresponding change in the perceptual reaction system. Of
course, it is quite true that the reaction now made to a perceptual
object is one that was built up in many cases to a whole object, only
part of which now calls out the original response, but this in no
wise involves any memory response. Tersely put; we do not ordi-
narily remember that the book we perceive has such and such fea-
tures on the side we can not now see, although this contact with
the book may involve, as in every other perceptual situation, defi-
nite memory behavior. That this observation is sound readily ap-
pears when we take the case of an orange or other particular object
to which we react without ever having been in contact with it be-
fore. The act in this illustration is a perceptual act but can not be
a memorial action because in the former case we are reacting to an
object with a reaction system developed to these qualities (size,
shape, color) present among others (taste, weight, texture), etc.
Whereas in the case of memory the original object is not present
at all but is substituted for. Moreover, in the case of memory we
have a delayed or postponed reaction. Because memory depends
upon a substitute stimulus the reaction is never exactly like a
former one and gradually fades. Also, owing to the fact that a
number of different absent objects may be reacted to simultaneously,
our memory responses may be exceedingly unreliable. When faulty
perceptual reactions (illusions) occur they are owing to entirely
different conditions, although some imperfect perceptual reactions
(hallucinations) may be accounted for on much the same basis.

Two types of facts are implied, therefore, in our conception of
memory behavior. In the first place, we have no room in our de-

MEMORY: A TRI PHASE OBJECTIVE ACTION 629

scription for the sorcerous reinstatement of mental states in the
remembering mind through a mysterious association of ideas, a
process usually made more mysterious still by means of various
forms of imaginary neurology. And in the second place, we abjure
the notion that memorial behavior consists of the mere fact of hav-
ing a reaction system previously acquired, function later whenever
the adjustment stimulus is presented. The latter fact is merely a
general property or condition of psychological organisms and is the
basis for all psychological responses and not merely of memory be-
havior. This reaction process that we have just been describing is
a much simpler fact than that involved in memory and can not
possibly be confused with the delayed or postponing of a reaction
system. Let us observe then, that memory behavior can not be
identified either with habit responses or with learning. For the
former are behavior segments constituting closely integrated re-
sponses and stimuli; so that the appearance of the stimuli immedi-
ately arouses the correlated responses. Indeed, habits as character-
ized from the standpoint of promptness and immediacy of the total
response are almost the opposite in type from memorial behavior.

Now, so far as learning is concerned, besides being merely a
coordination of responses and stimuli, such a reaction is presumed
to be a more or less permanent acquisition and the more usual con-
dition is that it should be so, whereas memory is in a unique sense
a temporal affair designed to operate for a specific period of time
only. As a matter of fact, the rather unusual and universally ac-
claimed incompetent learning known as cramming answers much
more to the description of memory than any other kind. Further-
more, whereas learning involves a single coordination between
stimuli and responses, memory behavior comprises a special com-
bination of adjustment and substitute stimuli with the given re-
sponses. Again, the coordination of learning responses and stimuli
are presumed to operate periodically while memory reactions func-
tion continuously. We might say further that learning reactions
involve much memory behavior and always do comprise some me-
morial operations, but they are not identical with memory reactions,
for learning behavior includes many other kinds of reaction, for
example, thinking, reasoning, perceiving, imagining, willing, etc.

Incidentally we may here enter a caveat against the assumption
that memory responses represent elementary organic processes, very
frequently nowadays referred to as mnemic processes. Besides con-
necting memory with a very contentless abstraction, this assumption
leads us to overlook the tremendously complex conditions which
find a place in every memory situation. Almost any memory re-

t;:io JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

sponse taken at random will indicate to us a large series of human
conditions, adaptational needs and environmental stimuli, all of
which in their combination and interaction play a part in the pro-
jection and recall phenomena of memory.

III. PROTECTIVE AND RECOLLECTIVE MEMORY

Throughout the whole series of thousands of memory reactions
we can trace a functional difference which may be seized upon as a
distinguishing mark to divide off memory reactions into two broad
types which we will name (1) projective and (2) recollective mem-
ory, respectively. The first type is characterized by the fact that its
operation depends primarily upon the response side of the stimulus-
response coordination; that is to say, the initiation of the act de-
pends to a considerable extent upon the needs and desires or other
activities of the person. The second type, on the other hand, de-
pends somewhat more definitely upon the stimulating conditions.
Because of some intensity or strikingness of an event in which the
person partakes, the memory activity is initiated and operates con-
tinuously. The extreme forms of this type of memory are those
cases in which, because of a frightful experience, any slightly re-
sembling situation brings to mind sometimes in a shocking manner
the original event. Obviously, this distinction must be relative
but in practise it is sufficiently observable to provide a criterion.

Another and even more relative distinction between projective
and recollective memory may be introduced. We may separate
them on the basis of an apparently more prominent operation of
the initiatory and consummatory phase of the total behavior. In
the one case (projective) the action appears to involve mainly the
initiation or projection of a memory behavior, while in the other
case (recollective), the important factor seems to be the recalling
phase or what is popularly called the recollecting or the remember-
ing. Naturally in each case both phases must be functionally
equally present. Since we are dealing with continuous action, the
apparent prominence of one or the other phase may be only seem-
ingly a difference, but for purposes of classification at any rate,
we accept the distinction as an actual practical difference in the
memory behavior types. We proceed, then, to discuss the two types
of memory action separately.

(1) Projective Memory Acts. — In this class we might consider
two types (a) the intentional and (6) the unintentional projective
memory response, (a) By intentional projective memory we mean
the actions in which the person purposely postpones, suspends or

MEMORY: A TRIPHASE OBJECTIVE ACTION 631

projects a response into the future to be later performed. As illus-
trations we might take the situations in which the person makes
an engagement, or arranges to do something later, or memorizes
some information to be used at a future date.

(&) By unintentional projective memory we refer to situations
in which the person is not spontaneously involved in the memorial
action; either he is disinterested or does it merely through the in-
fluence of a group convention, although the person himself and not
the stimuli plays the predominant role in the total behavior seg-
ment. Typical of such memory reactions are the casual informa-
tion behavior which involves acquiring memory materials by sheer
contact with things.

(2) Recollective Memory Acts. — Under the rubric of recollec-
tive memory behavior we may include three types, namely, (a)
casual remembering or reminiscence, (6) direct recollection, and
(c) memorial recovery.

(a) By casual remembering we mean the kind of activity in
which some unimportant and even obscure stimulus starts off a train
of memory actions to absent things and events. The whole proce-
dure is unconditioned by any need or necessity, but once the pro-
cess is started it gains momentum and proceeds apace. Each re-
covered element serves to arouse a further factor. On the whole,
the action is passive at the time and no special practical value ac-
crues to the person, although it may be the source of no end of
amusement or depressive uneasiness. That is to say, the ongoing of
this activity may be of tremendous importance in the way of stimu-
lating the person. So far as the surrounding objects are concerned,
however, no change in them need be effected. Again, the whole
procedure may be greatly facilitated by the relaxed and inactive
condition of the person. We can not at this point refrain from
mentioning again that the action represents a consummation of a
stimulus and response connection previously organized.

(&) In direct recollection the need to have some information
such as a name or event, or when we must recover a lost article,
stimulates us to bring about the operation of a consummatory phase
of a memory behavior. Here the primary emphasis is upon the re-
call for the purpose of achieving some practical result, although
when the initiatory phase of the action was started there was no
emphasis upon the person's participation in the situation. This
type of memory is well illustrated by the recollection of a witness
in a court trial, though in this particular case the memorial be-
havior may not result in any apparent direct consequences. The
criterion, however, for this kind of memory remains the instru-
mental recollective one.

632 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

(c) Contrasting with the type of memory just discussed, me-
morial recovery represents the activity in which the consummately
phase of a memory reaction is made to operate primarily for the
purpose of the action itself rather than to effect some change in
surrounding objects. In memorial recovery the aim is to effect some
change of condition in the person, the removal of a weight from
one's conscience, as in ritualistic confession or in medical psycho-
analysis. It was in connection with this capacity to live over ex-
periences that Aristotle developed his theory of esthetic Catharsis.

IV. INFORMATIONAL AND PERFORMATIVE MEMORY ACTS

Implicit in our distinction of memory behavior just discussed
as well as in the rest of our description lies another differentiation
which we must bring to the surface. It is, namely, the distinction
between memory acts which constitute some actual work to be done
(performative) and memorial behavior which merely adapts the
person to some past event or action (informational). In the latter
case, the person may merely know something about past conditions.
In some cases, of course, the information memory reaction may be
a preliminary step to a future action dated from the time of the
last or consummatory period of the informational memory behavior
segment, but in this case we assume the new action to belong to a
different behavior segment. The whole distinction which we are
making hinges upon the functional character of the behavior seg-
ment in which the memorial action plays a part. Thus, memorizing
might be considered as a memorial action midway between the in-
formational and performative sort.

To a considerable extent we may use the distinction we have
just made as a differentiation between memory in which we are defi-
nitely aware of the operation and purpose of the entire act (in-
formational) and cases in which we remember without so definitely
employing the memory activity to bring about a necessary or de-
sirable further result (performative). It is only proper to say
here that the informational memory may be considered as of the
maximum degree of awareness while the performative memory can
be so extremely lacking in awareness or intention that it fits the
popular term subconscious.

V. How MEMORY REACTIONS OPERATE

The operation of memory responses consists primarily of the
operation of the two more definitely observable of the three phases
described in an earlier part of this paper, to wit, the initiatory and

MEMORY: A TRIPHASE OBJECTIVE ACTION 633

consummatory stages. The first action initiates or projects delayed
or continuous responses, while the second consists of the consum-
mation of the suspended responses through the functioning of a
substitute stimulus. This second process consists of the excitation
of the delayed response by some stimulus-object or condition which
operates in place of the original or adjustment stimulus and which
calls out the response to that original stimulus. We may take
advantage of this functional division of the memory behavior seg-
ment and discuss each phase in turn.

(1) The Initiatory or Protective Phase. — In general, this phase
consists of connecting up three things, of organizing a tripartite
association. This association connects up some act with an adjust-
ment and a substitute stimulus. In different situations one or the
other of these features stands out more prominently. For example,
in some cases the association of the response with the adjustment
stimulus is most prominent. This would be true in all cases where
the delayed memory response consists of making an engagement
(typical projective response). Again, in other cases the associa-
tion between the adjustment and substitute stimuli seems to be most
prominent as is true whenever we employ a mnemonic system, that
is to say, when we remember the days in the month by verse. Here
the verse constitutes the substitute stimulus and the days of the
month the adjustment stimulus. In still other cases the connection
between the response and the substitute stimulus appears most
prominent. This is true in case of an engagement in which the re-
sponse seems to be connected with the day of the week rather than
with the person, situation, or event to which we are preparing to
adjust ourselves.

This summary statement can obviously be looked upon as the
barest sort of outline of the initiation of a continuous or memory
reaction. In fact, a fuller content description would necessarily in-
clude details concerning the nature of the specific future act in-
volved, besides the description of the exact objects, persons and
events serving as the adjustment and substitute stimuli.

The point to the triple association is plain and follows from the
general nature of memory action. Because the action is projected
and later to be completed when the adjustment stimulus will no
longer be present, it is essential that there be connections made be-
tween what is to be the consummatory action and other stimuli
capable of arousing the action to the adjustment stimulus. But in
order that one object or condition should be capable of substituting
for another object or condition, it is necessary that the two objects
be connected with each other as well as with the projected act. The

634 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

entire process of connection spoken of here is merely the ordinary
process of psychological association.

(2) The Consummatory or Recollective Phase. — The operation
of the delayed phase of the memory reaction consists essentially in
its arousal by the appearance of the object serving as a substitute
stimulus or by the reacting person otherwise coming into contact
with a substitute stimulus. In consequence, this contact with the
substitute stimulus may be a definitely arranged affair as in the
case of employing a memorandum book for the purpose, or it may
consist of a very casual contact.

This whole matter of the consummation of a memory act is well
illustrated by the fact that forgetting is a direct function of the
deliberateness or casualness of the contact of the person with the
substitute stimulus. This point may also be illustrated by observ-
ing that the possibility of remembering is a function of the num-
ber of substitute stimuli connected with the adjustment stimulus.
The more substitute stimuli that function in any specific situation
the more probable it is that there will be no forgetting, the more
probable, in other words, that the memory response will operate.

The reason why a memory response is more likely to occur when
there are more substitute stimuli than when there are less is be-
cause of the obvious greater possibility for contact between the
person and the stimulus. That is to say, the adjustment stimulus
is more thoroughly represented. This fact of making possible the
operation of the consummatory phase of a memory reaction, or let
us say, in short, remembering at all, is usually referred to as reten-
tiveness.1 The fact that certain information is retained depends
upon the number of objects and other facts with which it is con-
nected. For this reason it is generally recognized that the more
systematically organized one 's knowledge is, that is to say, the more
connections made between substitute stimuli and the knowing re-
sponse, the more capable one is in this kind of situation and the
greater facility one has in the employment of such information.

We might emphasize here that this factor of retentiveness is
decidedly a matter of associational connection and thus is justified
the traditional belief that memorial behavior is to the largest ex-
tent a fact of association. More important it is, however, to observe
that the associational process is at every point a thoroughly and com-
pletely objective series of happenings. Memorial behavior, we re-

* The writer here wishes to pay a just tribute to the whole line of psycholo-
gist* who have observed the serial (three or four members) functioning of a
memory behavior segment, although they do not emphasize the functional con-
tinuity of the members, nor describe them in an objective manner.

MEMORY: A T BIPHASE OBJECTIVE ACTION 635

peat, is without doubt a matter of associational connection, even
if it is true that in some cases as in cramming or the remembering
of a thing but for a brief period, only a very limited number of
retention substitute stimuli exist and operate.

In the operation of memory behavior segments a series of specific
forms of operation may be observed to occur. These forms may
involve primarily either the stimulus or the response and may be
described as follows.

(a) Stimulus Forms

(1) Some Object or Event Operates throughout the Whole
Behavior Segment. — Here the substitution and adjustment stimuli
are both the same object, that is, I remember to react to some ob-
ject because I now see it or remember to tell some person something
I agreed to tell him because his presence itself reminds me of the
fact. Probably this form of memory action would be most common
in the segments which we have agreed to name the recollective reac-
tions.

(2) Another Object Becomes the Adequate Stimulus. — In these
segments a different object from the one to which the response is to
be made initiates the consummatory phase of the response. This
form of memory may safely be called the typical sort and it un-
doubtedly constitutes a larger series of actual memory behavior
segments. Moreover, the reactions of this type constitute the most
effective of our memory behavior. Because of the range of objects
that can serve to arouse the reaction the memory behavior can be
carried over great stretches of time and place. A striking example
of the power of such memory actions as we are now discussing is
supplied us in the operation of the extremely complex behavior in
which we use printed and other symbolic records to incite memory
reactions to function.

(&) Reaction Forms

(1) Same Reaction System. — Many of our memory reactions
operate through a postdated functioning of the same reaction sys-
tem or response pattern. This reaction system or pattern is the
original projected action which is connected with a specific stimu-
lus, whether it be the same or a different object. Illustrative of
this form of memory reaction is the recalling of a name, a date or
any type of information. The effectiveness of the reaction depends
entirely upon the literalness with which the original projected act
operates after its period of actual delay. Possibly this type of

636 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

reaction does not comprise the most important of our memory re-
actions, since we include here the whole series of rote memory re-
sponses.

(2) Different or Partially Different Reaction Systems. — A great
number of our memory reactions do not involve necessarily a simple
exact repetition of a specific reaction system. Rather a more or
less greater freedom is allowed us in the action. This fact arises
from the circumstance that these types of memory behavior repre-
sent adaptation to cultural conditions or objects and not to specific
physical objects. Nor are these reactions very definite direct ad-
aptations, such as going to a certain place at a given time ; instead
they involve situations in which a novel or constructive action
carries out the purpose of the situation. The projection and later
carrying out of a scientific investigation, the execution of a literary
or other artistic commission, in so far as they involve a projection
and a later operation of a memory reaction, all illustrate the ex-
treme forms of memory reactions of the present class. From these
more complex substitutable responses we may trace out a descend-
ing series which may run down to substituted reactions differing
very little in morphological character from the action operating at
the time the memory behavior is in the projection stage.

VI. RECOGNITION AND MEMORY

Psychologists have always recognized that memorial behavior
essentially and intimately involves recognition. The relationship
is indeed a close one although recognition is not exclusively a fea-
ture of memory. Perceptual reactions are no less closely connected
with recognition behavior. That recognition reactions, however,
have historically been presumed as most closely connected with mem-
ory is accounted for, we believe, by the fact that in complex me-
morial behavior recognition assuredly occupies a very strategic and
prominent position. Unless we are to leave our description of mem-
ory in too fragmentary a form we must then indicate the exact
operation of the recognition function in memory.

But first let us point out why recognition appears to be so
prominent a factor in such behavior. Both the clue and solution
are found in {he continuous and prolonged character of memory re-
actions. In other words, there must be some marks or signs of connec-
tion of the second phase with the first. The point is, that the second
phase, although an integral part of the memorial behavior segment,
may still be detached in whole or part from the first phase of action.
Now aside from the essential or universal fact that the two pha-
ses must occur in order that a memory act shall be completed, it is

MEMORY: A TRIPE AS E OBJECTIVE ACTION 637

frequently necessary that the person performing the action should
appreciate overtly the connection between the two phases. How
frequently it is necessary for this overt appreciation of the continu-
ity of the memory behavior to occur depends upon the general
overtness of the memory action. That is to say, whenever the per-
son is fully aware of the need for an operation of the memorial re-
action, then the recognition factor is essential. Incidentally there
issues forth here two related points that must be at least briefly in-
spected. In the first place, not all memorial behavior requires a
recognition factor; only the more elaborate sorts of memory do so.
And in the second place, the recognition feature may be of differ-
ent degrees. It remains now for us to describe briefly the process
of recognition and to indicate how it varies in its operation.

Recognition in general is a meaning reaction ; that is to say, the
final action to a stimulus is preceded by a determining action which
lends color and direction to the succedent or final act. Because a
memory action involves a minimum of two operations (projection
or consummatory) and also two stimuli (adjustmental and substi-
tute) the stage is well set for the performance of recognition ac-
tion. To illustrate with the simplest case, when the substitute
stimulus appears there may occur a single direct response to the
adjustment stimulus; here we have memory without recognition.
But if in this behavior segment some implicit or overt response
precedes, either necessarily or fortuitously the reaction to the ad-
justment stimulus, why then we assume that the individual recog-
nizes either the reaction or to what the reaction is made. In other
words, the substitution stimulus-object becomes a sign for what-
ever thing we presume to be signified (act or adjustment object).
As in every other case of meaning behavior the recognition factors
or reaction systems are to a considerable extent, though of course
not exclusively, implicit responses and verbal reactions, and pos-
sibly the latter are most characteristic in memory behavior. Very
familiar is the functioning of exclamatory reactions in memorial
recognition, "I see" being a most frequent meaning reaction, al-
though none the less potent are subvocal language responses.

Besides the appreciation by the person that the stimulus-object
initiating the memory behavior, and the stimulus-object (substitu-
tion) operating in the culmination of the act are related to each
other and to the act, there are still other factors involved in the
more complex forms of recognition. In addition to those enumer-
ated features, the individual may also realize his own place in the
total memory situation. To be explicit, the person himself becomes
an additional stimulus, or more frequently assumes the function

638 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

of the setting of one or more of the stimuli involved. The most
complex form of recognition is the case in which the individual
continues to project himself into every feature of the continuous
memory response. It is in such cases as these that the person's
own responses constitute a good share of the memory behavior and
condition directly the continuity features of such behavior.

Now we might point out that in the complex recognition memory
reactions the person may not only play a part in the total behavior
when the recollective phase operates, but may also play such a part
in the initiatory phase. Instead of the person appreciating that
the response has in fact been continued, has reached culmination
and that the final response has answered the purpose, he may like-
wise appreciate the necessity for and the actual occurrence of a
projection act. Recognition of the nature and needs of projecting
a response to be later consummated depends, of course, upon previ-
ous experiences with similar situations.

VII. THE STIMULI FOB MEMORY REACTIONS

In descriptions of memory behavior the specifications of stimuli
and stimulation conditions appear to be of more significance than
in other types of action, although stimuli are of necessity integral
factors in all psychological acts. In the first place, because me-
morial retention consists of the interconnection of responses with
adjustment and substitute stimuli, the stimuli are more uniquely
phases of the total behavior situation. In the second place, since
memorial behavior comprises two phases operating at different
times, the stimuli features of such reactions loom large. And fi-
nally, memorial reactions are responses of occasion ; so that combina-
tions of responses function together and for that reason the stimuli
obtrude themselves upon the student who attempts to analyze such
behavior. To illustrate, when taking an examination the fact that
we are undergoing examination is in general a stimulus for me-
morial behavior, while the specific ideas or facts recalled are brought
out by the particular questions which we may call the substitute
stimuli for the objects and events around which the examination is
centered.

In general, then, we find the stimuli factors exceedingly con-
spicuous in descriptions of memorial behavior. We may proceed
now to point out some of the more prominent forms of memorial
stimuli and we might, because of the prominence of the recollective
phase in memorial behavior, put the problem into the following
form. What kind of objects and conditions can serve as substitute
stimuli f

BOOK REVIEWS 639

Among such stimuli we find of course objects and events. Any
object or event connected with some other object or event to which
we respond without its being present may now serve to arouse a re-
sponse to that non-present object.2 The same thing is true of the
setting of an object or event. A time, place or object setting may
serve as a substitute stimulus to induce a reaction to some adjust-
ment stimulus-object which was at some previous time connected
with that setting. Very instructive is the observation here that a
thing may serve as a substitute stimulus for itself, as in the case
of some object stimulating a recollection of some past experience
with it.

Again persons constitute a large part of our memorial stimuli.
This is true for several reasons; first, a large part of our behavior
in general involves contacts with persons and in consequence the
latter may substitute for each other as memorial stimuli. More-
over, because much of our memorial activity consists of informa-
tional reactions the stimuli thereto consist of language activities of
persons. Besides the language reactions of other persons, one's
own language responses are a potent source of memory behavior.
Nor do the language acts exhaust the list of substitute stimuli, since
our observation reveals numerous other of our reactions that serve
in similar capacities.

J. E. KANTOE.
INDIANA UNIVERSITY.

BOOK REVIEWS

Dodi Ve-Nechdi (Uncle and Nephew} the work of Berachya Hanak-
dan. Edited from MSS. at Munich and Oxford, with an Eng-
lish translation, introduction, etc.; also English translation from
the Latin of Adelard of Bath's Qucestiones Naturales. HER-
MANN GOLLANCZ. Oxford University Press, 1920. Pp. xxii -f
220.

Berachya Hanakdan — a Jewish scholar of the thirteenth cen-
tury— was lost track of by the historians even though he seems to
have played a prominent role in medieval literature. The Fox
Fables were his only printed work before 1902, when Professor
Gollancz edited and translated some of his manuscripts and entitled
them Ethical Treatises. These treatises, though regarded by Gol-

2 At this point we find in the actual operation of psychological facts a
justification of Dewey's contention that knowledge involves a continuity of ob-
jects and events. Cf. Dewey's "Eealism without Monism or Dualism," this
JOURNAL, XIX, pp. 309, 351.

t.io JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

lancz and others as a compendium of Saadya, Bachya, and Gabirol,
are marked, however, with more original thinking than appears on
the surface. Berachya must have been guided in the choice of ex-
cerpts by some ulterior motive. One may venture to assume that
he desired to clear philosophy from too abstract thinking and give
it a more practical bent. Hence his emphasis on ethical problems
on the one hand, and his elimination of metaphysical subtleties on
the other. His treatises are pregnant with pragmatic philosophy.

Berachya 's Dodi Ve-Nechdi is an adaptation of the Quc&stiones
Naturales of Adelard of Bath. It treats the same questions and
under the same form of a dialogue between an uncle and nephew.
These questions deal with various branches of natural science and
philosophy. They embrace plants, animals, man and the physical
conditions of the universe. Like all medieval thinking, they are a
juxtaposition of pertinent questions still honored today, with futile
and insignificant ones.1 To the modern mind the futile ones are
perhaps the more fascinating as they are indications of the progress
philosophy has made in gradually disentangling pertinent from
sterile queries.

The Qucestiones Naturales as well as the Dodi Ve-Nechdi seem
to me to have been undertaken in a spirit of reform, in the hope of
giving a new impetus to the thought of the time. The Arabian sci-
ences were still new in the west of Europe and decried by many.
Adelard hoped that in introducing them, he would open new vistas
for his generation which he describes as lax in morals and enslaved
in thought. Berachya also seems to have been animated by a desire
to broaden the Jewish horizon with the sciences of the time. Hence
he used the Qucestiones Naturales as his reference work. Much
divergence could not be expected in a period when science was but
a crystallized and closed scheme statically transferred from one
language into another. Whatever related to natural sciences
Berachya copied freely from Adelard; but when touching upon
moral or spiritual philosophy he followed, I think, his own line of
thought. Such an assumption would account for the striking simi-
larities, as well as for the divergencies noticeable in the two works.

» Such as: "Why of all the organs of a man's body is it the eye that seest"
"Why human beings do not have horns t"
"Why is the nose above the mouth f"
"Why does the hair fall off from the side of the facet"
"Why are not the eyes in the back of the headf "

"Why is the nostril the organ of smell, the palate the organ of taste, and
the hand the organ of touch f"

"Granted that the stars are alive on what food do they livef "

BOOK REVIEWS 641

The scholarly arrangement of Professor Gollancz's work makes
it easy to prosecute a comparative study between the two authors.
He incorporates in this volume a translation of Adelard's Quces-
tiones Naturales. This is the first English translation from the only
existing Latin edition of 1480. At the head of each chapter in the
translation of the Hebrew manuscript, he indicates the correspond-
ing chapter in Adelard's original. He also appends at the end of
his introduction a table indicating the relation between the respec-
tive chapters in the corresponding works. The scholarly introduc-
tion as well as the pleasant and facile style of the translation,
faithfully rendered, greatly enhance the value of this volume which
is an interesting contribution to medieval literature.

NIMA H. ADLERBLUM.
NEW YORK CITY.

Readings in Philosophy. Compiled by Albert Edwin Avey. Co-
lumbus, Ohio: R. G. Adams & Co. 1921. xii-f 683 pp.
The Emotions. JAMES and LANGE. Edited by Knight Dunlap.
Baltimore : Williams & Wilkins Co. 1922. 135 pp.
Avey 's anthology is intended as a supplement to an introductory
course in philosophy, "a fairly representative collection of the
classic passages of philosophical literature" (v). The choice in-
cludes portions from Plato, Crawley, Frazer, Spencer, Diogenes
Laertius, St. Matthew, Aristotle, Sextus Empiricus, Corinthians,
Hume, St. Thomas, Spinoza, Exodus, Comte and a number of other
writers. They are arranged under a variety of heads including
Philosophy of History, Epistemology, The Status of Values, Meta-
physics, Medieval Philosophy, Kant, Pluralism, Mysticism, The
Personality, Mission and Influence of Socrates, et al. The passages
are necessarily short, cut off from their context, and often without
very clear relationship to the chapter headings. For example, in
"The Differentiation of Philosophy and Science from Religion"
we have twelve of Francis Bacon's Native Fallacies plus forty-six
Fragments from Diel's Vorsokratiker. Yet the collection serves a
purpose — however much it may suggest Pope's line concerning the
Pierian Spring — in tempting an occasional student to deeper
draughts.

The chief advantage in the reprint of the James-Lange essays
on the emotions — the first of a series of "Psychological Classics"
edited by Knight Dunlap — lies in the easier accessibility of Lange's
monograph. The translation is made by I. A. Haupt from Kurella 's
Vber Bemiithsbewegungen which appeared in 1887, two years after

642 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

the Danish original. French translations are also in existence, but
hitherto psychologists without knowledge of these languages have
not had direct access to Lange 's contribution.

The other two essays are: first, a reprint from Mind, 1884,
"What is an Emotion?", James' first discussion, and secondly,
Chapter XXV of the Psychology. These, of course, overlap to a
considerable extent but there is some convenience in having them
together. Brief biographical notes of James and Lange are con-
tributed in the Editor's Preface.

JOHN M. WABBEKE.
MOUNT HOLYOKE COLLEGE.

Hugo Miinsterberg, His Life and His Work. MARGARET MUNSTER-

BERQ. New York and London : D. Appleton & Co. 1922. x -J-

448 pp.

