International Library of Psychology
Philosophy and Scientific Method
Scientific Thought
Internationa] Library of Psychology
Philosophy and Scientific Method
General Editor: C. K. Ogden, m.a.
{Magdalene College, Cambridge)
VOl r w/ S Al Rl ADY ARRANGED
PHILOSOPHICAL STUDIES .... by G. E. MOORE, Litt.D.
THE MISl SE OF MIND by Karin Stephen
i Note by Henri Bergson
CONF1 ICT AND DREAM .... by W. II. R. Rivers, F.R.S.
PSYCHOLOGY AND POLITICS . . . by W. H. R. RIVERS, F.R.S.
PSYCHOLOGY AND ETHNOLOGY . . by W. II. R. Rivers, F.R.S.
THE ANALYSIS OF MATTER . . by Bertrand RUSSELL, F.R.S.
IK ACTATUS LOGICO-PHILOSOPHICUS . . .by L. Wittgenstein
Introduction by Bertrand Russell
MATHEMATICS FOR PHILOSOPHERS . . by G. H. Hardy, F.R.S.
PSYCHOLOGICAL TYPES . . . . by C. G. Jung, M.D., LL.D.
THE PSYCHOLOGY OF MYTHS . . by G. Elliot Smith, F.R.S.
THE PHILOSOPHY' OF THE UNCONSCIOUS by E. von Hartmann
Introduction by Professor G. Elliot Smith
CHARACTER AND THE UNCONSCIOUS . by J. H. van der Hoop
INDIVIDUAL PSYCHOLOGY by Alfred Adler
SCIENTIFIC METHOD by A. V. Ritchie
THE MEANING OF MEANING . . by C. K. Ogden and I. A. Richards
THE THEORY OF MEDICAL DIAGNOSIS
by F. G. Crookshank, M.D., F.R.C.P.
THE ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOTHERAPY 6y William Brown, M.D., D.Sc.
THE MEASUREMENT OF EMOTION . . by W. Whately Smith
Introduction by William Brown
EMOTION AND INSANITY by S. Thalbitzer
Introduction by Professor H. H off ding
THE LAWS OF FEELING by F. Paulhan
THE PSYCHOLOGY OF MUSIC by Edward J. Dent
COLOUR-HARMONY by James Wood
THE DEVELOPMENT OF CHINESE THOUGHT by Liang Che-Chiao
THE HISTORY OF MATERIALISM d; F. A. Lange
THE PRIMITIVE MIND by P. Radin, Ph.D.
THE PSYCHOLOGY OF PRIMITIVE PEOPLES
by B. Malinowski, Ph.D., D.Sc.
THE STATISTICAL METHOD IN ECONOMICS AND POLITICS
by P. Sargant Florence
THE PSYCHOLOGY OF REASONING . . by Eugenio Rignano
THE PRINCIPLES OF CRITICISM . . . by I. A. Richards
THE PHILOSOPHY OF 'AS IF' . . . . by H. Vaihinger
Scientific Thought
By
C. D. pOAD
M.A., Litt.D.
Sometime Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge
Professor of Philosophy in the University of Bristol
Author of " Perception, Physics and Reality "
y
uT
NEW YORK
HARCOURT, BRACE & COMPANY, INC.
LONDON : KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & CO., LTD.
I923
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PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BV
THE EDINBURGH PRESS, Q A
ND II YOUNG STREET, EDINBURGH.
IN PIAM MEMORIAM
IACOBI MUDIE
DUCIS ILLIUS DORSETIAE
APUD CONDISCIPULOS IN UNIVERSITATE ANDREANA
QUI A.D. MDCCCXCV TAODUNI SCOTORUM NATUS
A.D. MDCCCCXVI IN PUGNA AD THESSALONICAM OCCUBUIT
. . . Manibus date lilia plenis :
Purpureos spargam flores, animamque nepotis
His saltern accumulem donis, et fungar inani
Munere. — Virgil, Aeneid, VI
At ego tibi sermone isto . . . varias fabulas conseram,
auresque tuas benevolas lepido susurro permulceam,
modo si papyram JEgyptiam argutia Nilotici calamo
inscriptam non spreveris inspicere . . . — Apuleius,
The Golden Ass
PREFACE
The present book is ultimately based on a course of
lectures delivered to the third year students of science
at the University of Bristol in the session 1920-21. It
is an admirable custom, which, like many other benefits,
that University owes to my distinguished predecessor,
Professor Lloyd Morgan, that all students of science
are expected to attend such a course before completing
their career. It seemed worth while to elaborate the
lectures, to remove their more obvious blemishes, and
to present them to a wider public.
In the First Part I have started with the highly
sophisticated concepts of the classical mathematical
physics, have tried to express them clearly, and
have then discussed the modifications which recent
advances in scientific knowledge have necessitated in
these concepts. I > have carried this account to the
end of the Second Theory of Relativity. I have not
penetrated into the still more revolutionary speculations
of Weyl, because I do not feel that I yet understand
them well enough myself to venture to explain them
to others. A philosopher who regards ignorance of a
scientific theory as a sufficient reason for not writing
about it cannot be accused of complete lack of origin-
ality, as a study of recent philosophical literature will
amply prove.
I begin with an Introduction, which states what I
think Philosophy to be about, and how I think it to
4 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
be connected with the special sciences. I then try to
explain in simple terms the nature and objects of
Whitehead's Principle of Extensive Abstraction. This
seems to me to be the " Prolegomena to every future
Philosophy of Nature." It is quite possible to explain
its motives and general character without entering
deeply into those logico-mathematical complications
which are inevitable when it is applied in detail. Next,
greatly daring, I have discussed the difficult problems
which centre upon the general notion of Time and
Change. Here I have tried to make some answer to
the very disturbing arguments by which Dr M'Taggart
has claimed to disprove the reality of these apparently
fundamental features of the Universe. After this the
rest of the First Part should be fairly plain sailing to
anyone of decent general education, though I do not
pretend that it can be understood without effort by
persons who are unfamiliar with the subjects which it
treats.
In some of these later chapters the reader will find
a number of mathematical formulas. He must not be
frightened of them, for I can assure him that they
involve no algebraical processes more advanced than
the simple equations which he learnt to solve at his
mother's knee. I myself can make no claims to be
a mathematician : the most I can say is that I can
generally follow a mathematical argument if I take
enough time over it. I like to believe that, in expound-
ing the Theory of Relativity, a clumsy mathematician
has some of the qualities of his defects. His own former
difficulties will at least suggest to him the places where
others are likely to have trouble.
In Part II we start afresh at a quite different level.
Here I try to point out the sensible and perceptible
facts which underlie the highly abstract concepts of
PREFACE 5
science, and the cruder, but still highly sophisticated,
concepts of common-sense. Beside the intrinsic interest
and importance of this topic it has a direct bearing on
Part I. A great deal of the difficulty which many
people have in accepting the newer views of Space,
Time and Motion, arises from the fact that they regard
the traditional concepts as perfectly plain and obvious,
whilst they feel that the later modifications are paradoxes,
forced on them vi et armis by a few inconvenient and
relatively trivial facts. The moment we recognise how
extraordinarily remote the classical concepts are from
the crude facts of sense-experience, from which they
must have been gradually elaborated, this source of
incredulity vanishes. The hold of the tradition is
loosened ; and we are prepared to consider alternative,
and possibly more satisfactory, conceptual syntheses of
sensible facts.
I have tried in Part II to focus before my mind what
seems to me to be the most important work that has been
done on these subjects since 1914, when the publication
of my Perception, Physics and Reality unhappily pre-
cipitated a European war. If I have learnt nothing
else since then, I have at least come to see the extreme
complexity of the problem of the external world and of
our supposed knowledge of it. My obligations to
Moore, Russell, Whitehead and Stout are continual,
and will be perfectly obvious to anyone acquainted with
the literature of the subject. I here make my grateful
acknowledgments to them, once for all. To a less
extent I have been influenced by Alexander and Dawes
Hicks. I have merely mentioned Dawes Hicks's theory
of appearance and then left it. This is not because I
think it either impossible or unimportant, but because I
am here deliberately trying to work out a different view,
which I also think to be possible and important.
6 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
I cannot claim to have put forward any new and
startling theory of the universe. If I have any kind of
philosophical merit, it is neither the constructive fertility
of an Alexander, nor the penetrating critical acumen of
a Moore ; still less is it that extraordinary combination of
both with technical mathematical skill which character-
ises Whitehead and Russell. I can at most claim the
humbler (yet useful) power of stating difficult things
clearly and not too superficially.
" Excudcnt alii spirantia mollius aera,
Credo equidem ; vivos ducent de marmore vultus ; "
but I hope that I may at least have smolten some of the
metal and hewn some of the stone which others will
use in their constructions.
I must end by thanking Dr R. S. Paton of Perth
for kindly reading the proofs and helping me with the
index; Mr E. Harrison, of Trinity College, Cambridge,
for his gallant efforts to involve my dedication in "the
decent obscurity of a learned language " ; and the
printers for the care which they have taken in printing
what must have been a rather troublesome piece of
work.
C. D. BROAD.
London, Sept. 1922.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Introduction : The Subject-matter of Philosophy,
and its relations to the Special Sciences . n
PART I
THE TRADITIONAL CONCEPTS OF MATHEMATICAL
PHYSICS, AND THEIR GRADUAL MODIFICATION
WITHIN THE REGION OF PHYSICAL SCIENCE
CHAPTER
I. The Traditional Conception of Space, and the
Principle of Extensive Abstraction . . 26
II. The General Problem of Time and Change . 53
III. The Traditional Kinematics, and its gradual
Modification in the Region of Physics. (1)
The Absolute and the Relational Theories . 85
IV. Modification of the Traditional Kinematics in
the Region of Physics — Continued. (2) The
Special Theory of Relativity . . .114
V. The Traditional Kinetics, and its gradual Modifi-
cation in the Region of Physics. (1) Newton's
Laws of Motion and Gravitation . . . 155
VI. Modification of the Traditional Kinetics — Con-
tinued. (2) The General Theory of Relativity.
Summary of Part I .... 179
8 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
PART II
THE SENSATIONAL AND PERCEPTUAL BASIS
OF OUR SCIENTIFIC CONCEPTS
CHAPTER PAGE
VII. Matter and its Appearances ; Preliminary
Definitions 227
VIII. The Theory of Sensa, and the Critical Scientific
Theory 239
IX. The Positions and Shapes of Sensa and of
Physical Objects 284
X. The Dates and Durations of Sensa and of
Physical Objects and Events . . . 344
XL Sensible and Physical Motion .... 405
XII. Sensible and Physical Space-Time . . . 452
XIII. The Physiological Conditions of Sensations, and
the Ontological Status of Sensa . . . 488
Index 549
PART I
THE TRADITIONAL CONCEPTS OF MATHEMATICAL
PHYSICS, AND THEIR GRADUAL MODIFICATION
WITHIN THE REGION OF PHYSICAL SCIENCE
Contents of Part I
Introduction. — The Subject-matter of Philosophy, and its
Relations to the Special Sciences
CHAPTER
I. The Traditional Conception of Space, and the Principle
of Extensive Abstraction
II. The General Problem of Time and Change
III. The Traditional Kinematics and its gradual Modification
within the Region of Physics, (i) The Absolute and
the Relational Theories
IV. Modification of the Traditional Kinematics in the Region
of Physics — Continued. (2) The Special Theory of
Relativity
V. The Traditional Kinetics and its gradual Modification in
the Region of Physics. (1) Newton's Laws of Motion
and of Gravitation
VI. Modification of the Traditional Kinetics — Continued.
(2) The General Theory of Relativity. Summary of
Part I
B
SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
INTRODUCTION
"Noli, Lector, expectare hoc loco, contra Philosophiam
aut Philosophos orationem invectivam. . . . Distinguo inter
Philosophos et non Philosophos, et inter Philosophiam
veram, vitae humanae Magistram sapientissimam, humanae
naturae decus singulare, et illam, quae jam diu pro Philo-
sophia habita est, fucatam et garrulam meretriculam."
(Hobbes, Leviathan, Part IV. cap. xlvi.)
The Subject-matter of Philosophy, and its Relations
to the special Sciences
I shall devote this introductory chapter to stating what
I think Philosophy is about, and why the other sciences
are important to it and it is important to the other
sciences. A very large number of scientists will begin
such a book as this with the strong conviction that
Philosophy is mainly moonshine, and with the gravest
doubts as to whether it has anything of the slightest
importance to tell them. I do not think that this view
of Philosophy is true, or I should not waste my time
and cheat my students by trying to teach it. But I do
think that such a view is highly plausible, and that
the proceedings of many philosophers have given the
general public some excuse for its unfavourable opinion
of Philosophy. I shall therefore begin by stating the
case against Philosophy as strongly as I can, and shall
then try to show that, in spite of all objections, it really
is a definite science with a distinct subject-matter. I
shall try to show that it really does advance and that
it is related to the special sciences in such a way that
ii
12 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
the co-operation of philosophers and scientists is of the
utmost benefit to the studies of both.
I think that an intelligent scientist would put his
case against Philosophy somewhat as follows. He
would say : " Philosophers discuss such subjects as
the existence of God, the immortality of the soul, and
the freedom of the will. They spin out of their minds
fanciful theories, which can neither be supported nor
refuted by experiment. No two philosophers agree, and
no progress is made. Philosophers are still discussing
with great heat the same questions that they discussed
in Greece thousands of years ago. What a poor show
does this make when compared with mathematics or any
of the natural sciences ! Here there is continual steady
progress ; the discoveries of one age are accepted by
the next, and become the basis for further advances
in knowledge. There is controversy indeed, but it is
fruitful controversy which advances the science and
ends in definite agreement ; it is not the aimless
wandering in a circle to which Philosophy is condemned.
Does this not very strongly suggest that Philosophy
is either a mere playing with words, or that, if it has
a genuine subject-matter, this is beyond the reach of
human intelligence?"
Our scientist might still further strengthen his case
by reflecting on the past history of Philosophy and on
the method by which it is commonly taught to students.
He will remind us that most of the present sciences
started by being mixed up with Philosophy, that so
long as they kept this connexion they remained misty
and vague, and that as soon as their fundamental
principles began to be discovered they cut their dis-
reputable associate, wedded the experimental method,
and settled down to the steady production of a strapping
family of established truths. Mechanics is a case in
point. So long as it was mixed up with Philosophy it
made no progress ; when the true laws of motion were
discovered by the experiments and reasoning of Galileo
INTRODUCTION 13
it ceased to be part of Philosophy and began to develop
into a separate science. Does this not suggest that the
subject-matter of Philosophy is just that ever-diminishing
fragment of the universe in which the scientist has not
yet discovered laws, and where we have therefore to put
up with guesses? Are not such guesses the best that
Philosophy has to offer ; and will they not be swept
aside as soon as some man of genius, like Galileo or
Dalton or Faraday, sets the subject on the sure path of
science?
Should our scientist talk to students of Philosophy
and ask what happens at their lectures, his objections
will most likely be strengthened. The answer may take
the classical form : " He tells us what everyone knows
in language that no one can understand." But, even
if the answer be not so unfavourable as this, it is not
unlikely to take the form: "We hear about the views
of Plato and Kant and Berkeley on such subjects as the
reality of the external world and the immortality of the
soul." Now the scientist will at once contrast this with
the method of teaching in his own subject, and will be
inclined to say, if e.g. he be a chemist: "We learn
what are the laws of chemical combination and the
structure of the Benzene nucleus, we do not worry our
heads as to what exactly Dalton thought or Kekule said.
If philosophers really know anything about the reality
of the external world why do they not say straight-
forwardly that it is real or unreal, and prove it? The
fact that they apparently prefer to discuss the divergent
views of a collection of eminent ' back-numbers ' on
the question strongly suggests that they know that there
is no means of answering it, and that nothing better
than groundless personal opinions can be offered."
I have put these objections as strongly as I can, and
I now propose to see just how much there is in them.
First, as to the alleged unprogressive character of
Philosophy. This is, I think, an illusion ; but it is
a very natural one. Let us take the question of the
14 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
reality of the external world as an example. Common-
sense says that chairs and tables exist independently
of whether anyone happens to perceive them or not.
We study Berkeley and find him claiming to prove
that such things can only exist so long as they are
perceived by someone. Later on we read some modern
realist, like Alexander, and we are told that Berkeley
was wrong, and that chairs and tables can and do exist
unperceived. We seem merely to have got back to
where we started from, and to have wasted our time.
But this is not really so, for two reasons, (i) What we
believe at the end of the process and what we believed at
the beginning are by no means the same, although we
express the two beliefs by the same form of words.
The original belief of common-sense was vague, crude
and unanalysed. Berkeley's arguments have forced
us to recognise a number of distinctions and to define
much more clearly what we mean by the statement that
chairs and tables exist unperceived. What we find is
that the original crude belief of common-sense consisted
of a number of different beliefs, mixed up with each
other. Some of these may be true and others false.
Berkeley's arguments really do refute or throw grave
doubt on some of them, but they leave others standing.
Now it may be that those which are left are enough to
constitute a belief in the independent reality of external
objects. If so this final belief in the reality of the
external world is much clearer and subtler than the
verbally similar belief with which we began. It has been
purified of irrelevant factors, and is no longer a vague
mass of different beliefs mixed up with each other.
(ii) Not only will our final belief differ in content
from our original one, it will also differ in certainty.
Our original belief was merely instinctive, and was at
the mercy of any sceptical critic who chose to cast
doubts on it. Berkeley has played this part. Our final
belief is that part or that modification of our original
one that has managed to survive his criticisms. This
INTRODUCTION 15
does not of course prove that it is true ; there may be
other objections to it. But, at any rate, a belief that
has stood the criticisms of an acute and subtle thinker,
like Berkeley, is much more likely to be true than a
merely instinctive belief which has never been criticised
by ourselves or anyone else. Thus the process which
at first sight seemed to be merely circular has not really
been so. And it has certainly not been useless ; for it
has enabled us to replace a vague belief by a clear and
analysed one, and a merely instinctive belief by one
that has passed through the fire of criticism.