Almost one exclaims, "Nessun maggior dolore" on glancing
through this book. I remember with what satisfaction James an-
nounced to his class in psychology that Miinsterberg was coming
to Harvard to take charge of the psychological laboratory. And I
remember, as one of it, the eager interest of Miinsterberg 's first
group of students, in beginning experimental psychology under the
guidance of the famous new professor. And I remember the great
affection and high esteem felt for Miinsterberg by Koyce in those
first years; and when Miinsterberg seemed likely to be seriously ill,
the great concern of us all ; we were so sure then of what Miinster-
berg's coming meant to Harvard.

The book idealizes a most unhappy history, but it is an act of
loyalty and affection by a daughter. Those who esteemed Profes-
sor Miinsterberg to the end will thank the writer for her work.
Others, and there are so many of them, will declare it all out of
perspective, giving no idea whatever of Miinsterberg 's real rela-
tion both to Harvard and to America in the latter part of his life.
There is, of course, much information about Miinsterberg 's life and
writings.

W. T. BUSH.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

THE PHILOSOPHICAL REVIEW. Vol. XXXI, No. 5. On the Mean-
ing of Value : H. D. Oakeley. The True, The Good and The Beauti-
ful: H. R. Marshall. A Comparison of the Scientific Method and
Achievement of Aristotle and Bacon: W. M. Dickie. Discussion:
7 -J- 5 = 12 : O. W. Cunningham.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 643

LA CIENCIA TOMISTA. Ano XIV, No. LXXVII. La Canonization
de los Santos y la fe divina : Marin-8ola. Fray Diego de Deza, cam-
peon de la doctrina de Santo Tomas : Garcia. El merito teologico y
sus divisiones : Lumbreras.

ZEITSCHRIFT FUR PSYCHOLOGY. Bd. 90, Heft 1 u. 2. Zur
Theorie der stroboskopischen Bewegungen: F. Hildebrand. Zur
Psychophysik der Geradheit: E. Rubin. Soziale Verhaltnisse bei
Vogeln: T. Schjelderup-Ebbe.

EEVUE PHILOSOPHIQUE. Annee 47, Nos. 9 et 10. La notion
d'objet et 1'evolution de la physique contemporaine : A. Rey. L'idee
de la force mecanique dans le systeme de Descartes: H. Carteron.
Sur une pretendue illusion de la memoire. R. Lacroze. "W. James
d 'apres sa correspondance : J. Wahl.

RWISTA DI PSICOLOGIA. Anno XVIII, Nos. 2-3. La psicologia
religiosa contemporanea : S. De Sanctis. L'esame della memoria
nei fanciulli normali: E. Torriani e G. Corberi. Note sulla "scala
Metrica" di Binet e Simon e sulP "esame psicologico summario" di
Francia e Ferrari: G. Vidoni. Le leggi della scrittura speculare
ed il loro rapporto col mancinismo : A. Knipfer. Attitudini innate
e attitudini acquisite: 0. Decroly. La Superstizione : G. Guggen-
heim. Efficacia educativa del dolore : E. Pietrosi.

MIND. Vol. XXXI, No. 124. Professor Alexander's Theory of
Sense Perception: G. F. Stout. Is the Conception of the Uncon-
scious of Value in Psychology?: G. C. Field, F. Aveling, and J.
Laird. Are History and Science different Kinds of Knowledge?:
R. G. Collingwood, A. E. Taylor and F. C. S. Schiller. Symbolism
as a Metaphysical Principle : W. Temple. Discussion : Physics and
Perception: B. Russell. Eejoinder: C. A. Strong. Some Remarks
on Relativity : R. Ainscough.

Smith, Henry Bradford: A First Book in Logic. New York:
Harper Brothers. 1922. viii -f 178 pp.

Leighton, Joseph Alexander : Man and the Cosmos. An Introduc-
tion to Metaphysics. New York : D. Appleton & Co. 1922. xi -f 518
pp. $4.50.

Lloyd, Alfred H. : Leadership and Progress. Boston : Stratford
Company. 1922. 171 pp.

Pieron, Henri; editor: L 'Annee Psychologique. (1920-21)
Paris : Felix Alcan. 1922. 608 pp.

Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 1921-22. Vol. XXII,
New Series. London : Williams & Norgate. 1922. 241 pp. 25s.

MacDougall, Robert : The General Problems of Psychology. New
York University Press. 1922. x + 464 pp.

Jill JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

NOTES AND NEWS

The Rev. James Hastings, D.D., originator and editor of the
Dictionary of the Bible, the Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics,
and other important works, died October 15, 1922, at Kings Gate,
Aberdeen. The following is quoted from the London Times: "What
may justly be called Dr. Hastings 's magnum opus, the "Encyclopedia
of Religion and Ethics" in twelve volumes, began to appear in 1908
and was completed last year. This vast undertaking involved the
constant guidance of an extraordinarily varied company of scholars
and specialists of all countries and religions. Articles came in all
civilized languages, and the supervision of the translators alone was
a gigantic task. Although the work appeals chiefly to scholars and
experts, it has nevertheless had a large sale among the general public,
whose interest in religion and morals is deeper than is often sup-
posed. Dr. Hastings had already planned an extra volume of indices
to the whole work, and he had also made researches in the language
of the English versions of the Bible with a view to a systematized
dictionary."

Vol. II, No. 5 (March 2, 1905) of this JOURNAL is out of print.
The editors will pay fifty cents for a copy of this number. .

VOL. XIX., No. 24 NOVEMBER 23, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

DR. SCHILLER'S ANALYSIS OF THE ANALYSIS OF MIND

DR. SCHILLER'S article dealing with me in this JOURNAL (Vol.
XIX, No. 11) is a model of philosophical discussion: the
points which he discusses are fundamental, and the divergences be-
tween him and me which he notes concern vital problems. He and
I are agreed, I think, that it is impossible to produce logical argu-
ments on either side of the questions which divide us. Philosophies
which differ radically necessarily involve different logics, and there-
fore can not be proved or refuted by logic without question-begging.
Accordingly, the remarks which I shall have to make will be of the
nature of rhetoric rather than logic.

Dr. Schiller begins by deploring my atavistic tendency to return
to Hume. To this I plead guilty at once. I regard the whole
romantic movement, beginning with Rousseau and Kant, and cul-
minating in pragmatism and futurism, as a regrettable aberration.
I should take ' ' back to the 18th century " as a battle-cry, if I could*
entertain any hope that others would rally to it. What I object to
about the intervening period is summed up in Lord Tennyson's
" noble " words:

But like a man in wrath, the heart

Stood up and answered: I have felt.

I dislike the heart as an inspirer of beliefs; I much prefer the
spleen. I take comfort in Freud's work, because it shows what we
are to think of the heart, which, he says, makes us desire the death
of our parents, and therefore dream that they are dead, with a hypo-
critical sorrow in our very dreams. The heart is the cause of the
anti-rational philosophy that begins with Kant and leads up to the
"will to believe." The heart is the inspirer of atrocities against
negroes, the late war, and the starvation of Russia. (See McDou-
gall's Social Psychology, which attributes actions of this kind to
"the tender emotion.") People who believe in the heart agree with
Dr. Schiller's dislike of "abstract analysis in search of the 'simple'
and elemental, conducted from the standpoint of an extraneous ob-
server." Why I like them I do not know, though probably any

645

<nr, JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

"extraneous observer" could tell me. But I can suggest reasons
which might lead other people to believe in them.

I begin with the question of the "extraneous observer." For
reasons, some of which I have set forth in The Analysis of Mind,
I hold self-knowledge to be very precarious and deceptive. What
little I know about myself I owe to the observations of candid
friends. The greater reliability of external observation is shown
by the usual scientific tests — power of prediction, etc. The whole
method of psycho-analysis is a vindication of the trained outside
observer. Dr. Schiller, of course, is not advocating old-fashioned
introspection, which makes one's ego an object and tries to duplicate
it into observer and observed. He is advocating what he calls
"activist psychology," according to which activity is the funda-
mental thing. Now it may be that I am an unusually lazy person,
but the fact is that I know nothing of "activity." I observe
that my body moves in various ways, but so do other bodies, living
and dead. I observe that when my body moves there are certain
sensations, and sometimes before it moves there are other sensations
which may be called "tension" or "strain." Sometimes also the
movement is preceded by images of it, particularly in the case of a
difficult movement, such as a high dive. That is to say, I can dis-
cover various correlations of perceptions of bodily movements with
other perceptions of bodily states, or with images, before, after, or
at the same time as, the perceptions of the bodily movements. But
I am utterly at a loss to recognize this ' ' activity ' ' which is supposed
to be the very essence of life. I am forced to conclude that I am
not really alive.

As for "abstract analysis in search of the 'simple' and 'ele-
mental, ' ' ' that is a more important matter. To begin with, ' ' simple ' '
must not be taken in an absolute sense ; "simpler" would be a better
word. Of course, I should be glad to reach the absolutely simple,
but I do not believe that that is within human capacity. What I do
maintain is that, whenever anything is complex, our knowledge is
advanced by discovering constituents of it, even if these constituents
themselves are still complex. It is customary in philosophy to speak
ill of "abstraction," and to use as laudatory epithets such phrases
as "concrete fulness," "the richness of the living flux" etc., gen-
erally supported by the opinion of Mephistopheles on the relation of
theory to life. For my part, I am regretfully compelled to differ
with Mephistopheles on this point. And even if I did not, theory
is the business of philosophy, and if theory is bad, it is better to give
up being a philosopher. Modern philosophers have not the courage
of their profession, and try to make their systems ape real life

DR. SCHILLER'S ANALYSIS 647

till they become indistinguishable from jazzing. Meanwhile science
pursues a quite different course. The more it advances, the more
abstract and analytical it becomes; and the more abstract and
analytical it becomes, the more it is able to increase our knowledge
of the world. Philosophy, to save its face, has invented a theory
that scientific knowledge is not real knowledge, but that there is
an extra superfine brand of knowledge to be obtained in philosophy,
not by observation of the world, but by giving way to our wishes —
particularly the wish to think that we can know without taking
trouble. This is to my mind a complete delusion. I do not believe
that there is any way of obtaining knowledge except the scientific
way. Some of the problems with which philosophy has concerned
itself can be solved by scientific methods; others can not. Those
which can not are insoluble.

I do not doubt that the difference between those who like analysis
and those who dislike it is temperamental. I can not prove that
analysis is the right method except by using analysis, which would
beg the question — I will not even deny that the mystics (as one
may call the opponents of analysis) might have had the best of it in
practice. But in arguing with a pragmatist it is permissible to
point to the extraordinary fruitfulness of science, which uses anal-
ysis, as against the sterility of philosophy, which rejects it. Nay
more, as against such an opponent it is permissible to point out that
analysis enables us to produce the necessaries of life and defeat
competitors — which ought, on pragmatist grounds, to be the ultimate
test of truth. I therefore make no apology for using analytic meth-
ods. If they have dropped out of philosophy since Kant introduced
the "practical reason," so much the worse for philosophy. I
respect Descartes, Leibniz, Locke, Berkeley, and Hume, all of whom
employed the analytic method. I do not believe that Kant or
Hegel or Nietzsche or the more modern anti-rationalists have con-
tributed anything that deserves to be remembered.

I pass by the question of the relation of Kant to Hume, as of
merely historical interest, remarking only that, whatever may have
been Kant's intellectual debt to Hume, the difference between their
temperaments and desires was very great. The next point of im-
portance in Dr. Schiller's paper concerns the relations between
psychic elements. He says of me: "This psychological analysis as-
sumes that it can start with an indefinite plurality of entities or
facts, out of which psychic structures can be built. . . . Russell, for
example, may sometimes be found to declare that his 'main thesis'
is that 'all psychic phenomena are built up out of sensations and
images alone.' Actually these structures do require (and employ)

648 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

a minimum of mortar, both in Hume and in Russell. This is intro-
duced under the names of 'association,' 'causality,' 'memory,' 'ex-
pectation,' and sundry 'relations,' such as 'meaning.' But their
presence and activity are so little emphasized that they are even
verbally denied, as in the passage just quoted."

This passage shows a misunderstanding which is truly aston-
ishing. If I said "the walls of my house are built of bricks and
mortar alone," should I be supposed to be asserting or implying
that my walls were indistinguishable from a heap of separate bricks
and a puddle of mortar? It is obvious that the bricks in the wall
have a structure, that the structure consists of relations between
the bricks, that these relations are given empirically in whatever
sense the bricks are given, and that the relations are something
other than the materials of which the walls are built. Similarly in
the passage which Dr. Schiller quotes, I did not suggest or imply
that sensations and images would constitute all psychic phenomena
without suitable relations, any more than that bricks and mortar
would constitute a house while they remained in haphazard heaps.
And so far from not emphasizing the relations required, the discus-
sion of them forms a large part of the book. In fact, it will be
seen from the last two pages of the book that these relations are
what I regard as giving mind its character, for I say that mind
consists chiefly in number and complexity of habits, and habits are
obviously constituted by relations. I do, however, most strenuously
deny that the relations which I observe, whether in the mental or
the physical world, are a priori principles of synthesis in the Kan-
tian sense. When I look at a wall, I perceive parts with spatial rela-
tions; so I do when I contemplate a complex visual image. Rela-
tions and terms are given together, and are alike empirical. Not
of course all relations, or all terms — some are inferred, but the in-
ference would be impossible unless some were empirical data.

Dr. Schiller continues: "The plurality, which common-sense,
Hume, and Russell, all treat as a datum, is not present in the
original experience, and is at best a construction resulting from a
course of philosophic reflection. ' ' This statement seems to me to be
an instance of a very common fallacy in psychology, namely the
assumption that nothing is happening in a man's mind except what
he is aware of. This assumption is often supported by an appeal
to James's remarks on the "psychologist's fallacy," but in fact such
support is illusory. James argues, very correctly, that a given
situation will not have precisely the same effect upon a layman as
upon a psychologist, because the psychologist has trained himself
to a certain kind of reaction. I am willing to believe that, before

DR. SCHILLER'S ANALYSIS 649

James's time, there were psychologists who committed this fallacy,
but since his time it is the opposite fallacy that has become com-
mon. It is now constantly assumed that if a savage, a baby, or a
monkey has an experience which he or it does not discriminate into
related parts, then the experience in question does not consist of
related parts. It would be exactly as valid to argue that because
Newton's apple did not know it was falling, therefore it was not
falling, and the theory of gravitation may be dismissed as an ex-
ample of the "psychologist's fallacy."

The notion that a savage or an animal is the best judge as to
the general nature of his own mental processes is not held in any
other context. Even in civilized and highly educated people, psy-
cho-analysts detect all kinds of processes of which they are uncon-
scious. Nevertheless, when a savage shows that he is muddle-
headed as to the muddle in his head, it is assumed that we ought
to learn to be equally muddle-headed, and that no clear account
of his muddle is possible. This favoritism seems to indicate a
bias in favor of muddle. For my part, I regard muddle as a
phenomenon like another. I see no more reason to be muddled in
investigating a muddle than to be muddled in investigating any-
thing else. One might as well maintain that a theory of wind
ought to blow one away, or that a theory of undulation ought to
make one seasick. Savages are muddled as to what is going on,
whether inside them or outside them, and their account is not to be
accepted. Therefore, when Dr. Schiller says "the plurality . . .
is not present in the original experience," he is misled by the
ambiguity of the word "experience." I should say: "The plural-
ity is present in the original occurrence, but is not experienced."
I should add that, however sophisticated we become, most of what
happens to us is not experienced by us; in regard to most of the
occurrences of our lives, we are as unconscious as Newton's apple.

The next point to be considered concerns Dr. Schiller's state-
ment that my "method is not concerned with the actual course of
mental development, but with an ideal description of its products.
It takes an adult mind and rearranges its contents in a systematic
and esthetically pleasing order. ' ' This statement seems to me partly
true and partly false. I deny that I am not concerned with the
actual course of mental development, and also that I take an adult
mind in the sense intended. I admit that I rearrange the contents
in a systematic and esthetically [or logically] pleasing order, but
then that is the very business of science. As for taking an adult
mind, I begin with Thorndike's animals in cages, which may have
been adult animals, but were not "adult minds" in the sense re-

650 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

quired for Dr. Schiller's point. I have tried throughout to take
account of whatever can be learnt about infant and animal psy-
chology. It is partly for this reason that I have been concerned to
praise behaviorism, which has adopted the only method by which
infant and animal psychology can be made scientific. But when I
had (as I thought) exhausted, what could be learnt by behaviorist
methods, and felt obliged to call in the aid of introspection, I was
compelled to have recourse to the adult mind, because unfortunately
I am adult. Dr. Schiller appears to possess some mysterious
method, other than behaviorism, by which he can ascertain what
goes on in the minds of infants and animals, and he implies that it
is more like what goes on in his mind than like what goes on in
mine. As for that, I must take his word for it. But even then I
am not obliged to admit that they have true beliefs as to what goes
on in their own minds.

What Dr. Schiller is really objecting to is, I suppose, that my
method is not historical or evolutionary. I have, it is true, dis-
cussed the process of learning somewhat fully, but I am equally
interested in processes which are not progressive. I think the inter-
est in development which came in with evolution is a barrier to the
elementary understanding of the simpler facts upon which any
solid science must be built. Laplace's Mecanique Celeste presup-
posed Galileo, Kepler, and Newton, who treated the solar system
as a stable adult. Similarly there will be no beginning of a genu-
ine science of psychology so long as people are obsessed by such
complex facts as growth and progress. I know it is customary to
treat life as essentially progressive. But this seems to be a sheer
mistake. If a census could be taken of all the organisms now liv-
ing, I have no doubt that an immense majority would be found to
be unicellular, and to have made no appreciable progress since the
origin of life. And to the remainder, decay is quite as natural as
growth. Yet Dr. Schiller does not reproach me with having paid
too little attention to senility.

Some of Dr. Schiller's criticisms are quite beyond my compre-
hension. He says, as an objection to me, "a biologically possible
analysis can not start from anything less than the whole process
involved in an act, viz., a response to stimulation which is salutary,
or harmful, and is selected accordingly." Who would suppose,
reading this, that this is the very thing I do start from? It is the
same thing that I have called a "behavior-cycle," and I have put
it at the beginning, as being characteristic of living organisms. I
observe, however, (a) that a process of this kind is complex, and
therefore susceptible of logical analysis; (6) that when we come

CRITICAL REALISM 651

to the more elaborate processes which we are aware of carrying
out, we find need of elements which it does not seem necessary to
assume in order to account for the responses of an amoeba; (c) that
"response to stimulation," as we ourselves experience it, often in-
volves something that may be called, in some sense, awareness of
the stimulus, and thus lands us with the problem of perception and
even of memory.

I have only one more subject to discuss, namely the subject. It
is surprising to find Dr. Schiller sticking up for the old-fashioned
soul, and quoting with disapproval the remarks about the ghost of
the subject, which once was the full-blooded soul, which I adapted
from William James.1 He does not apparently notice that the re-
mark to which he objects is a paraphrase of James's, but his at-
titude shows that he is less in agreement with James than is com-
monly supposed. The background of their thoughts is very dif-
ferent. James's mind was a battle-ground of medical materialism
and the mysticism suggested by Swedenborg. His learned self was
scientific and his emotional self cosmic; neither led him to attach
great value to the ego. On the other hand, Dr. Schiller's learned
self is primarily hellenic. He is fond of claiming affinity with
Protagoras, who would hardly have suited James. Idealism is to
him what James called a ' ' live option " ; at one time he collaborated
in a work called Personal Idealism. It seems to follow that the
parts of James's work with which I sympathize most are those with
which he sympathizes least. This case of the soul is one of them.
On this question I can safely leave the argument to James's Ameri-
can successors, from whom I have learnt many of the doctrines
advocated in The Analysis of Mind.

BEBTEAND RUSSELL.

LONDON.

CRITICAL REALISM AND THE EXTERNAL WORLD l

ESSAYS in Critical Realism is offered as a new solution of an
old epistemological problem. Its authors, a group of phi-
losophers who differ on many important metaphysical points, have
here united upon certain matters connected with a theory of knowl-
edge. This theory of knowledge, it is hoped, will enable us all to
satisfy our natural cravings to be realists. "An honest man . . .
is a realist at heart. " 2 It is maintained that, if non-realistic phi-

i See the quotation from him in Analysis of Mind, p. 22.

1 Read at the meeting of the Western Division of the American Philosoph-
ical Association, at Lincoln, April 14, 1922.

2 P. 184 (Mr. Santayana). Unless otherwise stated the references are to
Essays in Critical Bealism. The name of the author quoted will in each case
be noted.

652 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

losophies have dominated the thinking of many persons during the
last century, the trouble has been that realism has not known how
properly to present its claim. The central issue of the new co-
operative volume is our ability to know the external world. Hence
by its success in meeting this issue, critical realism must primarily
be judged. That the volume has many good features and some at-
tractive sections, no fair critic could deny. The entire volume
emphasizes ably the ideal reference in all thinking, the operation-
of the mind in terms of logical essences which can not be explained
as sensational or imaginal. Without such essences or meanings
reflection could not go on. Historically, most realisms have wholly
neglected these essences, and have thus in this respect been greatly
improved upon and perhaps superseded by critical realism. But
it is with the argument for an external world that critical realism
aims first of all to deal. The importance and the value of the
volume depend fundamentally upon the soundness of this argu-
ment.

The term critical realism was chosen with a definite meaning
in mind. The new philosophy is a realism because it believes we
can know extra-mental realities; it is critical because it distin-
guishes these objects from the immediate content of the mind. A
clear statement of the position of critical realism is given in the
following passage: "Knowledge is just the insight into the nature
of the object that is made possible by the contents which reflect it
in consciousness."8 The external objects "assist in the rise in the
organism of subjective data which are the raw material of knowl-
edge, ' ' * but yet can themselves ' ' be known only in terms of the
data which they control within us. ' ' 5 Unless external objects were
really existent, the psychical content would not arise in the mind.
Unless psychical content were present to mind, we would not know
objects. Yet we know the external objects, not the psychical states,
even though we know those objects through the instrumentality of
the psychical states. The subjective content is the terminus a quo,
not the terminus ad quern, of knowledge.

This position of the critical realists is subject to misunderstand-
ing by a careless reader ; for a rather common supposition has been
that the object immediately present to consciousness must also be
the object known. Not so, however, with the critical realists. "What
we perceive, conceive, remember, think of, is the outer object it-
self, '"an object independent of the processes of knowledge and of

• P. 200 (Mr. Sellars).
4 P. 192 (Mr. SeUart).

• P. 217 (Mr. Sellara).

• P. 4 (Mr. Drake).

CRITICAL REALISM 653

the effects which it may chance to produce in consciousness. Yet
we never come into contact with that object directly. "We have
no power of penetrating to the object itself and intuiting it im-
mediately, ' ' 7 but have immediately present to us only subjective
content. "The knower is confined to the datum, and can never
literally inspect the existent which he affirms and claims to know." 8
In other words the object of perception and the content of percep-
tion are two separate things, the former being objective and the
latter subjective ; and though the latter is caused by the former and
the former is known by means of the latter, "their existence is
quite distinct and their conditions entirely different. " 9 As the
position is beautifully summed up in one passage: "The objects
themselves, i.e., those bits of existence, do not get within our con-
sciousness. Their existence is their own affair, private, incommuni-
cable. One existent (my organism, or mind) can not go out beyond
itself literally, and include another existent; between us all, ex-
istentially speaking, is 'the unplumb'd, salt, estranging sea.'"10

Thus incompletely stated, critical realism recalls Locke's Essay.
In spite of the disregard which some of the critical realists feel for
their seventeenth-century ancestor, there are strong resemblances.
Yet there are important differences too, which call for notice.
Sometimes, to be sure, Locke gave up all hope of knowing the real,
outer object; he regarded it almost as unknowable as Kant later
regarded his Ding an sick, and confined human knowledge to rela-
tions between the ideas or bits of subjective content. This the
critical realists never do. But at other times Locke, just as much
as the critical realists, regarded the ideas, not as the objects to which
knowledge was directed, but as the means by which knowledge was
mediated of real, outer, external objects. He then speaks of knowl-
edge of "real existence." And with great emphasis he says: "If
our knowledge of our ideas terminate in them, and reach no farther,
where there is something farther intended, our most serious thought
will be of little more use than the reveries of a crazy brain ; and the
truths built thereon of no more weight than the discourses of a
man who sees things clearly in a dream, and with great assurance
utters them. ' ' " Yet even with this second and more realistic
strain in Locke, the critical realists believe themselves not in agree-
ment. In many passages surely, Locke, no more than the critical
realists, took the immediate content of mind as the objects of knowl-

T P. 225 (Mr. Strong).

« P. 203 (Mr. Sellars).

» P. 165 (Mr. Santayana).

10 p. 24 (Mr. Drake).

" Locke: Essay Concerning the Human Understanding, Bk IV, chap. 4, $. 2.

(i.-,l JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

edge. But it is true that Locke did not distinguish, and that the
critical realists do distinguish, between mental contents and data.
And it is because of Locke's failure to take the data, the logical es-
sences, into account, that he is deemed unsatisfactory and out-
worn. The critical realists contend that along with the subjective
content there also are disclosed certain essences, which can not be
taken as giving merely the whatness of the subjective content, but
which do give the whatness of the external objects (except where
the mind is in error). Hence it is maintained that through the
essences we can bridge the estranging sea and can know the world
as it really is constituted in itself. Even if we do not have objects
existentially present within consciousness, we reach those objects
by "a logical, essential, virtual grasp" of the mind.12 We are
thus enabled to affirm objects.

The central issue in the new theory of knowledge given by the
critical realists boils down to the question whether the recognition
of the data or essences enables us to know external objects, whether
the critical realists are better off than Locke or any one who tried
to infer external objects from the subjective content alone. If the
historical types of realism upon a foundation of epistemological
dualism can not bridge the gap between mind and object, what as-
sistance can be derived from the affirmation of essences? The con-
tention of the present paper is that the critical realists face exactly
the same difficulty as that which they confess was present in older
realisms. Even if the critical realists give a better analysis of
what thinking is, they are no whit better off in getting from the
thinking mind to the external world.

The premises of critical realism rule out the possibility of
knowledge in the sense in which they desire it. Knowledge is "true
opinion with reason"; and "an opinion is true if what it is talking
about is constituted as the opinion asserts it to be constituted."18
Or, in other words, knowledge is a matter of "correspondence or
conformity of the knowledge-content with the selected object."14
But if we grant the premises of critical realism, how can we ever
be sure that our opinions are true? How can we hence have knowl-
edge! If real objects are not present directly to the mind, if the
mind has "no power of penetrating to the object itself," how can
we be sure that the propositions in which we express our opinions
conform to objects beyond? What test is there for truth? .One

"P. 28 (Mr. Drake).

"Pp. 98, 99 (Mr. Pratt). Quoted by Mr. Pratt from Mr. Santayana.

n Sellars: Evolutionary Naturalism, p. 55. Though quoted from Mr.
Sellars'a last book rather than from the cooperative volume, it may fairly be
assumed that he speaks for the rest of the critical realists on this point.

CRITICAL REALISM 655

might suppose, were it not for Mr. Lovejoy's excessive fury with
pragmatism, that the predicament of the critical realists would
make them glad to accept workability as an alternative for the older
meaning of truth ; yet the critical realists all agree in rejecting the
pragmatic point of view. By their own theory of the un-get-at-
ableness of objects, the critical realists have eliminated any chance
of proving that the essences we have in mind are the correct what-
ness of the external objects. Truth being conformity of an essence
to an object we can by hypothesis never reach, knowledge is impos-
sible.

The fault with critical realism is not that it does not allow for
the occurrence of error, but that it does not permit us to know
when we have the truth and when we are in error. It may well be
that the data or essences ' ' are irresistibly taken to be the characters
of the existents perceived, or otherwise known. " 15 If this were
granted, it could still be asked how we know when they are cor-
rectly so taken and when incorrectly. It is not enough to confess
that "there is always a bare possibility of illusion or hallucina-
tion " ; 16 rather there is no possibility of distinguishing between
hallucination and veridical perception at all. We are told that
"experience indicates an actual, causally based agreement between
the physical existent and the content of perception."17 But how
can experience of the subjective sort postulated by the critical
realists ever indicate whether we are justified in predicating es-
sences of external objects? How can we say that agreement is in-
dicated if one of the things between which agreement is asserted
is inaccessible? We are told that in dealing with subjective con-
tent and external object "the tendency of the realist is to reply
that the similarity is great, and may even rise to identity of es-
sence."18 But what difference would truth and error have to us
if we could not tell which was which, if we could not tell when
there is identity and when not? It is maintained that the mind
may "rest directly on the object" in cases of knowledge since the
essence is universal and so can be both in the mind and in the ob-
ject, and that only in cases of error is there dualism between the
essence in the mind and the essence of the object.19 But how can
we know when our minds are resting on objects, since the objects
are not present to the mind except in so far as their essence is pres-
ent? The essence is present to the mind in case of error just as

is p. 5 (Mr. Drake).

ie P. 32 (Mr. Drake).

«P. 202 (Mr. Sellars).

is P. 165 (Mr. Santayana).

«P. 202 (Mr. Sellars).

(,.-,<i JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

clearly as in the case of true opinion; and determination of truth
and error, if not definition of their abstract meaning, is impossible
to one shut up to the content of his own mind. Critical realism,
though not denying the possibility of true opinion and also of
error, does prevent us from distinguishing between them in every
case except where for some special purpose we choose to make the
subjective content or the essences themselves the object of our in-
quiries. Those essences would give us true opinion which contain
or conform to the "structure, position, and changes" of objects;20
but essences which give us wrong opinions about the structure,
position, and changes of objects might often be accepted as irresist-
ibly as those which give us true opinions thereof. To a critical
realist a satisfactory essence would have to be one which was in-
ternally useful, not one which was objectively true.

One should not be confused, and some of the critical realists
seem to be confused, by the discovery that in perception or any
other consciousness we affirm an object. Affirmation does not con-
stitute proof. We may affirm objects constantly without proving
a single one to be as we affirm it, or even to be in existence at all.
One of the critical realists draws a distinction between inferring
an object and affirming an object, and maintains that we do not
infer, but only affirm.21 That is the very trouble. There is no
basis for inference, — or rather there is no check upon inference;
there is only affirmation, made earnestly, upheld enthusiastically,
followed persistently. But it is sheer affirmation. It is sheer dog-
matism. It is an exhibition of the sort of enthusiasm which Locke
so effectively opposed in his Essay, Book IV, chapter 19, a chapter
from which we may learn much still. After saying that there are
"two elements in perception, the affirmation of a co-real and the
assigned set of characters or aspects," it is concluded that "the
content is intuited, the object is reacted to and affirmed."22 The
last phrase is ambiguous. It should mean just what the first phrase
meant, namely that there is an affirmation of an object. It implies
to a hasty reader that it has been found that there is an object
really there which is reacted to and affirmed. Such a conclusion
would doubtless be welcome, but can not be derived from the prem-
ises. Yet it seems that the distinction between these two mean-
ings is not understood in the essay from which the quotation is
made. Others of the critical realists do take account of this distinc-
tion, with the result that they are much readier to grant the dan-
ger of total skepticism. It is even acknowledged that the external

w p. 200 (Mr. Sellers).

« P. 195 (Mr. Sellars).

"P. 196 (Mr. Sellars).

CRITICAL REALISM 657

objects may be the physical entities of the physicist, the other
centers of consciousness of the panpsychist, or some such reality
as might be defined by an ontological idealist.23 But most of the
critical realists have not the intellectual bravery to confess that
there may be no external objects at all. Not simply can not we
reach the external objects to check up on our opinions as to their
nature, but we can not even get outside the mind to find if there
are objects there. Perhaps nothing exists beyond the subjective
contents and the essences. We may be affirming essences in an
ontological vacuum.

The problem of knowledge raises the question of transcendence
which is occasionally treated, but in different ways, by the different
critical realists. Contradictions within critical realism here emerge
according to the willingness of the various authors to grant the full
implications of their premises. On the one hand it is said : ' ' Knowl-
edge of the existents affirmed requires no more transcendence than
does this affirmation."!24 In one sense this proposition is true but
altogether useless to a consistent critical realist; in another sense
it would be a valuable aid but is false. The former sense would be
that to know an existent (or external object) no further transcen-
dence is required than is involved in checking up, or following
through to its destination, the affirmation of the existent. The
latter sense would be that to know an existent no further transcen-
dence is required than to affirm it. Those two senses of the original
proposition have been repeatedly confused in some essays of the
volume. The former sense of the proposition, though true, would
not do away with the necessity of getting beyond subjective con-
tents and the affirmation of an essence to the external world, a
necessity which runs counter to the premises of critical realism.
The latter sense of the proposition, though it would enable us to
prove whatever we wanted by affirming it, is false in identifying
proof with convinced and obstinate affirmation. On the other hand
it is said: "Minds have this characteristic of meaning more than
they directly experience. . . . Hence the critical realist simply writes
down transcendence as one of the facts of the world, just as the
physicist writes down X-rays as a special sort of fact."25 Here
it is correctly realized that, if we are to have knowledge instead
of opinions which are not checked up, we must have transcendence.

23 P. 109 (Mr. Pratt). Since Mr. Pratt comes to this conclusion, one
wonders why he speaks so pityingly of der gute Berkeley and "the weakness of
Berkeley's subjectivism," p. 87. Why are not ideas in the mind of God as
adequate an external world as anything else!

2* P. 212 (Mr. Sellars).

'25 p. 99 (Mr. Pratt).

r,.-,s JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

But on the premises of critical realism which exclude the possibil-
ity of penetrating to the real objects, should it not be frankly con-
fessed that knowledge is impossible T 28 Critical realism can not
lead to any other outcome if it retains its view that objects are in-
accessible, unless it should decide that knowledge is what one de-
termines to believe in the absence of all proof on the basis of some
deep-seated prejudice or what one finds convenient to accept on the
basis that it leads to happy issue. In perhaps the most illuminat-
ing passage in the collection of essays, Mr. Santayana shows that
the validity of knowledge requires that we regard it as transitive
and relevant." But it does no good to insist on transitivity and
then to deny the possibility of getting to the object with reference
to which knowledge is relevant.

The validity of this critique of critical realism is even more ap-
parent when the illustrations are examined in which the existence
of external objects is supposed to be established. Space does not
permit a detailed examination here of more than one typical case.
It is said that we must believe in external objects because we can
perceive another individual perceiving an object, we can see "the
focusing of the eyes, the tension of the head, the directive set of
the whole body, all leading usually to behaviour toward the ob-
ject. " " Do the premises of the critical realism permit us to say
that we see these facts? On the basis of a philosophy which did
not make the immediate content of perception "subjective," such
an inference of another object would be justifiable.29 But a critical
realist could say only that what he calls the other individual and
his adjustments are certain subjective content and certain essences
in his mind. He should not assume the objective reality of the
other individual's body in order through it to prove the objective
reality of the object towards which the other individual is reacting.
He can be sure only that he has certain subjective contents and
thinks of certain essences, and nothing more. He has no check on
the truth of the essences until he gets into contact with an external
object; and he can not get into contact with an external object
until he has some check on the truth of the essences. He must,

2« In Evolutionary Naturalism, p. 49, Mr. Sellars defines knowledge as "a
claim and content within experience concerning existences, outside of experience,
mentally selected as objects." It is amazing that this definition can be ser-
iously put forward in a book which operates on the basis of critical realism.

27 P. 68 (Mr. Santayana).

"P. 196 (Mr. Sellars).

*» I personally regard such an inference as justifiable on the basis of the
theory explained in my article in this JOURNAL, March 30, 1922, Vol. XIX, No.
7, pp. 169 ff.

CRITICAL REALISM 659

therefore, either confess to arguing in a circle or give up any claim
to knowledge of a world without himself.30

The critical realists do not all affirm the external world with
the same assurance. The most confident of the group is undoubt-
edly Mr. Sellars. He objects to Lockian realism because it teaches
that "we first know our ideas as objects and then postulate physi-
cal realities. " 31 He asserts against Locke that we know physical
realities "from the first." The contention is plausible but hides a
serious confusion. What is meant by knowing physical objects
from the first? If it means that from the beginning of our experi-
ence we have subjective contents and essences which lead us to af-
firm external objects, there is nothing inconsistent with the premises
of critical realism. But neither is there anything to prove physical
objects to be really there : the affirmations may all be mistaken. If,
however, the phrase means that we have greater assurance of the
existence of physical objects than of subjective contents, we would
have a sound basis for realism and no need for an elaborate proof
of the external world. But this would be equivalent to maintain-
ing direct contact of minds with external objects and hence to
giving up critical realism. The plausibility of the passage about
knowing physical objects from the first is derived from a confusion
between the first and second meanings of the phrase. Locke could
say that we know external objects from the first in exactly the same
sense in which Mr. Sellars' premises would permit him to say it;
namely, that from the beginning of experience we have such mental
contents that we come to suppose a real and objective world. Even
if the addition of essences to subjective contents is taken to improve
upon Locke's account of the contents of consciousness, it in no way
alters the nature of the jump from mind to object.

Others of the critical realists realize better than Mr. Sellars the
difficulty here. It is said that the existence of an external world
is a matter of an as if, and consolation is found in the fact that
critical realism is no worse off than subjectivism which believes in
other minds.32 Only two of the authors in the volume give evidence
of following their premises to the logical conclusion. Mr. Pratt
confesses that on the premises of critical realism "the ultimate na-
ture of reality in itself may be very difficult, or even impossible, to
discover, ' ' 33 though he none the less proceeds to deprecate agnos-
ticism in his closing pages. Mr. Santayana goes in thoroughness

so Cf. also pp. 22-24, 29, 169-170, et passim. Cf. further Sellars: Evoli*-
tionary Naturalism, pp. 30, 32, 40.

si P. 193 (Mr. Sellars).

32 p. 6 (Mr. Drake).

33 p. 104 (Mr. Pratt).

OiiO JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

beyond Mr. Pratt. He grants that the subjective content "might
have arisen without any occasion, as idealists believe is actually the
case, ' ' '* and reduces the passage from the essence in thought to
the existing object to a moral basis, "the leap of faith and ac-
tion,"85 a phrase strangely reminiscent of Kant's practical reason.
The consistent logic of the premise that we intuit only subjective
contents thus proves to be that realism is possible to those who want
to assume it. But so is ontological idealism or any other meta-
physics. So even is skepticism. Denial of all external reality
would be no more of a hazard of faith than affirmation of an ex-
ternal reality. Perhaps we are ' ' realists at heart. ' ' •• But it would
seem to be more honest to confess that we had no valid reason for
believing what we want to profess. Realism of the "critical" type
thus proves to be a matter of preference, of personal prejudice or
choice, not of the logic of the premises.87

Caesar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, and Locke
his Hume. The critical realists should have gone on more often
from their Locke to their Hume, in order better to appreciate the
force of Hume's disintegrating criticism. Any one could apply to
critical realism the epistemological reflection which Hume brought
to bear on the Lockian tradition which assumed that the immediate
content of the mind is "subjective." He wrote: "As to those im-
pressions which arise from the senses, their ultimate cause is, in
my opinion, perfectly inexplicable by human reason, and 'twill
always be impossible to decide with certainty, whether they arise
immediately from the object, or are produced by the creative
power of the mind, or are deriv'd from the author of our being." 88
Taking into account the supposition of critical realism that the dis-
covery of the essences relates us to extra-mental realities, any
one instructed by Hume might say: As to those essences which
come before the mind, their ultimate conformity to reality is per-

»*Pp. 166-167 (Mr. Santayana).

«• P. 183 (Mr. Santayana).

>« P. 184 (Mr. Santayana).

•* Mr. Santayana 'a essay amounts to showing that though the external
world can not be proved it may be assumed with success. But it is not an exter-
nal world apart from experience that he is usually talking about. He seems to
bo showing rather that we can take the world immediately present to sense as
the real world. This is quite a different position than that of the other realists
of this group. Even that, however, is not satisfactory. It seems rather to be
true that the world is given as real and that all distinctions we discover, as
that between mind and object, are made within this real world. Mr. Santayana
regrettably baa not escaped the subjective elements of the British tradition
which mar his otherwise brilliant volume on Reason in Common Sense.

88 Treatise of Human Nature, edition of Green and Grose, Vol. I, p. 385.

RELATIVITY, OLD AND NEW 661

fectly unknowable by a mind which has no direct contact with
reality; and it will always be impossible to decide with certainty
whether they correspond to external objects or are convenient fic-
tions for the practical, but not the theoretical, concerns of life.

A candid examination by the critical realists of the divergences
in the views expressed in the cooperative volume might well correct
the inadequacies of the theory. Those who are nearest to Locke are
the most consistent in the development of their premises ; and those
who are most determined to be realists have the greatest trouble
with the Lockian axiom of having only mental contents as immedi-
ate objects of the mind. In other words, if the group of writers
here under review remain "critical" in their sense of the word as
denying the direct contact of the mind with extra-mental objects,
they have no logical basis for their realism; and if they wish to be
realists with assurance, they have to cease to be consistently "criti-
cal." As it is, their realism should be called hypothetical or pref-
erential or transcendental. But if they discard the assumption
that the mind does not come into direct contact with external ob-
jects, realism would not have to be proved, and criticism might be-
come more relevant to human concerns.

STERLING P. LAMPBECHT.
UNIVERSITY or ILLINOIS.

"RELATIVITY, OLD AND NEW"

T SHOULD like to comment briefly on Professor Wadman's article
so far as it is concerned with "objections" to my own re-
marks.1 It seems to me that he has failed to appreciate my aim,
and his criticisms are therefore almost wholly irrelevant. Had I
been dealing with the aspects of relativity, they might be justified.
But I confined myself to some aspects, while Professor Wadman
treats of points which I deliberately omitted. My purpose was to
insist that the theory has no direct bearing on the relativity of
knowledge, or the subjectivity of time and space (p. 210). Every-
one is familiar with the extreme views which have been advanced
on these subjects; and from that standpoint it still remains true
that "the philosophic problems of objective reality" — as such and
in general — remain unaffected by recent developments; so far as
they are concerned, the theory is a "benevolent neutral." That
"objective reality is profoundly changed by the theory" ("W., p.
206) is obviously true; and so far as our conceptual handling of
i This JOURNAL, Vol. XVIII, No. 8 ; XIX, No. 8. To avoid confusion in
reference, I distinguish Professor Wadman's pages by W.

662 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

the external world is concerned, and subject (further) to certain
qualifications which I still consider necessary in the interests of
realism, Professor Wadman 's presentation contains little more
than what I have myself said (pp. 214, 215). But prior to all this
there is the still more fundamental problem of the character of ob-
jective reality in general — not simply of its temporo-spatial basis
or aspect; and it was with these preliminaries of the whole situa-
tion that I endeavored to deal, while Professor Wadman makes but
the barest reference to them.

But when we pass beyond this general problem to others more
specific, we must consider where the distinction is to be drawn be-
tween the philosophic enquiry and the scientific. It is, of course,
impossible to be dogmatic here; but if we admit, for argument's
sake, that the subjects discussed by Professor Wadman on pp. 206,
207, are truly philosophical, is this true also of the nature of the
ether or the atomic nucleus, of Weyl's extension of the theory or
Painleve 's and Wiechert 's criticisms of it, or of the quantum theory
or the physical mechanism of heredity? At some stage all these
questions fall within pure science. Exactly where must remain
always a matter of opinion; but a great part of Professor Wad-
man's article deals with what I should myself regard as scientific
material; and we must here recall Einstein's own assertion that
"there was nothing specially, certainly nothing intentionally, phil-
osophical about" his investigation.2 We may compare with this —
"It would be wrong to associate any metaphysical speculations with
the introduction of the four-dimensional point of view"; "the
theory is physical and not metaphysical; upon what particular
basis bare matter depends is a question not for the philosopher
but the physicist to decide. ' ' 8 We must recognize, then, that what
is interesting to philosophers is not always of philosophic interest.

The role of "light and vision in normal experience" appears to
me fundamentally important. The theoretical results (W., p. 207)
are unquestionable, though to speak of a "fundamental velocity
that is invariant, ' ' but which is still not the velocity of some actual
entity, seems meaningless abstraction. But the question still re-
mains— How are these results arrived at in the first instance?
Upon what is "the discovery that there is a fundamental invariant
velocity" based? They must be based upon observed coincidences
as the content of percephial experience; abolish these, and nothing
remains whereon to found a theory of any kind. "We observe a

* Nature, 16 June, 1921, p. 504. Cf. his account of the growth of his theory
in Nature, 17 Feb., 1921, p. 782. I may refer to the fuller discussion of these
points in the current Volume of Mind.

• Schlick, Space and Time, p. 51. Alexander, Spinoza and Time, pp. 39, 45.

RELATIVITY, OLD AND NEW 663

coincidence, an event. In each several map of the universe the
event is uniquely recorded as a single coincidence. The only pre-
cise observations are those of coincidences. ' ' 4 But why, again,
should "c" remain paradoxically invariant for all observers?5
Once more because the perceived light phenomena furnish the sole
available means for their own investigation, while light travels with
finite velocity. The physicist is here left with nothing to hoist him-
self by except his own waist belt ; the inevitable result is invariance,
and the paradox in both cases is merely apparent. So far as the
indispensable initial observations are concerned, therefore, it is the
non-existence of any phenomenon which can be perceived and com-
pared with light signals that is fundamental. "We have not taken
account," asserts Einstein in recounting the development of his
theory, "of the inaccuracy involved by the finiteness of the velocity
of light";6 "if some new kind of ray with a higher speed were
discovered, it would perhaps tend to displace light signals and light
velocity. ' ' 7 Finally, if we assume gravitational impulses arising
which had an infinite velocity, and also that we could directly per-
ceive their effects,8 relativity phenomena might be excluded from
consideration altogether.

In conclusion, what Professor Wadman calls my "exposition of
the transformation in terms of sound" (p. 206) was offered as noth-
ing more than a somewhat crude illustration based on "familiar
occurrences." When the article was written many readers found
an insuperable difficulty in discovering analogies to the new theory
in ordinary experience. It still remains true, I think, that to them
Professor Wadman 's concise outline would have been incompre-
hensible. I certainly did not regard it as a wholly satisfactory
substitute, and the "Prince of Denmark" note merely emphasized
the insufficiency of the analogy; it is unfortunate that no precise
parallel can be offered; but the actual phenomena are, of course,
unique ; " c plays a unique part in Nature. ' ' 9 Professor Wadman
suggests that my imaginary observers should be "lacking in other
respects than eyesight" (W., p. 206) ; but as they already derived

•* Cunningham, Relativity and the Electron Theory, pp. 93, 126. Cf. Brose,
The Theory of Belativity, p. 14 ; Eddington, Space, Time and Gravitation, p. 87.
Both "coincidence" and "observation" are fundamental.

o I omit gravitation for brevity.

« The Theory of Eelativity, p. 10. Of. Campbell, Physics, The Elements,
p. 552.

* Eddington, Space, Time and Gravitation, p. 60.

s An assumption on all fours with Professor Wadman 's hyperesthesia,
p. 206. The infinity of gravitational transmission is, I think, still an open
question.

• Schlick, op. cit., p. 15.

<;r,t JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

"all their knowledge solely from hearing" (p. 212) it seems to me
that any further loss would reduce them to helpless dependence on
their "unconscious"; or, at the most, transform them into behavior-
ists.

J. E. TURNER.
LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND.

BOOK REVIEWS

Psychologie der Kunst. Bd. I. RICH. MULLER-FREIENFELS. Leip-
zig : B. G. Teubner. 1922. Pp. viii + 248.
The first edition of this book appeared in two volumes in 1912.
The present revision has been so thorough and the changes in both
form and content are so numerous that it seems almost like a new
book. The arrangement of the topics is somewhat different, much
new material has been added, some of the latest theories and tend-
encies such as the Freudian have been considered, more examples
have been used and a few illustrations of paintings, designs and
music are now included. Above all the esthetic principle of unity
is more closely followed in the composition so that the text holds
together, a factor which considerably increases the pleasure of the
reader.

It would be tedious and unprofitable to give a detailed enumera-
tion of the changes that have been made. I will, therefore, de-
scribe briefly the more important ideas even though some of them
have already appeared in the first edition.

The author takes exception to a theoretical, philosophical dis-
cussion of esthetics in the belief that the only method to be pursued
is an empirical, psychological one. Although I agree with him
in general in his remarks about methods, I do not think he is justi-
fied in his statement that possibly the questionnaire method is more
important than the experimental procedure. In psychology the re-
sults of questionnaires are of doubtful value. The situation is
worse in esthetics especially when the questions are sent to artists.
Experience soon teaches one that what they say about their meth-
ods and feelings has frequently little relation to the actual facts.
Even the descriptions by authors of their methods of work, such as
Poe's account of the composition of the Raven, can not be accepted
uncritically.

The author accepts the traditional, philosophical definition of
an esthetic object, namely, one whose value is self-contained (ihren
Wert in sich selber tragt). Later, however, he broadens his con-
cept by adding the physiological interpretation that in the percep-
tion of beauty there is an adequate reaction of the organism, which
is productive of pleasure.

BOOK REVIEWS 665

Art is carefully defined and shown to be a special type of
beauty differentiated from the rest of the field of esthetics by the
presence of form. Simple colors are not yet art because they lack
form and the perceptions through the lower senses are not art be-
cause they lack permanent form. Undoubtedly these are practical
distinctions, but theoretically one must take exception to the state-
ment that single colors lack form, for there is a relation of hue,
saturation and brightness in every color, which gives it a form
quality. The author also maintains that there are certain forms
of art, such as statues of emperors, religious pictures, etc., which
are not esthetic objects. After all is this not a superficial distinc-
tion? Whether these are esthetic objects or not depends upon the
state of mind of the observer. Notwithstanding their original
purpose, such objects may very well be enjoyed later for their in-
trinsic beauty, if they happen to possess that quality.

Considerable space is given to empathy and motor responses
and the importance of such responses is strongly emphasized, al-
though the author is conservative to the extent that he does not be-
lieve that empathy is essential to art appreciation. The balance is,
however, tilted in the direction of empathic experience, which fact
is interesting in connection with the recent attitude of Mr. Bui-
lough in brushing aside the entire question of empathy with the
remark that the theory of empathy was disproved some years ago
by psychologists.

Dr. Miiller-Freienfels describes the various imaginal types, such
as visual, motor, etc., and gives examples of some of them. The
visual type, for example, is illustrated by a picture by Monet and
the motor type by one by van Gogh. Throughout the book, how-
ever, the author refrains from stating what types and attitudes are
intrinsically esthetic. Judgments of values have been left for a
second volume. In this book there is merely described the state of
mind of the man who thinks he is an artist or passes for one, and
the individual who at least uses esthetic terms, even though his
judgment may not be based on a truly esthetic experience. For
instance, the author quite rightly believes that both the emotions
and the intellect are involved in an esthetic reaction, with the
emphasis as a rule on the emotions. He divides individuals, how-
ever, into two types, the empathic and the contemplative, and some
of the descriptions of this latter distinctly intellectual and reflec-
tive type seem to me to refer to the critic rather than to the one
who is enjoying beauty. It is stretching the term to call the cold-
blooded reasoning of the critic or even his reflections upon his own
mental and emotional processes an esthetic experience, although

JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

such an attitude often passes for the enjoyment of beauty and,
therefore, with the utmost catholicity is included by the author in
his classifications and descriptions.

There is an extensive discussion of feelings and emotions, which
is rather antiquated and probably the least valuable part of the
book. The author has tried at all times to be empirical and that
he often falls back upon an analysis of his own mind rather than
refer to experimental results is due not alone to his lack of
knowledge of some of the more recent experimental researches, but
also to the fact that in experimental esthetics psychology has still
a large, unploughed field ahead. To mention two of the many prob-
lems, there is that of the consciousness of self in esthetic experi-
ence and the feeling of unreality. Both questions should be sub-
mitted to further experimentation. Mere discussion will not decide
whether Lange is correct in his contention that the feeling of un-
reality is essential to art appreciation or the author in his belief
that art is not unreal but a-real.

The book is useful both for the study and for the teaching of
esthetics and even those who are already familiar with the first edi-
tion will find this revision profitable reading.

H. S. LANGPELD.
HABVARD UNivmsirr.

An Introduction to Psychology. SUSAN S. BRIERLEY. London.

Methuen and Co. 1921. Pp. 151.

To make this review the most useful, it is well to quote from the
outside title page as follows : ' ' This book is written to meet the first
needs of the non-professional students. The beginner is introduced
to certain main lines of thought, based upon a biological approach to
psychology and from this point of view the theory of psycho-analysis
is brought into relation with normal psychology and with experi-
mental behaviorism." The volume fulfills this purpose and is an
admirable example of multum in parvo.

The author follows McDougall in the main, but shows an inde-
pendence and clearness of thought which can express itself with
simplicity. The pages abound in happy definitions causing muddled
trains of thought to fall into logical orderliness with a kaleidescopic
mano3uvre. "The 'nature' of each creature is just the sum of those
manifold tendencies to behaviour which it exhibits on each proper oc-
casion." "When, however, displacement occurs in a form socially
useful and acceptable it is now common to speak of it as sublimation
from the Latin sublimare, — to lift up." "The 'neurotic' appears
to be one who is more or less permanently unable to bear the full

BOOK REVIEWS 667

pressure of real life and tries to retire from it into the world of
phantasy where immediate satisfaction of desire without effort can be
achieved. ' ' The word hormone is substituted for libido as being less
ambiguous. Man is a "learning animal" rather than a rational one.

The outstanding feature of the work is the exposition of the
unconscious as joining with the conscious in a normal procedure and
psycho-analysis is shown to be simply a technical elaboration of
ordinary introspective self-analysis. It is a book for the market
place and the easy chair rather than for academic halls ; for the man
who wishes to ' ' know himself ' ' rather than to know what others think
of him.

LUCINDA PEARL BOQGS.

UEBANA, ILLINOIS.

The Dalton Laboratory Plan. EVELYN DEWBY. New York: E. P.

Button & Co. 173 pp.

The dissatisfaction with existing educational practices which
has developed increasingly during the past decade in this country
and in England particularly during and since the War has led to
a critical valuation of both the curriculum and methods. The Dal-
ton Laboratory Plan is an attempt to overcome many of the diffi-
culties that result from class instruction and the tendency to a
lockstep method which caters to the pupil of average ability and
neglects the dull and the gifted. Class instruction, it is charged,
implies the progress of all pupils at the same rate and throws the
responsibility on the teacher rather than on willing cooperation
and independent study by the pupil. The Plan aims to train the
pupil to assume responsibility for his own progress, to realize the
pleasure of self-education, to organize his work and distribute his
time among his required studies to suit his own needs and abilities,
and to secure help from teachers, fellow-pupils, books and other
resources as occasion demands. The function of the teacher is to
make periodical assignments, monthly according to the Plan, which
the pupil is under contract to perform. In place of class-room in-
struction, assignments of work from day to day, and the use of a
limited number of textbooks, separate rooms are equipped with
reference and other material for each subject or groups of sub-
jects; these are the laboratories to which the pupils resort, irre-
spective of their class membership, to fulfil their contracts. An
elaborate system of daily records, indicating progress, has been
devised for pupils and teachers.

The advantages claimed for the Plan are that each pupil may
advance at his own rate, that methods of study and work are re-

668 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

quired which prevail outside the school so that there is no break in
gauge between life in school and life outside the school, and that
the qualities essential in a democracy — self-reliance, initiative, in-
dependence of judgment — are cultivated. For the present, the
Plan is not concerned with changes in the curriculum.

The method derives its name from the adoption of the Plan in
the high school at Dalton, Mass. There is no evidence, however,
from Miss Dewey's book that the Plan, inaugurated at Dalton in
1919, has been carried out in its entirety in accordance with the
principles enunciated by Miss Helen Parkhurst and practiced by
her in the Children's University School of New York. The Plan
has received a greater welcome in England than in this country
and has there attained the dignity of a cult in the establishment
of the Dalton Association. Few educators in the United States
were familiar with the Plan under its present name until it was
re-imported from England, although in many of its essentials it
has for some years been practiced at the San Francisco Normal
School and in the public schools of Winnetka, Illinois.

While Miss Dewey has performed a useful service in thus bring-
ing the Dalton Plan to the attention of American educators, she is,
in spite of her introductory warning that "it is not possible to
present it (the Plan) as a tested and proved system," too apt to
become more enthusiastic than the experiment warrants. Ignoring
the recent contributions of educational psychology, she generalizes
too freely about the possibilities of cultivating a sense of responsi-
bility, initiative, self-reliance, and resourcefulness in all pupils, a
generalization that is not justified by the testimony of teachers and
pupils quoted in the book. However alluring Miss Dewey's theory
may be that "education today must consist in learning to learn,
finding out about knowledge and what it is for, so it can be acquired
and used when it is needed," the impossibility of achieving this
task is indicated by the theory of individual differences and ex-
perience with college and university students. The enthusiastic
reformer is too prone to overlook the progress, slow but real, made
by the public schools, just as Miss Dewey overlooks the extensive
literature of the last ten years on "How to think" and "How to
study." Into some of the administrative difficulties of the Plan
it is unnecessary to enter here, although the question might be raised
whether a monthly contract is not as likely to militate against free
development just as much as does the daily assignment. On the whole
the value of Miss Dewey's book and Miss Parkhurst 's experiment lies
in directing attention to existing weaknesses in the schools, but salva-
tion does not lie in any one method or in any particular experiment,

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

especially when it is not subjected to such objective and scientific tests
as have already been devised. There is a danger, too, that in our
preoccupation with the pupils' needs which results from time to
time in new plans, new methods, new devices, the supreme need of
education, good teachers possessing the self-reliance, initiative, re-
sourcefulness and independence, so much desired for pupils, will
be forgotten. About these Miss Dewey has too little to say, forget-
ting that any plan or method, strictly pursued, may without good
teachers in time become formal.