The above example will suggest to us a part at least
of what Philosophy is really about. Common-sense
constantly makes use of a number of concepts, in terms
of which it interprets its experience. It talks of things
of various kinds ; it says that they have places and dates,
that they change, and that changes in one cause changes
in others, and so on. Thus it makes constant use of
such concepts or categories as thinghood, space, time,
change, cause, etc. Science takes over these concepts
from common-sense with but slight modification, and
uses them in its work. Now we can and do use
concepts without having any very clear idea of their
meaning or their mutual relations. I do not of course
suggest that to the ordinary man the words substance,
cause, change, etc., are mere meaningless noises, like
Jabberwock or Snark. It is clear that we mean some-
thing, and something different in each case, by such
words. If we did not we could not use them con-
sistently, and it is obvious that on the whole we do
consistently apply and withhold such names. But it
is possible to apply concepts more or less successfully
when one has only a very confused idea as to their
meaning. No man confuses place with date, and for
practical purposes any two men agree as a rule in the
places that they assign to a given object. Nevertheless,
if you ask them what exactly they mean by place and
date, they will be puzzled to tell you.
16 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
Now the most fundamental task of Philosophy is to
take the concepts that we daily use in common life and
science, to analyse them, and thus to determine their
precise meanings and their mutual relations. Evidently
this is an important duty. In the first place, clear and
accurate knowledge of anything is an advance on a
mere hazy general familiarity with it. Moreover, in
the absence of clear knowledge of the meanings and
relations of the concepts that we use, we are certain
sooner or later to apply them wrongly or to meet with
exceptional cases where we are puzzled as to how to
apply them at all. For instance, we all agree pretty
well as to the place of a certain pin which we are
looking at. But suppose we go on to ask : " Where is
the image of that pin in a certain mirror ; and is it in
this place (whatever it may be) in precisely the sense
in which the pin itself is in its place?" We shall find
the question a very puzzling one, and there will be no
hope of answering it until we have carefully analysed
what we mean by being in a place.
Again, this task of clearing up the meanings and
determining the relations of fundamental concepts is
not performed to any extent by any other science.
Chemistry uses the notion of substance, geometry that
of space, and mechanics that of motion. But they
assume that you already know what is meant by
substance and space and motion. So you do in a vague
way ; and it is not their business to enter, more
than is necessary for their own special purposes, into
the meaning and relations of these concepts as such.
Of course the special sciences do in some measure clear
up the meanings of the concepts that they use. A
chemist, with his distinction between elements and
compounds and his laws of combination, has a clearer
idea of substance than an ordinary layman. But the
special sciences only discuss the meanings of their
concepts so far as this is needful for their own special
purposes. Such discussion is incidental to them, whilst
INTRODUCTION 17
it is of the essence of Philosophy, which deals with such
questions for their own sake. Whenever a scientist
begins to discuss the concepts of his science in this
thorough and disinterested way we begin to say that he
is studying, not so much Chemistry or Physics, as the
Philosophy of Chemistry or Physics. It will therefore
perhaps be agreed that, in the above sense of Philosophy,
there is both room and need for such a study, and that
there is no special reason to fear that it will be beyond
the compass of human faculties.
At this point a criticism may be made which had
better be met at once. It may be said : " By your own
admission the task of Philosophy is purely verbal ; it
consists entirely of discussions about the meanings of
words." This criticism is of course absolutely wide of
the mark. When we say that Philosophy tries to clear
up the meanings of concepts we do not mean that it is
simply concerned to substitute some long phrase for
some familiar word. Any analysis, when once it has
been made, is naturally expressed in words ; but so too
is any other discovery. When Cantor gave his defini-
tion of Continuity, the final result of his work was
expressed by saying that you can substitute for the
word "continuous" such and such a verbal phrase.
But the essential part of the work was to find out exactly
what properties are present in objects when we predicate
continuity of them, and what properties are absent
when we refuse to predicate continuity. This was
evidently not a question of words but of things and
their properties.
Philosophy has another and closely connected task.
We not only make continual use of vague and
unanalysed concepts. We have also a number of un-
criticised beliefs, which we constantly assume in
ordinary life and in the sciences. We constantly
assume, e.g. that every event has a cause, that nature
obeys uniform laws, that we live in a world of objects
whose existence and behaviour are independent of our
18 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
knowledge of them, and so on. Now science takes over
these beliefs without criticism from common-sense, and
simply works with them. We know by experience,
however, that beliefs which are very strongly held may
be mere prejudices. Negroes find it very hard to
believe that water can become solid, because they have
always lived in a warm climate. Is it not possible that
we believe that nature as a whole will always act
uniformly simply because the part of nature in which
the human race has lived has happened to act so up
to the present? All such beliefs then, however deeply
rooted, call for criticism. The first duty of Philosophy
is to state them clearly ; and this can only be done
when we have analysed and defined the concepts that
they involve. Until you know exactly what you mean
by change and cause you cannot know what is meant
by the statement that every change has a cause. And
not much weight can be attached to a person's most
passionate beliefs if he does not know what precisely he
is passionately believing. The next duty of Philosophy
is to test such beliefs ; and this can only be done by
resolutely and honestly exposing them to every objection
that one can think of oneself or find in the writings of
others. We ought only to go on believing a proposition
if, at the end of this process, we still find it impossible
to doubt it. Even then of course it may not be true,
but we have at least done our best.
These two branches of Philosophy — the analysis
and definition of our fundamental concepts, and the
clear statement and resolute criticism of our fundamental
beliefs — I call Critical Philosophy. It is obviously a
necessary and a possible task, and it is not performed
by any other science. The other sciences use the
concepts and assume the beliefs ; Critical Philosophy
tries to analyse the former and to criticise the latter.
Thus, so long as science and Critical Philosophy
keep to their own spheres, there is no possibility of
conflict between them, since their subject-matter is
INTRODUCTION 19
quite different. Philosophy claims to analyse the
general concepts of substance and cause, e.g.; it does
not claim to tell us about particular substances, like
gold, or about particular laws of causation, as that
aqua regia dissolves gold. Chemistry, on the other
hand, tells us a great deal about the various kinds of
substances in the world, and how changes in one cause
changes in another. But it does not profess to analyse
the general concepts of substance or causation, or to
consider what right we have to assume that every event
has a cause.
It should now be clear why the method of Philosophy
is so different from that of the natural sciences. Ex-
periments are not made, because they would be utterly
useless. If you want to find out how one substance
behaves in presence of another you naturally put the
two together, vary the conditions, and note the results.
But no experiment will clear up your ideas as to the
meaning of cause in general or of substance in general.
Again, all conclusions from experiments rest on some
of those very assumptions which it is the business of
Philosophy to state clearly and to criticise. The experi-
menter assumes that nature obeys uniform laws, and
that similar results will follow always and everywhere
from sufficiently similar conditions. This is one of the
assumptions that Philosophy wants to consider critically.
The method of Philosophy thus resembles that of pure
mathematics, at least in the respect that neither has any
use for experiment.
There is, however, a very important difference. In
pure mathematics we start either from axioms which no
one questions, or from premises which are quite explicitly
assumed merely as hypotheses ; and our main interest
is to deduce remote consequences. Now most of the
tacit assumptions of ordinary life and of natural science
claim to be true and not merely to be hypotheses, and
at the same time they are found to be neither clear
nor self-evident when critically reflected upon. Most
20 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
mathematical axioms are very simple and clear, whilst
most other propositions which men strongly believe are
highly complex and confused. Philosophy is mainly
concerned, not with remote conclusions, but with the
analysis and appraisement of the original premises.
For this purpose analytical power and a certain kind of
insight are necessary, and the mathematical method is
not of much use.
Now there is another kind of Philosophy ; and, as
this is more exciting, it is what laymen generally under-
stand by the name. This is what I call Speculative
Philosophy. It has a different object, is pursued by a
different method, and leads to results of a different
degree of certainty from Critical Philosophy. Its
object is to take over the results of the various sciences,
to add to them the results of the religious and ethical
experiences of mankind, and then to reflect upon the
whole. The hope is that, by this means, we may be
able to reach some general conclusions as to the nature
of the Universe, and as to our position and prospects
in it.
There are several points to be noted about Speculative
Philosophy, (i) If it is to be of the slightest use it
must presuppose Critical Philosophy. It is useless to
take over masses of uncriticised detail from the sciences
and from the ethical and religious experiences of men.
We do not know what they mean, or what degree of
certainty they possess till they have been clarified and
appraised by Critical Philosophy. It is thus quite
possible that the time for Speculative Philosophy has
not yet come ; for Critical Philosophy may not have
advanced far enough to supply it with a firm basis. In
the past people have tended to rush on to Speculative
* Philosophy, because of its greater practical interest.
The result has been the production of elaborate systems
which may quite fairly be described as moonshine. The
discredit which the general public quite rightly attaches
to these hasty attempts at Speculative Philosophy is
INTRODUCTION 21
reflected back on Critical Philosophy, and Philosophy
as a whole thus falls into undeserved disrepute.
(ii) At the best Speculative Philosophy can only
consist of more or less happy guesses, made on a very
slender basis. There is no hope of its reaching the
certainty which some parts of Critical Philosophy might
quite well attain. Now speculative philosophers as a
class have been the most dogmatic of men. They have
been more certain of everything than they had a right
to be of anything.
(iii) A man's final view of the Universe as a whole,
and of the position and prospects of himself and his
fellows, is peculiarly liable to be biased by his hopes
and fears, his likes and dislikes, and his judgments of
value. One's Speculative Philosophy tends to be in-
fluenced to an altogether undue extent by the state of
one's liver and the amount of one's bank-balance. No
doubt livers and bank-balances have their place in the
Universe, and no view of it which fails to give them
their due weight is ultimately satisfactory. But their
due weight is considerably less than their influence on
Speculative Philosophy might lead one to suspect. But,
if we bear this in mind and try our hardest to be
"ethically neutral," we are rather liable to go to the
other extreme and entertain a theory of the Universe
which renders the existence of our judgments of value
unintelligible.
A large part of Critical Philosophy is almost exempt
from this source of error. Our analysis of truth and
falsehood, or of the nature of judgment, is not very
likely to be influenced by our hopes and fears. Yet
even here there is a slight danger of intellectual dis-
honesty. We sometimes do our Critical Philosophy,
with half an eye on our Speculative Philosophy, and
accept or reject beliefs, or analyse concepts in a certain
way, because we feel that this will fit in better than any
alternative with the view of Reality as a whole that we
happen to like.
22 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
(iv) Nevertheless, if Speculative Philosophy re-
members its limitations, it is of value to scientists, in
its methods, if not in its results. The reason is this.
In all the sciences except Psychology we deal with
objects and their changes, and leave out of account
as far as possible the mind which observes them. In
Psychology, on the other hand, we deal with minds
and their processes, and leave out of account as far as
possible the objects that we get to know by means of.
them. A man who confines himself to either of these
subjects is likely therefore to get a very one-sided view
of the world. The pure natural scientist is liable to
forget that minds exist, and that if it were not for
them he could neither know nor act on physical objects.
The pure psychologist is inclined to forget that the
main business of minds is to know and act upon
objects ; that they are most intimately connected
with certain portions of matter ; and that they have
apparently arisen gradually in a world which at one
time contained nothing but matter. Materialism is
the characteristic speculative philosophy of the pure
natural scientist, and subjective idealism that of the
pure psychologist. To the scientist subjective idealism
seems a fairy tale, and to the psychologist materialism
seems sheer lunacy. Both are right in their criticisms,
but neither sees the weakness of his own position. The
truth is that both these doctrines commit the fallacy of
over-simplification ; and we can hardly avoid falling
into some form of this unless at some time we make a
resolute attempt to think synoptically of all the facts.
Our results may be trivial ; but the process will at least
remind us of the extreme complexity of the world, and
teach us to reject any cheap and easy philosophical
theory, such as popular materialism or popular theology.*
Before ending this chapter I will say a word about
the three sciences which are commonly thought to be
1 Theology, whether "natural" ox "revealed," is a form of Speculative
Philosophy, in our sense of the, word.. So, too, is Atheism.
INTRODUCTION 23
specially philosophical. These are Logic, Ethics, and
Psychology. Logic simply is the most fundamental
part of Critical Philosophy. It deals with such concepts
as truth, implication, probability, class, etc. In fact it may
be defined as the science which deals with propositional
forms, their parts, their qualities, and their relations.
Its business is to analyse and classify forms, and to
consider the formal relations that can subsist between
them. Now all science consists of definite propositions,
and each of these is of one of the forms which Logic
studies ; but it is not the business of any other science
explicitly to discuss propositional forms. Similarly all
science is full of inferences, good and bad, and all
inference depends on relations that are supposed to
subsist between premises and conclusion. But it is
for Logic, and for it alone, to decide what relations do
in fact justify inference, and whether these relations do
actually subsist in a given case. Thus Logic is that
part of Critical Philosophy which deals with the most
general and pervasive of all concepts, and with those
fundamental beliefs which form the "connective tissue"
of all knowledge.
The greater part of Ethics again is simply a branch
of Critical Philosophy. It is a fact that we not only
believe that such and such events happen, but that
we also pass judgments of approval or disapproval on
certain of them. Such judgments use peculiar con-
cepts, like good and bad, right and wrong, duty, etc.
A very important part of Ethics is the attempt to
analyse and define these peculiarly obscure notions
which we all use so gaily in everyday life. Again,
there are a great many judgments of value which many
people assume as certain ; e.g. Pleasure is good, It
is wrong to tell lies, A man has a right to do what
he likes with his own, and so on. Another important
part of Ethics is the attempt to state such judgments
clearly, and then to see what evidence, if any, there
is for them. Thus, Ethics is that part of Critical
24 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
Philosophy which analyses the concepts and criticises
the presuppositions that we use in our judgments of
approval and disapproval.
Psychology, as it seems to me, is not a part of
Philosophy at all, but is simply one of the special
sciences. This is shown by the fact that, unlike Logic
and Ethics, it argues inductively from experiment and
observation, though the observation takes the peculiar
form of introspection. It is, however, a very peculiar
kind of special science. It is obvious that Chemistry and
Physics are much more like each other than either of
them is like Psychology. The reason is that the two
former sciences treat two rather different but very
pervasive sets of material properties, whilst the latter
deals with minds, which apparently occupy a unique
and strangely isolated position in the Universe. Or,
again, we may say that Psychology deals with what
is relatively private, whilst all the other natural sciences
deal with what is relatively public. If, now it should
be asked why Psychology has been supposed to be
specially connected with Philosophy, I think that the
following answers will be fairly satisfactory.
(i) Psychology supplies Critical Philosophy with a
number of concepts as raw material for analysis and
criticism. Such are the concepts of mind, self, con-
sciousness, instinct, sensation, perception, etc. Now these
notions we all admit to be highly confused and obscure,
whereas we are inclined to think — until we learn better —
that there is no particular difficulty about such concepts
as place, date, matter, cause, etc., which we use in the
other sciences. Thus a great part of any standard
book on Psychology does in fact consist of attempts
to analyse and define certain concepts, and this is of
course Critical Philosophy.
(ii) When we try to clear up the meanings of
physical concepts like place, date, matter, etc., we often
find that a reference to the processes by which they
come to be known is essential, and that they owe part
INTRODUCTION 25
of their obscurity to the abstractions which science and
common-sense have made. Thus, in doing Critical
Philosophy, we do constantly have to appeal to facts
which belong to Psychology, even when we are not
primarily dealing with psychological concepts.*
(iii) In Speculative Philosophy we ought, no doubt,
to take into account the results of all the sciences. But,
owing to the unique subject-matter of Psychology, we
shall go hopelessly wrong if we omit it, whilst we shall
not go so hopelessly wrong if we omit one of the
sciences of matter, such as Mineralogy or Botany.
For these reasons we may admit that Psychology
is of peculiar importance to Philosophy, though we
must deny that it is a part of Philosophy, like Logic
and Ethics.
The present book deals wholly with Critical
Philosophy, and only with a small part of that. It is
concerned almost entirely with an attempt to clear up
some of the concepts used in the natural sciences. It
does not deal even with all these, e.g. very little is said
about causation. The reason is that I did not want to
deal with purely logical questions ; and it is hardly
possible to discuss causation adequately without going
into the question of induction, in which causation is
commonly thought to play an important part.
Additional works that may be consulted with profit :
F. H. BRADLEY, Appearance and Reality, Introduction.
H. Sidgwick, Philosophy : its Scope and Relations.
B. A. W. Russell, Our Knowledge of the External World,
Lectures I. and II.
J. Grote, Exploratio Philosofihica, Part I. Caps. I. and II.
Descartes, Rules for the Direction of the Mind.
,, Discourse on Method.
* It is also true that we cannot give a complete treatment of Logic
(especially the subjects of Inference and Probability) without referring to
minds and their special limitations.
CHAPTER I
"When I use a word," Humpty-Dumpty said in rather
a scornful tone, "it means just what I choose it to mean
— neither more nor less."
"The question is," said Alice, "whether you can make
words mean so many different things."
"The question is," said Humpty-Dumpty, "which is to
be Master — that's all."
(Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass.)
The Traditional Conception of Space, and the Principle
of Extensive Abstraction
It is not ultimately possible to treat Space, Time, and
Matter, as used in physical science, in isolation from
each other ; for we shall see that they are closely
bound together in their very natures. This is, however,
a comparatively recent discovery ; and the traditional
view, with which most of us still work in daily life, is
that Space and Time, at any rate, can be adequately
analysed in isolation from each other and from matter.
As this is the familiar view, it seems best to start from it
and gradually to point out and remove its imperfections.
In any case we must start somewhere ; and the fact that
the three concepts in question have so long been treated
as separable without serious practical error shows that,
to a great extent, they are separable. The truth is that
what is logically most primitive in nature is not what
is now most familiar to us, and therefore it is better for
didactic purposes to start with the logically derivative
but practically familiar, and work back to the logically
primitive but practically unfamiliar. For example, the
immediate data of sense, like coloured patches, are
logically prior to the notion of physical objects, which
26
TRADITIONAL CONCEPT OF SPACE 27
persist, and combine many qualities ; yet the latter is
much the more familiar notion to us. I shall start then
from the traditional conception of Space.
Unquestionably we think of Space in ordinary life
and in science as a single great box or container in
which all physical objects are kept and in which all
physical processes go on. It is true that many books
on Mechanics do lip-service to a different view of Space,
which makes it consist of relations between bits of matter.
But this conception is forgotten as soon as the author
has worked off that particular chapter, and ever after-
wards he and his readers use the "box" theory of
Space. We shall deal with this alternative view at a
much later stage. Again, we shall see later that the
notion of a single box needs overhauling, but we shall
not be able to appreciate why this is so until we have
considered the connexion of Space with Time.
For the present then, we shall take the common
practical view of Space as a single box "with no sides
to it," in which the things and events of the physical
world move and have their being. The first point to
notice is that, when people talk of Space and spaces,
they may be using these correlative terms in two
different senses, (i) When we talk of Berkeley Square
as one space and Grosvenor Square as a different one,
we simply mean that they are two different regions
which do not overlap, but which are both parts of the
single Space of nature. We do not mean that they
are different kinds of Space. Neither Berkeley Square
nor Grosvenor Square is a Space — for neither is a box
containing the whole of nature ; but each of them is a
space, in the sense of a part of such a box.
(ii) On the other hand, when mathematicians talk of
Euclidean and non-Euclidean Spaces, they are discussing
different possible kinds of Space, and not different spaces
like the two London Squares which are parts of the
Space of nature, of whatever kind that may be. The
word Space is thus used (a) as a proper name, in which
28 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
case it is equivalent to the phrase " tJic Space of nature,
of whatever kind that may be" ; and (/;) as a general
name, in which case it connotes the property of being
a Space, and denotes all the various wholes of that kind,
such as Euclidean Space, Lobatchewskian Space, and
so on. Finally, every kind of Space has parts, which
are spaces, but not of course Spaces.
As a matter of history the concept of Space in
general sprang from the investigation of the Space of
nature. Euclid certainly meant his axioms to describe
the Space in which we live and move. But, on further
reflection, two very important facts emerged, (i) The
validity of Euclid's deductions does not depend in any
way on this assumption being true, (ii) We can con-
ceive of extended wholes which are continuous and
have several dimensions, like the Space of nature, but
which yet differ from the Euclidean kind of Space in
many of their properties. We decide then to call any
whole that sufficiently resembles the Space of nature
a Space, but we allow that there are many possible
wholes which agree to this extent and yet differ in
their remaining properties. Mathematicians at first
only made timid modifications in Euclid's axioms, but
as boldness grew with familiarity, they gradually con-
sidered what, from the Euclidean point of view, were
wilder and wilder kinds of Space.
The important thing for us to notice is that the pro-
positions of any system of pure geometry are merely
hypothetical. They simply state that such and such
propositions follow from the axioms, when the terms
employed are defined by the definitions and postulates
of the system. We ought not to say that the angles
of a triangle are together equal to two right angles,
but that, if a triangle be in the Space defined by
Euclid's axioms, this will follow. This fact is hidden
from the beginner in mathematics, because (a) the
Space of nature is commonly assumed to be Euclidean,
and (6) figures are commonly used in proving pro-
TRADITIONAL CONCEPT OF SPACE 29
positions. But the truth is that figures in geometry
are used only as illustrations, like statistics in the late
Mr Chamberlain's tariff-reform speeches. They play
no logical part in the proof, as is shown by the fact
that a proposition about circles can be proved just as
conclusively with a rough circle drawn in chalk on a
blackboard as with an accurate circle drawn with a
pair of compasses. The real premises of the proof are
the axioms of the system, and the definitions of the
terms which we are arguing about.
When these facts are once grasped it is easy to
see the connexion between the Space of physics and
the Spaces of pure geometry. We have arrived, by
whatever means, at the concept of one physical Space
— the single sideless box in which all the phenomena
of nature are kept. This has various characteristic pro-
perties, such as continuity, three dimensions, etc.
From this the pure mathematician generalises. He
takes a selection of these properties as the defining
marks of Space in general ; and then, by varying the
remaining properties, conceives various kinds of Space
and works out their geometry. At that stage, and not
till then, the question can be put : " Of what kind is the
Space of nature?" "Which of the various possible
Spaces accords best with the Space of physics?"
This is the question: "In what kind of a box is
nature contained?" It turns out not to be quite so
simple as asking whether one's clothes are in a port-
manteau, a trunk, or a Gladstone bag. In the first
place, the actual entanglement of physical Space with
Time and with Matter becomes highly relevant at this
point. For instance, our geometry and our physics
are constructed to deal with different but intimately
connected factors in nature, which are not met with
in isolation. It is therefore conceivable that several
different systems of geometry will equally fit the spatial
side of nature provided that suitable modifications be
made in the forms of physical laws. Apart from this,
30 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
there is the purely mathematical question as to whether
the difference between Euclidean and certain kinds of
non-Euclidean geometry be not merely a difference in
the conventions for measuring a single kind of Space.
The first kind of complication is roughly comparable
to the possibility of a box which changes its shape
according to the way in which we pack our clothes in
it. If some bluff, downright person (such as an Oxford
tutor) then asks whether your box is a trunk or a port-
manteau, and insists on "a plain answer to a plain
question," there is likely to be misunderstanding. It
is not so easy to illustrate the second kind of complica-
tion mentioned above, but perhaps the following analogy
will be of use. The difference of temperature between
two places might be defined either by the difference in
length of a certain column of mercury when held at the
two places, or by the difference in pressure of a certain
volume of gas when it is transferred from one place to
the other. When temperature-difference is measured
by the first convention, two pairs of points may have
the same temperature- difference ; when it is measured
by the second convention the same two pairs may have
different temperature-differences. There is no question
of right or wrong in the matter ; we just take two
different measures of temperature-difference, one of
which is more convenient for one purpose and the
second for another purpose. Substitute "distance
between two points" for " temperature - difference
between two places," and you have a case where two
different systems of geometry mean, not two Spaces,
but two alternative ways of measuring a single Space.
So much for the distinction between the one Space
of the natural scientist and the many Spaces of the
mathematician. Let us now ask ourselves : What is
the irreducible minimum of properties that the ordinary
scientist ascribes to the Space of nature? (i) He holds
that it is in some sense continuous, and that it has
three dimensions. We need not go into the accurate
TRADITIONAL CONCEPT OF SPACE 31
mathematical definitions of continuity and dimensions.
Roughly we mean by the former that any two spaces
that do not overlap are at once separated and joined by
another space, and that all these spaces are parts of the
one big Space of nature. By saying that Space has
three dimensions we roughly mean that three inde-
pendent bits of information are needed to fix the position
of a point.
(ii) Again, the scientist and the ordinary layman
draw a sharp distinction between Space and the things
in Space. They hold that Space, as such, never causes
anything. Mere position has no effect on any property
of matter. If we move a bit of matter about, it may of
course change in shape or size. The mercury column
of a thermometer will do this if we move it from outside
the window to a place near the fire. But the traditional
view is that the mere change in position is not enough
to account for this. The length has changed because
the mercury has altered its position with respect to
certain matter in Space. The complete inactivity of
Space is, I think, for the plain man the mark that dis-
tinguishes it from matter in Space. Whenever it seems
to break down we feel perplexed and uncomfortable. I
can illustrate this in two ways, (a) On the older
theories of physics there was supposed to be a peculiar
kind of matter, called Ether, that filled all Space. On
these theories the Ether was supposed to produce all
kinds of effects on ordinary matter, and it became almost
a family pet with certain physicists. As physics has
advanced, less and less has been found for the Ether to
do. In proportion as this has happened physicists have
begun to ask: "Do we mean by the Ether anything
more than empty Space?" On Lorentz's theory of
electro-dynamics, it is difficult to see that the Ether is
anything but the concept of absolute Space ; and that
eminent scientist's attitude towards it recalls Mrs
Micawber's statement that she "will never desert
Mr Micawber."
32 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
(/>) Conversely, many mathematicians have con-
ceived Spaces in which difference of position does make
a difference to the shapes and sizes of bodies, and have
successfully explained physical phenomena thereby.
Prof. Clifford is one example, and Einstein, in his theory
of gravitation, is another. But we do not as yet feel
comfortable with the theories of this type, however well
they may explain the facts, because they seem to involve
the action of Space on matter, and this seems to upset
all means of distinguishing between the two. The
average intelligent physicist will accept from the
mathematician any kind of Space that fits the observ-
able facts, so long as it does not act on matter. But
the wilder kind of Spaces that the pure mathematician
can offer him he refuses to accept as Spaces at all,
because it is part of what he means by Space that it
shall be indifferent to, and thus distinguishable from,
its content. It may be that we ought not to accept
this objection as ultimate, because the sharp separation
between the three concepts of Space, Time, and Matter
has all the appearance of being artificial ; but in the
present chapter we are confining, ourselves to the tradi-
tional view.
Space then, at present, is to be thought of as a single
infinite, three-dimensional receptacle, in which all the
events of nature have their being, but which is indifferent
to them. If we reflect, we shall see that the evidence for
the existence of such an object is by no means obvious.
We can neither see nor touch empty spaces ; what we
see and touch are bits of matter. Now of course most
things in which scientists believe cannot be perceived
by the senses ; no one can see or touch a hydrogen
atom or a light-wave. Such objects are inferred by the
scientist from the perceptible effects which they are
supposed to produce. But Space is not even in this
position. For, as we saw, the essence of Space on the
traditional view, is that it does not produce any effects.
Obviously then the existence of Space cannot be inferred
TRADITIONAL CONCEPT OF SPACE 33
from its supposed perceptible effects, since it is not
supposed to have any. If then Space is neither per-
ceived nor inferred, whence do we get the concept of it?
In dealing with both Space and Time there are two
distinct sets of concepts used, which we might call
distributive and collective. The collective properties of
Space and Time are those that belong to them as
individual wholes. Thus the questions of how we come
to believe that there is one Space, that it is Euclidean,
that it can be distinguished from the matter in it, and
so on, are questions concerning collective properties of
space. On the other hand, there are certain concepts
that apply, not so much to Space as an individual
whole, as to every bit of space. These are distributive
properties, such as divisibility, order of points on lines,
and so on. In this and the next chapter we shall
confine ourselves to distributive properties of Space and
Time respectively ; it is only at a much later stage that
the question of one Space or Time, and its distinction
from things or events in it can be faced.
Now all the distributive properties that we ascribe
to Space have their root in certain facts that we can
directly observe in our fields of view, and to a less
extent, in our fields of touch. Whenever I open my
eyes I am aware of a variously coloured field. This is
extended, or spread out, and this extendedness is the
root of my notion of surfaces and volumes. Again,
within the total field certain specially coloured patches
will stand out against a background ; e.g. there might
be two green patches, which are in fact the visual
appearances of a pair of trees. Such patches have
shapes and sizes ; and here we have the sensible basis
of the concepts of definite figures. Then, between any
two such outstanding patches there will always be an
extended background with a different colour, which at
once joins and separates the patches. If, e.g. we are
in fact looking at two trees, standing up against a
cloudless sky, our field of view will consist of two
34 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
characteristically shaped green patches separated and
surrounded by a blue extension. In the visual field
there is nothing to correspond to the notion of empty
space, for the whole field is occupied by some colour or
other. Still, the visual experience that we have been
describing does suffice to give us, in a rough form, the
distributive concepts of extension, shape, size, between-
ness, and continuity. And it suggests, though it does
not by itself actually give us, another concept. A field
of view does not come sharply to an end at its edges.
It fades gradually away, and the details become less
and less definite the further they are from the centre.
Thus there is nothing in the experience to suggest that
the field of view is an independent complete whole ; it
rather presents itself as a fragment of something bigger.
This suggestion is strengthened by the fact that when
we move our heads slightly the new field of view is only
slightly different from the old one. Some details that
were distinct have become less so, others that were
indistinct have become clearer ; a little that was present
has vanished and a little that was not present has been
added at the extreme edges ; but the bulk of the field
has scarcely altered. This confirms the feeling that
any field of view is only a fragment of a larger whole,
and I believe that it is one of the roots of the limitless
character which we ascribe to Space.
Much the same concepts are crudely presented to us
in our tactual fields. When I grasp anything it feels
extended, and some things feel bigger than others.
Again, if the thing has projections, I can feel them
as standing out from a background of " feeling" in the
same kind of way in which the green patches stand out
from the blue background in the visual field. But there
are certain peculiar facts connected with touch, and
more especially with touch in conjunction with move-
ment, which are the germ of the distinction between
empty and filled spaces. Had we been confined to
sight it is difficult to see how we could have reached
TRADITIONAL CONCEPT OF SPACE 35
this distinction, since the visual field, as we have
already said, is everywhere full of colour, (i) If I put
my hand on the top of an open tin box I get a peculiar
sensation. I feel a cold, sharp outline, and, although
it would not be true to say that there is no felt back-
ground within and without this, yet it is true to say that
it is neutral and indefinite as compared with the blue
background of the visual field in our example, (ii)
Suppose I move my fingers along the edge of a ruler.
I have a series of kinesthetic sensations accompanied
by a series of tactual sensations. Suppose I continue
the movement until my finger gets to the end of the
ruler, and still continue it afterwards. The tactual
sensations cease, but the kinesthetic sensations go on
just as before. The ceasing of the tactual sensations
is the basis of the concept of emptiness ; the persistence
of the kinesthetic sensations is the basis of the concept
that extension goes on in spite of the absence of extended
matter.
Many of these remarks, which are here just thrown
out, will need to be more fully developed when we
come to deal with the collective attributes of Space. In
the meanwhile we notice that all the information gained
in this way is extremely crude, as compared with the
concepts that we use in •geometry and apply in physics.
We see and feel finite surfaces and lumps of complicated
shapes, not the unextended points and the lines without
breadth of the geometers. And the spatial relations
that we can immediately recognise between outstanding
patches in our fields of view are equally crude. They
are not relations between points and straight lines, but
between rough surfaces and volumes. All that I am
maintaining is that these crude objects of sense-aware-
ness do have properties that are evidently spatial, and
that we can see in them the germs of the refined notions
of points, straight lines, etc. The question is : " How-
are the refined terms and their accurately definable
relations, which we use in our mathematics and physics,
36 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
but cannot perceive with our senses, connected with
the crude lumps or surfaces and their rough relations,
which we actually do sense?"
The real problem is this. The relations of rough finite
volumes, such as we can perceive, are of unmanageable
complexity. Again, the continuity and boundlessness
of Space, as suggested to us by our sense-experiences,
are vaguely felt, not intellectually grasped. In this
state it is impossible to lay down their laws or to reason
about them. What we want to do is to analyse
finite figures and their fearfully complicated perceptible
relations into sets of terms with simpler and more manage-
able relations. If we can do this successfully we shall
have killed two birds with one stone. We shall have
done full justice to the spatial properties of what we
can perceive ; for our analysis is supposed to be
exhaustive. And, on the other hand, we shall be able
to grasp these properties and to reason about them
in a way that was impossible while they remained in
the crude unanalysed state in which we meet them
in sense-awareness. I will give examples of what I
mean, starting with very crude ones, and gradually
working up to more refined cases.
(i) If I want to measure an irregular piece of ground
I first try to divide it up into triangles. Why? Because
the triangle is a simple figure, and the areas of all
triangles are connected with their linear dimensions
by a single simple law. Moreover, I can exhaustively
analyse any rectilinear figure into triangles. Thus,
instead of having to apply a different principle of
mensuration to every different rectilinear figure, I can
treat them all by this analysis in accordance with one
simple law.
(ii) The notion of the distance between two finite
bodies is clearly indefinite ; so too is that of the direction
of the line joining them. For there is no one distance
and no one direction in such a case. Yet evidently
there is a certain relation between two such bodies,
TRADITIONAL CONCEPT OF SPACE 37
which I can perceive, and should like to be able to treat
mathematically. Two trees are at different perceptible
distances from a third, and one pair of them may
define a different perceptible direction from another pair.
Thus there are crude perceptible relations of distance
and direction, which we should like to be able to express
accurately and to treat scientifically. Now we notice
that the smaller we take our patches or lumps the less
is the inaccuracy in the notion of the distance between
them or the direction determined by them. Still, so
long- as they have any area or volume, the theoretical
difficulty remains. What we should like to be able
to do would be to cut up our finite areas and volumes
into sets of parts of no size, as we cut up our irregular
rectilinear figure into a set of triangles that exactly make
it up, and to regard the crude complex relations between
the finite wholes as compounded out of the simple and
definite relations between these unextended parts.
Now this second example shows us an important
general principle and an important general difficulty,
both of which extend beyond Space and apply equally
to Time and Matter. We find that the relations
between objects become simpler and more manageable
as the objects become smaller. We therefore want to
analyse finite objects and their relations into smaller
and smaller parts, and their simpler and simpler
relations. But we find that when we try to pursue
this course to the bitter end we land in a difficulty.
The relations do not become really definite and manage-
able till we have come to parts with no size or events
with no duration. And here we are faced with a dis-
continuity. What we perceive is always objects with
some magnitude and duration, and the relations that
our perception tells us about are always between such
objects. Have we any right to believe that finite
objects consist of parts of no magnitude, or that such
parts, if they exist at all, will have relations in the
least like those which hold between finite areas and
38 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
volumes? A point is something different in kind from
a volume or area, however small. We know what
we mean when we say that a big area can be cut up
into smaller ones ; but it is not at all clear what we
mean when we say that it can be cut up into points.