I. L. KANDEL.
TEACHERS COLLEGE,
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

JOUENALS AND NEW BOOKS

REVUE DE THEOLOGIE ET DE PHILOSOPHIE. Vol. X, No. 44. De la
religion comme principe indispensable a la vie de 1'humanite: P.
Bridel. Franz Leenhardt (1846-1922) : P. Daulte. Partis et con-
flits d'idees dans 1 'anglicanisme contemporain : R. Werner. Le prag-
matisme religieux: A. Reymond. L'energie universelle: J. de la
Harpe.

PSYCHOLOGICAL BULLETIN. Vol. 19, No. 8. Contributions to the
History of Psychology— 1916-^1921 : C. R. Griffith. The Evolution of
Psychological Textbooks Since 1912: J. R. Kantor. A Note on
Theories of Learning : J. Peterson.

ZEITSCHRIFT FUR PSYCHOLOGEE. Bd. 90, Heft 3-6. Untersuchun-
gen liber die sog. Zollnerschen anorthoskopischen Zerrbilder: H.
Rotschild. Neue Untersuchungen zum Problem des Verhaltnisses
von Akkommodation und Konvergenz zur Wahrnehmung der Tiefe :
J. Bappert. Ueber die Erblichkeit der musikalischen Begabung:
V. Haecker und Th. Ziehen. Ueber den Einfluss der Grossenvariier-
ung bei Gedachtnisleistungen : M. Floors. Neue Untersuchungen zu
C'inem Fall von abnormen Datengedachtnis : R. Hennig.

BRITISH JOURNAL OP PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. XIII, Part 2. October,
1922. The Relations of Complex and Sentiment, (I) : W. H. R.
Rivers; (II) A. G. Tansley; (III) A. F. Shand; (IV) T. H. Pear;
(V) B. Hart; (VI) C. S. Myers. A Note on some Dreams of a Nor-
mal Person: M. Sturt. Motor Capacity with Special Reference to
Vocational Guidance: B. Muscio. A Vindication of the Resonance
Hypothesis of Audition. V: H. Hartridge. Suspicion: A. Shand.
A Note on Local Fatigue in the Auditory System: F. Bartlett and
H. Mark.

REVUE DE METAPHYSIQUE ET DE MORALE. 29" Annee, No. 3. La
philosophic d'fimile Boutroux: L. Brunschvicg. L'oeuvre de Pierre
Boutroux : L. Brunschvicg. Les principes du calcul des probabilites :

670 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

J. Hadamard. Analyse de 1'acte libre public par L. Dugas: J. Le-
quyer. Essai sur la system at isati on du savoir scientifique: R.
Hubert.

THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. XXXIII, No. 4.
Film, Surface, and Bulky Colors and Their Intermediates: M. F.
Martin. Can the Psychophysical Experiment Reconcile Introspec-
tionists and Objectivists? : J. R. Kantor. Movements of Pursuit and
Avoidance as Expressions of Simple Feeling: P. T. Young. Diotic
Tonal Volumes as a Function of Difference of Phase : H. M. Halver-
son. An Experimental Study of Henning's System of Olfactory
Qualities : M . K. MacDonald. A Study of Liminal Sound Intensities
and the Application of Weber's Law to Tones of Different Pitch:
M. Guernsey. The Effect of Change of Intensity upon the Upper
Limit of Hearing : E. F. Holler. A Study of the Relation of Dis-
tracted Motor Performance to Performance in an Intelligence Test:
M . A. Tinker. The Areal and Punctiform Integration of Warmth and
Pressure : I. Bershansky. The Integration of Warmth and Pressure :
L. Knight.

THE MONIST. Vol. XXXII, No. 4. Ethics, Morality, and Meta-
physical Assumptions: L. A. Reid. Perception and Nature: H. E.
Cunningham. A Criticism of Critical Realism : C. E. M. Joad. The
Spirit of Research : J. B. Shaw. A Comparison of the Ethical Philos-
ophies of Spinoza and Hobbes: V. T. Thayer. The Logic of Dis-
covery: R. D. Carmichael.

Bergson, Henri : Mind-Energy. Lectures and Essays, translated
by H. Wildon Carr. London : Macmillan Co. 1922. 212 pp.

Conger, George Perrigo : Theories of Macrocosms and Microcosms
in the History of Philosophy. Columbia University Press. 1922.
xviii -|- 149 pp.

Gunn, J. Alexander : Modern French Philosophy : A Study of the
Development since Comte. London : T. Fisher Unwin. 1922.

Laing, B. M. : A Study of Moral Problems. New York : Macmil-
lan Co. 1922. 279 pp.

Lalo, Charles : La Beaute et 1 'intinct sexuel. Paris : Ernest Flam-
marion. 1922. 188 pp.

Pratt, James Bissett : Matter and Spirit. New York : Macmillan
Co. 1922. 230 pp.

Osterhout, W. J. V. : Injury, Recovery and Death in Relation to
Conductivity and Permeability. Philadelphia : J. B. Lippincott Co.
1922. 259pp.

Vivante, Leone : Delia Intelligenza nell ' Espressione. Rome : P.
Maglione & C. Strini. 1922. 227 pp.

Hoffding, Meijer, Brunschvicg and others: Chronicon Spinozan-
um. Tomus Primus. The Hague: Societatis Spinozanae. 1921.
326 pp.

NOTES AND NEWS 671

Moore, Thomas Verner : Percy Bysshe Shelley ; An Introduction
to the Study of Character. Psychological Monographs, Volume
XXXI, No. 2 : Psychological Studies from The Catholic University
of. America. Princeton: Psychological Review Company. 1922.
62 pp.

Phalen, Adolf: Ueber die Relativitat der Raumund Zeitbestim-
mungen. Skrifter utgifna af K. Humanistiska Vetenskaps-Sam-
f undet i Uppsala : XXI : 4. Leipzig : Otto Harrassowitz. 1922.
176 pp.

Tarner, George Edward: Some Remarks on the Axioms and
Postulates of Athetic Philosophy. Cambridge, England : Deighton,
BeU and Company, Ltd. 1922. 44 pp. 2/6.

Die Philosophie der Gegenwart in Selbstdarstellungen. Raymund
Schmidt, editor. Volume III. Leipzig: Felix Meiner. 1922.
234 pp.

NOTES AND NEWS

The founders of Societas Spinozana solicit the interest of the
public in their enterprise of promoting the study of Spinoza and of
his philosophy. The society aims to be international in character.
Its headquarters are at The Hague and its Curators are Professor
Harald Hoffding (Copenhagen), Dr. William Meijer (The Hague),
Sir Frederick Pollock (London), Professor Leon Brunschvicg
(Paris), and Dr. Carl Gebhardt (Frankfort on the Main).

A volume of studies (Chronicon Spinozanum) is to be published
annually, the first of which has already appeared, containing articles
in Dutch, French, English, German, and Italian by a group of writers
including Hoffding, Pollack, Brunschvicg, and Delbos. The annual
is to be issued only to members of the Association. The secretary of
the United States is A. S. Oko, Hebrew Union College Library, Cin-
cinnati, Ohio.

A Nietzsche-Gesellschaft now follows a Kant-Gesellschafte and a
Schopenhauer-Gesellschafte in Germany, with the emphasis, however,
on the practical phases of Nietzsche 's thought and his inspiration for
the personal life. Stress is particularly laid on his ' ' good-European ' '
standpoint, and his separation from the ordinary political, i.e., nation-
alistic, movements of recent times. Among the Vorstand are Thomas
Mann and Hugo von Hofmannsthal. Headquarters are in Munich
(Schackstrasse, 4) and an international membership is desired.

Professor A. N. Whitehead, President of the Aristotelian Society,
delivered the inaugural address on November 6th, 1922, on the
subject of "Uniformity and Contingency." Our awareness of na-

672 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

ture, he declared, consists of the projection of sense-objects into a
spatio-temporal continuum either within or without our bodies. But
"projection" implies a sensorium which is the origin of projection.
This sensorium is within our bodies, and each sense-object can only
be described as located in any region of space-time by reference to
a particular simultaneous location of a bodily sensorium. The proc-
ess of projection consists in our awareness of an irreducible many-
termed relation between the sense-object in question, the bodily
sensorium, and the space-time continuum, and it also requires our
awareness of that continuum as stratified into layers of simultaneity,
whose temporal thickness depends on the specious present. If this
account of nature be accepted, then space-time must be uniform.
For any part of it settles the scheme of relations for the whole ir-
respective of the particular mode in which any other part of it,
in the future or the past or elsewhere in space, may exhibit the in-
gression of sense-objects. Accordingly, the scheme of relations must
be exhibited with a systematic uniformity. We have here the pri-
mary ground of uniformity in nature.

VOL. XIX., No. 25 DECEMBER 7, 1922

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

THE COSMOLOGY OF WILLIAM JAMES

WILLIAM JAMES clarified and illumined psychology and phi-
losophy more inspiringly than any other man of recent gen-
erations; and in doing this he furnished momentous guidance for
all future efforts to solve the fundamental problems of mankind.

A proper review of James's work as a whole would justify this
estimate of him; and would most richly emphasize the tribute that
mankind owes to his genius. Such a complete review should be
made. But it would be too long for my present space. And I will
examine, here, only his main conceptions of the universe.

Two of these main conceptions James stated definitely: The
entire universe is constituted solely of "one general sort of stuff."
And it is a "Plural Universe." There can be no doubt that by
"Plural Universe," James meant a universe comprising many minds;
and as distinguished from a universe declared to comprise one "Ab-
solute Mind. ' ' But this does not preclude the possibility that James
conceived certain stuff and things to exist, not in any mind. And
often he used language difficult to interpret otherwise than in accord
with such a conception. True, he sometimes declared that he always
dealt with "Berkeleyan things" only; and seemed by this to imply
that no things ever exist save as components of one or more minds.
Nevertheless, one's chief difficulty in studying James's writings is that
of reconciling his many declarations.

As to what James meant by " a mind, ' ' he often used the phrase
in ways implying two fundamentally different sorts of minds, or in
ways hard to interpret in any one meaning. And these I now pro-
ceed to consider, inasmuch as they double the difficulty of discover-
ing how James presumed any one mind to be distinguished from
more than one, and every mind to be distinguished from every other
mind — whatever the sort or sorts of minds be involved — and because
they greatly increase the difficulty of discovering how James divided
the "one sort of stuff" in the universe — whether wholly between
' ' plural ' ' minds of one sort or another, or in a way leaving some of
the stuff in no mind.

One of the two meanings of "the mind" possibly implied by

673

674 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPU 1

James is one that he seems generally to have used when identifying
the mind with \vlmt he also called "tin- stream of thought"; and when
M> living this meaning, James seems intentionally to have described
the mind or stream so involved, as being constituted of stuff pri-
marily and commonly destitute of consciousness and requiring some-
thing other than itself in order to become conscious occasionally.
Moreover, James seems to have implied the quite other meaning of
"the mind" only when speaking of such conscious occasions; and he
deliberately declared consciousness to be a something that "comes in"
at a distinct stage of biologic evolution, thus making doubtful how
he conceived prior minds if he conceived any. Therefore, by way of
discovering how James divided his "one sort of stuff" into his "Plu-
ral Universe" and what sort of mind or minds he did or did not
wittingly conceive for that purpose, I now turn to his teachings
regarding consciousness.

In James's paper "Does Consciousness Exist?" he declared that
consciousness does not exist, but is an " act of addition or appropria-
tion"; and defined consciousness to be "awareness of one's being
added to that being."

One wonders how "awareness" can be "added," yet not "exist"!
And as he used a certain "pen-experience" for expounding his
theme, I quote what his paper says about this experience: "To be
'conscious' means not simply to be, but to be reported, known, to
have awareness of one's being added to that being; and this is just
what happens when the appropriative experience supervenes. The
pen-experience in its original immediacy is not aware of itself, it
simply is, and the second experience is required for what we call
Awareness of it to occur. It is indeed 'mine' only as it is felt as
mine, and is 'yours' only as it is felt as yours. But it is felt as
neither by itself, but only when 'owned' by our several remember-
ing experiences, just as one undivided estate is owned by several
heirs. . . . Since the acquisition of conscious quality on the part of
an experience depends upon a context coming to it, it follows that
(the pen-experience) can not strictly be called conscious at all."

This passage says nothing about any sort of mind ; but it excites
many questions. It declares that the pen-experience "in its origi-
nal immediacy," "can not strictly be called conscious at all."
Is it at that moment an "immediate" part of some unconscious
"mind" or "stream"? Only "later," does it become "mine"
and "felt as mine." What Is the "me" of which it so becomes
consciously "mine"? Inasmuch as, apparently, it "feels," is this
"me" of itself a conscious mind? Apparently it is the "second
experience" or "context" required for awareness of the pen-expe-
rience "to occur," and required to "own" and to "appropriate"

THE COSMOLOGY OF WILLIAM JAMES 675

the pen-experience. But if this be the "me" that we seek, how
does this "me" or "experience" differ from the pen-experience,
both as regards "experience," and as regards "stuff"? If it be a
context of awareness only, it can no more exist, according to
James, than does consciousness. And if it be a "stuff" experience
of one general sort with the pen-experience, and differ essentially
from it only in performing an "act of appropriation," just what
is this "second experience" that James so strangely fails to de-
scribe more definitely than as "context" and "owner"? In any
case, what is "the mind" here involved? If it be just the pen-ex-
perience with awareness of its own being as the context, it does not
require for this confext any part of "the stream of thought" that
James sometimes identified with "the human mind." Neverthe-
less, it is the precise equivalent of what James called "the mind"
in an extremely important passage that I am soon to quote.

James, in his book, The Meaning of Truth, devotes a chapter to
"The Function of Cognition." He starts it by staging a drama
that in every virtual respect is a reproduction of that performed
in expounding his doctrine regarding Consciousness. The new
dramatis personce are but virtually interchangeable substitutes for
the old, or at least appear to be, until new questions rise. The old
"pen-experience" becomes first an algebraic "q," then a concrete
"paper-experience." And the old "second experience" or "con-
text" (whose identity puzzled me) at least seems to make its bow
merely under a new alias, ' ' a feeling of q " : at first, James creates
it "in a little universe, all by itself"; then remarking that "there
can be no ' feeling of q ' without a q of which it should be the feeling, ' '
he creates the q that, when embodied, becomes "the paper" substitute
for the "pen-experience" in its original immediacy and not at all
conscious. Thus staged, here they stand, the two creations, each "in
a little universe, all by itself," already for the play to begin!

Presto! Whether the "#" or the "feeling" pressed the button
is concealed. But somehow "The Function of Cognition" presum-
ably substituting for the old "act of addition" or " appropriative
consciousness" transpires. The two creations, "the paper" and "the
feeling," become "one identical fact" or "one experience" which
James describes as1 follows: "The paper seen, and the seeing of it
are only two names for one identical fact. . . . The paper is in the
mind and the mind is around the paper, because paper and mind are
only two names given later to the one experience. . . . To know im-
mediately, therefore, or intuitively, is for mental content and object
to be identical."

This drama presumably furnishes a conscious mind in embryo;
but it answers none of our questions and prompts others. Its last

676 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

sentence, which James emphasized by italics, unmistakably implies
that unconscious experiences (like those of the pen and the paper be-
fore awareness was added to them) are mental contents, and are not
objects of consciousness or awareness. But contents of what? From
neither drama can one be sure that James conceived such unconscious
experiences to be constituents of any mind or stream of any sort. And
to be sure regarding what he conceived them to be contents of, one
must study his writings more widely.

None of the quotations that I have made throws any convincing
light on two great problems involved in any presumption of minds of
any sort ; namely, the problems of ' ' many in one, ' ' and of ' ' continu-
ous existence." And in our hunt for what James conceived uncon-
scious experiences to be contents of, let us first examine his notorious
difficulties regarding "many in one"!

In his Psychology and elsewhere, James inveighed violently
against "gluing" mental things together, for example, by "associa-
tion," in pretended constitution of that unique oneness which charac-
terizes the immediate field of consciousness of any mind. Yet James's
method of enacting this oneness seems hardly to do more than substi-
tute the word "addition" for "association" and "gluing." Never-
theless, the important facts for my present purpose are that James
explicitly insisted upon this sort of unique oneness for his conscious
minds (such as of which he declared, "the paper is in the mind and
the mind around the paper"), but quite took for granted an equally
unique though utterly different oneness of the respective unconscious
pen and paper experiences; and in case that he did conceive a vast
and varied manifold of likewise unconscious experiences to constitute
any "mind" or ff stream of thought" only parts of which should,
occasionally and in successive islands, become endowed with the
unique oneness of their conscious addition, he also quite took for
granted whatever sort of oneness he conceived to be so constituted
by that generally unconscious "mind" or "stream," thus leaving
us uncertain as to how he conceived the contents of any uncon-
scious pen- or paper-experience to be joined ; as to how he conceived
such unconscious experiences to be joined when forming any mind
or stream ; and as to how he divided his "one general sort of stuff"
among "plural minds," either wholly, or with an incalculable re-
mainder not in any mind.

The importance of these facts, within James's general teachings,
is obscured within his two dramas, partly because he used only spacial
experiences in expounding them ; whereas, had he used a manifold of
sounds in place of a pen, or of a rectangular paper, the problem of
how many distinct sounds may be regarded as in any one mind or
stream rather than in any other, save as the result of some consciously

THE COSMOLOGY OF WILLIAM JAMES 677

uniting ' ' act, ' ' would at least have been more likely to occur to any-
one who, like James, had renounced all but empirical explanations
of such problems. But because James's q algebraically stood as
much for any unconscious manifold of sounds not displayed spaci-
ally as for any unconscious manifold of colors displayed spacially,
we must ask: By what empirical right did James conceive uncon-
scious spacially united "paper rectangles" to exist at all; or con-
ceive numerically distinct "g's" not spacially displayed to exist in
any one mind or stream rather than in any other, or than in abso-
lute separateness in no mind?

Moreover, having asked this pertinently of the problem of "many
in one, ' ' there remains the problem of ' ' continuous existence. ' ' Did
James conceive all his universal stuff to exist eternally ? Did he con-
ceive the beginning and the end of whatever mind or stream he did
conceive to exist simultaneously, its past and its future sections as
well as his "specious present"? And if all the stream did not exist
simultaneously, in what mind did James's unconscious things exist;
and in what sense did their "flow" constitute either any conscious or
any unconscious mind? Naive men, rationalists, and followers of
"the Absolute" at least attempt to make plain how questions like
these are to be answered. But as nothing in all James 's writings fur-
nishes, sure evidence for deciphering his undeniable inspiration, I now
follow the only cue I can discover for guessing the root of his inveter-
ate ambiguity — a root, perhaps, of which he was never aware.

II

Can any man escape from his environment, wholly? James was
born, bred, and lived in an environment and in an age of rationalism.
My cue is my suspicion that James, in spite of his utmost endeavor,
never fully escaped from rationalism.

James's prime resolve was to practise empiricism only. But to
me he seems never to have escaped many habits unwittingly absorbed
from his surroundings and readings. Among other evidences of this
he seems at will to have used his ' ' stuff ' ' quite as any rationalist uses
"phenomena," used his "feelings of relations" quite as any follower
of Mr. Bradley uses "inconceivable" relations, and used his "experi-
ences" quite as he accused Eoyce of using "the Absolute" or as a
"mere reservoir of convenience."

Boyce "conveniently" used innumerable phenomena all eternal!;/
"supported" in the Absolute. James as "conveniently" used in--
numerable "Berkeleyan" and "experienced" things all eternally
"existing" somewhere. But though James renounced both "the Ab-
solute" and "the Naive Man's World," he seems blindly to have felt
no need of stating precisely where, how, or by what right he conceived

678 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

convenient" things "to exist," or whether in some particular
mind or "ins blau hinein."

Royce used innumerable phenomena all unconscious of themselves
and severally united into many sorts of manifolds, each by some
"act" of "the Absolute." James used innumerable "expe-
riences" all unconscious of themselves and severally united into
many sorts of manifolds, unconscious pens, papers, orchestrations,
etc. But though he renounced "the Absolute" and resolved to
practise empiricism only, he seems blindly to have felt no need of
explaining how these unconscious manifolds could be conceived to
be united spacially, numerically, or at all, otherwise than occa-
sionally by some uniquely adding and consciousness-endowing
"act" of some empirical "me" or "mind."

Royce used phenomena as "universals"; one served for all
minds — literally one it should have been, since nothing (save
"transcendental egos" and "relations") could be "plural" or
"different" in itself, or unless "acted upon" by some ego. James
used "experiences" precisely likewise whenever it suited him to
do so. In explaining How Two Minds Know The Same Thing he
just conveniently added "the same thing" to each mind, where-
upon it became known as "one and the same thing," or as "two
different things" accordingly as some "me" "acted upon" the
two minds in exercise of some "feeling of relation."

Followers of Mr. Bradley use his "inconceivable" relations also
as "universals." James used his "feelings of relation" likewise
and as "inconceivably." In his Psychology and elsewhere, he
declared that no two experiences ever are the same, or ever are in
the same mind twice, or ever are in but the one mind. Neverthe-
less, James permitted himself at will to transgress all these declar-
ations. Suppose several men including James simultaneously to
have seen a Berkeleyan tiger charge from its farthest visible dis-
tance to an immediate foreground! James would have said that
"as mental content" or as "things in themselves" his distant ex-
perience was as "different" from his glorious-sheen-in-tawny-and-
black close-up experience, as a flyspeck from a mountain landscape
or a county fair. Yet in successive breaths he would have called
the flyspeck-tiger and the close-up tiger "as mental object or Berke-
leyan thing," now "the same," now "different," now "one," now
"plural," now "the same tiger or experience in different minds,"
now "different manifolds of different content in different minds,"
and in this last he merely would have changed "different" to "the
same," if occasion suggested it. Here we recall that James de-
clared of the paper-experience that "paper and mind are only two
names given later to the one experience"; and that he commonly

THE COSMOLOGY OF WILLIAM JAMES 679

declared that the Dipper Stars of the Great Bear are seven "only
when counted." And if James had been asked for his warrant for
all this sort of use of his "feelings of relation," I suspect that he
would have replied as "conveniently" as Royce or any other ra-
tionalist.

James's later writings are replete with, seemingly, every con-
ceivable "g," "feeling of," and "feeling of relation," and with
every conceivable "me" to feel them and "own" them in uniquely
united oneness. They provided him with a duplicate supply com-
petent to every possible known thing and knowing thing. And
with this more than 'rationalistic supply, James's problems in con-
scious addition, unconscious division, and plural cosmology were
easy. He had but to clap together some universal "pen," some
"feeling of" it, plentiful "feelings of relation," and innumerable
"me's" for his universal formula of pen-cognition to be complete.
If it happen to be a sort of pen that he saw, that pricked some
blind man's finger, that some babe swallowed, that Roosevelt took
to Africa, and that Caesar used in his "still sleeping" past, James
had but to add so many feelings of "the same" and of "mine" in
order to make five "me's" conscious of the one "universal," time-
lessly stuck at the "common intersection" or cross-roads of five
"streams of thought" or "minds." And if in such a "quasi
chaos" of feelings of "mine," "yours," "Roosevelt's," "out to
Africa," and "back to Caesar" should rise innumerable feelings
of "if," "and," "but," and "doubt" regarding who is who and
what is what, there was always at hand "in the rush of the mind
through its world of fringes and relations" (James's words) still
another feeling — the all-satisfying feeling that "Whatever a man
trowest is true."

In short, James's empiricism is one that can make all the furni-
ture of the universe unconsciously exist in every conceivable mani-
fold, both in innumerable minds simultaneously, and successively
in the ever-varying medleys of their differently ' ' flowing streams ' ' ;
can make them all "felt" and "felt" in every conceivable relation
by innumerably "occurring" and conscious-endowing "me's" in
each of the innumerably plural "streams"; and at will can dump
them all into his genetically primitive "quasi chaos" that is in-
definitely conscious or unconscious, that evolves by no definable
order of logic, of biology, or of nature, and that is neither empiri-
cal nor rationalistic, while as a "reservoir of convenience" it is
only ignominiously less majestic than "the Absolute."

Nevertheless, my cue has led me neither to undervalue James's
work nor to exaggerate its defects. Simply he undertook a task
impossible for any one man or even any one generation of men to

680 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

complete. The Naive Man did not become the Rationalist in a
day; nor will the Rationalist become the Empiricist in a day —
perhaps only the Rational Empiricist, ever. James's work will be
lastingly momentous to the future of mankind, however it be
named. And the highest tribute that mankind can pay to his
instinctively penetrating genius is now to make his prophetic dark-
ness clear, revealing the difficulties through which he staggered
toward a dawn of incomparable promise.

Ill

James's prime intention was to be empirical; and if my review
of his work discovers it to have been successful wherever he suc-
ceeded in being empirical, and to have failed wherever he failed
to be empirical, these discoveries will at least have the warrant of
his premeditated judgment regarding the primary requirement of
all philosophic procedure.

James began with unconscious "stuff." But no empiricist
who declares that "the paper seen and the seeing of it ... are
one identical fact" can discover unconscious stuff in his own field
of consciousness. To have begun empirically, James should have
begun with a conscious q. Moreover, had he done this, he would
have needed no "act" for adding awareness to the q. Also, hav-
ing created a typical conscious q or "stuff-mind" in a universe all
by itself, it could have remained from the beginning to the end of
eternity absolutely unchanged; and this possibility should have
warned James that consciousness is not likely to be any sort of
"act," and that no conscious stuff-mind ever needs any "occa-
sional" endowment of consciousness. Indeed, in any absolutely
unchanging universe, no transpiring act of any sort whatsoever
could be possible. Therefore, no empiricist should make use of
any "act" whatsoever until he presumes to explain how one "con-
scious whole" is continuously succeeded by a different "conscious
whole" in any sort of "stream." In any case, we discover that
neither James's unconscious stuff, nor his consciousness endowing
"acts of addition" have any empirical warrant.

Having wrongly begun his empirical task with unconscious
stuff and rationalistic "acts" for occasionally endowing it with
consciousness, James permitted himself to conceive his stuff to con-
stitute uniquely united unconscious manifolds without need of any
unifying "acts," and as no pure rationalist ever would do. That
is to say, James made his q algebraic of every sort of manifold ever
discovered in any uniquely united field of consciousness. Yet in
nothing did James display his instinct for empiricism more, or

THE COSMOLOGY OF WILLIAM JAMES 681

more crucially, than in pertinaciously insisting on the absolutely
unique oneness of each and every "conscious whole."

Moreover, had James perceived the need of distinguishing
plural minds in a universe constituted of one general sort of stuff
as clearly as he perceived the need of distinguishing plural egos
within the Absolute, he would have perceived that a conscious q
mind constituted by any manifold of stuff uniquely united in a
"conscious whole," once clearly conceived to be the ultimate type
of all egos, minds or me's, furnishes precisely the distinction of
them, one from another, never before made definitely conceivable.

In the precise meaning that the manifold of each stuff-mind is
"one conscious whole," plural stuff -minds are not "one conscious
whole." The absolutely unique junction of stuff in one conscious
whole is the indispensable and ultimate distinction of a stuff-mind;
the absolute absence of any such junction between them is the in-
dispensable and ultimate distinction of plural stuff-minds; James's
unconscious stuff had no empirically warranted junction or dis-
junction; and neither any unconscious mind nor any unconscious
stuff has any empirical warrant.

Every abstract prime, causal or logical, is pure algebra, till
"stuffed." "Soul," "ego," "center of apperception," "energy,"
"unconscious space," every sort of "me," "thing," "act," and
"relation" is pure algebra, till "stuffed." And if there be any-
thing "Unknowable," these unstuffed things should have been the
" unknowables " of Kant and Spencer — not the stuff that in a con-
scious whole is the only sort of "knowable" of which any "mind"
is ever empirically conscious. This is what James blindly struggled
to say, but perpetually contradicted.

James also insisted pertinaciously that each conscious field " as a
whole ' ' is continuously followed by each succeeding field "as a
whole." But had he not conveniently and virtually conceived his
conscious stuff and things to exist eternally, his simile for the mind
would not have been a "stream of thought," but a movie-show — a
movie-show mind, all of whose past contents have ceased to exist ab-
solutely, all of whose future contents do not yet exist, and whose pres-
ent field is absolutely all that any mind, ego, or me, ever empirically
is — a movie-show in which each momentarily existing ' ' whole ' ' trans-
forms absolutely and continuously to the next following "whole."

Such a mind is not without mysteries. Conscious existence is a
mystery, but unconscious existence is a greater and added mystery.
Conscious unity of any manifold is a mystery, but any sort of united
unconscious manifold is a greater and added mystery — including alike
that of any unconscious "stream of thought" and that of any un-
conscious space. Absolute transformation of any whole, or of any

682 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

part of any whole, is a mystery, but it is less a mystery than any sort
of "gluing," either by unconscious space or by any rationalistic
"act." The continuity of this absolute transformation is a mystery,
but it is less a mystery than either an eternal atom, or any "un-
stuffed" ego, or anything that is always both "the same" and "differ-
ent"

A conscious unity of manifold stuff, absolutely and continuously
transforming! This is the typical mind that James's titanic struggle
reveals, when stripped of rationalistic ambiguities. Its mysteries are
the simplest and fewest of ultimate mysteries ; no others are needed.
It suffices for his "Plural Universe," "all of one general sort
of stuff." It suffices for science, without the added mysteries of
"an unconscious spacial plenum," and without ignoring all that
psychology and philosophy have ever accomplished. It suffices
for psychology, without any multitudinous and insolvable algebra of
unstuffed "faculties," "acts," and "relations." And it suffices for
all philosophy or cosmology, without any ' ' reservoir of convenience ' '
filled with Unstuffed Unknowables.

IV

But how can any such Jamesesque mind know any other such
mind, or what other such minds of various species constitute the
plural Universe? For this question, as for all exact discussion of
cosmology and of epistemology, mutually exclusive definitions of
"conscious" and "know" are indispensable. Therefore, for my pres-
ent writing, I dogmatically declare that the proper meaning of each
of these two words is absolutely unique, and different from that of
the other. Every mind is conscious of its present, consciously
united self and never is conscious of anything else. Every mind
knows other things, but never knows its present self.

I have spent years in completing for publication an epistemology
conforming to this dogma. But for present writing, I simply declare
that any mind knows its past, knows any other mind, knows any
part of any other mind, and knows the species of any other mind all
in one general way that has two modes, instinct or intuition, and
reason or inference.

James refused to infer that the atoms, ether, and vast plenum of
modern physics exist — "as yet" or otherwise than as "permanent
possibilities" and "conceptually." He refused to infer their exist-
ence even in any guise of his mental stuff. Nevertheless, he explic-
itly declared for mental genesis. He himself suggested that spacial
existence has some sort of genesis from ' ' crudely voluminous ' ' exist-
ence. And as the result of this suggestion, the progressive genesis in

TEE COSMOLOGY OF WILLIAM JAMES 683

each human mind of homogeneous undifferentiated existence or
11 presentation, " to numerical presentation and thence to spacial
presentation all by one common law of conditional growth, now
stands unchallenged, save by human inertia. All alike are warrants
of inference, and are as truthful warrants for inferring something,
essentially replacing the entire plenum of present physics, as for
inferring the mind of one's wife or son.

James's vision of the human mind was clearer than that of any
previous man. But his vision of the universe was densely fogged
by his rationalism. His type of universe, like that of every ration-
alist, is 'rooted in the ancient belief that "Man's soul is the center
and image of God's purpose." He, like Fechner, conceived the
planets to be godlike minds ; but he was intolerant of existing atoms,
and would have been horrified at evolutionary minds that, like his
"mind around the paper," should essentially embrace the great nebu-
la and vast interstellar spaces.

But why should any man any longer refuse to infer something in
some species of mind from the entire gamut of our Berkeleyan expe-
riences? How can any scientist now fail to do this, unless to be a
scientist is to be unmindful of all that psychology and philosophy
have accomplished? And how can any psychologist or philosopher
now fail to do this, unless to be a psychologist or a philosopher is to
be unmindful of all that science has accomplished ?

Previous to Berkeley, all men and all animals instinctively lived
by this sort of universal inference, and doubtfully could have evolved
without this instinct. It has the warrant of the entire biologic in-
stinct of the ages. And its abandonment by modern rationalism has
no other warrant than Man's sophisticated exaltation of his own
image.

Once accept James's Plural Universe all of one general sort of
stuff, and the Jamesesque mind, patiently understood, becomes the
sufficient warrant to future cosmologists for inferring how one mind
knows any other mind, what species of minds exist, and what sort of
consciously united manifolds constitute each of these species.

James did more for solving the future problems of mankind than
his school, let alone his generation, yet appreciates. The only ade-
quate memorial to his genius can be to complete his marvellously
prophetic vision.

HERBERT NICHOLS.
BEOOKLINE, MASS.

• >M JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

THE CONCEPT OF SENSATION

WHILE a large amount of excellent research work has been done
in investigating the functioning of the various special sensei,
the status of sensation in general is far from being clear. Its various
alleged attributes, in terms of which it is in fact defined — quality,
intensity, extension, duration, clearness, order, texture and the like —
are not well defined. Indeed, there seems to be no immediate prospect
of securing agreement even as to the number of such attributes. So
if we ask what sensation itself is, no clear and reliable answer ap-
pears to be available, and the whole subject is characterized by
subjective opinions rather than objective certainties. For structural
psychology at any rate, this is a serious matter. Indeed it would
not be too sweeping to say that the whole progress of the science is in
jeopardy. For instance, the theory of perception is left without a
solid basis, a situation perhaps particularly obvious when we con-
sider the numerous attempted explanations of the perceptual illu-
sions whose lack of finality arises from their seeking to analyze these
experiences into sensational elements whose own nature is not clearly
known. A breakdown in our understanding of the nature of sensa-
tion inevitably invalidates a large part of structural psychology.

The view which I wish to propose in the following pages, and
which I think can be made a consistent part of a constructive psy-
chological scheme, is that by sensation we mean what I shall call
receptor response. In a moment I shall explain and seek to justify
the use of this term, but to make clear what I mean, let us apply
this suggested characterization of sensation to one or two of the
fairly numerous borderline cases which, on purely introspective evi-
dence, it is difficult to classify as sensational or perceptual. Is
vocality, for example, an attribute inherent in auditory sensations,
•or is it something superadded, something read into the bare data
of audition? The view which I advocate offers us a perfectly defi-
nite systematic answer: vocality is sensational if it arises out of
specific changes in the receptor, and otherwise not. Or again, con-
sider the local signs of visual sensations. Are these sensational or
not? Again, our clean-cut systematic answer is that they are if
they arise out of some specific condition in the visual receptor, and
that they are not if they arise out of conditions in the centers or in
other, non-visual receptors, e.g., the kinesthetic receptors. These
instances will serve to show my meaning when I define sensation as
receptor response.

In making uso of the term receptor response I am employing a con-
cept which so far as I know has never been isolated in current behavior-
istic discussii.ii--. though it is implied in them. Perhaps I can best dem-

THE CONCEPT OF SENSATION 685

onstrate its consistency with the behavioristic point of view in general
by reviewing the treatment of sensation which is offered by the so-
called "extreme" behaviorists, a treatment which seems to me radi-
cally defective. John B. Watson proposes in effect to give up the con-
cept of sensation altogether and contends that all those differences
which structural psychology interprets as inherently sensational can
be dealt with as differences in effector response. Rather crudely
put, his suggestion would be that a difference such as that between
red and green depends upon the fact that light of one wave length
impinging on the retina causes the response "red," while light of
another wave length causes the response "green." I would like to
call attention to two closely related difficulties to this account. First,
it hardly seems to meet the facts. Vague and unsatisfactory as the
structuralist view of sensation differences may be — and I for my
part must indorse Watson's criticism of it — it does at least recognize
sensations as ultimate and irreducible qualitative differences, and so
far at least it seems sound. That there are such differences in our
mental life, differences which can not be resolved into anything else,
seems a plain fact to which no general prejudice against the intro-
spective method ought to blind us. Thus it is that the attempt to inter-
pret what the structuralist calls sensation differences in terms of differ-
ences in effector action appears to be an over simplification at the ex-
pense of reality. The second objection is that Watson operates with a
conception of response that is far too narrow — which is, indeed, the
ground of his failure to deal adequately with the facts of mental life.
For him response is nothing but end-result. Now light of different
wave lengths might set up completely different retinal processes or
completely different neurograms without registering in different end-
results. If this were the case, still on Watson 's theory, the organism
would remain unaware of the difference in color, simply because the
difference failed to register in its muscles and glands, surely a par-
adoxical result.

Evidently what is required is a more inclusive definition of re-
sponse. Why should objective psychology, which sets out to offer
explanations in terms of organic behavior, limit itself to explanations
in terms of effector action only? There seems no reason whatever
for dividing the effector-receptor circuits at some arbitrarily chosen
point, whether just back of the effectors or elsewhere, and saying
that everything on one side of the line is response while everything
on the other side is not. It is no plea in favor of hypothetical brain
schemes to urge that objective psychology must take account of all
and not a mere part of the facts of organic life. The critical point,
the point where essential differences actually arise, is not between
receptor tissue and neural tissue, nor between neural tissue and

686 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

effector tissue, but between the organism as a whole and its environ-
ment. All that the organism does on the cues of external stimulation
is in the nature of response. As I have argued more fully elsewhere 1
we can not separate out from behavior either central processes or
receptor processes, and must think of response as any bodily change
brought about by external stimulation.

Clearly the immediate consequence of this is the consistency and
tenability of the concept of receptor response, though we must recog-
nize it under certain conditions which will be discussed later. But
in any case it is a tenable notion. And, furthermore, it is of great
value in clearing up the whole doctrine of sensation differences, for
it makes possible an objective account which recognizes the very fact
which Watson tends to ignore and which the structuralists take into
account, the fact that what are called sensation differences are ulti-
mate and can not be explained in terms of anything else.

I turn now to a more detailed consideration of the view of sensa-
tion as receptor response as it applies to a number of closely related
psychological problems.

1. I begin by considering the nature and status of so-called simple
unitary sensations. That this is a point at which introspective psy-
chology finds itself in difficulties is evident from the widely varying
estimates offered of the total number of possible sensations. Such
lack of agreement can be symptomatic of nothing but ambiguity in
the conception of simple sensation itself. Can the theory here advo-
cated throw any light upon this matter ?

Here at once we come upon what seems at first sight the most
paradoxical consequence of the view that sensations are nothing but
receptor responses. For it is obvious that unless the afferent and
central fibres are in working order, changes in the sense organ do
not register at all in mental life. Take an individual whose optic
nerve has been damaged without any injury to his eyes. Light will
set up the regular retinal changes, as far as we know. That is,
there can be receptor responses, which on our definition are sensa-
tions. But he will still be blind. Now this result is due not to a
fault in the theory, but to the ambiguity of the word sensation.
Let us keep constantly in mind its identical equivalence, for us, to
receptor response, and the paradox is no longer very troublesome.
When we say that a change in the sense organ must set up changes
in the central mechanism in order to ' ' register, ' ' what do we mean ?
We mean that the receptor response becomes integrated as an ele-
ment in the total behavior of the organism, while if the neurones
are so affected that it does not ' ' register, ' ' we mean that it does not

• i"The Stimulus Response Relation," Psychol. Eev., Vol. 29, No. 2, p. 152.

THE CONCEPT OF SENSATION 687

become so integrated. For us the prime work of the whole nervous
system must be integrative. Now behavior psychology operates in
terms of total response. This, indeed, is its difference from physi-
ology. Thus our conclusion is that unintegrated receptor responses
— simple sensations in isolation, to use the traditional terminology
— are entirely beyond the realm of psychology. The point is not
that as a result of education and sophistication we always add to
and interpret our simple sensations. Kather it is that for the
normal individual, with his receptors in structural and functional
contact with the neural mechanism, isolated simple sensations are
impossible, and that when they do occur owing to accident or injury,
they play absolutely no part in total behavior or mental life, and
are mere physiological curiosities.

Here, of course, we come upon the explanation of the difficulty
found by introspection in separating out and counting simple sensa-
tions. The actual material open to introspective survey contains
no free simple sensations. It does not even contain complexes made
up of nothing but simple sensations. It consists of sensational ele-
ments, to be sure, but these are organized into very elaborate com-
plexes, and bound up with non-sensational elements. So it is that
all structuralistic attempts to show how mental functions can be
analyzed down into series and constructs of simple sensations are
bound to fail simply because the underlying organic conditions of
mental life are such that mental functions, to exist and occur at all.
must involve more than receptor responses. Simple sensations, or
isolated and unitary receptor responses exist, and exhibit ultimate
and irreducible differences, but they do not exist in isolation, and
the psychologist can not deal with them by themselves.

2. This leads me to the problem of perception, and more specif-
ically of the perception of space and time. Perceptual knowledge
is defined as consisting of complexes made up of sensations and
nothing but sensations. But if we regard sensations as receptor
responses it becomes clear that such complexes in fact never occur
in mental life. We might, it is true, have a number of responses
occurring simultaneously. But this in itself would not constitute
perception. It is necessary that the various incoming impulses be
integrated at the centers, and if we look at the matter from the
point of view here advocated it is evident that this condition de-
stroys the purely sensational character of the complexes which re-
sult. The bringing together of various incoming impulses, as we
have in effect indicated, must be interpreted to mean their integra-
tion into the warp and woof of total behavior. That is, the organic
conditions which the structuralist rightly thinks of as necessary

688 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

for the occurrence of perception, more correctly understood imply
that we never have pure perception at all, that the alleged sensation
complexes are in reality much more complicated and heterogenous,
consisting of both sensational and non-sensational elements.

The point is especially clear when we consider our alleged per-
ceptual knowledge of space and time, which is supposed to be built
up out of visual, tactual, kinesthetic, somatic and other sensations.
But the idea that sensations are self-sufficient self-existent atoms
of knowledge which contain the primal stuff from which is elabo-
rated our awareness of the space-time manifold and which can be
combined into various patterns by the central nervous system is not
tenable. On the one hand, a mere sensation in and of itself is not
knowledge at all, for it plays no part in mental life. And on the
other hand, the central mechanism does a great deal more than
recombine the data from the receptors. It consolidates receptor re-
sponses with mental life in general. There emerges here a sugges-
tion of the right direction in which to look for constructive solu-
tions of the problems with which the structuralist attempts to deal
in the psychology of perception. For it appears that our awareness
of space and time is not something special and definite, a special
kind or texture of sensations, but that it is simply our skill in mak-
ing gross motor and bodily adjustments to the environment.

The general conclusion to which we are driven here is that in
spite of the fact that we can retain sensation in a strictly behavior-
istic scheme, we can not retain perception. We agree with the
structuralist that sensations are ultimate and irreducible differ-
ences. But we do not in the least agree that they can be regarded
as self -existent atomic entities out of which more complex knowl-
edge structures can be built. As receptor responses they have no
meaning in mental life except when integrated with behavior as a
whole by the action of the central mechanism, and in this case they
become consolidated with non-sensational elements from which they
can never be disentangled.

3. Finally let us consider the status of imagery and the alleged
imaginal content of thought. I shall not raise the question as to
whether imagery exists or not, for to deny it as certain behaviorists
do seems to me a flagrant contravention of plain fact in the interests
of a theory. The matter that is of interest here is its relation to sen-
sation.

Let us assume that imagery is constituted by activity in the cen-
ters. To what extent, if at all, may we expect to be able to correlate
it to sensation ? First and foremost there is every reason for believ-
ing a priori that we ought to be able to assimilate imagery to the

THE CONCEPT OF SENSATION 689

various special senses, so that we can speak intelligibly of visual,
auditory, kinesthetic and tactile imagery, and so forth. The mere
fact of the functional localization of the central mechanism seems
decisive on this point. A visual image will arise out of activity in
the visual areas; an auditory image out of activity in the auditory
areas, and so forth. But beyond this we may not be able to go, for
1 there is a profound organic and functional difference between imagery
and sensation, the latter being constituted by change in the recep-
tors and the former by change in the centers. Here I think we are
at the source of introspective difficulties with imagery, for attempts
to work out any thoroughgoing correlation between the characteris-
tics of imagery and sensation seem to be erroneous in principle.
The more constructive attempt would be not to analyze it into
sensationalistic equivalents which it does not and can not possess,
but rather to deal with it in terms of its influence on general be-
havior.

The consideration of imagery suggests a mention of the question
of the alleged imaginal content of thought. The most serious system-
atic argument against imageless thought is that the doctrine seems to
involve us in the paradox that thinking is a sort of vacuum, a process
where nothing happens because there is nothing there, but which
still gives us tangible results. Now from the introspective point of
view the only concrete reals in mental life are sensations and sensa-
tion-like images. Hence we derive the view that all thought proceeds
by means of images. Obviously, however, the concept of sensation
which I have advocated forbids us to deal with thought as a succes-
sion of sensation-like contents. But it does more than this. It sup-
plies an adequate alternative to the theory of imageless thought by
showing how we may regard thinking as a series of concrete happen-
ings, though not a series of contents. We agree with Watson here
that thought is a sort of 'action, though we do not necessarily limit
it to laryngeal work. Sensations and images are actions too, and
thought may or may not involve either of them together with other
types of activity as well.

I close with a word on the systematic significance of the considera-
tions here worked out. It will be observed that I have used a number
of ambiguous expressions throughout this entire discussion. I have
spoken of sensations "registering" and of "mental life," terms
which suggest the introspective point of view. This has been done
quite deliberately in the belief that it simply does not matter. With
introspection as such, we can, I think, have no quarrel, for science
can not afford to repudiate any method which may lead to the dis-
covery of any modicum of fact. What we do quarrel with, however,
is the imposition of ill-defined theories upon introspective data.

690 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

In particular, psychology must avoid two extremes. On the one
hand, an objective scheme is under no obligation to find equivalents
for all structuralistic conceptions. A behaviorism which is nothing
but a forced translation of structuralistic theory is nominal only.
Objective psychology must work out its own system in its own way,
and that system may or may not have points of contact with others
that ha.ve been proposed. As we have specifically seen here, the
theory of perception can have no place in such a system, though of
course the facts which the theory of perception attempts to explain
must be considered. On the other hand, we must not ruthlessly re-
ject all the notions of structural psychology merely because we find
the introspective method irritating in certain cases. Specifically we
have seen that sensation has an objective meaning. To be of any
value, behaviorism must stand on its own feet and work out its own
conclusions without prejudice either for or against any other scheme.

JAMES L. MUBSELL.
LAKE ERIE COLLEGE.

IS CONSCIOUSNESS PHYSICAL?

IN his recent article, "The New Materialism,"1 Professor Pratt
has seen fit to include me among the materialists. To this I
have no objection so long as the classification does not shut out from
view what I regard as novel in my outlook. Historical forms of
materialism have always been weak in their epistemology and in their
handling of the categories. For this reason I have preferred the
more general term "naturalism" which is, as it were, still in the
making.

But when I come to the content of his exposition and criticism,
I discover that he has partially failed to see the implications of the
epistemology which we supposedly have in common. I hasten, there-
fore, to make my reply in order that others may not be misled. My
argument is necessarily complex and involves some measure of
subtlety. Were this not the case, I would hardly expect it to offer
a solution of such an age-old puzzle as that of consciousness and
brain. I shall summarize my position and bring out its principles,
and then I shall answer Professor Pratt 's objections.

I

The essentials of my position can, I think, be summarized under
the following six points:

1. Consciousness is a term far the compresence of contents which
i This JOURNAL, Vol. XIX, No. 13.

IS CONSCIOUSNESS PHYSICAL? 691

each of us has as his field of experience. Particular elements of this
field are called states of consciousness or psychical. This compresent
complex has an empirical structure characterized by the distinction
between the self and what is presented to the self. Naturally, though
unfortunately, consciousness is also used as a term for awareness,
which is the felt presence of contents to the self's inspection, a de-
velopment within consciousness as a compresence of contents. In
what follows, we are concerned primarily with the nature and exis-
tential locus of the elements of this complex. Are these elements
physical ?

2. The elements of this complex are given, experienced or intuited
in a way impossible for physical things. Physical things are objects
of perception and knowledge but this knowledge is mediated by
contents, that is, these objects are affirmed and interpreted in terms
of these contents. In ordinary perception, this is done uncritically;
in science, information about physical systems in terms of position,
mass, energy, structure and behavior is worked out. My argument
demands that the exact nature of this knowledge be understood.

3. The contrast between the elements of consciousness and phys-
ical things has a threefold origin: (a) epistemological, (b) categor-
ical, and (c) theological.

When I say that a sense-datum of mine is not physical, I may
mean that it is not a part of the particular physical thing which I
know by means of it and which I may first have identified it with.
To call it psychical in this connection is to assert that it is subjective
and bound up with my organism, that it is not out there where the
thing is. This contrast tells us nothing about the relation between
the sense-datum and the percipient organism. It does not imply a
difference of substance, a metaphysical dualism. Since the datum
is compresent with images, meanings, and feelings, the whole complex
is thought of as alike in status and nature. Its existential locus is a
problem.

But when I say that a sensation or image or feeling is not phys-
ical, I may have another context, the categorical. I mean that the
categories of my knowledge of the physical world do not seem to
apply to these entities. I do not know them in the same way that I
know physical systems nor do my categories cover them. This is the
categorical or metaphysical setting of the problem. ButVhat does
it signify ? Simply what the first did, viz., that these are subjective
elements internal to the organism and not themselves total physical
things. The relation can not be one of simple equivalence. But are
there not other possibilities? Must we not explore the relation of
whole and part ? It is this that materialism always tried to do, but

692 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

clumsily, because it had no clear epistemology and no logical acute-
ness.

The third motive to the contrast between consciousness and the
physical was the theological. This was external and irrelevant and
produced the disastrous metaphysical dualisms of the past. Con-
sciousness was made a function of a soul distinct from the body. I
can not find any empirical motive for this solution in the facts them-
selves. Yet I can not help feeling that it is in the background of
Professor Pratt 's mind.

4. Now as a critical realist, Professor Pratt should have appre-
ciated the emphasis which I put upon the two kinds of knowledge
as the key to the solution. In fact, I called my solution the double-
knowledge view of the mind-body problem. We have knowledge
about the brain in terms of the physical categories and we inspect
the contents of consciousness or else feel them. This difference in
kind of knowledge should, alone, make us aware that simple equiva-
lence is too facile a solution.

5. "What is another possibility? May not a content of our con-
sciousness be a peculiar part of the functioning brain? And here
again we are assisted by our epistemology. If the relation of whole
and part is thought of in terms of our knowledge of the physical
world, it takes the form of spatial whole and part, as a pea is in a
pod or an atom in a molecule. But consciousness is not thus known.
Hence it should not be so thought. What other relation of whole
and part can we conceive ? It seems to me that the relation of struc-
ture or quality to that which is structured or qualitied gives us a
suggestion. The case is by its very terms unique. Consciousness is
something given ; it is a reality, while we have only knowledge of the
physical world, no participation in its very stuff unless consciousness
be a partial participation. But we have seen that a simple identifica-
tion of an equivalence sort is out of the question. To express the
situation, I have called the psychical a variant. It is a variant as
structure is a variant, but it is other than structure because it is a
flash of the content of the brain. Thus I hold consciousness to be
physical in the sense that it is an internal character of the function-
ing brain, though it is not a complete physical thing to be known
externally by the sense-data it arouses.

I maintain that this interpretation satisfies the epistemological
and categorical motives. And if critical realism is to appeal to con-
temporary thought it must have some such solution of the status
and locus of the psychical.

6. But is consciousness efficacious? Is interactionism with its
dualistic implications the only possible kind of efficacy? The prin-
ciple I have adopted is that consciousness must have an efficacy cor-

IS CONSCIOUSNESS PHYSICAL? 693

respondent to its nature. Interactionism is not true to this prin-
ciple. It wants to give consciousness powers which it does not ap-
pear to possess or to turn the efficacy over to a soul created for the
purpose. I need not enlarge upon the difficulties interactionism has
always faced.

What can the inactive contents of consciousness do? They can
guide and give warning. How guide? Not by controlling neural
processes from outside in a dynamic, pushful way, but by being the
focus of the neural process and thus assisting discrimination.
Frankly, I can not comprehend adjustment to complex situations
without such an instrument for summing up and comparing factors.
When I reason I think of my brain as making an adjustment by
means of its abilities, using as intrinsic summaries and guides the
contents which I am aware of using.

To this suggestion I know what the reply will be. We are so
accustomed to think of the brain in terms of the information furnished
by physical science that we mistake its reach and suppose that it
exhausts the brain. The truth is that the brain should be thought
of as the brain-mind. We impoverish nature by identifying it with
the skeleton which science deciphers. The brain has a "content of
being" which physical science can not intuit and which it tends to
ignore. A psychical content is a qualitative dimension of the ac-
tive brain-mind integral with it.

II

Let me now reply to Professor Pratt.

His first objection is that I have two variants and have the prob-
lem of bringing these into relation. Now, so far as I can make out,
his belief that I accept two variants, consciousness and brain activity,
is due to his misunderstanding of the categorical motive which I solve
by the double knowledge. As classes thought about they are distin-
guished, but do they exist in this fashion? The brain is known in
two ways: one is knowledge about and the other is participation.
But the reach of these two ways is not equivalent; hence the two
logical classes. But, existentially, consciousness is a participant in
and part of the neural process. Suppose Professor Pratt granted this
situation, he would see that the categorical contrast would follow. I
conclude that his dialectic is misplaced.

But why do I not call consciousness a form of energy ? This is the
only way out of the difficulty that Professor Pratt can think of. My
reply is that energy as a category of science is a term for a quantita-
tive measurement of the power to do work. Here again we are con-
fronted by the double knowledge of the brain. To call consciousness
which we immediately experience and participate in a form of energy

694 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

is to mix knowledge with reality. Since I identify brain and mind, I
am willing to speak of neural or mental energy. I am willing to
speak of consciousness as a qualitative ingredient in the discharge
of neural energy. But to speak of consciousness as a form of energy
is to me rather meaningless and betrays the sort of outlook which
used to speak of consciousness as a mode of motion. That things
move is knowledge about them. That they are active in a measur-
able way is knowledge about them. I fear that Professor Pratt
wants me to be as naive in my epistemology and handling of the
categories as the older materialists.

One final point: "Professor Sellars does not seem to realize that
the ultimate difficulty of materialism lies not in the kind of physical
laws which it sets in absolute control of mind and human behavior,
but in setting any physical laws in absolute control." But laws are
our human formulations of how things behave. Laws do not control
things ; they control themselves. And when I recognize with behavior-
ism that mental laws are physical laws, that is, that we can know the
mind by its behavior and that the laws of introspective psychology
only supplement these, I no longer have the objection to physical
laws ; I no longer think of them as laws of mechanics alone. But if
Professor Pratt wants the mind to be lawless?

I conclude that I do not believe that I am guilty of the traditional
blunders of materialism and am not impaled on both horns of Pro-
fessor Pratt 's dilemma. Consciousness is physical and extended,
but is not a spatial part of the brain.

R. W. SELLARS.
UNIVERSITY or MICHIGAN.

BOOK REVIEWS

La Mentalite Primitive. L. LEVY-BRUHL. Paris : Alcan. 1922. Pp.

iii -f 537.
La Religion et la Foi. HENRI DELACROIX. Paris: Alcan. 1922.

Pp. xii + 462.

This very interesting volume continues the author's earlier work
in the same field, Les Fonctions Mentales dans les Societes Infcri-
eures. In the present work, M. Levy-Bruhl is primarily interested
in the attitude of so-called "primitive" people toward what we are
accustomed to call causality, and in showing that what has made
"primitive" folk seem so often incorrigibly ignorant, superstitious,
and fantastic is their entire confidence in their own metaphysical
explanations.

The work is what works in this field necessarily are, an extensive
collection of the observations and reports of travellers, explorers, and

BOOK REVIEWS 695

missionaries, not cited in support of an unduly definite thesis, but
left to speak for themselves, though classified for the sake of order
under the chapter headings of a dozen chapters. M. Levy-Bruhl is
no doubt right in believing that the manners and practises of "primi-
tive" people have been greatly misunderstood because observers of
them have naturally enough interpreted these in terms of their own
categories. The great difference between uncorrupted tribesmen and
ourselves to which the author calls attention is, as I have said, in the
matter of causal explanations. It is like the difference between the
explanations of an epidemic by a sincere and consistent Christian
and by a well-informed materialist; — the former may attribute the
epidemic to the will of God while the latter attributes it to polluted
drinking water. Obviously if God wills it he may work His will by
means of drinking water or of anything else ; it is idle to be curious
about secondary causes when the primary one is uncontrollable.
What we call physical causation is something the "primitive" never
thinks of, or to which he is very indifferent.