The one thing that is certain is that the sense in which
points are parts of volumes must be different from the
sense in which little volumes are parts of bigger ones.
The latter sense of part and whole is one that we find
exemplified among perceived objects. The former is
not, and we are bound to define it before we can feel
comfortable in using points and instants.
We commonly slur over this difficulty by entertain-
ing two incompatible notions of points, and using them
alternately as convenience requires. This expedient
is not unfamiliar to theologians, and to business men
returning their incomes for purposes of taxation. When
we want to talk of an area as analysable into points we
think of points as little volumes. If we feel qualms
about this we usually suppress them with the excuse
which Midshipman Easy's nurse gave for her baby,
that "after all, it was a very little one." When we
want to think of points as having exactly definite
distances we take them to have " position but no
magnitude," as Euclid put it. Now nothing will make
these two conceptions of points consistent with each
other. Either points are extended or they are not.
If they are not, how can they fit together along their
sides and edges (which they will not possess) to make
a finite volume or area? If they are, in what sense
can you talk of the distance between them, or of the
direction determined by a pair of them ? To call them
infinitesimal volumes or areas only darkens counsel ;
for the word infinitesimal here only serves to cover the
attempt to combine these two incompatible qualities.
The method by which such difficulties as these
have been overcome is due to Whitehead, who has
lately worked it out in full detail in his Principles of
TRADITIONAL CONCEPT OF SPACE 39
Natural Knozv/edge, and his Concept of Nature, two
epoch-making works. To explain it in full would take
us into regions of mathematical logic which I do not
propose to penetrate in the present book. But the
problem is so important, and the method is of such
general application in bridging the gaps between the
crude facts of sense and the refined concepts of mathe-
matical physics that I shall give a sketch of it.
The first thing to notice is that it does not in the
least matter to science what is the inner nature of a term,
provided it will do the work that is required of it. If
we can give a definition of points which will make
them fulfil a certain pair of conditions, it will not matter
though points in themselves should turn out to be
entities of a very different kind from what we had
supposed them to be. The two conditions are (i) that
points must have to each other the kind of relations
which geometry demands ; and (ii) that points must
have to finite areas and volumes such a relation that a
reasonable sense can be given to the statement that
such areas and volumes can be exhaustively analysed
into sets of points. Any entity that answers these
conditions will do the work of a point, and may fairly
be called a point, no matter what its other properties
may be. This important fact, that what really matters
to science is not the inner nature of objects but their
mutual relations, and that any set of terms with the
right mutual relations will answer all scientific pur-
poses as well as any other set with the same sort of
relations, was first recognised in pure mathematics.
Whitehead's great merit is to have applied it to physics.
I will first illustrate it from pure mathematics, and
then consider its application to our present problem.
Consider such irrational numbers as ^2 and ^3.
Why do we call them numbers ? Simply because they
obey the formal laws of addition and multiplication
which integers, like 2 and 3, obey ; i.e. because they
have to each other relations with the same formal
40 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
properties as the relations that hold between integers.
Now numbers like *J2 and ^3 were at first defined as
the limits of certain series of rational numbers. Thus
+J2 was defined as the limit of the series of rational
fractions whose squares are less than 2. Similarly ^3
was defined as the limit of the series of rational fractions
whose squares are less than 3. Then you can define
what you are going to mean by the addition and
multiplication of such limits. These will be new
senses of addition and multiplication. The sign +
does not stand for the same relation when we talk of
*Ji + ^3 as when we talk of 2 + 3. But addition and
multiplication, in the new senses, have the same formal
properties as they have when used in the old sense.
Thus, e.g. s/~+ \/3 = \^3+ \/2 just as 2 + 3 = 3 + 2-
We have extended the meaning of addition and
multiplication ; but, as they have precisely the same
logical properties in both senses, no harm is done by
using the same name for both, and talking of the
addition and multiplication of irrationals. Consequently
there is no harm in calling *J '2 and ^3 numbers; for
we agreed that any set of entities were to count as
numbers, provided they had to each other relations with
the same logical properties as the relations between
familiar numbers, like 2 and 3, possess. Now all
reasoning depends entirely on the logical or formal
properties of the objects reasoned about, and therefore
we can henceforth reason about irrationals as if they
were ordinary numbers.
In exactly the same way, if we can define objects
which have to each other relations with the same formal
properties as the relations between geometrical points,
these objects will do all the work of points, and can be
called points, whatever their internal structure may be.
Once this is grasped an initial difficulty can be re-
moved. We are apt to think of points as internally
simple, because they are said to have no parts and
no magnitude. But none of the uses to which we
TRADITIONAL CONCEPT OF SPACE 41
put points in geometry or physics depend on this
supposed internal simplicity. The usefulness of points
depends entirely on the fact that any pair of them
define a unique relation with very simple logical
properties, viz., the straight line joining them. Now
we see that any terms whatever that are related to
each other by a relation with these properties will do
this part of the work of points. Hence we must not be
surprised if we should find that points are not really
simple, but have a complex internal logical structure.
This is what we shall find. But we shall also find
that, in spite of the logical complexity of points, a
clear sense can be given to the statement that they
have no parts and no magnitude.
We can now go a step further. I said that irrationals
used to be defined as the limits of certain series of
rationals. They are not so defined nowadays. Why
is this? The answer is that, if we define them in this
way, it is not certain that there is anything answering
to the definition. ^2 is said to be the limit of the
series of rationals whose squares are less than 2. But
how do you know that this series has a limit at all ; i.e.
roughly speaking, how do you know that there exists
a number which the series continually approaches, but
never reaches? The fact is that we do not know it and
cannot prove it. It follows that, if we define irrationals
in this way, it is not certain that there are any irra-
tionals ; aJ '2 might be a symbol which stands for nothing
at all, like the phrase "The present King of France,"
which has a meaning but no application. We want
therefore to °ret a definition that shall amount to much
the same thing as the definition by limits, but shall not
leave us in any doubt as to the existence of something
answering to it.
Now very much the same difficulty arises over points.
I will put it in this way. We are naturally tempted to
define points as the limits of certain series of areas or
volumes, just as we defined irrationals as the limits of
D
42 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
certain series of rationals. And these attempted defini-
tions are steps in the right direction. But they are not
ultimately satisfactory, because they leave the existence
of points, as of irrationals, doubtful. Let me illustrate
this with regard to points. We saw that, as we take
smaller and smaller areas or volumes, the spatial rela-
tions between them become simpler and more definite.
Now we can imagine a series of areas or volumes, one
inside the other, like a nest of Chinese boxes. Suppose,
e.g. that it was a set of concentric spheres. As you pass
to smaller and smaller spheres in the series you get to
things that have more and more approximately the
relations which points have in geometry. You might
therefore be tempted to define a point, such as the
common centre of the spheres, as the limit of this series
of spheres one inside the other. But at once the old
difficulty would arise : "Is there any reason to suppose
that this series has a limit?" Admittedly it has no
last term ; you can go on finding spheres within spheres
indefinitely. But the mere fact that it does not have a
last term is no proof that it does have a limit. The
limit of an endless series might be described as the first
term that comes after all the terms of the endless series.
But this implies that the series in question forms part
of some bigger series ; otherwise there is no beyond.
Now it is not at all obvious that our endless series of
concentric spheres does form part of any bigger series,
or that there is any term that comes after every sphere
in it. Hence there is no certainty that points, defined
as the limits of such series, exist.
How is such a difficulty to be overcome? It was first
overcome for irrational numbers, and Whitehead then
showed that it might be dealt with in the same way for
points. The solution will at first sight strike those who
are unfamiliar with it as a mere tour de force ; neverthe-
less it is perfectly valid, and really does the trick.
Instead of defining *J2 as the limit of the series of
rational numbers whose squares are less than 2, it is
TRADITIONAL CONCEPT OF SPACE 43
defined as this series itself. That is *J2 is defined as
the series of all rational numbers whose squares are
less than 2. There is no doubt that there is such a
thing as ^2, so defined. For there certainly are rational
numbers, like 1 and 1*2 and 2*5, and so on. And it
is certain that the squares of some of them are less than
2, that the squares of others of them are greater than 2,
and that the squares of none of them are equal to 2.
It is therefore certain that there is a definite class of
rationals whose squares are less than 2, and that it
has an infinite number of members. It is equally
certain that the numbers in this class form a series,
when arranged in order of magnitude. Thus there is
no doubt of the existence of the series which is said to
be the meaning of sj2.
But the difficulty that will be felt at first will be a
different one. The reader will be inclined to say: "I
don't doubt that ^/2, as defined by you, exists ; what
I very gravely doubt is whether, as defined by you, it
is what I or anyone else mean by ^2, By 1J2 I under-
stand a certain number of a peculiar kind ; I do not
mean a series of numbers or of anything else." The
answer to that difficulty is that series of this kind will
serve every purpose for which irrationals, like ^2 and
^3, are used in mathematics. You can define addition
and multiplication for such series, and they have exactly
the same logical properties as the addition and multipli-
cation of integers or of rational fractions. Lastly, taking
this definition of ^2, you can give a perfectly definite
meaning to the statement that the length of the diagonal
of a square, whose side is of unit length, is represented
by *J2. The position is therefore this. The definition
of irrationals defines something that certainly exists.
And this something has all the formal properties and
will do all the work of irrationals. The sole objection
to it is that it is paradoxical, in so far as it assigns a
complex internal structure to irrationals which we did
not suspect them of having. But that objection is really
44
SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
unimportant, because of the general principle that in
science it is only the logical properties of the relations
between our terms that matter, and not their internal
logical structure. The objection is just a prejudice to
be got over, like our feeling that the inhabitants of
Australia must be precariously hanging on to the earth
by suction, like tlies on a ceiling.
Now we deal with the difficulty about points in an
exactly similar way. We should like to say that points
are the limits of series of smaller and smaller volumes,
one inside the other, like Chinese boxes. But we
cannot feel any confidence that such series have limits
and therefore that points, so defined, exist. Now there
is no doubt that such series themselves exist ; ordinary
perception makes us acquainted with their earlier and
bigger terms, and the assumption that Space is con-
tinuous guarantees the later ones. We see, on reflection,
that it is of the very nature of any area or volume to
have parts that are themselves areas or volumes. We,
therefore, boldly define points, not as the limits of such
series, but as such series themselves. This is exactly
like the procedure adopted in defining irrationals.
There are certain additional difficulties of detail in
defining points, which do not arise in defining irrationals.
I will just indicate them and
refer the reader to Whitehead for
the complete solution of them,
(i) There may be a great many
different series of converging
volumes which would all com-
monly be said to converge to the
same point. This is illustrated
for areas in the figure above,
where the series of circles and the series of squares
might equally be taken to define the point which is
their common centre. Now, of course, the point cannot
reasonably be identified with one of these series rather
than with another. We, therefore, define the point, not
TRADITIONAL CONCEPT OF SPACE 45
as any one of these series of converging volumes, but as
the class of all the volumes in any of the series that would
commonly be said to converge to the point, (ii) Not
all series of converging volumes converge to points ;
some converge to lines, and others to areas. An ex-
ample of a series of areas converging to a straight
line is illustrated below. (It should be noticed that,
although for simplicity of drawing I have always taken
series of areas in my diagrams, the fundamental fact
is series of volumes, and areas need definition, like points
and lines.)
The general principle is, however, always the same.
Points, straight lines and areas are all defined as series
of converging volumes. But the series that define points
differ in certain assignable ways from those that define
straight lines, and these in turn differ in certain assign-
able ways from those which define areas. Ordinary
perception gives us examples of each kind of series,
and the only difficulty is to state in formal logical terms
these differences which we can all vaguely see and feel.
To do this properly is, of course, a very hard job, but it
can be and has been done. Many of these additional
complications arise because Space has three dimensions,
whilst the series of real numbers has only one. Conse-
quently, as a matter of history, moments of Time were
defined in this way before points of Space. Time forms
a one-dimensional series, like the real numbers, and,
therefore presents an easier problem than Space for this
method.
Before going further I want to remove a legitimate
ground of doubt which will probably be in the minds
of most careful readers to whom the subject is new.
Many will say: "This is no doubt highly ingenious,
46 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
but are we not merely moving- in a circle? May not
the theory be summed up by saying that points are
those series of volumes that converge to points? If so,
are we not plainly using the notion of point in order to
define it?" This would of course be a fatal objection
if it were well founded, but it is not. The theory may
roughly be summed up in the statement that a point
is a series of volumes that would commonly be said to
converge to that point. The whole question is whether
the common phrase "converging to the point/" really
involves a reference to points. If it does the definition
of points is circular and useless ; if it does not there is
no vicious circle in the theory. Now the essence of the
theory is that it can state the meaning of such phrases
as "converging to a point" in terms which involve
nothing but volumes and their relations to each other.
We see certain series of volumes which we say "con-
verge to a point," e.g. series of concentric spheres. We
see other series of volumes of which we do not say this.
Here is a perceptible difference in perceptible objects.
This difference, which can be seen and felt, must be
expressible in terms of volumes and their relations to
each other. It cannot really involve a relation to some-
thing that can neither be seen nor felt, such as a point.
Thus a series of volumes is said to converge to a point
simply and solely because of certain relations which
hold between the volumes of the series. Another series
of volumes is said not to converge to a point simply and
solely because certain other relations exist between the
volumes of this series. These relations, as well as their
terms, are perceptible, and this is how we come to
distinguish two such series. It only remains to state
the differences of relation, which can thus be seen and
felt, in definite terms that can be grasped by the intellect.
This the present theory does. For example, a series
of confocal conicoids could be defined as one whose
members cut each other at right angles ; a definition
which makes no mention of their common focus, but
TRADITIONAL CONCEPT OF SPACE 47
simply mentions a relation which the members of the
series have to each other. There is thus no circularity
in the definition of points by this method.
The method which we have been sketching, by which
the accurate concepts of science are defined in terms
of perceptible objects and their perceptible relations, is
called by Whitehead the Principle of Extensive Abstrac-
tion. Our next question is: Do points, lines, etc., as
defined by Extensive Abstraction, fulfil the conditions
that we laid down for them at the beginning? The
first was that they must have to each other the sort
of relations that points, etc., are said to have to each
other in geometry. For instance, two points must
define a unique relation with certain logical properties,
viz., the straight line that joins them. Intersecting
straight lines must define planes, and so on. Points,
straight lines, and planes, defined as above, do in fact
have relations of this kind to each other. The detailed
proof of this must here be taken on trust, but I shall
take one example to indicate roughly the way in which
these results come about. Take two different series
of concentric spheres, one in one place and the other in
another. Choose any sphere out of one set and any
sphere out of another. There will be a certain crude
perceptible relation between them. For instance, as
shown in the diagram below, there will be a volume
which connects and contains both of them, which does
not wholly contain any pair of larger spheres in the two
series, but more than contains any pair of smaller spheres
in the two series.
Let us call this the containing volume of the selected
pair. As we take smaller and smaller pairs of spheres
48 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
from the two series it is easy to see that the corre-
sponding- containing volumes form a series of Chinese
boxes of the usual kind. Now this series of containing
volumes is obviously of the sort that defines a straight
line. Our two series of spheres are of the sort that
define points ; the points that they define are what we
commonly call the centres of the two systems. And
it is easy to see roughly that the line defined by the
series of containing volumes is what we call the line
joining the two centres. Of course, for accurate mathe-
matical treatment, many more refinements are needed ;
but I hope that the example will suffice to show in a
rough way how points, as defined by us, determine
straight lines, as defined by us.
The second condition which points had to fulfil was
that it must be possible to give a clear meaning to the
statement that finite volumes and areas can be completely
analysed into sets of points. Now we can see at once
that, whatever a point may be, it is certain that it cannot
be part of a volume in the sense in which a little volume
can be part of a bigger one. The latter is the funda-
mental relation ; it holds only between finite volumes,
and it is perceptible. In this sense points, however
defined, could not be parts of volumes. Divide a
volume as long as you like and you will get nothing
but smaller volumes. Put points together as much as
you like (if this permission conveys anything to you) and
you will not get any volume, however small. In fact the
whole notion of ''putting together" points is absurd,
for it tries to apply to points a relation which can only
hold between volumes or areas. To put together means
to place so that the edges touch ; and a point, having
no area or volume, has no edges. We see then that,
whatever definition we give of points, we must not
expect them to be parts of volumes in the plain straight-
forward sense in which the Great Court is part of the
college buildings of Trinity. It is therefore no special
objection to our definition of points that points, as
TRADITIONAL CONCEPT OF SPACE 49
defined by us, could not be parts of volumes in the
plain straightforward sense.
The sense in which a point p is contained in a
volume v is roughly the following. We say that p is
contained in v if, after a certain „---,
volume has been reached in the
series that defines p, all sub-
sequent volumes in this series
are parts, in the plain straight- --—'
forward sense, of the volume v. The diagram illustrates
this definition.
The sense in which any volume can be exhaustively
analysed into points is roughly the following : Any
pair of volumes of which both are contained in v, but
of which neither is wholly contained in the other, belong
to series which define different points, both of which are
contained in v in the sense just defined. Of course both
these definitions need further refinements to cover all
cases that can arise.
Now what precisely has been accomplished by all
this? We have shown the exact connexion between
what we can and do perceive, but cannot deal with
mathematically, and what we can and do deal with
mathematically, but cannot perceive. We perceive
volumes and surfaces, and we perceive certain relations
between them, viz., that they intersect, or that one is
contained in the other, or that they are separated and
both contained in some third volume or surface. We
do not perceive the points without volume and the lines
without breadth, in terms of which geometry and physics
are stated and worked out. On the one hand, we cannot
make geometry into a deductive science at all except
in terms of points, etc. On the other hand, we want
to be able to apply geometry to the actual world, and
not to treat it as a mere mathematical fairy tale. It is
essential therefore that the connexion between what we
perceive, but cannot directly treat mathematically, and
what we cannot perceive, but can treat mathematically,
50 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
should be made clear. This is what we have tried to
do, following- the method of Extensive Abstraction laid
down and worked out by Whitehead.