The person who has what we call intelligence lives in a world in
which he believes the near and the immediate to depend on the more
remote both in time and space. What is important belongs to the
world of causes ; they it is that must be respected ; it is with reference
to them that behavior must be orientated. But these causes are
physical causes of like nature with their physical effects. The
"primitive" lives, as we have been often told, in a totally different
world ; his world of causes is a world of invisible occult powers, the
irritable and irresponsible dead, more or less undeveloped gods, a
mysterious causality resident in omens, the magical and terrifying
power for evil inhabiting the sorcerer, perhaps quite unknown to him.
These are the real causes, and they manifest themselves in all sorts of
ways. Details of physical causality are irrelevant. "Accidents" do
not exist. Events in any way unusual reveal the operations of dan-
gerous powers, and lead the natives concerned to extravagant and
destructive methods of defense. Under these circumstances, natives
can not learn from experience. Crocodiles and leopards are believed
to be naturally harmless; if a native is attacked, it is because a
sorcerer has made the leopard or the crocodile his instrument. The
problem is to discover the sorcerer as a modern sanitary engineer
would look for a source of contagion. Where a human enterprise
succeeds, it is probably not by virtue of experience, skill, and per-
sistence, but because of an effective "medicine." An enemy can be
defeated not by greater courage and better tactics, but by using a
stronger "medicine" than his opponent can use. Some natives are
slow to learn to use firearms because they will not take aim, and be-
cause they have no conception of the possible range : the bullet pur-

696 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

sues the flying game and is bound to catch it. People may be an-
swerable for what they have done in a dream, or for what they have
wished either dreaming or awake ; the dream deed is a real deed and
the wish is a real cause. The Creek Indians planned to strike a mortal
blow at the Blackfeet. Before starting on their campaign they
practised every sort of magic to make sure of success. It was decided
to put a blindfolded young Indian girl at the head of the army to
guide it. Thus they set out, going one day toward the north, the
next toward the south or west, for the war manitou was supposed to
be leading them (p. 372, quoted from P. J. de Sonet S.J., Voyages
dans I'Amcrique septentrionale, pp. 150-152). White men, on their
first arrival, are supposed to be the dead returning, and the goods
they bring with them are made by other dead at the bottom of the
sea. Dreams are adventures of the "soul" or revelations from the
occult powers. Natives are quite ready to prove their innocence by
the ordeal of poison. They believe unquestioningly that the ordeal
can be depended upon while they know that the testing of their
fellow tribesmen can not (p. 245). The truth is, they know noth-
ing of the physical action of poison. Such illustrations of what looks
like spontaneous and innate supernaturalism could be continued in-
definitely.

A reader wonders, of course, whether the vocabularies of the ob-
servers really translate the native terms, and M. Levy-Bruhl puts
us on our guard. If the natives misunderstand the missionaries, the
missionaries are likely to be ill qualified to understand the natives.
M. Levy-Bruhl pleads for better qualifications in this respect. The
"primitive" races are rapidly disappearing or becoming corrupted
and diseased.

If the history of supernatural religion has been a tremendous
factor in the history of edifying metaphysics, studies like this one
ought not to escape the notice of ' ' philosophers. ' ' Those races that
have had a history emerged, presumably, from the stage of these
peoples without history, and our theories about "reality," our devout
epistemology and even, sometimes, our theories of logic are lyric with
the call of the "mentalite primitive."

We do not, as a rule, speak of the "faith" of primitive folk in
their gods, their magic, and their dead; the word faith is likely
to be used for belief in the face of difficulties that might be
acknowledged. This conscious "belief," existing perhaps as an
orthodoxy side by side with disbelief, is, though M. Delacroix does
not say so, an attenuation of the entirely naive supernaturalism of
the more nearly primitive collective imagination, and that curious
and unwavering orthodoxy supplies perfect examples of la foi. M.
Delacroix writes, however, of faith as it is documented in the con-

BOOK REVIEWS 697

text of more or less awakened and professional criticism. La Re-
ligion et la Foi is a work of great erudition, and more than one
reader may feel himself almost continually in the atmosphere of
definitions, apologetics and of learned controversy. All of it is
intended, however, to illustrate stages and qualities of faith. "For
faith is the primary religious fact for the psychology that studies
the religion of religious souls. Every religion announces that by
faith we reach realities independent of the individual; but every
religion admits also that by faith we establish contact with these
realities.

"We propose to try to describe the elementary forms of faith,
by which I mean the distinct and ultimate attitudes which this
complex term denotes. Psychological analysis shows that there are
different ways of believing; we can distinguish rational belief in-
clining to scientific certainty ; emotional belief, based on needs and
attitudes, and conferring a singular value upon its objects; faith
resting on authority and hearsay and based on the power of opin-
ion or of institutions. These three general forms of faith present
themselves and this classification imposes itself, though only as a
schema" (p. ix). Faith in its primitive form is la foi implicite,
really "the faith of authority, the power of the religious environ-
ment, the pressure of society upon the individual" (p. 1). Naive
faith shared by all or nearly all leads to cult, and faith institu-
tionalized demands dogma and creates it, something which when
made self-consistent becomes a system of theology. "With dogma
comes the distinction between truth and error with the resulting ap-
peal to criticism, leading to la foi raisonante. Its great age was the
"middle age" — but criticism was always faith, and made from the
inside, not from the outside. Formality and authority of dogma-
tism leads to a romantic reaction in the forms of foi confiance,
vague and sentimental but free and individualistic, faith in what
eludes definition. When this becomes aigu there is certitude mys-
tique.

There follows prophetic inspiration, fanaticism, conversion, out-
side the faith and la foi creatrice. Religions are collective things,
and group excitement and effervescence contribute to the forma-
tion of religions. But behind society in effervescence is society
itself. But there must be also an imaginative conception of "the
world," something not recognized as a dream but accepted as hav-
ing objective validity. Here are what M. Delacroix calls three
principles, the product of which is the power which excels (de-
posse) both in subjectivity and objectivity (p. 423). "For civil-
ized men, nature is not divine. It is greater than we are, but we
are also greater than it. ... But nature becomes sacred again when

698 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

the esthetic vision frees it from this limitation." Faith, an energy
of the "spirit" generates its objects and the dogmas about them,
and these, of course, react on the faith that wrought them.

It is not an easy book to read and it is less easy to give an ac-
count of it. The reader gets certainly a sense of the great com-
plexity of the subject when presented in the setting of its own
literature. The bibliography is very interesting.

W. T. BUSH.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

SCIENTIA. Vol. XXXII, No. 127-11. Stellar Distances and Stel-
lar Motions: W. 8. Adams. Vitalisme ou physico-chimisme. Ipme
Partie : La loi d 'option de la vie : H. Guilleminot. La contribution
des differents peuples aux progres de la science economique : A. Loria.
La question sociale: L 'abolition du salariat: G. D. H. Cole.

JOURNAL DE PSYCHOLOGIE. XIXe Annee, No. 8. Quelques mots
sur la psychologic de la mathematique pure : Ph. Chaslin. Genese de
Tart figure. — I. La phase preliminaire du dessin enfantin: G. H.
Luquet. Notes et Documents: Une amoureuse de pretre: J. Seglas.
Nouvel exemple d 'evalaution du temps par un schizophrene : J. Vin-
chon et Monestier. L'interet psychologique des theories de la rela-
tivite : M . Boll.

PHILOSOPHICAL REVIEW. Vol. XXXI, 6. Philosophy in France,
1921: A. Lalande. Anticipations of Kant's Refutation of Sensation-
alism: G. C. Bussey. Three Witnesses against Behaviorism: J. C.
Gregory. Discussion : 7 -f- 5 = 12 : B. Bosanquet. The Interpreta-
tion of Heraclitus: T. de Laguna. Awareness and Behaviorism:
H. C. Warren.

JOURNAL OF EDUCATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. XIII, No. 8. The
Limits Set to Educational Achievement by Limited Intelligence:
M. V. Cobb. The Problem of Group Intelligence Tests for Very
Young Children: R. Pintner and B. V. Cunningham. A New Tim-
ing Device for "Work Limit" Group Tests: B. W. Robinson. The
Effectiveness of Oral Versus Silent Reading in the Initial Memoria-
tion of Poems : C. Woody. The Constancy of Intelligence Quotients :
E. A. Lincoln. A Report on the Correlation of Psychological Tests
with Academic and Manual Subjects: I. Glenn. The Effect of the
Study of Latin on Ability to Define Words : A. R. GUlUand.

Bradley, F. H. : The Principles of Logic. Second Edition Re-
vised with Commentary and Terminal Essays. Two volumes. New
York : Oxford University Press, American Branch. 1922. xxviii -f-
738 pp. $9.35.

NOTES AND NEWS 699

Ogburn, William Fielding : Social Change with Respect to Culture
and Original Nature. New York : B. W. Huebsch, Inc. 1922. 365
pp. $2.00.

Poppovich, Nikola M. : Die Lehre vom Diskreten Raum in der
Neueren Philosophic. Vienna and Leipzig: Wilhelm Braumiiller.
1922. 89 pp.

NOTES AND NEWS

We quote the following from an article on "Art and Science"
printed in the Literary Supplement of The London Times, November
2, 1922.

' ' So it is also with the biological-psychological method. That has
value only when employed in a negative way, to explain failure in
art and error in aesthetic experience, not art itself nor true esthetic
experience. At present it is often employed so perversely, and with
results so monstrous, as to provoke a general impatience of all psy-
chology; but this perversity comes of an arrogant ignorance of the
first principles of aesthetic. If they can be grasped by the psycholo-
gist, his science may remove obstructions to the experience and even
to the production of works of art.

So long as he tells us that all art is an unconscious expression of
the sexual instinct, he tells us nothing that is of any value to us. He
asserts merely that something is happening in a dark, unknown
region, the result of which, when it reaches the light, is a work of art.
But, as everything else which reaches the light is also, according to
him, a result of the same cause working in darkness, we are left with
a general and unconvincing statement about everything. Yet this
statement, if it were confined to certain kinds of failure in art, might
help us to understand them. For it is probable that failures in art
have causes in the unconscious ; and psychology may in time be able
to discover these causes and the connection between them and their
effects with precision. Thus, the unconscious working of the sexual
instinct may be the cause of many failures in art — for instance, of
the forbidding sentimentality of some religious pictures. This re-
volts instead of charming us, because we are aware of something in
the picture other than what the artist himself consciously intends.
The furtive appetite which peeps through this mask of devotion is
trying to infect us by false pretences ; and so, unless we wish to share
the appetite, we refuse to be moved by the devotion and are troubled
and disgusted by a lack of unanimity in the artist's mind. It is as
if he were not quite sane, as if something said under the influence
of that religious drug betrayed not a self, but an instinct destroying
the unity of the self. Behind all this show of the artist and the
devotee there is a monkey, and a sentimental monkey is something

700 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

not to be endured. But there may be a sentimental monkey lurking
in us, too ; in which case we shall like to be deceived by the show of
devotion. While our appetites are furtively tickled, we, too, shall
believe that we are experiencing a religious emotion. Hence the
long popularity of that Magdalen of Titian's who, as Euskin said,
looks as if she hoped to get to heaven by dint of her personal charms.
But there is all the difference in the world between this am-
biguous concealment, or betrayal, of appetite and those great and
simple works of art which are openly concerned with sex. Sex, for
instance, is the theme of Coreggio's Antiope, not its secret preoc-
cupation. We scent nothing in that picture other than what the
painter consciously intends. He was unanimous when he conceived
and executed it, and we are unanimous and untroubled in our ex-
perience of it. Further, in this case, and in all great works of art
where sex is the theme, it seems to be only a way into that state
of being which all great art, no matter what its theme, creates. In
a moment we are beyond the subject, beyond all those frank allure-
ments of beautiful flesh, in the paradise of which Coreggio was
really dreaming. It is like love music in which the passion is freed
from its object and the love lost in the beauty of the music. By
this power of escape all great art may be known, and, so far from
being an unconscious expression of sex, it consciously uses sex, like
all other human passions and concrete things, as a way into the
Holy of Holies."

VOL. XIX., No. 26 DECEMBER 21, 1922 "^ '

THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

THE EMERGENT THEORY OF MIND

MY purpose in this article is to discuss the bearing of the new
theories of mind upon the old and tantalizing mind-body
problem. Recent writers do not seem to appreciate how the problem
has been shifted, nor how completely the old classical solutions have
been superseded. I think that in the future we shall not continue
to hear much about interactionism, parallelism, epiphenomenalism,
double-aspectism, etc., except as interesting historical theories. It
remains, however, to inquire much more carefully and thoroughly
than I can in this brief paper, whether the emergent theory will
be adequate to cover the facts.

It is my belief that more progress has been made in the past
fifteen years in coming to an understanding of the real nature of
mind than in all the centuries since Aristotle. We are, indeed,
coming back somewhat to his view, which was that the mind is the
use, perfection, entelechy of the body. We are accustomed to hear
about the points of difference between the Neo-Realists, the Pragma-
tists, the Freudians, and the Behaviorists, but the points of agree-
ment are more significant. These schools pretty well agree in re-
garding mind as adaptive behavior, as specific response, as selective
control; more exactly, as that integration of vital processes which
enables an organism to respond as a unit to a new situation
in such a way as to conserve and enhance its well-being. Perhaps
the Freudians and some of the Pragmatists will hardly accept this
definition without qualification, the qualification being that the mind
is this and something more — something sui generis, something new
and distinctive, something unique and creative. With this qualifica-
tion I should heartily agree, if it is interpreted pluralistically and
not dualistically. If, however, we accept this definition of mind as
a working basis, with or without the above qualification, it is inter-
esting to see how it transforms and illumines the old and vexatious
mind-body problem, which in times past has come so near driving
some of us crazy.

In defining the mind as that organization of vital processes which
makes adaptive behavior possible, it is mind that I am speaking
of and not consciousness. Endless confusion and misunderstanding
would have been avoided, if psychologists and philosophers had

701

702 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

steadfastly used the word "mind" to denote this kind of behavior,
this sum of capacities, and not the word "consciousness." It was
most unfortunate that in the last decades of the last century, when
suspicion began to attach to the words "soul" and "mind," psy-
chologists fixed upon the word "consciousness" to stand for the
psychical life in general. James tried to put a stop to this in his
celebrated essay but he did not seem to understand clearly the rela-
tion between consciousness and mind. In recent years this relation
is becoming clear.1 I shall refer presently to consciousness in its
relation to the body, but at present I am speaking not of conscious-
ness but of mind.

It is, therefore, with a decided feeling of relief or even of eman-
cipation that we discover that the new conception of mind sets us
free from all the old so-called "solutions" of the mind-body prob-
lem, from interactionism, from parallelism, from epiphenomenalism,
from the double-aspect theory, from subjectivism, and from material-
ism. I believe these "isms" have been superseded. So also probably
has the expression theory, the transmission theory, and the instru-
ment theory. The brain is not the instrument of the mind. Rather
the brain is the instrument by means of which nature achieves the
mind. Mind and body do not interact, as interactionism and dualism
teach. The mind is not a form of the mechanical interplay of atoms,
as materialism teaches. The body is not a phenomenon or appear-
ance or externalization of mind, as idealism teaches. Mind and
body are not parallel as psychophysical parallelism teaches. Neither
are they two sides or aspects of the same reality, as the double-
aspect theory teaches. You can not represent the relation of mind
and body by any system of parallel lines, whether merely parallel,
interconnected, or correlated with a third line, nor by two lines
one of which is the shadow of the other. Mind is something which
the body achieves, or which nature achieves by means of the body.
If you must have a diagram, the ladder will be better than the paral-
lel bars. When nature achieves the molecule, the atom ceases to be
the thing of primary importance, worth, or even of reality. When
nature achieves the cell, the molecule is eclipsed. When the organ-
ism is achieved, the cell is eclipsed. When mind is achieved, the
body is eclipsed. Mind is a new reality, gained, achieved, won. It
is, in Aristotelian phrase, the form of the body.

i Witness the rather strong language used by Bertrand Russell in his book,
The Analysis of Mind, p. 40. "It is therefore natural to suppose that, what-
ever may be the correct definition of ' consciousness, ' ' consciousness ' is not the es-
sence of life or mind. In the following lectures, accordingly, this term will dis-
appear until we have dealt with words, when it will reSmerge as mainly a trivial
and unimportant outcome of linguistic habits."

THE EMERGENT THEORY OF MIND 703

Evidently, if we want a name for this new notion of the rela-
tion of mind to body, we may call it the emergent theory.2 Mind
emerges from the body. The theory of levels has taken the place
of parallelism, interactionism, and the double-aspect view. It is
hard to say which of these theories was the most unsatisfactory and
the escape from them is wholesome. All the dualistic theories were
unconvincing. There is no magic about the number two. Nature
having achieved two, goes on to three and four. The monistic
theories were little better, although, if mind be the supreme reality,
there is a sense of the word " reality," which admits of a monistic
interpretation, a monism of value perhaps. But the pluralistic view
of reality is most satisfactory. Mind is real, consciousness is real,
body is real, and so are many other things.

. But, some reader will say, the mind-body problem can not be dis-
posed of so easily — in this high-handed manner. Mental processes
seem to be correlated with bodily processes. With every mental
image, perception, etc., some neural process is correlated. Well,
from our point of view, they are not correlated and there is no dual-
ity about it, nor are they two sides or aspects of the same reality.
What happens is that we have a series of vital processes, which, when
integrated or organized, exhibit capacities that we call mental or
psychical. When they reach the point of attaining to that kind of
activity which we call intelligent control, we no longer speak of
them as vital or neural processes, but as psychical. We are up on
a new level, among new realities, in a new atmosphere, dealing with
new things, having their own laws and peculiarities. Mind has
emerged from matter. The spiritual has emerged from the physical.
After long centuries of misuse the word spirit gains a definite and
profitable meaning. It means the level of the psychical as viewed
from the standpoint of value.

Thus far, I think, the way is clear and the emergent theory
seems to satisfy the conditions. But we are not through with our
troubles. The mind-body problem is more difficult than this. There
are still two "waves" to be met and, if possible, surmounted. We
can not evade the fact of consciousness and consciousness is not
the same thing as mind. Behaviorism, as a new method of advanc-
ing the science of psychology, is a wholesome discipline, but the
psychologist can not ignore the reality known as consciousness, — at
any rate the student of philosophy can not. Whatever modern
theory of consciousness we adopt, the "cross-section" theory, the
"relational" theory, the "independent variable" theory, the "new

2 S. Alexander, who has made the emergent theory familiar to us, says that
Lloyd Morgan and George Henry Lewes had previously used the term. Compare
his Space, Time and Deity, Vol. II, p. 14.

704 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

dimension of reality" theory, the "something adventitious to psy-
chic states" theory, the psychologist has consciousness on his hands,
if not in his head, and willy-nilly must do something with it.

I have, of course, no intention of discussing the problem of con-
sciousness here. I am only raising the question whether the emer-
gent theory can be made to cover it, whether it is simply intelligent
behavior that emerges from the neural level, or whether conscious-
ness may emerge. If not, then is consciousness something which is
parallel with the neural processes, or is it another aspect of the
neural processes, or does it interact with them? I am tired of
these words and do not believe that any of them apply to the case
in hand, although there are greater difficulties here than in the case
of mind, as I have been discussing it. Let us say that consciousness
is simply the relationship between the mind as perceiving and the
thing perceived. The percipient mind is acted upon and responds
to the thing or object, and this sort of togetherness is what we mean
by consciousness in its simplest form. Awareness is another word
for the same thing in the simple form of it here described. The
mind-body problem simply does not enter into the matter at all.
We are dealing with a relationship between the mind as a real
thing and the object as another real thing, but the first term in this
relationship, namely, the mind, has emerged from the body; for,
when the brain has attained to that degree of integration in which
behavior of this kind takes place, that is, adaptive, selective behavior,
we no longer call it neural or bodily, but psychical. If, however,
anyone should prefer to speak of the organism or the brain as acting
in this way, that is, if anyone wishes to consider the brain as the
percipient subject, why then, consciousness as before would be the
relationship between the percipient organism and the object per-
ceived. In either case consciousness, as a special kind of relation, is
something real, something wholly immaterial, something other than
and much narrower than the mind, and something related to the
body quite otherwise than indicated by any of the old terms, paral-
lelism, interactionism, double-aspect, etc.

But the word consciousness, as it is used in everyday speech,
usually means something more than mere awareness. It approaches
the meaning of self -consciousness. It implies not merely a relation
between the percipient subject and the perceived thing, but a
relation between the present and the past history of the subject.
It implies that the whole situation takes the form of a connected
story. But so far as the bearing upon the mind-body problem is
concerned, this new richness of the word "consciousness" makes
no difference. The relationship which I have explained above still

THE EMERGENT THEORY OF MIND 705

prevails. Only it is important to remember what different meanings
the word "consciousness" actually has, and in its two legitimate
meanings to keep it distinguished from the larger term, mind.

Those of us who have had the experience of awaking from the
unconsciousness of ether or some other anaesthetic have perhaps had
a good illustration of the two kinds of consciousness to which I have
referred. There is first a mere awareness of certain noises, perhaps
of the nurses' voices, not brought into relation to "myself," or to
the total situation. Consciousness thus far is simply the relation
between a percipient subject and an object. Gradually, however,
the situation dawns. I am here and have been asleep. The voices,
myself, the environment, my immediate past, are knit together into
a connected story. I have regained my consciousness. The per-
ceived object has been brought into relation, not only with the per-
cipient subject, but with a lot of other things, names and memories.
The perceived thing gets a meaning, as we say, that is, it takes
its place in a familiar group of memory images, making a connected
story.3 We have here merely a more complex form of togetherness,
but so far as the nature of consciousness itself is concerned or its
connection with the body our conclusions are not changed. What
I have said of awareness applies also here.

If now anyone should not be satisfied with this very simple
description of consciousness and its relation to the body and should
insist that we have in consciousness something more than such a
" compresence " as I have described, such for instance as recent
writers have called "a new dimension of reality" or "an indepen-
dent variable," I can not see that it would make any difference so
far as my conclusions about the relation of mind and body are con-
cerned. If, however, one begins to speak about consciousness as a
creative agent, or an effective factor in the world, why, then one
is speaking not of consciousness but of mind. The emergent theory
would then hold good.

My only present purpose is to show that in dealing with the
mind-body problem consciousness must be considered as just one
distinct pjjaj^ of that total complex thing which we call the mind
and dealt with by itself in its relation to the body, and that if the
connected story theory of consciousness is correct, it is just a peculiar
kind of relation between things and hence comes neither under the
emergent theory nor any of the old parallelistic, interaction, or
double-aspect theories.

This is the second "wave." A third, if one were to solve the
mind-body problem, would have to be met and surmounted.

» Comp. the full theory of consciousness given by Bertrand Kussell in his
Analysis of Mind, already referred to, p. 288ff.

706 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

If by mind we mean adaptive behavior, intelligent control, spe-
cific response plus consciousness, then the above-described solution
of the mind-body problem may suffice. But mind is a still broader
term. It includes the primary biological "interests," which be-
long to the living organism itself. Now while there is a strong ten-
dency in present-day psychology, sociology, education, etc., to elevate
to a position of first importance the conative tendencies, instinctive
cravings, non-reflexional elements of experience, the wish, the will,
the libido, the power of self-maintenance which belongs to all life,
the vital principle, elan vital, or whatever it is, nevertheless, in recent
discussions about the real nature of mind and consciousness, which
have filled this JOURNAL, and others, these primary biological im-
pulses have not been sufficiently noticed. Professor Perry, near
the conclusion of his chapter on "A Realistic Theory of Mind" in
his Present Philosophical Tendencies, recognizing the complex char-
acter of the mind, says that it embraces three parts. First, a com-
plex acting desideratively or interestedly, characterized by certain
biological interests. Second, a nervous system acting as instrument
of the above interests. Third, certain contents or parts of the en-
vironment, called the mental contents.

It is not the place here to ask why Professor Perry did not add
consciousness to these three parts, making four, nor to raise the
question whether the analysis would not have been more accurate
if he had substituted consciousness as the third and last element
in mind in place of the problematical "contents," as I should be
inclined to do, thus limiting the mind to a series of interests and
activities plus consciousness. This question does not belong here.
I am only concerned in calling attention to the fact that the pri-
mary biological interests belong to that very complex thing which
we call the mind and in asking how this additional factor would
bear upon the mind-body problem.

It begins to appear more than ever that the mind-body problem
is a kind of pseudo-problem and the traditional "solutions" all quite
beside the mark. The relation between the mind and the body may
be quite different depending upon whether we are talking about the
springs of behavior, namely, the primary biological interests, or
about adaptive behavior itself, or about consciousness. Evidently
man 's original nature, his primitive impulses, his primary biological
interests, do not "emerge" from the organization of his vital proc-
esses. They are the vital processes or a part of them. The fact
is, of course, that we are not in position to discuss this problem at
all, because we do not know enough about vital processes, the springs
of life, to determine their relation to the body. We at once divide
into schools. According to M. Bergson, not only does the vital im-

THE EMERGENT THEORY OF MIND 707

pulse not emerge from the body but the exact reverse is thought
to be true. Matter is a kind of emergent from the vital impulse.
On the other hand, according to the extreme Behaviorists and the
Materialists, life itself and of course all its impulses and interests
are the products of material organization. In this sense, I suppose,
the primary impulses could be said to emerge from matter, although
not from the body ; for the body, at any rate the brain, is a kind of
instrument of these primary impulses, a means of controlling the
environment to their ends. If so, then it would seem that the pri-
mary biological interests emerge from matter, and the brain (and
hence the mind) emerges from the primary biological interests. At
any rate the emergent theory seems to fit in here also better than
any of the old parallelistic, interaction, or double-aspect theories.

Mr. Louis Berman, in his book The Glands Regulating Personality,
speaks of the lowest organs, the vegetative organs, the heart and
lungs, stomach and intestines, the kidneys and the liver, and the
glands of internal secretion as inventing and elaborating muscle,
bone, and brain to carry out their will. Evolution, he says, has been
in the direction of a greater perfection of methods of carrying out
their will. "Mind, reacting upon its creator, has, in a sense, come
to dominate them, because it has become the meeting ground of all
the energy-influences seething and bubbling in the organism, and so
developed into the organ of handling them as a whole, their Inte-
grating-Executive. ' ' *

Here we seem to have an answer to the question which American
Instrumentalism never made clear. Instrumentalism tells us what
the mind is the intrument for, but not very confidently what it is
the instrument of. According to Professor Berman, it is the instru-
ment of the vegetative organs, heart, lungs, etc., for carrying out
their will, or the instrument of the "energy-influences seething and
bubbling in the organism. ' ' 5

* Page 196.

5 To my mind Professor Berman spoils this excellent description by pre-
facing it with his theory that consciousness or awareness must be accepted as a
fundamental, primal fact, like protoplasm. "Consciousness and protoplasm may
be the complementary sides of the same coin. " In a somewhat similar way, Dr.
Alexander, in his Space, Time, and Deity, seems to me to relapse into a kind of
double-aspect theory after having given the clearest possible account of the
emergent theory. He reiterates throughout his book his excellent theory that
the mind emerges from a lower level of complexity which we call vital, but still
finds it necessary to teach that "the mental process and the neural process are
one and the same existence, not two existences. As mental, it is in my language
enjoyed by the experient; as neural it is contemplated by an outsider or may
b« contemplated in thought by the experient himself." (Vol. II, p. 9.) Simi-
larly Professor Montague, after identifying consciousness with potential energy,
existing in space, says that "what we know directly from within as the

708 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Returning, however, to our main inquiry, we are not told by
Professor Berman how the energy-influences are related to the body.
In other words, nobody knows anything about the "energy-influ-
ences," "conative tendencies," "biological interests," "self-main-
tenance of system C," "elan vital," or whatever we choose to call it
or them, so it is useless to discuss this part of the mind-body problem.
Although I should prefer the vitalistic method of approach here,
probably most of the readers of this JOURNAL would rather think of
the primary biological interests as the result of the organization
of simpler material elements. In the latter case the emergent theory
fits in better than any of the older views. Incidentally I may call
attention to the fact that, if one assumes that the biological interests
emerge from the organization of material atoms, this apparently
behavioristic or materialistic solution of the question does not lead
in the direction of an ontological materialistic monism or any kind
of monism, first, because, since so much is made of the result of
organization and integration, the organizing or integrating agency
is still to be accounted for; second, because no one knows what the
first elements are with which the organization begins, electrons being
simply our present stopping place; and third, because the whole
view is pluralistic. What we have is a hierarchy of entities increas-
ing in "value" with each new integration of the next lower proc-
eases. But in these philosophical problems I am not for the moment
interested.

Summarizing, I believe it is helpful to keep in view that the
word "mind" (in its wider meaning) includes three things: first,
the primary biological interests: second, adaptive behavior (mind
in its narrower meaning) : third, consciousness. The classical solu-
tions of the mind-body problem, parallelism, interactionism, double-
aspect theory, epiphenomenalism, etc., do not apply to any of these,
although we know little about the first. The emergent theory seems
better all around.

G. T. W. PAIBICK.
UNIVERSITY or IOWA.

TWO NOTES ON ESTHETICS

rriHE discussion of esthetics in Vol. XIX, No. 5 of this JOURNAL

raised two points which seem to invite further consideration.