It seems to me that the more we reflect the more
clearly we see that something like the course that we
have followed is necessary if the application of geometry
(and also of rational mechanics) to the real world is to
be justified. The world of pure mathematics with its
points, straight lines, and planes, its particles, instants,
and momentary configurations, has an appearance of
unnatural smoothness and tidiness, as compared with
the rough complexity of the perceptible world. Yet
the laws of geometry and mechanics came out of the
study of that world, and return to it in the form of
applied mathematics. What I have tried to do is to
show in rough outline how the two are connected, in
the hope that the reader may be encouraged to consult
the original authorities to learn how the same method
establishes the connexion in the minutest details.
I think that possibly two difficulties may still remain
in the reader's mind, (i) He may say : " Men used
geometry for thousands of years, and applied it, and
yet they knew nothing of these definitions of points,
straight lines, and planes." I answer that this is
perfectly true, and that it perfectly illustrates the
difference between the special sciences and Critical
Philosophy. Certainly people used the concepts of
point and straight line, and used them correctly as the
results show. But equally certainly they had the most
confused ideas as to what they meant by points and
straight lines, and could not have explained why a
geometry stated in terms of these and their relations
should apply so accurately to a world in which nothing
of the kind was perceptible. It is the business of Critical
Philosophy not to rest content with the successful use
of such concepts, but to disentangle their meaning and
thus determine the limits within which they can safely
be employed.
TRADITIONAL CONCEPT OF SPACE 51
(ii) The second question that may be asked is : " Do
points, straight lines, etc., really exist in the same sense
as volumes, or are they merely convenient and perhaps
indispensable fictions?" This seems to me to be
an important point, on which even authorities like
Mr Russell often speak with a strangely uncertain
voice. (Probably Mr Russell calls certain things,
which he thinks can be defined in this kind of way,
"fictions," from the same motives as led Mr Pope,
according to Dr Johnson, to write the lines : —
" Let modest FOSTER, if he will, excel
Ten metropolitans in preaching well.")
The right answer to the question appears to me to be
the following: Points, etc., as defined by us, are not
fictions ; they are not made by our minds, but discovered
by them, just as America was discovered, and not
created, by Columbus's voyage. On the other hand,
they do not exist in precisely the same sense in which
finite volumes exist. They are real in their own kind,
but it is a different kind from that of volumes. It is
through no mere accidental limitation of our senses that
we cannot perceive the points and straight lines of the
geometers, whilst we can see and feel volumes. Only
particulars can be perceived by the senses ; and points
are not particulars. They are classes of series of
volumes, or, to be more accurate, are the logical
sums of such classes. The volumes and the series
of volumes that define points exist quite literally,
and the earlier and bigger terms of these series can be
perceived. The points themselves are rather compli-
cated logical functions of these. They exist in the
sense that they are determinate functions of real series
of actually existing particulars.
Perhaps an illustration from another region will
make their mode of being clearer to some people. The
curve called a cycloid is traced out by a point on the
circumference of a circle when the latter rolls along a
52 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
Straight line. Now the arches of Westminster Bridge
are cycloidal, and can therefore be regarded as due to
the rolling of a certain circle on a certain straight line.
Now suppose we were asked whether this circle actually
exists or is a mere fiction. In one sense I answer that
it does not exist. So far as I know, no physical circle
actually rolled at some date in the world's history
on a physical straight-edge to produce the arches of
Westminster Bridge. On the other hand, the circle is
not a mere fiction. The cycloidal arches really do exist,
and the circle corresponding to them is completely
determined by the shape and size of these arches. This
connexion is a real fact, absolutely independent of our
minds and their operations. I therefore say that the
circle exists, in the sense that it is a determinate function
of the arches, which exist in the ordinary sense. Points,
straight lines, etc., as defined by us, exist in the same
sense as the circle determined by the arches of West-
minster Bridge ; the particular series of volumes which
define points exist in the same sense as the arches
themselves.
Additional works that may be consulted with
profit :
A. N. Whitehead, Principles of Natural Knowledge, Part III.
„ Concept of Nature, Cap. IV.
CHAPTER II
Alice sighed wearily. " I think you might do something
better with the time," she said, "than waste it asking riddles
with no answers."
" If you knew Time as well as I do," said the Hatter, " you
wouldn't talk about wasting it."
(Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland.)
The General Problem of Time and Change
We have now said as much about Space as can be
said with profit before its relations to Time and Matter
have been dealt with. We have shown at least how
the concepts, such as points, lines, planes, etc., which
are needed, whatever view we finally take of Space,
are connected with the rough, untidy facts that we
can perceive. We have not, however, explained why
there is supposed to be one single Space in which
all the events of nature are located, nor how things
have places assigned to them in it. This can only be
done at a later stage. In the meanwhile I propose to
treat the concepts of Time and Change, as they appear
at the same level of thought.
At first sight the problems of Time look very much
like those of Space, except that the single dimension
of Time, as compared with the three of Space, seems to
promise greater simplicity. We shall point out these
analogies at the beginning ; but we shall find that they
are somewhat superficial, and that Time and Change
are extremely difficult subjects, in which spatial analogies
help us but little.
The physicist conceives Time in much the same way
as he conceives Space. lust as he distinguishes Space
53
54 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
from the matter in it, so he distinguishes Time from
events. Again, mere difference of position in Time is
supposed to have no physical consequences. It is true
that, if I go out without my overcoat at 2 a.m., I shall
probably catch cold; whilst, if I do so at 2 p.m., I
shall probably take no harm. But this difference is
never ascribed to the mere difference in date, but to
the fact that different conditions of temperature and
dampness will be contemporary with my two expeditions.
Again, Time, like Space, is supposed to be continuous,
and physicists suppose (or did so until quite lately) that
there is a single time-series in which all the events of
nature take place. This series is of one dimension, so
that, as far as appears at present, Time is like a very
simple Space consisting of a single straight line.
Just as we treat our geometry in terms of unextended
points and their relations, so we treat our chronometry
in terms of moments without duration and their relations.
Duration in Time corresponds to extension in Space.
Now, just as we never perceive points or even unex-
tended particles, so we are never aware of moments or
of momentary events. What we are aware of is finite
events of various durations. By an event I am going
to mean anything that endures at all, no matter how
long it lasts or whether it be qualitatively alike or
qualitatively different at adjacent stages in its history.
This is contrary to common usage, but common usage
has nothing to recommend it in this matter. We
usually call a flash of lightning or a motor accident
an event, and refuse to apply this name to the history
of the cliffs at Dover. Now the only relevant difference
between the flash and the cliffs is that the former lasts
for a short time and the latter for a long time. And
the only relevant difference between the accident and
the cliffs is that, if successive slices, each of one second
long, be cut in the histories of both, the contents of a
pair of adjacent slices may be very different in the first
case and will be very similar in the second case. Such
TIME AND CHANGE 55
merely quantitative differences as these give no good
ground for calling one bit of history an event and
refusing to call another bit of history by the same name.
Now the temporal relations which we perceive among
events are similar to the relations of partial or complete
overlapping which we can perceive in the case of two
extended objects, like a pair of sticks. The possible
time-relations between two events can be completely
represented by taking a single straight line, letting
" left-to-right " on this stand for " earlier and later,"
and taking two stretches on this line to represent a
pair of finite events. Let AB and CD be two events
of which the latter lasts the longer ; then the possible
temporal relations between the two are represented by
the nine figures given below.
y tf)
(/) .
C
D
' A B
(2) . ?
D
1 ' A B
(3) . C .
D
' ' A B
(4) C ,
D
A B
D
A B
. D
A B
D
■* (6)
-> (7)
A 8
D
B
> (8)
► (9)
The most general kinds of relation between finite
events are those of partial precedence and partial
subsequence ; the rest can be defined in terms of these.
From these crude perceptible data and their crude
perceptible relations the concepts of momentary events
and moments can be obtained, and their exact relations
determined, by the Method of Extensive Abstraction.
I believe that, as a matter of history, one of the first
successful applications of the method was made by
Dr Norbert Wiener to this very problem.
The motives that lead us to apply Extensive
Abstraction to Time are the same as those which lead
us to apply it to Space. As scientists our main interest
is to discover laws connecting events of one kind with
events of other kinds at different times. Now, just
56 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
as the geometrical relations of finite volumes, as such,
are of unmanageable complexity, so are the causal
relations of events of finite duration. There is no
simple relation between the contents of one hour and
the contents of another. But the shorter we make
our events the simpler become the relations between
them. So, finally, we state our laws in terms of so-
called "momentary events" and their exact relations,
and we "analyse" finite events into sets of momentary
ones, and explain their relations in terms of those of
their momentary "parts." Everything that has been
said of this procedure in geometry applies, mutatis
mutandis ) to its use in physics. Momentary "events"
are not really events, any more than points are little
volumes. A momentary event is not " part of" a finite
one in the plain straightforward sense in which the
event of a minute is part of the event that occupies
a certain hour. The meanings of all these concepts,
and their relations, have to be given in terms of
perceptible entities and their relations, by means of
Extensive Abstraction.
What we have been saying is most excellently
illustrated by the science of Mechanics. What we
want to deal with there is the movements of finite
bodies, like wheels and planets ; and we want to treat
their changes of position and motion over long periods
of time. To do this we have first to analyse the finite
bodies into unextended particles, and then to analyse
the finite events into momentary ones. The laws of
Mechanics are only simple when they state relations
between momentary configurations of one set of par-
ticles and a later or earlier configuration of the same
or another set of particles. The gap between the
perceptible facts, that we are trying to describe and
predict, and the imperceptible concepts and relations,
in terms of which we have to treat the facts, is bridged
by Extensive Abstraction, applied both to extension
in Space and to duration in Time. Mechanics is a
TIME AND CHANGE 57
kind of geometry of events, which has to take account
of both their spatial and their temporal characteristics.
Geometry is the kind of mechanics which results when
we confine ourselves to a single moment, and omit the
temporal characteristics of events. These are, of course,
only rough general statements ; but they are perhaps
illuminating, and they will be more fully explained
later.
So far, the analogy between Time and Space has
seemed to work very well. Duration has corresponded
to length, before and after to right and left, and
simultaneity to complete mutual overlapping. But, if
we reflect a little more carefully, we shall see that the
analogy between before and after and right and left
is not so illuminating as it seems at first sight. The
peculiarity of a series of events in Time is that it has
not only an intrinsic order but also an intrinsic sense.
Three points on a straight line have an intrinsic order,
i.e. B is between A and C, or C is between B and
A, or A is between C and B. This order is independent
of any tacit reference to something traversing the line
in a certain direction. By difference of sense I mean
the sort of difference which there is between, say,
ABC and CBA. Now the points on a straight line
do not have an intrinsic sense. A sense is only
assigned to them by correlation with the left and right
hands of an imaginary observer, or by thinking of a
moving body traversing the line in such a way that
its presence at A is earlier than its presence at B,
and the latter is earlier than its presence at C. In
fact, if we want a spatial analogy to Time, it is not
enough to use a straight line ; we need a straight line
with a fixed sense, i.e. the sort of thing which we
usually represent by a line with an arrow-head on it.
Now the points on straight lines do not have any
intrinsic sense, and so the meaning of the arrow-head
is only supplied by reference to something which is at
one point before it gets to another. Thus to attempt
58 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
to understand before and after by analogy with a
directed line is in the end circular, since the line only
gets its sense through a tacit correlation with a series
of events in Time.
Now the intrinsic sense of a series of events in Time
is essentially bound up with the distinction between
past, present, and future. A precedes B because A is
past when B is present. We may begin by asking
whether there is any spatial analogy to the distinction
of past, present, and future. We shall find that there
is, but that once more it is not ultimately useful, because
it involves a reference to these very temporal character-
istics on which it is supposed to throw light. The
obvious analogy to Now in Time is Here in Space.
Here is primarily the name of a certain region in
the continuum of possible positions that one's body
can take up. When Here, is used as a predicate, as
when I say, "So and so is here," I mean that so and
so is within a region whose boundaries I can reach
with little or no walking. The peculiarity of Here is
its peculiar kind of ambiguity. Here, as used by me,
is understood to describe a different region from that
which is described by the same word, as used by you.
As used by me, it means " near me" ; as used by you
it means "near you." It is thus a word which has a
partially different meaning as used by every different
observer, simply because an essential part of its mean-
ing is a relation to the particular observer who is
using it.
We must notice, however, that Here has a second
ambiguity. It not only has a different meaning as
used by you and by me at the same time, it also has
a different meaning as used by either of us at different
times. By Here I always mean that region which is
near me at the time of speaking. This difference of
meaning at two moments need not betray itself by a
difference of application, though it often does. If I
stand still for five minutes the region which I call
TIME AND CHANGE 59
Here at the end of the time will be the same as that
which I called Here at the beginning ; but, if I have
moved, the difference in meaning will also be accom-
panied by a difference in application.
We can, of course, extract a general meaning of
" hereness " ; it means "nearness to an observer who
uses the word Here, at the time when he uses it." But
obviously Here is a descriptive phrase with a double
ambiguity, since it refers both to a certain person and
to a certain date in his history, and does not become
definite till these two blanks have been filled in by the
context.
It is evident then that Here is not going to help us
to understand Now, since it contains an essential refer-
ence to Now. We must therefore treat past, present,
and future on their own account, without expecting any
help from spatial analogies. Now, the present does
have a systematic ambiguity such as we noticed in
Here. Whether it contains an essential reference to
the particular observer who uses it I will not now
discuss. The traditional view is that it is neutral as
between various observers, but we shall later see reason
to doubt this. However this may be, it is certainly
ambiguous in another sense. Every place to which
an observer's body can go is a possible Here. In the
same way every event either is, has been or will be
Now, on the ordinary view, provided it be short enough
to fall into what psychologists call a Specious Present.
We are naturally tempted to regard the history of
the world as existing eternally in a certain order of
events. Along this, and in a fixed direction, we imagine
the characteristic of presentness as moving, somewhat
like the spot of light from a policeman's bull's-eye
traversing the fronts of the houses in a street. What
is illuminated is the present, what has been illuminated
is the past, and what has not yet been illuminated is
the future. The fact that the spot is of finite area
expresses the fact that the Specious Present is not a
60 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
mere point but is of finite, though short, duration.
Such analogies may be useful for some purposes, but
it is clear that they explain nothing. On this view
the series 'of events has an intrinsic order, but no
intrinsic sense. It gains a sense, and we become able
to talk of one event as earlier than another, and not
merely of one event as between two others, because the
attribute of presentness moves along the series in a
fixed direction. But, in the first place, the lighting of
the characteristic of presentness now on one event
and now on another is itself an event, and ought
therefore to be itself a part of the series of events, and
not simply something that happens to the latter from
outside. Again, if events have no intrinsic sense but
only an intrinsic order, what meaning can we give to
the assertion that the characteristic of presentness
traverses the series of events in a fixed direction ? All
that we can mean is that this characteristic is present at
B when it is past at A. Thus all the problems which
the policeman's bull's-eye analogy was invented to
solve are simply taken out of other events to be heaped
on that particular series of events which is the move-
ment of the bull's-eye.
The difficulties that we have found in this particular
analogy are of very wide range. For instance, it is
extremely tempting to try to resolve the difference
between past, present, and future into differences in
the cognitive relations of our minds to different events
in a series which has intrinsic order but no intrinsic
sense. Let us confine ourselves, for the sake of sim-
plicity, to events that fall within the knowledge of a
certain observer O. Undoubtedly O has a different
kind of cognitive relation to those events which he
calls present from that which he has to those which
he calls past and to those which he calls future. About
future events he can only guess or make inferences by
analogy with the past. Some present events he can
directly perceive with his senses. Some past events
TIME AND CHANGE 61
he knows by direct memory, which is quite a different
kind of experience from sense-perception. It is tempt-
ing to suppose that these are not simply interesting
facts about past, present, and future, but are what we
mean by these three temporal distinctions. Can such
a theory be made to work?
Clearly we cannot simply define an event as present
for O if O can perceive it or if it is contemporary with
something that O can perceive. For we shall then
have to define an event as past for O if O cannot per-
ceive it but can either remember it or remember some-
thing contemporary with it. Now, of course, every
event that falls within O's knowledge has these two
incompatible relations to O ; though, as we put it, it
has them at different times. He can first perceive,
but not remember the event, and can then remember
but not perceive it. Hence these cognitive character-
istics do not suffice to distinguish a past from a present
event, since every event that O knows of has both these
relations to him. If you add that an event always has
the perceptual relation to O before it has the memory
relation, you only mean that the event of remembering
something is present when the event of perceiving it
is past, and you have simply defined present and past
for O's objects in terms of present and past for his
cognitive acts. If you then try to define the latter in
terms of different relations to O's acts of introspection,
you simply start on an infinite regress, in which past
and present remain obstinately undefined at any place
where you choose to stop.
It does not of course follow that past and present
in external Nature may not be reducible to certain
relations between objective events and minds which
observe them ; but it does follow that these charac-
teristics cannot be analysed away in this manner out
of Reality as a whole, which of course includes observing
minds as well as what they observe.
The difficulty about past, present, and future in
62 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
general can be summed up in two closely connected
paradoxes, (i) Every event has all these characteristics,
and yet they are inconsistent with each other. And (ii)
events change in course of time with respect to these
characteristics. Now we believe ourselves to under-
stand change in things, but to talk of events changing
seems almost unintelligible. The connexion between
the two paradoxes is, of course, that we get into the
second directly we take the obvious step to avoid the
first.
We have plenty of experience of things which
appear to have incompatible characteristics, such as
redness and greenness, or greatness and smallness. As
a rule we remove this apparent inconsistency by point-
ing out that the facts have been stated elliptically, and
that really a relation is involved. In the first example
we say that what has been omitted is a relation to two
different times. The full statement is that the thing
is red at one time and green at another, and there is
no inconsistency in this. In the second example we
have no need even to bring in a relation to two different
times. It is enough to point out that the predicates
great and small themselves tacitly assume relations ;
so that the full statement is that the thing is at once
great as compared with one object and small as com-
pared with another. In one of these two ways we
always proceed when we have to deal with the apparent
co-inherence of incompatible predicates in a single
subject. We therefore naturally try one of these
expedients to deal with the fact that every event is
past, present, and future, and that these predicates are
incompatible.
It seems natural and childishly simple to treat the
problem in the way in which we treated the thing that
was both red and green. We say : " Of course the
event E has futurity for a certain stretch of time, then
it has presentness for a short subsequent stretch, and
it has pastness at all other moments." Now the
TIME AND CHANGE 63
question at once arises: "Can we treat the change of
an event in respect to its temporal qualities as just like
the change of a thing with respect to qualities like red
and green ? "
To answer this question we must try to see what
we mean when we say that a certain thing T changes
from red to green. So far as I can see, our meaning
is somewhat as follows : There is a certain long-lasting
event in the history of the world. This stands out in
a noticeable way from other events which overlap it
wholly or partly. If successive short sections in time
be taken of this long event, adjacent sections have
spatial continuity with each other, and predominant
qualitative resemblance to each other. On these
grounds the whole long event is treated as the history
of a single thing T. But, although adjacent short
sections are predominantly alike in their qualities, there
may be adjacent sections which differ very markedly
in some quality, such as colour. If you can cut the
history of the thing in a certain moment, such that a
slice of its history before that is red and a slice after
that is green, we say that the thing T has changed
from red to green at that moment. To say that a thing
changes, thus simply means that its history can be
cut up into a series of adjacent short slices, and that
two adjacent slices may have qualitative differences.
Can we treat the change of an event from futurity,
through presentness, to pastness in the way in which
we have treated the change of a thing (say a signal
lamp) from red to green? I think it is certain that we
cannot ; for two closely connected reasons. In the
first place, the attempt would be circular, because the
change of things will be found on further analysis to
involve the change of events in respect to their temporal
characteristics. We have assumed that the history
of our signal lamp can be analysed into a series of
shorter adjacent events, and that it was true of a certain
pair of these that the earlier was red and the later
<>4 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
green. But to say that this series of events passes from
earlier to later (which is necessary if we are to dis-
tinguish between a change from red to green and a
change from green to red) simply means that the red
sections are past when the green ones are present and
that the red ones are present when the green ones are
future. Thus the notion of the history of the lamp as
divisible into a series of sections, following each other
in a certain direction, depends on the fact that each
of these sections itself changes from future, through
present, to past. It would therefore be circular to
attempt to analyse changes in events in the way in
which we have analysed changes in things, since the
latter imply the former.
Apart from this objection, we can see directly that
the change of events cannot be treated like the changes
of things. Let us take a short section of the history
of the lamp, small enough to fall into a Specious
Present, and such that the light from the lamp is red
throughout the whole of this section. This short event
was future, became present, and then became past. If
we try to analyse this change in the way in which we
analysed the change of the lamp from red to green
we shall have to proceed as follows : We shall have
to divide this red event into shorter successive sections,
and say that the latest of these have futurity, the middle
ones presentness, and the earliest ones pastness. Now
this analysis obviously does not fit the facts. For the
fact is that the whole event was future, became present,
and is now past. Clearly no analysis which splits up
the event into successive sections with different charac-
teristics is going to account for the change in the
temporal attributes of the event as a whole.
We see then that the attempt to reconcile the in-
compatible temporal qualities of the same event by
appealing to change, in the ordinary sense of the word,
is both circular and ineffective. The circularity becomes
specially glaring when put in the following way : The
TIME AND CHANGE 65
changes of things are changes in Time ; but the change
of events or of moments from future, through present,
to past, is a change <?/"Time. We can hardly expect to
reduce changes of Time to changes in Time, since Time
would then need another Time to change in, and so on
to infinity.
We seem, therefore, to be forced back to the other
type of solution, viz., that the predicates, past, present,
and future, are of their very nature relational, like large
and small. Unfortunately we have already had occasion
to look at some solutions of this type — the policeman's
bull's-eye and the different cognitive relations — and the
omens are not very favourable.
If we reflect, we shall notice that there are two quite
different senses in which an entity can be said to change
its relational properties. An example of the first is
where Tom Smith, the son of John Smith, becomes
taller than his father. An example of the second is
where Tom Smith ceases to be the youngest son of
John Smith, and becomes the last son but one. What
is the difference between these two cases? In the first
we have two partially overlapping life-histories, T and
J. If we cut up both into successive short sections we
find that the earlier sections of T have the relation of
"shorter than" to the contemporary sections of J,
whilst the later sections of T have the relation of
"taller than " to the contemporary sections of J. In
the second we have quite a different state of affairs.
When we say that T is the youngest son of J we mean
that there is no entity in the universe of which it is true
to say both that it is a son of J and that it is younger
than T. When we say that T has ceased to be the
youngest son of J we mean that the universe does
contain an entity of which it is true to say both that
it is a son of J and that it is younger than T. In the
first case then, we simply have a difference of relation
between different corresponding sections of two existing
long events. In the latter, the difference is that a certain
66 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
entity has changed its relational properties because a
second entity, which did not formerly exist (and there-
fore could stand in no relation whatever to T), has begun
to exist, and consequently to stand in certain relations
to T, who is a member of the same universe as it.
Now it is obvious that the change that happens to
an event when it ceases to be present and becomes past
is like the change of Tom Smith when he ceases to be
the youngest son of John Smith ; and the continuous
retreat of an event into the more and more remote past
is like the successive departure of Tom from being the
"baby" of the family, as John Smith (moved by the
earnest exhortations of the Bishop of London) produces
more and more children. A Specious Present of mine
is just the last thin slice that has joined up to my life-
history. When it ceases to be present and becomes
past this does not mean that it has changed its relations
to anything to which it was related when it was present.
It will simply mean that other slices have been tacked
on to my life-history, and, with their existence, relations
have begun to hold, which could not hold before these
slices existed to be terms to these relations. To put
the matter in another way : When an event, which was
present, becomes past, it does not change or lose any
of the relations which it had before ; it simply acquires
in addition new relations which it could not have before,
because the terms to which it now has these relations
were then simply non-entities.
It will be observed that such a theory as this accepts
the reality of the present and the past, but holds that
the future is simply nothing at all. Nothing has
happened to the present by becoming past except that
fresh slices of existence have been added to the total
history of the world. The past is thus as real as the
present. On the other hand, the essence of a present
event is, not that it precedes future events, but that
there is quite literally nothing to which it has the relation
of precedence. The sum total of existence is always
TIME AND CHANGE 67
increasing, and it is this which gives the time-series a
sense as well as an order. A moment t is later than
a moment t' if the sum total of existence at t includes
the sum total of existence at t' together with some-
thing more.
We are too liable to treat change from future to
present as if it were analogous to change from present
to past or from the less to the more remote past. This
is, I believe, a profound mistake. I think that we must
recognise that the word "change" is used in three
distinct senses, of which the third is the most funda-
mental. These are (i) Change in the attributes of
things, as where the signal lamp changes from red to
green ; (ii) Change in events with respect to pastness,
as where a certain event ceases to be present and moves
into the more and more remote past ; and (iii) Change
from future to present. I have already given an analysis
of the first two kinds of change. It is clear that they
both depend on the third kind. We analysed the
change in colour of the signal lamp to mean that a red
section of its history was followed by a green section of
its history. This is sufficient analysis for a past change
of quality, dealt with reflectively in retrospect. But,
when we say that the red section precedes the green
section, we mean that there was a moment when the
sum total of existence included the red event and did
not include the green one, and that there was another
moment at which the sum total of existence included all
that was included at the first moment and also the green
event. Thus a complete analysis of the qualitative
changes of things is found to involve the coming into
existence of events.
Similarlv we have seen that the second kind of
change involves the third. For the change of an event
from present to past turned out to depend on the fact
the sum total of existence increases beyond the limits
which it had when our given event came into existence.
Let us call the third kind of change Becoming. It
()8 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
is now quite evident that becoming cannot be analysed
into either of the two other kinds of change, since they
both involve it. Moreover, we can see by direct in-
spection that becoming is of so peculiar a character
that it is misleading to call it change. When we say
that a thing changes in quality, or that an event changes
in pastness, we are talking of entities that exist both
before and after the moment at which the change takes
place. But, when an event becomes, it comes into
existence; and it was not anything at all until it had
become. You cannot say that a future event is one
that succeeds the present ; for a present event is defined
as one that is succeeded by nothing. We can put the
matter, at choice, in one of two ways. We can either
say that, since future events are non-entities, they cannot
stand in any relations to anything, and therefore cannot
stand in the relation of succession to present events.
Or, conversely, we can say that, if future events succeeded
present events, they would have the contradictory pro-
perty of succeeding something that has no successor,
and therefore they cannot be real.
It has long been recognised that there are two
unique and irreducible, though intimately connected
types of judgment. The first asserts that S is or exists ;
and is called an existential judgment. The second
asserts that S is so and so, or has such and such a
characteristic. This may be called a characterising judg-
ment. The connexion between the two is that a thing
cannot be so and so without being, and that it cannot be
without being so and so * Meinong, with the resources
of the German tongue at his disposal, coins the con-
venient words Sein and Sosein. Now it seems to me
that we have got to recognise a third equally fundamental
and irreducible type of judgment, viz., one of the form :
S becomes or comes into existence. Let us call these
genetic judgments. I think that much of the trouble
about Time and Change comes from our obstinate
* Uber die Stellung der Gegenstandstheorie, and elsewhere.
TIME AND CHANGE 69
attempts to reduce such judgments to the characterising
form. Any judgment can be verbally reduced to this
form. We can reduce " S is " to " S is existent." But
the reduction is purely verbal, and those who take it
seriously land in the sloughs of the Ontological Argu-
ment. Similarly "S is future " is verbally a judgment
that ascribes a characteristic to an event S. But, if we
are right, this must be a mistake ; since to have a
characteristic implies to exist (at any rate in the case of
particulars, like events), and the future does not exist so
long as it is future.
Before passing on there is one more verbal ambiguity
to be noted. The same word is is used absolutely in
the existential judgment "S is," and as a connective
tie in the characterising judgment "S is P." Much
the same is true of the word becomes. We say "S
becomes," and we say "S becomes P." The latter
type of judgment expresses qualitative change, the
former expresses coming into existence.
The relation between existence and becoming (and
consequently between characterisation and becoming)
is very intimate. Whatever is has become, and the
sum total of the existent is continually augmented by
becoming. There is no such thing as ceasing to exist ;
what has become exists henceforth for ever. When we
say that something has ceased to exist we only mean
that it has ceased to be present; and this only means
that the sum total of existence has increased since any
part of the history of the thing became, and that the
later additions contain no events sufficiently alike to
and sufficiently continuous with the history of the thing
in question to count as a continuation of it. For com-
plete accuracy a slight modification ought to be made
in the statement that "whatever is has become." Long
events do not become bodily, only events short enough
to fall in Specious Presents become, as wholes. Thus
the becoming of a long event is just the successive
becoming of its shorter sections. We shall have to go
70 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
more fully into the question of Specious Presents at a
later stage.
We are left with two problems which we may hope
that the previous discussions will help us to solve.
(i) If the future, so long as it is future, be literally
nothing at all, what are we to say of judgments which
profess to be about the future? And (ii) What, in the
end, is our answer to the original difficulty that every
event is past, present, and future, and that these
characteristics are mutually incompatible?
(i) Undoubtedly we do constantly make judgments
which profess to be about the future. Weather fore-
casts, nautical almanacs, and railway time-tables, are
full of such judgments. Admittedly no judgment
about the future is absolutely certain (with the possible
exception of the judgment that there will always be
events of some kind or other) ; but this is irrelevant for
our present purpose. No historical judgment about
the past is absolutely certain either ; and, in any case,
our question is not whether we can have certain
knowledge about the future, but is the prior question :
What are we really talking about when we profess to
make judgments about the future, and what do we mean
by the truth or falsity of such judgments?
We cannot attempt to answer these questions till
we have cleared up certain points about the nature of
judgments in general. First, we must notice that the
question: "What is a certain judgment about?" is
ambiguous. It may mean: "What is the subject or
subjects of the judgment? " or : " To what fact does the
judgment refer?" The fact to which a judgment refers
is the fact that renders it true or false. It is true, if it
has the peculiar relation of concordance to the fact
to which it refers ; and false, if it has the relation of
discordance to this fact. Discordance, I think, is a
positive relation which is incompatible with concord-
ance ; it is not the mere absence of concordance. I
see no reason to suppose that the reference of a
TIME AND CHANGE 71
judgment to a fact is a third independent relation over
and above the relations of concordance and discordance.
I take it to be just the disjunction " concordance-or-
discordance " ; and I suppose that to say that J refers to
F simply means that F is the fact which either makes J
true by concording with it or false by discording
with it.
Now people make many judgments, which have
nothing to do with the future, but are nevertheless
apparently about objects which do not, in fact, exist.
Many English peasants, in the Middle Ages, must
have made the judgments "Puck exists" or "Puck
has turned the milk." And the latter of these, of
course, implies the former. I will assume (in spite
of Sir Conan Doyle) that Puck does not in fact exist.
What were these men referring to, in our sense of the
word? To answer this we have simply to ask: What
fact made their judgments false? The answer is that
it is the negative fact that no part of the universe was
characterised by the set of characteristics by which
they described Puck to themselves. Their judgment
boils down to the assertion that some part of the existent
is characterised by this set of characteristics, and it is
false because it discords with the negative fact that the
set in question characterises no part of the universe.
Naturally they did not know that this was what their
judgment referred to, or they would not have made it.
But, in our sense of reference, there is no reason why
a person who makes a judgment should know what it
refers to.
Now it would obviously be absurd to say that what
these men were talking about was the negative fact that
no part of the universe has the characteristics which
they ascribe to Puck. Hence we see the need of dis-
tinguishing between what a judgment refers to and
what the person who makes the judgment is talking
about. What they were talking about was a certain
set of characteristics, viz., those by which they described
yi SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
Puck to themselves. This may be called the logical
subject of their judgment. It is something real and
independent of the judging mind ; having the kind of
reality and independence which is characteristic of uni-
versals, and not, of course, that which is characteristic
of particular existents. Thus, although there is no
such being as Puck, people who profess to be judging
about him are not judging about nothing (for they are
judging about a set of characteristics which is itself
real, though it does not happen to characterise any
particular existent). Nor are they referring to nothing
(for they are referring — though they do not know it —
to an important negative fact about the existent).
Since the non-existence of Puck is compatible with
the fact that the judgment "Puck exists" is an
intelligible statement about something real, we may
hope that the non-existence of the future may prove
to be compatible with the existence and intelligibility
of judgments which profess to be about the future.
Up to a point the two kinds of judgment can be treated
in much the same way. The judgment which is gram-
matically about "Puck" proves to be logically about
the set of characteristics by which the assertor describes
Puck to himself. Similarly the judgment, "To-morrow
will be wet," which is grammatically about "to-morrow,"
is logically about the characteristic of wetness. The
non-existence of to-morrow is therefore consistent
with the fact that the judgment is about something.
Still there is one very important difference between
the two kinds of judgment. Judgments like "Puck
exists" are not only about something; they also refer
to some fact which makes them true or false. This
fact may be negative, but it is a real fact about the
existent world. If we ask what fact judgments ostensibly
about the future refer to, we must answer that there is
no such fact. If I judge to-day that to-morrow will
be wet, the only fact which this judgment can refer
to, in our sense of the word, is the fact which renders
TIME AND CHANGE 73
it true or false. Now it is obvious that this fact is
the wetness or fineness of to-morrow when to-morrow
comes. To-day, when I make the judgment, there is
no such fact as the wetness of to-morrow and there is
no such fact as the fineness of to-morrow. For these
facts can neither of them begin to be till to-morrow
begins to be, which does not happen till to-morrow
becomes to-day. Thus judgments which profess to be
about the future do not refer to any fact, whether
positive or negative, at the time when they are made.
They are therefore at that time neither true nor false.
They will become true or false when there is a fact
for them to refer to ; and after this they will remain
true or false, as the case may be, for ever and ever.
If you choose to define the word judgment in such a
way that nothing is to be called a judgment unless it
be either true or false, you must not, of course, count
"judgments" that profess to be about the future as
judgments. If you accept the latter, you must say that
the Law of Excluded Middle does not apply to all
judgments. If you reject them, you may say that the Law
of Excluded Middle applies to all genuine judgments ;
but you must add that "judgments " which profess to be
about the future are not genuine judgments when they
are made, but merely enjoy a courtesy title by antici-
pation, like the eldest sons of the higher nobility
during the lifetime of their fathers. For convenience,
I shall continue to speak of them as judgments.
So far then, we have determined two facts about
judgments which profess to be concerned with the
future. (a) They are about something, viz., some
characteristic or set of characteristics ; and {b) they do
not refer to any fact at the time when they are made.
This is clearly not a complete analysis. Two further
points need to be cleared up. (a) If such judgments
when made do not refer to anything, how is it that,
if certain events become, the judgment is verified, and,
if other events become, it is refuted? (b) If such judg-
74 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
ments are about characteristics, what precisely is it
that they assert about these characteristics ?