One is Mr. Pepper's "common-sense concept" for a working unit

psychical or subjective side of experience may be the same as what we know
indirectly from without as the potential energy of the nerve currents in the
brain." (Monist, Vol. XVIII, p. 27.) I am myself unable to see why either the
emergent theory of Dr. Alexander or the energy theory of Professor Montague
needs to be supplemented by introducing any double-aspect view.

TWO NOTES ON ESTHETICS 709

in esthetics ; the other is the relation of beauty to utility, in part as
related to that concept.

I

Mr. Pepper 's concept is first defined as ' ' the liking of a thing for
itself in contrast to the valuing of a thing as a means to something
else, ' ' and a little further on as ' ' things valued for themselves inde-
pendent of all practical considerations." I am not sure that these
two statements are wholly consistent ; but that we can better decide
later. The first element, the "liking of a thing for itself," corre-
sponds pretty closely to the criterion of beauty in St. Thomas
Aquinas : Id cujus ipsa apprehensio placet, already brought forward
as a working conception in Mr. Carritt's Theory of Beauty, p. 9. It
may be helpful to examine this phrase in its context, and in the
light of some other passages in Aquinas, with a view to seeing their
implications.

The phrase occurs in a discussion of the statement that "not only
the good but also the beautiful is loved by every one," which runs
as follows: "The beautiful is the same as the good, differing only
in the way we conceive it (ratione). Since the good is that which
all desire, it is of the nature of the good that in it desire finds rest.
But it pertains to the nature of the beautiful that at the sight or
knowledge of it perception (apprehensio) finds rest. Hence those
senses especially consider beauty which are in closest touch with
knowledge (maxime cognoscitivi) , that is, sight and hearing, which
serve the reason; for we speak of beautiful sights and beautiful
sounds. But in reference to the objects of the other senses we do
not use the name of beauty ; for we do not speak of beautiful tastes
or smells. Hence it is clear that the beautiful adds to the good a
certain order with reference to the power of knowledge ; so that we
may call 'good' that which simply satisfies desire, and 'beautiful'
that of which the very perception is pleasing" (Summa, la, 2ae,
q. 27, art. 1 ; II, p. 224 1). In another place the requisites of beauty
are stated to be three: "First, wholeness or perfection; for things
which are diminished are by that very fact ugly; second, due pro-
portion, or consonance ; and lastly, clarity ; for which reason things
which have a bright color are said to be beautiful" (Summa, la, 2ae,
q. 39, art. 8). But the idea of proportion, as Aquinas was well
aware, introduces an element of relation : "It must be said that
beauty, health, and the like are spoken of with reference to some-
thing; for a certain tempering of the humors makes health in a
youth as it does not in an old man ; and there is a certain health in
a lion which is death to a man. Hence health is a proportion of the
i References to volume and page are to the edition of Frette and Mare.

710 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

humors with reference to a certain nature. And so beauty consists
in a proportion of members and colors" (Comm. on Psalm XLIV;
XVIII, p. 504). Here Aquinas (like Bacon in his essay on beauty)
is thinking mainly of personal human beauty; yet the remarks of
both have an obvious extension to other ranges.

Thus we find in the context of our formula a good many qualifi-
cations. Beauty may involve an element of knowledge, as well as
of purely emotional reaction ; it may be apprehended under changing
conditions, and these changes may alter our apprehension of it.
In view of these considerations, can the formula carry us very far
without being interpreted, and can it be interpreted without differ-
ences of opinion? Is the reliable perception of beauty that which
we gain at first sight, or that which we arrive at only gradually!
Or is the pleasure to be only that which we feel at the first moment ?
I take it that cases in which the beauty of something is by no means,
or only very imperfectly, perceived at first sight are familiar enough
to us all. And again, is every one 's first perception of and pleasure
in beauty of equal value? If so, we must probably reduce esthetic
perceptions to the very simplest cases ; if not, the door to divergence
of opinion swings wide open again. "If these men would let the
trimmings go," says Mr. Pepper, "they could cooperate and work
in harmony." They could, perhaps, but would they? And they
might not even agree with Mr. Pepper as to the real nature of "trim-
mings."

Meanwhile, it may be profitable to push our inquiry into Aquinas
a little farther. It is clear that he recognizes a connection between
the beautiful and the good, and the presence of an intellectual
element in the former. Here is another passage bearing on the
first point: "The beautiful and the good are indeed the same thing
at bottom (in subjecto), because they are founded on the same
thing, to wit, form, and on this account the good is praised as beau-
tiful; but they differ in the way we think of them (ratione). The
good properly has reference to desire ; for the good is that which all
things desire, and so it has the nature of an end; for desire is a
certain motion toward a thing. But the beautiful has reference to
the power of cognition, for those things are called beautiful which
when seen are pleasing. Hence the beautiful consists in due propor-
tion, because the senses are pleased by things that are duly propor-
tioned, as by those that are like themselves; for sense is a certain
ratio, and so is every power of cognition. And since cognition is
effected by assimilation, and likeness has reference to form, the
beautiful properly pertains to the naturte of a formal cause"
(Summa, la, lae, q. 5, art. 4; I, p. 38). Not only so, but the de-

711

sires for the beautiful and for the good are not really separate:
"It must be said that the ending of desire in the good and the
beautiful and peace is not an ending in different things. For by
the very fact that anything desires the good, it desires at the same
time the beautiful and peace ; the beautiful, in so far as it is in itself
modified and specified,2 which is included in the nature of the
good; but the good adds an order of perfecting to other things.
Peace, again, imports the removal of perturbations and the gain-
ing of what is sought. But the very fact of desiring means the
desire to remove what stands in the way of it. Hence by the same
desire we desire the good, the beautiful, and peace" (De Veritate,
q. 22, art. 1; XV, p. 144).

So much, then, for the connection and the difference between
goodness and beauty, as Aquinas conceived them ; and if we discount
the scholastic terminology, we shall find in his account (which is, of
course, entirely incidental to his larger purpose) a good deal with
which we may agree. For myself, I do not feel that beauty can
be restricted to the emotional, but rather that an intellectual element
is, or may be, present in it. The requisite of "wholeness or per-
fection" has perhaps some relation to Croce's contention that there
are degrees of ugliness but not of beauty, and shows how that con-
tention should be interpreted. The idea of beauty as in part arising
from the relation to an observer or recipient is one which a sound
esthetic can hardly leave out of account. Finally, in the correlation
of beauty, goodness, and peace there is a reference to that feature
of the esthetic experience which a too little known poet has called
"the strange quietude of human art." These are points noted in
passing; I am not trying to coordinate them, much less to work
them into a systematic presentation.

What now are we to understand by Mr. Pepper's values "in-
dependent of all practical considerations"? Do they mean instru-
mental values in general, or are they to be more narrowly inter-
preted, in the sense of the strictly utilitarian? If the former, it
can hardly be maintained that instrumental values can have no
place in the esthetic experience ; if the latter, we are led directly to
the second point which I wish to discuss.

II

The good old notion that utility is a self-evident concept, the
applications of which are immediately clear, was a great labor-
saver. Apply it to a given experience, note the elements it ex-

2 ' ' For the beautiful adds, over and above a good order with reference to
the power of knowing, that the fact should be of a certain kind" (Comm. on
Dionysius, c. IV, lect. 5; xxix, p. 443).

712 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

plains, and set down the remainder to such minor considerations
as the esthetic. Nothing could in appearance be simpler, even if
the result might be such cheerful flippancy as William James's coup-
ling of psychiatry as the study of the harmful in mental life
with esthetics as the study of the useless. Unfortunately, the notion
of utility is both complex and highly relative; and we can not
see either its various degrees or its applications to art without
careful scrutiny.

In ordinary life, the criterion of utility is specific application;
a thing is seen to be useful just in so far as it immediately meets
a specific need. But the more specialized it becomes, the less adapted
it is to any but its own special situation. A saw is useful only for
a particular operation, and a keyhole saw only for a particular
kind of sawing; and either is of "use" only when both desire and
opportunity for sawing are present. But we should think it pal-
pably absurd to call a good tool "useless" when it is merely un-
employed, that is, in the absence of the situation to which it is
adapted. Now the case is not radically altered when we turn to
spiritual processes and capacities. It is true that the latter are
not, and can not be, so directly fitted to immediate situations as are
material tools; and there is, further, a greater need of specific re-
sponse by the other factor in the situation. But the element of
response is not wholly lacking even in the case of tools ; it requires
a certain type of saw to cut metal, or to cut wood to the best ad-
vantage, and a screwdriver is not very effective on an uncut screw-
head. Thus it does not seem that there is a radical difference be-
tween the two groups of cases, but rather a difference of emphasis
in common elements.

Looking now more carefully at the applications of utility, we
can for convenience distinguish four major forms. First, there is
that which has immediate special application, like a title-deed, which
refers to a specific actual "here and now," and has no explicit refer-
ence to anything else. Secondly, there is that which has mediate
special application, like a statute, which prescribes how a specific
situation is to be dealt with if it occurs, but does not specify when
or where it will occur, or even that it will necessarily occur at all.
Thirdly, there is that which has immediate general application, like
the multiplication table, adaptable to an indefinite number of situa-
tions, which must occur in some experience ; but the kind and manner
of the experience are not specified, beyond the presupposition of
ability to figure correctly. And fourthly, there is that which has
mediate general application, depending on adaptation to a specific
response, which must be furnished in and by an individual experi-

TWO NOTES ON ESTHETICS 713

ence. To this class belong, among others, religious rituals and works
of art. To say that the response to the appeal of a work of art is
"useless" because it does not lead to a concrete action seems to me
misleading. Sometimes it does issue in action; often it may lead
to a beneficial heightening of the perception of the meaning of
experience. Nor is concrete action always, in the broader sense,
"useful." The tendency of an individual to self-preservation need
not be wholly useful even to him, and certainly need not be so
to others; and the need of self-expression in an art may be so im-
perative that the satisfaction of it will be as useful to its possessor,
in the sense of maintaining the equilibrium of his personality, as
the satisfaction of any other personal need.

Obviously, as we go through the sequence of utilities thus roughly
distinguished, the place of "utility" in the narrow sense of immedi-
ate and specific application grows smaller, and the place of other
values, including the esthetic, grows larger. It is now important
to notice that below the level of the simple utility is another level,
that of the extemporized solution — the makeshift. This we may
tolerate, as the best way out of gravely hampering conditions; but
we do not admire it for itself, and as a constant reliance it betrays
its user. The habitual use of makeshifts turns into shiftlessness.
Just so, an action which, even skilfully, evades a real moral issue
leaves us guarded or squeamish in our admiration, and certainly
causes us no glow of satisfaction.

Let us say, then, that immediately recognized specific utility is
the zero point on a scale of values. Below it is the region of make-
shifts and patchwork; just above it is the region of devices which
with some measure of skill meet a real need, or even any presented
situation. Now, just as below the zero point any satisfaction which
we feel is either misplaced or apologetic, so at the zero point we
feel no distinguishable satisfaction, because both situation and solu-
tion pass immediately and without analysis into the general current
of experience. But as we go up the scale, satisfaction rises into
consciousness as a distinct element, and tends to be deepened and
diversified. In watching any sort of "good job" we feel a pleasure
which is not explained by any practical relation in which we stand
to it — but which is not always impaired by such a relation, for we
may feel the same sort of pleasure in connection with an activity
of our own. What first makes this reaction possible is the fact that
we can find leisure to stand off a little from the experience, and so
appraise in it other values than the purely practical. Then, the
higher in the scale we go, the wider is the circle of possible adapta-
tions, the less crudely material the aim, so that the attitude of

714 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

purely esthetic contemplation grows correspondingly easier. But
if we cut loose entirely from the original basis of the experience,
or if we try to assume an attitude of detachment without anything
from which to be detached, the desired esthetic reaction will be
either falsified or demolished.

This conception of a scale of values in which utility and beauty
are gradually distinguished, and the latter made more prominent
than the former, enables us to see just where the fallacy of "inde-
pendence of practical considerations" takes its rise. It is easy to
argue that because the element grows less and less marked, a point
may be reached at which it will vanish entirely, and a "pure"
esthetic value remain; and such a view has often been held. I
quote, for instance, the words of a writer noted for cautiousness of
statement, who also has a sound view of the general nature of the
esthetic experience: "All Fine Art, then, we may say, is founded
originally in satisfied utility, and in some cases continues dependent
on it to the last. It is conditioned by the utility out of which it
arises, and with which it is contrasted. And thus, when we look
at the Fine Arts in their full development, a distinction is plainly
to be drawn between those which continue throughout to be con-
ditioned upon the prior satisfaction of some specific non-artistic
utility, and those which are cut loose from such specific dependence,
and have a free self -centered existence of their own. ' ' 3 The doctrine
of the first two sentences is absolutely sound ; but that of the third
introduces the fallacy. The practical consideration may be indefi-
nitely attenuated, but it is never wholly lost ; we no more encounter
disembodied arts than we encounter disembodied human beings in
ordinary life. Even in an observer the question of esthetic response
can not be wholly divorced from considerations which may broadly
be termed "practical"; still less so can it be if we consider the ac-
tivity of the artist. The qualities of pigments or the nature of
a plastered wall are of practical concern to the painter, the ranges
and timbres of musical instruments to a composer, the associations
of words to a poet, and so on indefinitely; and these form but a
single range of such considerations. I doubt if a serious artist
often sets to work in entire disregard of them; and it is certainly
the case that artists who profess a lordly disdain of them generally
come to grief.

I conclude, then, that Mr. Pepper 's concept is at best a sign-post,
which can only direct us toward a theory of valuation to be worked
out on its own merits, with as much conflict of opinions as may be
necessary. We may grant that "things valued for themselves"

*8hadworth Hodgson, The Metaphysic of Experience, III, p. 435.

BOOK REVIEWS 715

exist, though I think we can do so only after careful definition ; but
even if we do, we may still hold that such values need not be self-
evident, and ask under what conditions they are to be recognized.
As for "independence of all practical considerations," that is a
phrase too vague to be helpful unless interpreted ; and if it be inter-
preted as making the esthetic attitude the polar antithesis of the
practical, it seems to be setting up an unnecessary and untenable
dualism. For my part, I believe that a better point of departure
would be the conception of beauty not as something aimed at ~by an
experience, but as something which comes to be recognized in an
experience. If this is what Aquinas meant by calling it a formal,
not a final, cause, he was profoundly right.

CHARLES E. WHITMORE.
NORTHAMPTON, MASSACHUSETTS.

BOOK EEVIEWS

Foundations of Formal Logic. H. BRADFORD SMITH. University

of Pennsylvania Press, 1922. 56 pp.

In this pamphlet, which is intended for use in the classroom,
Mr. Smith treats some of the problems of logic from a very special
angle, so that we can not leave the work without the question —
are these the foundations of logic? Modern mathematical logic has
so broadened the Aristotelian and Medieeval conceptions of the sub-
ject that we anticipate much more than a treatment of the syllogism
in a paper which has the mathematical form; and yet Mr. Smith
restricts himself to the syllogism, its moods and figures, with a few
paragraphs on immediate inference. The exposition makes use of
a quasi-mathematical symbolism which involves many of the ideas
of more familiar logical calculuses, but the total impression is
one of clumsiness and inelegance. Though the avowed purpose of
such a symbolism is to add clarity, Mr. Smith's symbols confuse
rather than illuminate: his system lacks the simplicity and com-
pleteness which we have been led to expect from mathematical logic.

We are able, however, to extract the following points from the
paper: (1) Mr. Smith believes that the subject-matter of logic
is a certain number of propositions about classes. "The problem
of a deductive science," he tells us, "is to define its elements . . .
by an enumeration of their formal properties. The task of logic is,
then, to develop its own system by constructing all the true and
all the untrue propositions into which its elements enter exclusively."
These elements are, for Mr. Smith, classes. This is a debatable point
since we have learned from Peano and Russell, from Couturat and

716 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

others, that logic need not confine itself to classes and class relation-
ships, that among its elements are to be found prepositional func-
tions, propositions, concepts, relations, operations — entities in terms
of which classes can be defined but which are not classes. This is
one reason why Mr. Smith's book is misnamed: a study of the
fundamentals of logic should include more than propositions (or
propositional functions) about classes. A class calculus of any
sort is not the whole of logic; it is merely one aspect of a subject
which refuses to be confined within the narrow walls of definitions.

(2) The class calculus which Mr. Smith constructs — by the aid
of Euler's circular diagrams — differs from other class calculuses in
that its aim is to represent the varieties of the Aristotelian syllogism.
He selects four basic types of proposition (about classes), which
are roughly equivalent to the A, I, and E of traditional logic and
which embody all of the possible relations between two classes.
The syllogism is then described as a form of implication which deter-
mines the relation between classes c and a when any of these rela-
tions holds between a and b, and between & and c respectively. (By
the untruths of logic, Mr. Smith means all of the possible ways of
going astray in the syllogism, i.e., all of the possible formal fallacies.)
It is not surprising that this class calculus, despite its symbolic form,
conveys no new information about the syllogism : there is probably
no new information to be had ; and the theory of the mediaeval logi-
cians, apart from the form of its expression, is as acceptable today
as it was in the twelfth century. Logic has opened new avenues
of speculation only by escaping the syllogism and by giving to it
a subordinate, though necessary place, in wider systems.

(3) The discovery that there is a non- Aristotelian logic comes as
a paradox in the seventh and eighth chapters of Mr. Smith's book.
The author's postulates for the syllogism are susceptible of two in-
terpretations in terms of classes; one of these involves the null and
universal classes while the other does not involve these classes. We
are told that the former, though further from ordinary intuition,
is the more sufficient, and this is the non-Aristotelian logic. It is
non-Aristotelian not because it deserts the syllogism, but because it
interprets the A, E, I, and 0 propositions of Aristotle in a non-
Aristotelian way — i.e., through the null and universal classes. This
suggests to us a still better reason for speaking of Mr. Smith's sys-
tem as non-Aristotelian; a reason which would apply equally well
to the interpretation which, by inference, he asserts to be Aristote-
lian. Aristotle did not believe that lopric deals with classes but with
subjects and predicates, the subjects being individuals, or first sub-
stances, and the predicates universals. Aristotelian logic is a sub-

BOOK REVIEWS 717

J
ject-predicate logic, and subjects and predicates need not be classes.

This is the burden of such writers as Mr. Bosanquet, who show that
Aristotle is concerned with universals or concepts — with genera,
species, definitions, propria — and not with classes.

It is apparent from what has been said that the Foundations
of Formal Logic takes us only a short distance into the subject and
over controversial ground. Its chief merit will be to give to the
student a thorough understanding of the syllogism in a form which
is superficially different from that of the usual text-book. However,
the value of such quasi-mathematical expositions of the syllogism,
if they do not embody new ideas, is questionable, and a teacher of
conservative temper might prefer the less complex and more lucid
methods of the older logic.

EALPH M. EATON.

HAKVAKD COLLEGE.

The ^Esthetic Attitude. HERBERT SIDNEY LANGFELD. New York:
Harcourt, Brace and Howe. 1920. Pp. xi + 287.
In his preface, Professor Langfeld says modestly that his book
is a "description only of those problems which I consider funda-
mental and which I hope will serve as an introduction to more ex-
tensive study." A reading of the table of contents appears to
bear out this promise of a somewhat one-sided treatment of the
subject. Professor Langfeld is primarily the psychologist, con-
cerned largely with problems of the esthetic experience. Further-
more, it is as the instructor of the entirely uninitiated that he
writes. His book is frankly elementary, painstakingly supplying
definitions and elucidations of the simplest matters. For the most
part it is clear and instructive though remarks on page 16 might
well cause bewilderment even in those inured to the difficulties of
the subject. On that page Professor Langfeld says that "Psychol-
ogy must analyze the behavior of the observer in so far as the
peculiar adjustment called 'aesthetics' is concerned" — which may
of course be a misprint, but even at that would leave some things
to be explained.

As an introduction to the definition of the "science" of esthetics
and of the esthetic attitude, Professor Langfeld quotes from con-
temporary writings on the subject. He then briefly discusses the
various arts to show what factors in them favor that attitude. Two
chapters he devotes to the subject of empathy, and by citations
from Karl Groos, Lipps, and Vernon Lee renders intelligible this
"motor theory" of esthetic experience. Two chapters also he gives
to "Unity," discussing first the psychological process by which
unity is won out of diversity, and next its place in the various arts.

718 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Again in two chapters he devotes himself to symmetry and balance,
and finally he has a chapter on the Art Impulse in which he dis-
cnases some theories as to its origin.

An unusual feature of the volume is its plates. Many books of
esthetic theory would be improved if they followed the example
here set of including illustrations for direct elucidation of the text.
For a just evaluation of the work as a whole one must keep strictly
in mind its avowed scope and intention. It does not pretend to be
either a complete history of theory, or an original piece of psychol-
ogy. It serves its purpose.

HELEN Huss PARKHUEST.

BARNARD COLLEGE.

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS

PSYCHOLOGICAL REVIEW. Vol. 29, No. 6. Behavior versus In-
trospective Psychology : 8. W. Fernberger. The Unique in Human
Behavior: H. N. Wieman. Analyzed versus Unanalyzed Experi-
ence: R. H. Wheeler. What can Psychology Contribute to our
Knowledge of the Mechanism of Mental Disorder?: C. M. Campell.
The Effect of Variations of the Intensity of the Illumination of the
Perimeter Arm on the Determination of the Color Fields: C. E.
Ferree and O. Rand. Types of Dextrality: J. M. Rife. The Sig-
nificance of Neural Adjustment : H. C. Warren. The Affiliations
of Behaviorism : M . W. Calkins.

STUDI FILOSOFICI E RELIGIOSI. Vol. Ill, Num. 3. H significato
di ypostasis in ad Hebr. I3. : G. Furlani. L 'etica di Metodio
d'Olimpo: A. Biamonti. S. Paolo negli Apologisti greci del III
secolo, III : M . Fermi. Taziano e lo Gnosticismo : M. Zappald.

PSYCHOLOGICAL BULLETIN. Vol. 19, No. 10. Perception: An
Introduction to the Gestalt-Theorie : K. Koffka. No. 11. Abstracts
of Periodical Literature.

JOURNAL OP EXPERIMENTAL PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. V, No. 6. Per-
sonality Studies of Three-Year-Olds : H. T. Woolley. The Color
Preferences of Five Hundred and Fifty-Nine Full-Blood Indians:
T. R. Garth. A Simple Voice Key : F. L. Wells and J. 8. Rooney.
Results of Variations in Length of Memorized Material : E. 8. Rob-
inson and W. T. Heron. The Stimulus Error, A Reply: 8. W.
Fernberger.

LA CIENCIA TOMISTA. Ano XIV, Num. LXXVIII. Fundo
Santo Domingo el Rosario? (cont.) : L. G. Alonso-Getino. De ipsa
philosophia in universum secundum doctrinam aristolelico-thomis-

JOURNALS AND NEW BOOKS 719

ticam (cont.) : /. M. Ramirez. Obras de Santa Teresa: J. M.
Aguado. Cronica del movimiento tomista: V. Beltran de Heredia.

REVISTA DE FILOSOFIA. Ano VIII, No. VI. Doctrinas de Levy-
Briihl: A. N. Ponce. Alejandro Venegas: A. Donoso. La Socio-
logia de Francisco Ramos Mejia: R. A. Orgaz. Scalabrini y el
comtismo : V. Mercante. La filosof ia en el Ecuador colonial : E. P.
Barrera. Las revoluciones francisa y rusa: G. S. Moreau. Evolu-
cion ideologica de Costa Rica: L. F. Gonzalez. Por la Union
Latino- Americana : J. Ingenieros.

REVUE DBS SCIENCES PHILOSOPHIQUES ET THEOLOGIQUES. ll«me
Annee, No. 4. Les Arguments de M. Einstein: F. Vial. La
"mine" des dantologues: P. Mandonnet. Bulletin de Philosophic
Sociale. Bulletin d'Histoire de la Philosophic. Bulletin de The-
ologie Speculative.

LOGOS. Anno V, Fascicolo 3-4. II cammino della conoscenza
filosofica : Jakovenko. La volatilizzazione di Dio : Rensi. II prob-
lema delle azioni a distanza : Ranzoli. Le positivisme mystique de
1'Inde: Masson-Oursel. Le antinomic della valutazione: Delia
Valle. II sonno in psichiatria: Epifanio. La teoria di Einstein e
il f enomenismo : Guastella. Bergson e lo spiritualismo francese del
sec. XIX : Serini.

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL CLINIC. Vol. XIV, Nos. 5-6. The Analyt-
ical Diagnosis : L. Witmer. Miss Inconsistency : A. M. Jones. An
Analytical Study of the Intelligence of a Group of Adolescent De-
liquent Girls: A. 8. Starr. The Increase of the Intelligence Quo-
tient through Training : G. G. Ide. Children Applying for Working
Certificates: R. E. Learning. Eighteen Children from an Ortho-
genie Backward Class: C. Easby. Diagnostic Teaching: Albert — A
Lazy Boy : W. B. Stewart. A Contrast in Efficiency : H. W. Brown.

Brunschvicg, Leon: L 'Experience Humaine et la Causalite
Physique. Paris : Felix Alcan. 1922. xvi -f- 625 pp.

Dibble, Charles Lemuel : A Grammar of Belief. Milwaukee :
Morehouse Publishing Co. 1922. 208 pp.

Ericksen, Ephraim Edward: The Psychological and Ethical
Aspects of Mormon Group Life. Chicago: University of Chicago
Press. 1922. x + 101 pp. $1.50.

Hjort, Johan: The Unity of Science. A Sketch. New York:
Knopf. 1922. 176 pp. $2.50.

Morgan, Victor : La Voic du Chevalier. Education Experimen-
tale par Soi-meme. Nimes: Imprimerie Cooperative "La Labori-
euse." 1922. xxxvii + 248 pp.

720 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Miiller-Freienfels, Richard: Irrationalismus Umrisse einer
Erkenntnislehre. Leipzig : Felix Meiner. 1922. viii -f 300 pp.
$1.60.

Mumford, Lewis: The Story of Utopias. With an Introduc-
tion by Hendrik Van Loon. New York : Boni and Liveright. 1922.
xii -|- 315 pp.

Phelps, William Lyon: Human Nature in the Bible. New
York: Charles Scribner's Sons. 1922. xii + 333 pp.

Papers in Honor of Josiah Royce on his Sixtieth Birthday. Re-
printed from Vol. XXV, No. 3 (May 1916), of The Philosophical
Review. 294 pp.

Walston, Charles, (Waldstein) : Harmonism and Conscious
Evolution. New York : Macmillan Co. 1922. xvi -f 463 pp.
$6.00.

NOTES AND NEWS

We give below the programme of the joint meeting of the East-
ern and Western Divisions of the American Philosophical Associa-
tion, which will be held at Union Theological Seminary, New York
City, on December 27, 28, and 29, 1922. All sessions, except as
otherwise indicated, will be held in Room 207. The public is in-
vited to attend all morning and afternoon sessions of the Associa-
tion, except the business meetings, which are for members only.
The Smoker and Annual Dinner are for members of the Association
and their guests.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 27

9:30 A.M.

Obscurantism of Science Harvey O. Townsend

The Metaphysics of Modern Scepticism J. Loewenberg

The Metaphors of the Reason H. B. Alexander

A Pragmatic Conception of the A Priori Clarence I. Lewis

3 :00 P.M.

Paul Carus Lecture : Existence as Stable and as Precarious,

John Dewey
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 28

9 :30 A.M.

The Moral Criterion in Plato R. C. Lodge

Amor Dei Intellectualis Morris R. Cohen

Origin and Value : The Unintelligibility of Philosophic Modernism,

Wilbur M. Urban

NOTES AND NEWS 721

2:00 P.M.

Business Meeting of the Eastern Division (Room 207)
Business Meeting of the "Western Division (Room 307)

3 :00 P.M.

Paul Carus Lecture : Existence, Ends, and Appreciation,

John Dewey
7:00 P.M.

(At the Commodore Hotel, West Ball Room)

The Annual Dinner of the Association

"Welcome by President McGiffert

Address by the President of the Eastern Division :

The Problem of Progress Walter G. Everett

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 29
9 :30 A.M.

Paul Carus Lecture : Existence, Means, and Knowledge,

John Dewey
10 :30 A.M.

(In Room 207)

On an Inconsistency in Russell's Treatment of Mental Action,

G. Watts Cunningham

Giving a Name to Ignorance Theodore de Laguna

The Mind-Body Impasse Durant Drake

The Emergent Theory of Mind G.T.W. Patrick

10 :30 A.M.
(In Room 307)

The Philosophy of Feeling in Current Poetics. Katherine E. Gilbert
(Introduced by Walter G. Everett)

Philosophy and American Law Philip L. Given

The Rational Character of the Democratic Principle,

Marie Collins Swabey

Frequency of Practice A. P. Brogan

Papers are limited to twenty minutes, and comments on papers
to ten minutes.