(a) Suppose I judge to-day that to-morrow will be
wet. Nothing that may happen to-morrow will be
relevant to this judgment except the state of the weather,
and nothing will then make it true except the wetness
of the weather. This is true enough, but it does not
prove that the judgment refers to any fact, in our
sense of reference. With any judgment we can tell
what kind of fact will verify or refute it, as soon as
we know what the judgment is about and what kind
of assertion it makes. But no amount of inspection of
a judgment itself will show us the particular fact which
makes it true if it is true and false if it is false. There
is therefore no inconsistency between the statement
that we can know at once what kind of fact would
verify a judgment about the future, and the statement
that such judgments do not refer to any fact when made.
(if) As regards any judgment we have to consider
not only what it is about, but also what it asserts
about its subject or subjects. These two questions are
not altogether free from ambiguity, and this ambiguity
must be cleared up before we consider the special
question as to what judgments that profess to be about
the future assert, (i) There is the confusion between
what a judgment is about and what it refers to. This
we have already dealt with. (2) There is the distinc-
tion between what a judgment is ostensibly about and
what it is really about. If you had asked a peasant,
who said that Puck had turned the milk, what he was
talking about, he would have said that he was talking
about a certain individual fairy. This is what the
judgment professes to be about. What it is really
about is a certain set of characteristics. Roughly
speaking, we may say that what a judgment professes
to be about can be determined by a grammatical
analysis of the sentence in which the judgment is ex-
pressed. Although there is always a connexion between
TIME AND CHANGE 75
the grammatical structure of a sentence and the logical
structure of a judgment, it is highly dangerous to sup-
pose that what the sentence is grammatically about
is the name of what the judgment is logically about.
(3) When these two confusions have been set aside
and we are quite definitely dealing with the judgment,
and neither with the fact to which it refers nor the
sentence which expresses it, there is still a difficulty as
to how much is to be included under the head of what
the judgment is about and how much is to be included
under the head of what the judgment asserts. Take
first a very simple characterising judgment, like " 3
is a prime." What is this about, and what does it
assert? We should all agree that it is at any rate
about the number 3. But is it about the characteristic
of primeness too? If you say Yes, what is there left
for it to assert? If you say No, how can you face the
obviously equivalent judgment " Primeness is a charac-
teristic of 3 " ? Exactly the same kind of difficulty
arises over a relational proposition, like " 3 is greater
than 2." We should all at this time of day agree that
it is at least about the numbers 2 and 3. But is it or
is it not about the relation of greater? I think that we
must say that the former judgment is about primeness
as much as it is about the number 3, and that the
latter is about the relation of greater as much as it is
about the numbers 2 and 2. Really it is as misleading
to say that the first asserts primeness as to say that it
asserts 3. The minimum that it asserts is the prime-
ness of 3. Similar remarks apply to the second. If
we like to use the useful word tie, which Mr W. E.
Johnson* has lately introduced into logic, we might say
that the first judgment is about the number 3 and the
characteristic of primeness, and asserts that they are
connected by the characterising tie. The second is
about the numbers 3 and 2 and the relation greater,
and asserts that they are connected by the relational
* Logic, vol. i.
76 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
tie in the order 3 to 2. But we might equally well
distinguish different kinds of assertion, and say that
the first is about the number 3 and the characteristic
of primeness, and makes a characterising assertion
about them. In the case of the second we should
talk of a relating assertion.
So far we have purposely chosen examples which
are about timeless objects, like numbers. Let us now
take the series of judgments : " It has rained," " It is
raining," and " It will rain," which are about events,
and contain an essential reference to time. The first
may be analysed as follows: "There is an event which
is characterised by raininess, and the sum total of exist-
ence when the judgment is made includes all and more
than all which it includes when this event becomes." The
second may be analysed as follows : " There is an event
which is characterised by raininess, and the sum total of
existence is the same when this event becomes and when
the judgment is made." Thus judgments about the past
and the present can be analysed into judgments which
involve the four familiar types of assertion— the exist-
ential, the characterising, the genetic, and the relational.
But the judgment that it will rain cannot be analysed
in a similar way. It cannot mean anything that begins
with the statement: "There is an event," for the only
events that there are are the events that have become up
to the time when the assertion is made ; the sum total
of existence does not contain future events. We can
only restate the judgment in the form : "The sum total
of existence will increase beyond what it is when the
judgment is made, and some part of what will become
will be characterised by raininess." We cannot then
analyse will away, as we can has been and is now. Every
judgment that professes to be about the future would
seem then to involve two peculiar and not further
analysable kinds of assertion. One of these is about
becoming ; it asserts that further events will become.
The other is about some characteristic ; it asserts that
TIME AND CHANGE 77
this will characterise some of the events which will
become. If then we ask : What are judgments which
profess to be about future events really about? the
answer would seem to be that they are about some
characteristic and about becoming. And if it be asked :
What do such judgments assert? the only answer that
I can give is that they assert that the sum total of
existence will increase through becoming, and that the
characteristic in question will characterise some part of
what will become. These answers are compatible with
the non-existence of the future. The only "constitu-
ents" of the judgment, when it is made, are the
characteristic — which has the kind of reality which
universals possess — and the concept of becoming.
About these the judgment makes certain assertions
of a quite peculiar and not further analysable kind.
Something called to-morrow is not a constituent of judg-
ments which are grammatically about " to-morrow," any
more than an individual called Puck is a constituent of
judgments which profess to be about " Puck."
I have thus tried to show that there is an extreme
difference between judgments which profess to be about
future events and these which are about past or present
events. The former, when made, do not refer to any-
thing, and therefore are not literally true or false,
though it is possible for anyone who understands their
meaning to see what kind of fact will eventually make
them true or false as the case may be. Again, is now
and has been need not be taken as new and ultimate
types of assertion, but will be apparently must be so
taken. Nevertheless, although the future is nothing
and although judgments which profess to be about
future events refer to nothing, they are not about
nothing. They are about some characteristic and
about becoming ; and, so far as I can see, they make an
unique and not further analysable kind of assertion
about these terms.
There are just two points that I want to make before
78 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
leaving this subject, (a) Of course there are plenty of
ex post facto statements which nominally involve the
existence of future events. We can say that the Battle
of Hastings was future to Edward the Confessor. Such
statements need no special analysis. We merely mean
that the sum total of existence now includes the Battle
of Hastings, and that when Edward the Confessor's
death became it did not include this battle. We, who
live after both events, are dealing with two parts of the
existent, which can and do stand in various relations
to each other ; and so there is no kind of difficulty in
giving a meaning to the statement.
(/>) It is commonly held that there can be no certain
knowledge about the future, but that all judgments
which profess to be about it consist of more or less
probable conjectures made by analogy with the past.
Now we do not always recognise how odd our certainty
about this is on the assumption that the future really is
something that has " future existence" as the past really
is something that has "past existence." We have
immediate, and not merely inferential, knowledge about
some past events by direct memory. Hence mere
difference in date between the act of cognition and an
event does not necessarily prevent the event from being
an object to the act. If the future exist, and be just
that part of the existent which succeeds the present, it
is difficult to see why a present act of cognition might
not know an event which is later than itself, just as
it can know some events which are earlier than itself.
Why should we not have direct anticipations of some
future events, just as we have direct memories of some
past ones, if the future were of the same general nature as
the past, and simply differed from it by standing in the
converse temporal relation to the present? Still more,
why should all claims to direct knowledge of future
events be regarded as so wildly paradoxical?
These facts become plausible on two theories about
the future, one of which we have rejected, and the other
TIME AND CHANGE 79
of which is our own. Obviously if to be future just
means to be incapable of being directly cognised, direct
cognition of future events could be ruled out as a con-
tradiction in terms. We have, however, examined and
rejected this view of the future. But the impossibility
of absolutely certain knowledge about the future follows
equally from our theory. We can be absolutely certain
that an event has the characteristic C only if we are
directly acquainted with this event and can notice the
characteristic in it. Now we can be directly acquainted
only with somethings not with a mere non-entity. On
our view we cannot stand in the relation of direct ac-
quaintance to future events, for the same reason which
prevents us from robbing a Highlander of his breeks.
We can stand in this relation to present events (in sense-
awareness) and to past events (in genuine memory),
because such events are parts of the sum total of
existence when the cognition in question takes place.
(ii) The last question that we have to deal with is
the alleged difficulty that every event is past, present,
and future ; that these characteristics are incompatible ;
and that there is no way of reconciling them which
does not either involve an infinite regress, in which
the same difficulty recurs at every stage, or a vicious
circle. This argument has been used by Dr M 'Taggart*
as a ground for denying the reality of Time. It is
certainly the best of the arguments which have been
used for this purpose ; since it really does turn on
features which are peculiar to Time, and not, like most
of the others, on difficulties about continuity and infinity
which vanish with a knowledge of the relevant mathe-
matical work on the subject. Do the results of our
earlier discussions in this chapter help us to remove
this supposed contradiction ?
Let us take M'Taggart's example of the death of
Queen Anne, as an event which is supposed to combine
the incompatible characteristics of pastness, presentness,
* The Unreality of Time, Mind, N.S., 1908.
80 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
and futurity. In the first place, we may say at once
that, on our view, futurity is not and never has been
literallv a characteristic of the event which is character-
ised as the death of Queen Anne. Before Anne died
there was no such event as Anne's death, and "nothing"
can have no characteristics. After Anne died the sum
total of existent reality does contain Anne's death, but this
event then has the characteristic of pastness. No doubt
I can say "Anne's death was future to William III."
But I simply mean that, so long as William III was
alive, there was no event characterised as the death of
Anne ; and that afterwards, as the sum total of existence
increased by becoming, it contained both the events
of William's life and the event of Anne's death. Anne's
death succeeded William's life so soon as Anne's death
existed at all, and it succeeds it henceforth for ever ;
but it did not succeed it while William was alive,
because it had not become, was not anything, and
therefore could not have any characteristics or stand
in any relations. But it might be said that Anne
herself or William III might have made the judgment:
"Queen Anne's death is future"; that this is a true
judgment on their parts; and that it cannot be explained
in the same way as my ex post facto judgment that
Queen Anne's death was future. To this I answer that
the existence and the truth of William's judgment do
not imply that there ever was an event which has the
two characteristics of futurity and of being the death
of Anne. When William made this judgment there
was no event for it to refer to ; for the event which
afterwards became, and was the death of Anne, had not
then become and was not anything. What William
did was to make a peculiar kind of assertion about
becoming and about the characteristic of being the
death of Oueen Anne. He asserted that the sum total
of existence would increase by further becoming, and
that some part of what would thus be added would be
characterised as the death of his sister-in-law. He
TIME AND CHANGE 81
was neither talking about nor referring to that particular
event which did in fact eventually become, and which,
when it became, was in fact characterised as the death
of Anne. For, when he made his judgment, there was
no such event in the whole of reality for him to talk
about or to refer to. Thus the first thing that we have
to say with regard to M'Taggart's argument is that
no event ever does have the characteristic of futurity.
When we say that a certain event is future, the sentence
which expresses our judgment is no doubt of the same
form as when we say that a certain book is green.
We are therefore tempted to treat the former judgment
as a characterising judgment, like the latter ; and to
suppose that the only difference between them is that
one asserts the characteristic of "futurity" whilst the
other asserts the characteristic of greenness. From
what has gone before we conclude that the former
judgment is not really a characterising judgment at
all, and that there is no characteristic of "futurity."
Judgments which appear to characterise events as future
make a peculiar kind of assertion about some ordinary
characteristic {e.g. wetness or fineness) ; they do not
make an ordinary characterising assertion about a
certain event and a peculiar kind of characteristic (viz. ,
"futurity").
Is there anything contradictory in the fact that
Queen Anne's death has been present and is now past?
There very well might be if we had to take the change
of an event in respect to the characteristics of present-
ness and pastness as analogous to the change of a
signal lamp in respect to the characteristics of red
and green. But we have seen that this cannot be done,
and that the second kind of change depends on the
first. When Queen Anne's death became, it came
into relations with all that had already become, and
to nothing else, because there was nothing else for it
to be related to. All these relations it retains hence-
forth for ever. As more events become it acquires
82 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
further relations, which it did not have, and could not
have had while those events were non-existent. This
is all that ever happens to the event in question.
Suppose we now ask ourselves the question : " Does
anything that was true of Anne's death when it first
became get false of it afterwards, through further
becoming? And, if so, does this raise any logical
difficulty?" Here we must draw a distinction, (i)
All the relations which Anne's death entered into with
the sum total of reality, as it was when this event first
became, persist eternally for ever afterwards, and are
wholly unaffected by anything else that may be added
on to this sum total by further becoming. Hence no
true proposition about these will ever become false,
and no false proposition about them will ever become
true. (2) As further events become they automatically
enter into various relations with Anne's death, which
thus acquires additional relations and becomes a con-
stituent in additional facts. If e.g. my Lord Bolingbroke
swore when he heard of Anne's death, it is clear that
something subsequently became true of the death which
was not true of it when it first became. When Lord
Bolingbroke had sworn it became true of Queen Anne's
death that it caused a certain event in his lordship's
life. And this was not true of Queen Anne's death
before Lord Bolingbroke had heard of it, and had
thereby been caused to swear. Thus something, which
was not true of Queen Anne's death when it became,
is afterwards rendered true of it by the becoming of
Lord Bolingbroke's oath.
Now we are inclined to think that to say that some-
thing, which was not true of an event, subsequently
became true of it, is equivalent to saying that something
which was false of the event, became true of it. This
is, I think, a mistake; for "not-true" is a wider term
than " false." Suppose we compare the two statements :
"It is not true that Queen Anne's death caused the
earthquake at Lisbon," and : " It is not true that Queen
TIME AND CHANGE 83
Anne's death, when it happened, had caused Lord
Bolingbroke to swear." In the former "not-true"
is equivalent to "false." For it means that there is
a certain negative fact (containing both the death and
the earthquake as constituents) which discords with
the judgment that the first caused the second. But the
latter does not mean that at the time of Anne's death
there was a negative fact, containing Anne's death and
Bolingbroke's oath as constituents, and discording with
the judgment that the death causes the oath. For,
when Anne's death became, there was no such entity
as Lord Bolingbroke's oath, and therefore no fact of
which this is a constituent. What happens when Lord
Bolingbroke swears is not that something which was
false of Anne's death becomes true of it, but that some-
thing becomes true of Anne's death which was before
neither true nor false of it.
Now I do not think that the laws of logic have
anything to say against this kind of change ; and, if
they have, so much the worse for the laws of logic,
for it is certainly a fact. What the laws of identity,
contradiction, and excluded middle, between them assert
is that any proposition is either true or false, cannot
be both, and cannot alter in this respect. They do not
assert (and, if they do, they must be amended) that
the number of propositions, is eternally fixed ; they only
assert that it cannot be diminished. But it may be
increased, and it is continually increased by the process
of becoming which continually augments the sum total
of existence and thereby the sum total of positive and
negative facts. Or, to put it in another way, the laws
of logic apply to a fixed universe of discourse, and we
can at any moment get a fixed universe of discourse
by taking the sum total of reality up to that moment.
But the universe of actual fact is continually increasing
through the becoming of fresh events ; and changes
in truth, which are mere increases in the number of truths
through this cause, are logically unobjectionable.
84 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
I can hardly hope that what I have been saying
about Time and Change will satisfy most of my readers,
or indeed, that it is more than a shadow of the truth,
if that. It is admitted that this is the hardest knot
in the whole of philosophy. The Dean of Carlisle
judiciously remarks that "we cannot understand Time,
but we shall not understand it better by talking nonsense
about it." In the hope that I have not darkened counsel
by words without understanding, I leave this most diffi-
cult subject, to return at a later stage to the questions
of one or many time series, the entanglement of Time
with Space, and the placing and dating of events.
Additional works which may be consulted with profit :
B. A. W. Russell, Our Knowledge of the External World,
Lecture IV.
A. N. Whitehead, Concept 0/ 'Nature, Cap. III.
J. M. E. M'TaGGART, The Relation of Time and Eternity
(Mind, N.S., vol. xviii. No. 71).
„ The Unreality of Time (MlND, N.S., xvii., 1908).
H. Bergson, Time and Free- Will.
„ Matter and Memory.
CHAPTER III
" Its eyebrows (of a vivid green)
Have never, never yet been seen ;
But Scientists, who ought to know,
Assure us that it must be so.
Oh, let us never, never doubt
What no one can be sure about ! "
(H. Belloc, The Microbe.)
The Traditional Kinematics, and its Gradual Modifica-
tion in the Region of Physics, (i) The Absolute
and the Relational Theories
We have now dealt with the traditional concepts of
Space and Time, and we might turn next either to
Matter or to Motion. I propose to treat the classical
doctrine of Motion before touching the problem of
Matter. As we all know, the concept of Motion has
been the subject of constant discussion by physicists
and mathematicians for centuries, and in recent years
the classical kinematics has been profoundly modified,
owing to circumstances that have arisen within the
region of Physics itself. The older arguments between
supporters of Absolute and Relative Motion, and the
later ones about the Theory of Relativity, are essentially
pieces of Critical Philosophy in our sense of the word.
Thus we may fairly say that, as regards Motion,
physicists have been their own philosophers, forced
into this unwelcome position by their own domestic
difficulties. Now this is not so in the case of Matter.
The difficulties about Matter, which show the need
for radical philosophic criticism of that concept, are
not indigenous to Physics itself. They arise in the
main when we begin to take into account the way
85
86 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
in which we get to know matter through sensation.
It is the apparent conflict between what our sensations
tell us and what Physics teaches about matter, com-
bined with the fact that our sensations are after all
the only ultimate source of all our alleged information
on the subject, which compels us to indulge in
philosophical criticism. The moment we begin this
criticism we find that it will lead us very far afield, and
that we cannot stop till we have profoundly modified
the traditional concepts of Space, Time, and Motion
too. Now I hope to be able to show that these
modifications, which are forced on us as philosophers
when we begin to deal with the concept of Matter, are
of somewhat the same kind as those which Physicists
have had to make for purely domestic reasons. If this
can be shown, even in rough outline, it will greatly
strengthen the case for the newer views of Space, Time,
Motion, and Matter. There is much in these views
which is at first sight highly paradoxical and upsetting
to common-sense, so that it is of some advantage even to
the scientist to know that they can be justified on wider
grounds than the special needs of his science. On the
other hand, it is always a comfort to the philosopher
to know that he is not simply bombinans in vacuo, but
is working on lines which have been found to lead
to useful results in some concrete region of science.