A limited number of copies of the Titchener Commemorative
Volume are left in stock. Since the sales to date have more than
paid the costs of the edition, the Committee in charge of publica-

722 JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

tion have decided to offer these remaining copies to psychologists at
the reduced price of two dollars, postpaid. The proceeds of their
sale, together with the balance already in hand, will be funded,
and the interest will presently be used to establish a prize for
meritorious work in experimental psychology.

The volume, which consists of 337 pages of the style and size of
the pages of The American Journal of Psychology, contains eigh-
teen studies in various departments of psychology, dedicated to
Professor Titchener by colleagues and former students on his com-
pletion of twenty-five years of service to Cornell University.

Orders may be sent to D. R. Knight, Morrill Hall, Cornell Uni-
versity, Ithaca, N. Y.

M. F. WASHBUBN
W. B. PILLSBURY
K. M. DALLENBACH

The sixth semi-annual meeting of the Southwest Philosophical
Association took place on Saturday, November llth, at the Univer-
sity of Southern California. After a business session, in which it was
decided to continue the present officers and to enlarge the scope of
work and membership, a paper on "The Concept of Independence in
the New Realism" was read by Dean Rieber of the University of
California, Southern Branch, and also one on "The Knowledge of
Other Minds" by Dr. Henry Nelson Wieman of Occidental College.

After a discussion of the papers, an executive committee was
appointed to consider an enlarged scope for future activity of the
society. This committee consists of Ralph Tyler Flewelling, Uni-
versity of Southern California, President; Henry Nelson Wieman,
Occidental College, Secretary-Treasurer; Bernard C. Ewer, Pomona
College; Dean C. H. Rieber of University of California, Southern
Branch ; and Dr. Carl S. Patton, Los Angeles.

723

NAMES OF CONTRIBUTORS ARE PRINTED IN SMALL CAPITALS

ACKEKMAN, H. C. — The Differentiating
Principle of Religion, 317.

ADLERBLUM, NIMA H. — Gollanez ' Trans-
lation of Dodi Ve-Nechdi, 639.

ALEXANDER, H. B. — Sortais's La Phi-
losophie moderne depuis Bacon jus-
qu'& Leibniz, 137.

American Philosophical Association —
Eastern Division, The Meeting of. —
HELEN Huss PARKHURST, 210.

"Analysis of Mind, The," Dr. Schil-
ler's Analysis of. — BEETBAND RUS-
SELL, 645.

Analysis of Reflective Thought, An. —
JOHN DEWET, 29.

Ancient Landmarks: A Comment on
Spiritualistic Materialism, The.—
MAET WHITON CALKINS, 493.

Andler's Nietzsche, sa Vie et sa Pen-
see, Vol. II, Vol. III.— R. M. WEN-
LET, 246, 385.

Anti-Behaviorists, An Open Letter to
the— W. S. HUNTER, 307.

Aristotelian Society, 1920-21, Proceed-
ings of the. — H. T. COSTELLO, 414.

Aristotle's Politica, CEconomica, and
Atheniensum Respubliea, Oxford
Translation. — H. W. SCHNEIDEE, 331.

Avey's Readings in Philosophy. — JOHN
M. WAEBEKE, 641.

AYEES, C. E. — Dewey's Human Nature
and Conduct, 469.

Behavior and Purpose. — WILSON D.

WALLIS, 580.
Behaviorism and Consciousness. —

JAMES BISSETT PEATT, 596.
and the Programme of Philosophy.

— JAMES L. MUESELL, 549.
Behavioristie Account of the Significant

Symbol, A. — GEOEGE H. MEAD, 157.
Bibliotheca Chemico-Mathematica. —

MOEEIS R. COHEN, 275.
BOAS, GEOEGE. — Souilhe's Etude sur le
Terme ATNAMIS dans les Dialogues
de Platon, 332.

BODE, B. H. — Critical Realism, 68.
BOGGS, LUCINDA PEABL. — A Partial

Analysis of Faith, 15.
Brierley's An Introduction to Psy-
chology, 666.

Drever's The Psychology of Every-
day Life, and The Psychology of

industry, 249.
BOSANQUET, BEENABD. — ' ' Implication

and Linear Inference," 292.
Bosanquet's The Meeting of Extremes
in Contemporary Philosophy. — J. E.
TUENER, 553.

Boutroux, Emile — (a tribute). — JOHN
H. RANDALL, JR., 26.

Boyer's Christianisme et Neo-Platonis-
me dans la formation de Saint Au-
gustin and L'ldee de Verit6 dans la
Philosophie de Saint Augustine. — C.
C. CLIFFORD, 49.
BLANSHABD, BEAND. — McTaggart's The

Nature of Existence, 497.
BEEITWIESEE, J. V. — Korzybski's The

Manhood of Humanity, 301.
Brierley's An Introduction to Psychol-
ogy.— LUCINDA PEARL BOGGS, 666.
BUSH, WENDELL T. — Esthetic Values

and Their Interpretation, 119.
Levy-Bruhl's La Mentalit£ Primi-
tive, and Delacroix 's La Religion
et la Foi, 694.

More's Platonism, and The Reli-
gion of Plato, 558.
Miinsterberg 's Hugo Miinsterberg,

his Life and his Work, 642.
The Paris Philosophical Congress,

241.

Burthogge's Philosophical Writings. —
STEELING P. LAMPBECHT, 243.

CALKINS, MAEY WHITON. — The Ancient
Landmarks: A Comment on Spirit-
ualistic Materialism, 493.

Carr's General Principle of Relativity.
— EDWAED KASNEE, 220.

Causality, Dr. McTaggart and. — JOSH-
UA C. GEEGORY, 515.

Character, Measures of Intelligence and.

— A. T. POFFENBERGEB, 261.

CLIFFORD, C. C. — Boyer's Christianisme
et Neo-Platonisme dans la forma-
tion de Saint Augustin, and L 'Idee
de Verite dans la Philosophie de
Saint Augustine, 49.
Garrigou-Lagrange's Dieu, son Ex-
istence et sa Nature, 52.
COHEN, MORRIS R. — Bibliotheea Chem-
ico-Mathematica, 275.
Complex Dilemma, The: A Rejoinder.

— THEODOEE DE LAGUNA, 189.
Concept of Sensation, The. — JAMES L.

MUESELL, 684.

Conference on Philosophy at the Uni-
versity of Toronto. — JAMES GIBSON
HUME, 83.

CONGER, GEOEGE P. — The Implicit Dual-
ity of Thinking, 225.
Consciousness, Behaviorism and. —

JAMES BISSETT PRATT, 596.
Physical, Is? — R. W. SELLARS, 690.
Conybeare's Russian Dissenters. — CLAR-
ENCE AUGUSTUS MANNING, 270.
Correspondence, Truth as: A Redefini-
tion.— JAMES L. MUESELL, 181.
Cosmology of William James, The. —
HEBBEBT NICHOLS, 673.

724

JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

COSTKLLO, H. T. — Proceedings of the

Aristotelian Society, 1920-21, 414.
Cotton's The Defective Delinquent and

the Insane. — F. L. WELLS, 442.
CREIGHTON, J. E.— The Form of Philo-
sophical Intelligibility, 253.
Critu-al Realism.— B. H. BODE, 68.
And the External World. — STIR-
LINO P. LAMPRECHT, 651.
Some Logical Aspects of. — A. W.
MOORE, 589.

Delacroix's La Religion et la Foi. — W.

T. BUSH, 694.

DE LACUNA, THEODORE. — Point, Line and
Surface, as Sets of Solids, 449.
Robb'a The Absolute Relations of

Time and Space, 361.
Rougier 's Philosophy and the New

Physics, 389.

The Complex Dilemma; A Rejoin-
der, 189.
The Nature of Space — I, II, 393,

421.
Democracy and Morals. — G. A. TAW-

NEY and E. L. TALBERT, 141.
DEMOS, RAPHAEL. — Romanticism vs. the

Worship of Facts, 197.
Deutsche Philosophic der Gegenwart in
Selbsdarstellungen, Die. — JAMES GUT-
MANN, 304.
Dewey's The Dalton Laboratory Plan.

— I. L. KANDEL, 667.
Dewey's Human Nature and Conduct.

— 0. E. ATERS, 469.
DEWIY, JOHN. — An Analysis of Reflec-
tive Thought, 29.
Knowledge and Speech Reaction,

561.

Realism without Monism or Dual-
ism—I, II, 309, 351.
Dichotomy of Nature, The. — W. H.

SHELDON, 365.
Differentiating Principle of Religion,

The. — H. C. ACKERMAN, 317.

Distribution in Formal Logic, Doing

without. — RAY H. DOTTERER, 462.

Of Terms, Immediate Inference and

the.— ALBERT L. HAMMOND, 124.

Doing without Distribution in Formal

Logic. — RAY H. DOTTERER, 462.
DOTTERER, RAY H. — Doing without Dis-
tribution in Formal Logic, 462.
Drover's The Psychology of Everydaj
Life and The Psychology of In-
dustry.— L. PEARL Booos. 249.
Dualism, Realism without Monism or,

I, II. — JOHN DEWEY, 309, 351.
Duality of Thinking, The Implicit.—

GEORGE P. CONGER, 225.
DUNLAP, KNIGHT. — The Identity of

Instinct and Habit, 85.

Dunlap's Mysticism, Freudianism and

Scientific Psychology.— R. 8. WOOD-

WORTH, 101.

EATON, RALPH M. — Smith's Founda-
tions of Formal Logic, 715.
Emergent Theory of Mind, The. — G. T.

W. PATRICK, 701.
Empiricism, Professor Perry's. — H. R.

SMART, 570.

Esthetic Values and Their Interpreta-
tion.— WENDELL T. BUSH, 119.
Esthetics, A Suggestion Regarding. —

STEPHEN C. PEPPER, 113.
Two Notes on. — CHARLES E. WHIT-
MORE, 708.

Facts, Romanticism vs. the Worship of.
— RAPHAEL DEMOS, 197.

Faith, A Partial Analysis of. — Lu-
CINDA PEARL Booos, 15.

Fiske Re-Anticipated. — WILLIAM ERN-
EST HOCKING, 441.

Fiske 's Theory regarding the Value of
Infancy, An Historical Anticipation
of. — WESLEY RAYMOND WELLS, 208.

FLETCHER, JEFFERSON B. — Gilson's Le
Thomisme, 78.

Form of Philosophical Intelligibility,
The. — J. E. CREIGHTON, 253.

FUNG, TU-LAN. — Shuming 's Eastern
and Western Cultures and their
Philosophies. 611.

Garrigou-Lagrange 's Dieu, son Exist-
ence et sa Nature. — C. C. CLIFFORD,
52.

GEIGER, J. R. — Must We Give Up In-
stincts in Psychology, 94.

GIDDINGS, FRANKLIN H. — The Grounds
of Presumption, 617.

Gilson's Le Thomisme. — JEFFERSON B.
FLETCHER, 78.

Gollanez' Translation of Dodi Ve-Nech-
di (Uncle and Nephew). — NIMA H.
ADLERBLUM, 639.

GREGORY, JOSHUA C. — Dr. McTaggart
and Causality, 515.

Grounds of Presumption, The. — FRANK-
LIN H. GIDDINGS, 617.

GUTMANN, JAMES. — Die Deutsche Philo-
sophic der Gegenwart in Selbsdarstel-
lungen, 304.

Habit, The Identity of Instinct and. —
KNIGHT DUNLAP, 85.

Haldane's The Reign of Relativity. —
J. E. TURNER, 191.

Hall's Senescence.— H. L. HOLLING-
WORTH, 525.

HAMMOND, ALBERT L. — Immediate In-
ference and the Distribution of
Terms, 124.

Hayes' Sociology and Ethics. — JOHN
WARBEKE, 444.

Historical Anticipation of John Fiske 's
Theory regarding the Value of In-
fancy, An. — WESLEY RAYMOND
WELLS, 208.

INDEX

725

HOCKING, WILLIAM ERNEST. — Fiske Re-
Anticipated, 441.

HOLLINGWORTH, H. L. — Hall's Sene-
scence, 525.

Hudson's The Truths We Live By. —
MARY SHAW, 501.

HUME, JAMES GIBSON. — Conference on
Philosophy at the University of To-
ronto, 83.

Hume's Translation of the Thirteen
Principal Upanishads. — JAMES Bis-
SETT PRATT, 528.

HUNTER, W. S. — An Open Letter to the

Anti-Behaviorists, 307.
The Modification of Instinct, 98.

Hurst's The Psychology of the Special
Senses and their Functional Dis-
orders.— A. T. POFPENBERGES, 24.

Identity of Instinct and Habit, The. —

KNIGHT DUNLAP, 85.
Immediate Inference and the Distribu-
tion of Terms. — ALBERT L. HAM
MONO, 124.
"Implication and Linear Inference."

— BERNARD BOSANQUET, 292.
Implicit Duality of Thinking, The.—

GEORGE P. CONGER, 225.
Infancy in Eighteenth-century Thought,
The Length of Human. — ARTHUR
O. LOVE JOT, 381.

An Historical Anticipation of
John Fiske 's Theory regarding
the Value of. — WESLEY RAY-
MOND WELLS, 208.

Inference and the Distribution of
Terms, Immediate. — ALBERT L.
HAMMOND, 124.

"Implication and Linear." — BER-
NARD BOSANQUET, 292.
Instinct and Habit, The Identity of. —

KNIGHT DUNLAP, 85.
The Modification of. — WALTER S.

HUNTER, 98.
Instincts in Psychology, Must We Give

Up. — J. R. GEIGER, 94.
Integration, The Word, and a Few Re-
marks on the Paleontology of Words.
— WILLIAM E. RITTER, 266.
Intellect, Intelligence and. — A. A. Ro-

BACK, 325.
Intelligence and Character, Measures

Of. — A. T. PorFENBERGER, 261.

And Intellect. — A. A. ROBACK, 325.

Intelligibility, The Form of Philosoph-
ical.— J. E. CREIGHTON, 253.

Is Consciousness Physical? — R. W.
SELLARS, 690.

James and Lange's The Emotions. —

JOHN M. WARBEKE, 641.
James, The Cosmology of William. —

HERBERT NICHOLS, 673.
Journals and New Books, 25, 55, 82,

110, 139, 166, 195, 223, 250, 276,

306, 334, 363, 390, 418, 447, 475,
503, 531, 558, 587, 614, 642, 669,
698, 718.

KANDEL, I. L. — Dewey's The Dalton

Laboratory Plan, 667.
KANTOR, J. R. — Memory, A Triphase

Objective Action, 624.
The Nervous System, Psychological

Fact or Fiction, 38.
KASNER, EDWARD. — Carr's General
Principle of Relativity; Schliek's
Space and Time in Contemporary
Physics; Sampson's On Gravitation
and Relativity, 220.
Knowledge and Speech Reaction. —

JOHN DEWEY, 561.
Of Other Minds. — HEXRY NELSON

WlEMAN, 605.

Korzybski's The Manhood of Human-
ity.— J. V. BREITWIESSER, 301.

LAMPRECHT, STERLING P. — Burthogge's

Philosophical Writings, 243.
Critical Realism and the External

World, 651.

The Metaphysical Status of Sen-
sations, 169.
Langf eld's The Esthetic Attitude.—

HELEN H. PAKHURST, 717.
LANGFELD, H. S. — Muller-Freienf els '

Psychologie der Kunst, 664.
Length of Human Infancy in Eight-
eenth-century Thought, The. — AR-
THUR O. LOVEJOY, 381.
Levy-Bruhl's La Mentalite Primitive. —

W. T. BUSH, 694.
"Linear Inference, Implication and."

— BERNARD BOSANQUET, 292.
Logic, Doing without Distribution in

Formal. — RAY H. DOTTERER, 462.
LOVEJOY, ARTHUR O. — Pragmatism and

the New Materialism, 5.
The Length of Human Infancy in
Eighteenth-century Thought, 381.
Time, Meaning and Transcend-
ence—I, II, 505, 533.

McTaggart's The Nature of Existence.

— BRAND BLANSHARD, 497.
McTaggart and Causality, Dr. — JOSHUA

C. GREGORY, 515.
MANNING, CLARENCE AUGUSTUS. — Cony-

beare's Russian Dissenters, 270.
Materialism, Pragmatism, and the

New. — ARTHUR O. LOVEJOY, 5.
The Ancient Landmarks: A Com-
ment on Spiritualistic. — MARY
WHITON CALKINS, 493.
The New. — JAMES BISSETT PRATT,

337.

MEAD, GEORGE H. — A Behavioristic
Account of the Significant Symbol,
157.

726

JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

Meaning and Transcendence, Time — I,

II. — ARTHUR O. LOVEJOY, 505, 533.

Measures of Intelligence and Character.

— A. T. POFFENBERGER, 261.

Mechanical Order, Mind in the. —

HENRY BRADFORD SMITH, 489.
MECKLIN, JOHN M. — Ross's The Prin-
ciples of Sociology, 216
Memory: A Triphase Objective Action.

— J. B. KANTOR, 624.
MERRILL, A. A. — The t of Physics, 238.
Metaphysical Status of Sensations, The.

— STERLING P. LAMPRECHT, 169.
Metaphysician's Petitio, A. — Q. A.

TAWNEY, 407.
Metaphysics, On the Method of. —

CHARLES H. TOLL, 57.
Mind in the Mechanical Order. — HENRY

BRADFORD SMITH, 489.
The Emergent Theory of. — G. T.

W. PATRICK, 701.
Minds, Knowledge of Other. — HENRY

NELSON WIEMAN, 605.
Modification of Instinct, The. — WALTER

8. HUNTER, 98.
Monism or Dualism, Realism without —

I, II.— JOHN DEWEY, 309, 351.
MOORE, A. W. — Some Logical Aspects

of Critical Realism, 589.
Morals, Democracy and. — G. A. TAW-
NEY and E. L. TALBERT, 141.
More's The Religion of Plato. — W. T.

BUSH, 557.

Platonism. — W. T. BUSH, 557.
Miiller-Freienf els ' Psychologic d e r

Kunst. — H. S. LANGFELD, 664.
MUNRO, THOMAS. — The Verification of

Standards of Value, 294.
Munsterberg 's Hugo Miinsterberg, His
Life and His Work. — W. T. BUSH,
642.

MUBSELL, JAMES L. — Behaviorism and
the Programme of Philosophy,
549.

The Concept of Sensation, 684.
Russell's The Analysis of Mind,

163.

Truth as Correspondence: A Re-
definition, 181.

Mast We Give Up Instinct in Psychol-
ogy?— J. R. GEIGER, 94.

Nature of Space, The — I, II. — THEO

DORK DE LAGUNA, 393, 421.
The Dichotomy of. — W. H. SHEL-
DON, 365.
New Materialism, The. — JAMES BlS-

srrr PRATT, 337.
Nervous System, Psychological Fact or

Fiction f. The. — J*. R. KANTOR, 38.
NICHOLS, HERBERT. — The Cosmology of

William James, 673.
Notes and News, 26. 56. 82, 111, 140.
167, 195, 224, 251, 277, 307, 339,
364, 392, 419, 448, 476, 504, 532,
560, 588, 615, 644, 671, 699, 720.

On the Method of Metaphysics. —
CHARLES H. TOLL, 57.

Paleontology of Words, The Word In-
tegration, and a Few Remarks on
the. — WILLIAM E. RITTER, 266.
Paris Philosophical Congress, The.—

W. T. BUSH, 241.
Parker's The Principles of Esthetics. —

HELEN Huss PARKHURST, 81.
PARKHURST, HELEN H. — Langf eld 's

The Esthetic Attitude, 717.
The Meeting of the American Philo-
sophical Association — Eastern
Division, 210.

Parker's The Principles of Esthe-
tics, 81.
Partial Analysis of Faith, A. — Lu-

CINDA PEARL BOGGS, 15.
PATRICK, G. T. W. — The Emergent The-
ory of Mind, 701.

PEPPER, STEPHEN C. — A Suggestion Re-
garding Esthetics, 113.
Perry 's Empiricism, Professor. — H. R.

SMART, 570.
Petitio, A Metaphysician's. — G. A.

TAWNEY, 407.

Philosophical Association — E astern
Division, The Meeting of the Ameri-
can.— HELEN Huss PARKHURST, 210.
Philosophy, Behaviorism and the Pro-
gramme of. — JAMES L. MURSELL,
549.

Physics, The t of.— A. A. MERRILL, 238.
PICARD, MAURICE. — Sellar's Evolution-
ary Naturalism, 582.
Value and Worth, 477.
Picard's Values, Immediate and Con-
tributory.— WILBUR M. URBAN, 53.
PILLSBURY, W. B. — Woodworth's Psy-
chology, 446.

POFFENBERGER, A. T. — Hurst 's The Psy-
chology of the Special Senses and
their Functional Disorders, 24.
Measures of Intelligence and Char-
acter, 261.

Point, Line and Surface, as Sets of

Solids. — THEODORE DE LAGUXA, 449.

Pragmatism and the New Materialism.

— ARTHUR O. LOVEJOY, 5.
PRATT, JAMES BISSETT. — Behaviorism

and Consciousness, 596.
Hume's Translation of the Thirteen

Principles Upanishads, 528.
The New Materialism, 337.
Predicate Term, The. — JOHN J. TOOHEY,

542.

Presumption, The Grounds of. — FRANK-
LIN H. GIDDINGS, 617.
Professor Perry's Empiricism. — H. R.

SMART, 570.

Psychology, Must We Give Up In-
stincts int — J. R. GEIGER, 94.
Mr. Russell's. — F. C. S. SCHILLER.
281.

INDEX

727

Purpose, Behavior and. — WILSON D.
WALLIS, 580.

RANDALL, JOHN H. JR. — Emile Bout-

roux, 26.

Kealism, Critical.— B. H. BODE, 68.
Critical and External World. —

STEELING P. LAMPRECHT, 651.
Dr. A. N. Whitehead's Scientific.—

J. E. TURNER, 146.
Some Logical Aspects of Critical.

—A. W. MOORE, 589.
Without Monism or Dualism. — I,

II,— JOHN DEWEY, 309, 351.
Reflective Thought, An Analysis of. —

JOHN DEWEY, 29.

Relativity, Old and New. — H. A. WAD-
MAN, 200.
"Relativity, Old and New."— J. E.

TURNER, 661.
Religion, The Differentiating Principle

Of. — H. C. ACKERMAN, 317.

HITTER, WILLIAM E. — The Word Integ-
ration, and a Few Remarks on the
Paleontology of Words, 266.

ROBACK, A. A. — Intelligence and In-
tellect, 325.

Robb's The Absolute Relations of Time
and Space. — THEODORE DE LAGUNA,
361.

Romanticism vs. the Worship of Facts.
— RAPHAEL DEMOS, 197.

Ross's The Principles of Sociology. —
JOHN M. MECKLIN, 216.

Rougier's Philosophy and the New
Physics. — THEODORE DE LAGUNA, 389.

RUSSELL, BERTRAND. — Dr. Schiller 's
Analysis of ' ' The Analysis of Mind, ' '
645.

Russell's Psychology, Mr. — F. C. S.

SCHILLER, 281.

The Analysis of Mind. — JAMES L.
MURSELL, 163.

Sampson's On Gravitation and Rela-
tivity.— EDWARD KASNER, 220.

SCHILLER, F. C. S.— Mr. Russell's Psy-
chology, 281.

Schiller 's Analysis of ' ' The Analysis of
Mind, ' ' Dr. — BERTRAND RUSSELL,
645.

Schlick's Space and Time in Contempo-
rary Physics. — EDWARD KASNER, 220.

SCHNEIDER, H. W. — Oxford Translation
of Aristotle's Politics, (Economica,
and Atheniensum Respublica, 331.

Scientific Realism, Dr. A. N. White-
head's. — J. E. TURNER, 146.

SELLARS, R. W. — Is Consciousness Phys-
ical!, 690.

Sellars ' Evolutionary Naturalism. —
MAURICE PICARD, 582.

Sensation, The Concept of. — JAMES L.
MURSELL, 684.

Sensations, The Metaphysical Status of.
— STERLING P. LAMPRECHT, 169.

SHAW, MAEY. — Hudson's The Truths
We Live By, 501.

SHELDON, W. H. — The Dichotomy of
Nature, 365.

Shuming's Eastern and Western Cul-
tures and their Philosophies. — YU-LAN
FUNG, 611.

Significant Symbol, A Behavioristic Ac-
count of the. — GEORGE H. MEAD, 157.

SMART, H. R. — Professor Perry's Em-
piricism, 570.

SMITH, HENRY BRADFORD. — Mind in the
Mechanical Order, 489.

Smith's Foundations of Formal Logic.
— RALPH M. EATON, 715.

Some Logical Aspects of Critical Real-
ism.— A. W. MOORE, 589.

Solids, Point, Line and Surface as Sets
of. — THEODORE DE LAGUNA, 449.

Sortais 's La Philosophie moderne depuis
Bacon jusqu '& Leibniz. — H. B. ALEX-
ANDER, 137.

Souilhe's Etude sur le Terme ATNAMIZ
dans les Dialogues de Platon. —
GEORGE BOAS, 332.

Space, The Nature of, — I, II.— THEO-
DORE DE LAGUNA, 393, 421.

Speech Reaction, Knowledge and. —
JOHN DEWEY, 561.

Suggestion Regarding Esthetics, A. —
STEPHEN C. PEPPER, 113.

Surface, Point, Line and, as Sets of
Solids. — THEODORE DE LAGUNA, 449.

Symbol, A Behavioristie Account of
the Significant. — GEORGE H. MEAD,
157.

T of Physics, The.— A. A. MERRILL,

238.
T ALBERT, E. L. and G. A. TAWNEY. —

Democracy and Morals, 141.
TAWNEY, G. A. and E. L. TALBERT. —

Democracy and Morals, 141.
TAWNEY, G. A. — A Metaphysician's

Petitio, 407.
Term, The Predicate. — JOHN J. TOOHEY,

542.
Terms, Immediate Inference and the

Distribution of. — ALBERT L. HAM-
MOND, 124.
Thinking, The Implicit Duality of. —

GEORGE P. CONGER, 225.
Time, Meaning and Transcendence — I,

II. — ARTHUR O. LOVEJOY, 505, 533.
TOLL, CHARLES H. — On the Method of

Metaphysics, 57.
TOOHEY, JOHN J. — The Predicate Term,

542.
Toronto, Conference on Philosophy at

the University of. — JAMES GIBSON

HUME, 83.
Transcendence, Time, Meaning and, — I,

II. — ARTHUR O. LOVEJOY, 505, 533.
Truth as Correspondence: A Redefini-
tion.— JAMES L. MURSELL, 181.

JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY

TURNER, J. E.— < ' Relativity. Old and

New/' 661.

TURNER, J. E.— Bosanquet '• The Meet-
ing of Extremes in Contemporary
Philosophy, 553.

"Relativity, Old and New," 661.
Dr. A. N. Whitehead's Scientific

Realism, 146.
Haldane's The Reign of Relativity,

191.

Two Notes on Esthetics. — CHARLES E.
WHITMORE, 708.

URBAN, WILBUR M. — Picard's Values,
Immediate and Contributory, 53.

Value and Worth. — MAURICE PICARD,

477.
The Verification of Standards of.

— THOMAS MUNRO, 294.
Values and Their Interpretation, Esthe-
tic.— WENDELL T. BUSH, 119.
Verification of Standards of Value. —
THOMAS MUNRO, 294.

WADMAN, H. A. — Relativity, Old and
New, 200.

WALLIS, WILSON D. — Behavior and Pur-
pose, 580.

WARBEKE, JOHN M. — Avey's Readings
in Philosophy, 641.

James and Lange's, The Emotions

641.
Hayes' Sociology and Ethics, 444.

WILLS, F. L. — Cotton's The Defective
Delinquent and the Insane, 442.

WELLS, WESLEY RAYMOND. — An His-
torical Anticipation of John Fiske's
Theory regarding the Value of In-
fancy, 208.

WENLEY, R. M.— Andler's Nietzsche,
sa Vie et sa Pensee, Vol. II, Vol. III.
246, 385.

Whitehead's Scientific Realism, Dr. A.
N.— J. E. TURNER, 146.

WHITMORE, CHARLES E. — Two Notes on
Esthetics, 708.

WIEMAN, HENRY NELSON. — Knowledge
of Other Minds, 605.

WOODWORTH, R. S. — Dunlap's Mysti-
cism, Freudianism and Scientific Psy-
chology, 101.

Woodworth 's Psychology. — W. B.
PILLSBURY, 446.

Word Integration, and a Few Remarks
on the Paleontology of Words, The.
— WILLIAM E. RIOTER, 266.

Worth, Value and. — MAURICE PICARD,
477.

Worship of Facts, Romanticism vs. —
RAPHAEL DEMOS, 197.

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