This book is written primarily for scientists who
are interested in philosophy, and secondarily for philo-
sophers who are interested in science. It has therefore
been my plan to diverge as gradually as possible from
the concepts that are most familiar to scientists. Now,
for the reasons given, the philosophic criticism of the
concept of Motion is more familiar to most scientists
than the criticism of the concept of Matter. It therefore
seems right to treat the former before the latter. I
am going, then, to deal at present with the purely
physical arguments which have gradually undermined
the traditional Kinematics and replaced it by that
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS 87
of the Theory of Relativity. In spite of many excellent
(and more, execrable) popular works which have
appeared in the last few years, I think there is still
room for a restatement of these arguments. To many
scientific readers they will of course be perfectly familiar,
but it will do no harm to the reader who is primarily a
philosopher to put himself au courant with the present
position in Physics before going further. At a con-
siderably later stage, when we have seen what modifica-
tions in the traditional concepts of Space and Time are
forced on us by our criticisms of the traditional concept
of Matter, we shall return to the present subject, and try
to connect the physical with the philosophical doctrines.
We have at least four general kinematic concepts
to consider, viz., the Absolute Theory of Motion, the
Relational Theory of Motion, the Special Theory of
Relativity, and the General Theory of Relativity. This
is approximately the historical order in which these
concepts have arisen in Physics since the Renaissance.
We must remember, however, that the controversy
between the Absolute and the Relational Theories of
Motion had a long history before ever modern Mechanics
was founded by Galileo, Descartes, Huyghens, Newton,
and Leibniz. This controversy was inherited by
Mechanics, and the opposite sides were upheld by two
such eminent contemporaries as Newton and Leibniz.
I shall treat the concepts in their historical order, putting
the Absolute Theory before the Relational Theory of
Motion. But, when the various theories have been
clearly stated and the pros and cons have been weighed,
a further task will confront us, viz., to try to exhibit
their logical order and interconnexions. I must confess
that I have not seen a satisfactory account of this point
in any work on the subject. It seems commonly to
be assumed that the logical order has been the same
as the historical, and that the successive kinematic
concepts have represented a steady development of the
doctrine that motion is purely relative. Yet some of
88 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
the chief exponents of the General Theory of Relativity,
which is the latest phase of kinematics, use language
which seems to imply a thoroughly Absolute Theory.
We hear of " kinks" in Space or in Space-Time, and
we are told that they modify the motions of matter,
or that matter consists of such "kinks." All this is
extremely puzzling after one has been led to believe
by the same writers that the General Theory of
Relativity is the final triumph of the Relational Theory
of Motion. I think we shall find that the logical
connexions are not so simple as we have been told ;
and it will certainly be useful to do our best to throw
some light on this dim spot. We cannot, however,
profitably discuss this question until we have seen what
precisely the various theories assert.
The Absolute and Relational Theories of Motion. In
the last two chapters we have been discussing the
traditional concepts of Space and Time. Now the
kinematic concept which strictly corresponds to these
is that of Absolute Motion. In accordance with the
traditional concepts of Space, Time, and Matter, the
three are largely independent entities. The traditional
view does not as a rule go very deeply into the question
of their mutual relations, but I think the following
would be a fair statement of what it tacitly assumes
on this subject : Time could have existed without Space
or Matter; Space could not have existed without Time,
but it could have existed without Matter ; Matter could
not have existed without both Space and Time. Space
needs Time in order to endure, but the only connexion
is that all points of Space endure unchanged for ever.
Matter needs Time in order to endure, and it needs
Space in order to have place and shape, which are
essential to it. With Matter there begins the possibility
of Motion ; Matter need not have moved, but as a fact
it does so from time to time.
The alternative between the Absolutist and the
Relationist Theory of Time may be illustrated as follows :
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS 89
We say that the Battle of Hastings precedes the Battle
of Waterloo by a certain amount, viz., 749 years. The
two battles are events in the world's history, and the
Absolutist and the Relationist agree that a certain
temporal relation subsists between them, and that it
has a certain measure in terms of the usual units. The
whole question between them as to Time is the follow-
ing : Is this relation simple, direct, and unanalysable,
connecting the two events in question and nothing else,
or is it a complex compounded out of other relations
which involve other terms in addition to the two events?
The former alternative is taken by the Relationist, the
latter by the Absolutist. On the former view there is
not something called Time which could exist even
though there had been no events ; Time just consists
of the relations of before and after among events. These
relations have various magnitudes which can be measured
by comparison with the temporal relation between some
standard pair of events, such as the successive occupa-
tions of the same position on a dial by the hands of a
suitably standardised clock.
The Absolutist, on the other hand, holds that the
temporal relations between events are not direct and
unanalysable ; they are really compounded out of
relations of two wholly different kinds. On this view
there is something called Time which is composed of
simple entities called moments ; and it is only moments
which can strictly be said to be before or after each
other. There is further a certain peculiar relation
between events and moments which is denoted by the
word at. At is a. many-one relation, i.e. many different
events can be at the same moment but no momentary
event can be at more than one moment. The Absolutist
analyses the statement that the Battle of Hastings
precedes the Battle of Waterloo by 749 years into
the three following propositions: (1) The Battle of
Hastings happened at a certain moment tv (2) The
Battle of Waterloo happened at a certain moment t%.
G
90 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
(3) The moment fl eternally precedes the moment t2
by 749 years. (I am neglecting the fact that both
battles took up a finite time and therefore did not liter-
ally happen at two moments. This is not important for
the present purpose, and can quite easily be dealt with
on either theory.)
It is important to notice that the traditional Absolu-
tist and the traditional Relationist agree in holding that
there is something that can be called the dates of the
two battles and something that can be called the time-
lapse between them. Neither of them would admit that
the same pair of events could stand in several different
temporal relations ; that, for instance, they might be
both contemporary and yet one earlier than the other,
or again that they might precede each other by several
different amounts. They agree that there is one and
only one temporal relation between a given pair of
events, and they only differ as to the right analysis of
this relation. It is important to notice this, because it
is here that the Theory of Relativity differs from both
of them. For, as we shall see, this theory denies that
there is a single relation which can be called the time-
lapse between a given pair of events.
Now that we have got the difference between the
Absolute Theory of Time and the Relational Theory
clear we can briefly consider the arguments between
them. These fall into two classes, viz., those which
apply directly to Time and those which apply to it only
indirectly through the question of Motion. Absolute
motion implies absolute Time and Space, though there
will, of course, be relative motion even if there be
absolute Time and Space. The Absolute Theory does
not deny relative motion, but simply asserts that all
relative motion is the appearance of absolute motions.
The arguments for and against these theories, which
depend on motion, may be reserved for the moment,
and we will now consider those which apply directly
to Time.
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS 91
The main merit of the Relational Theory is that it
is simpler and keeps closer to the observable facts. We
can observe events, and if two events fall into the same
specious present, or if one is sensed and the other
remembered, we can directly observe the temporal
relation between them. We cannot perceive moments
of Time. Nor can we say that they are hypothetical
entities, like atoms and electrons, which we also cannot
perceive. We accept the latter because there are certain
sensible facts which we can explain with them and can-
not easily explain without them. But, whilst electrons
are supposed to be causes with sensible effects, bare
moments are not supposed to do anything or to produce
any effects, sensible or otherwise.
Undoubtedly there is something more than mere
relations in Time. We have already seen that the Time
series has a definite intrinsic sense, and that this arises
because there is a continual addition to the sum total
of existence, whilst nothing that has ever existed ceases
to do so save in a derivative and analysable sense.
Even though there were no "change" in the ordinary
sense of the word, i.e. if every fresh slice of existence
were qualitatively indistinguishable from all its pre-
decessors, there would be this continual becoming.
But, so long as this absolute feature in Time is recog-
nised, there seems no objection to the Relative Theory
as such. If it has to be rejected, it will not be in favour
of the Absolute Theory but in favour of something still
more relativistic than itself.
A minor objection to the Relational Theory of Time,
as stated in most mechanics books, is that it is incom-
plete. Relativists, as well as other people, constantly
talk in practice of moments and of several events
happening at the same moment. For the Absolutist,
of course, such statements are literal expressions of fact.
For the Relativist they cannot be so, since he does not
literally believe in the existence of moments. It is
therefore his duty to give a definition of what he means
92 SCIENTIFIC. THOUGHT
by "moments," which shall (a) be compatible with his
theory, and (/>) compatible with the common usage of
this word by himself and others. This duty he invari-
ably shirks. The problem can, however, be solved by
the Method of Extensive Abstraction. Two applications
of it will be needed: (i) to define momentary events
in terms of finite events and their relations of partial
overlapping", and (2) to define moments. A moment is
eventually defined as a class of contemporary momentary
events. Thus the objection under discussion is not
intrinsic to the Relative Theory of Time, but only to
the common presentment of it.
Let us now consider the difference between the
Absolute and the Relational theories of Space. This
is much the same as the difference between the two
theories of Time. It is, I think, harder to accept a
purely relative theory of Space, because of certain
additional complications which turn up here. On the
Relational Theory spatial relations directly connect bits
of matter, e.g. the theory says that Cambridge is
60 miles N.N.E. of London, and takes this to be a
direct relation between the two towns. The Absolute
theory would analyse the fact into three propositions,
viz. : (1) London is at a certain point px of Absolute
Space ; (2) Cambridge is at a certain point p., of
Absolute Space ; and (3) p2 is 60 miles N.N.E. of py*
The Absolute Theory thus assumes certain entities,
which may be called geometrical points, in addition to
matter ; spatial relations directly connect these. They
only indirectly connect pieces of matter in so far as
these are at the geometrical points in question.
Now there is an additional complication in the case
of Space which is not present with Time. Events
always have the same temporal relations to each other ;
the Battle of Hastings always precedes the Battle of
Waterloo by 749 years when the latter Battle has once
become. But bits of matter move about ; consequently
* I am neglecting here the motion of the earth.
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS 93
statements about the distance from one bit of matter
to another or about the relative position of two bits of
matter are ambiguous. A train travelling from London
to Edinburgh by the East Coast Route is sometimes
to the East of London and sometimes to the West of
it, and is constantly at different distances from it. The
way in which the Absolute Theory deals with these
facts is the following : It holds that the points of
Absolute Space have to each other purely geometrical
relations which are wholly independent of Time. It
puts the burden of change on the relation at, which
connects bits of matter with points of Space. What
it says is that at, in the present sense, is a three-term
relation which always connects a bit of matter, a
geometrical point, and a moment of Time. The
simplest statement that you can make about the position
of a bit of matter is that it is at such and such a
point at such and such a moment. Another way of
putting it is that the presence of a bit of matter at a
geometrical point is an event, and that, like all events,
this occupies a certain moment of Absolute Time. The
relation of being at a point at a moment is held to
have certain properties, which are just worth mention-
ing. (1) Two bits of matter cannot be at the same
point at the same moment. This property expresses
the impenetrability of matter. (2) One bit of matter
cannot be at two different points at the same moment.
(The only alleged exception to this is the Body and Blood
of Christ in the Celebration of the Eucharist.) (3) If one
bit of matter is at two different points at two different
moments it must be at a continuous series of inter-
mediate points at the intermediate moments. This
expresses the fact that bits of matter do not suddenly
leave one place and afterwards turn up at another
without following a path from the first to the second.
(4) Every bit of matter is at some point or other at all
moments. This expresses the indestructibility of matter.
Now all these propositions certainly express im-
04 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
portant alleged facts which arc commonly believed to
he true of matter, and any theory must contain them
in some form. On the Relational Theory of Space
it is clear that they will need a great deal of rein-
terpretation, since that theory believes neither in
geometrical points, nor in moments, in the literal senses
of those words. It follows that if the Relational Theory
of Space is to be of the slightest use, it must give
meanings to all these statements which (a) shall not
imply the literal existence of points or moments, and
(/>) shall nevertheless be equivalent in practice to
these propositions. I need scarcely say that writers of
mechanics books, who start by telling their readers that
Space is relative, never attempt to recast these state-
ments in terms of their theory, and never even mention
or apparently recognise the need of doing so.
Now this fact, that things move about, at once
introduces a difficulty into the notion of distance and
relative position on the Relational Theory. We very
often need to know the distance between one thing at
one moment and another thing at another moment.
When we try to measure the velocity of anything it
is evidently necessary to know the distance between
one piece of matter at the time of starting and another
piece of matter at the time of arrival. Again, if we
use a measuring rod which has to be taken up and
laid down several times between A and B, it is clear
that what we directly measure is neither the distance
between A and B at tx (the moment when we begin to
measure) nor the distance between A and B at tt (the
moment when we cease to measure). If in certain
cases the measured distance is held to agree with the
momentary distance this must be a matter of inference,
and it will be necessary for the Relational Theory to
state and justify the assumptions made and the conven-
tions used in drawing these inferences.
Now the Absolute Theory can, of course, give a
perfectly definite meaning to the distance between a
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS 95
body at one moment and the same or a different body
at another moment. What it says is that the distance
required is the distance between the place where the
one body was at the first moment and the place where
the other body is at the second moment. In ordinary
life we do constantly use this phraseology ; but we
forget that, whilst it has a literal meaning on the
Absolute Theory, it needs to be given a meaning on
the Relative Theory. For, on that theory, the primary
meaning of distance is distance between two bodies at
the same moment. And, as soon as this is seen, we
see further that the relative theory of Space cannot be
complete without some criterion of simultaneity at
different places. This example brings out rather well
the characteristic merits and defects of each type of
theory. The Absolute Theory does give a definite
meaning to the notion of distance between two bodies
at different moments ; but, since we certainly cannot
perceive points of Absolute Space, it fails to explain
how we ever know that we are measuring distance in
the sense defined. On the other hand the Relational
Theory gives a clear meaning only to the notion of
distance between two bodies at the same moment ; and
this is not enough for practical or scientific purposes.
But it does stick to bodies, that is to things that we can
actually perceive and deal with.
It is pretty evident that the Relational Theory
suffers from not being thorough enough, and not fully
recognising its responsibilities. It ought to start with
events, and to take the relation of distance between
contemporary events as fundamental. The notion of
bodies and of the distances between bodies at different
times will have to be built on this basis ; you cannot
take either Space or Time or Matter as something given.
There is a common matrix out of which the concepts
of all three are developed by experience and reflection
thereon. The Relational Theory needs to define some
sense of Space, which shall still be relative but shall not
96 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
be merely momentary. Science and common-sense
require a Space which shall be timeless, in the sense
of enduring unchanged throughout Time : a collection
of momentary Spaces is not enough. It is one of the
great merits of Whitehead to have grasped this point.
The Absolute Theory does offer us a timeless Space ;
but, as this can neither be perceived nor inferred
causally from what is perceptible, it is rather like
the offer of a gold brick or a Castle in Spain. The
Relational Theory (whatever may be its pretensions)
only offers us a collection of momentary Spaces.
This has at least two disadvantages: (i) that strictly
momentary relations between bodies can no more
be directly observed than distances between points of
Absolute Space ; and (2) that motion becomes, not
change of position within a Space, but a movement out
of one momentary Space into another momentary Space.
The Relational Theory can hardly solve these unsettled
problems without raising precisely those questions
which lead on to the Special Theory of Relativity.
We will now desert the subject of Absolute v.
Relative Space, as such, for the present, and consider
those arguments on the subject which depend on the
question of Absolute v. Relative Motion. It is doubtful
whether people would ever have worried their heads
greatly about Absolute Space and Time, had it not been
that there seemed to be very grave difficulties about
purely relative motion. The question has really arisen
twice in the history of modern physics, first at the
foundation of the classical dynamics by Galileo and
Newton, and then again in connexion with electro-
dynamics in quite recent years.
It is usual for scientific writers with a tincture of
philosophy to talk as if plain common-sense unhesitat-
ingly holds motion to be purely relative, and as if
it were only persons debauched by metaphysics who
believe in absolute motion. This is of course a pro-
found mistake. It is indeed true that the plain man
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS 97
does not mean by motion absolute motion as defined
by Newton. But he is perhaps even more shocked by
the theory that all motion is purely relative, when once
the logical consequences of that theory are explained
to him. Naturally, the scientific theories both of
absolute and of relative motion are highly abstract
intellectual analyses of facts which the plain man is
content to see and feel without analysing. Still, it
would not be going too far to say that the analysis
offered by the absolute theory seems to common-sense
nearer to the facts than that proposed by the Relationists.
This is hidden by the very half-hearted and obscure
way in which most Relationists state their views ; in
practice it is almost as difficult to take a consistently
relational view about motion as it is to bear constantly
in mind the fact that men at the antipodes do not have
the uncomfortable feeling that we should have if we
were hanging head downwards with our feet fixed to
the ceiling. Let us then try to state the two theories
clearly and to draw their logical consequences. Absolute
motion is the passing of a body from one point of
Absolute Space to another. Absolute rest is the
remaining of a body at a point of Absolute Space.
Relative motion has the same meaning on both
theories ; it is just a change in the relative positions
of two bodies. The difference about it is that the
Relationists say that all motion simply is a change in
the spatial relations of one body to others, whilst the
Absolutists say that there is absolute as well as relative
motion and that the two must be distinguished from
each other. On the Absolute Theory all relative motion
implies absolute motion, and is the appearance of it to
us, but a knowledge of relative motion does not suffice
to determine unambiguously the absolute motions
involved. Thus, suppose that A and B are two bodies,
and that u is the rate at which the distance between
them is increasing. Then u is a relative velocity. The
Absolutist says that it must be due to absolute motions
98 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
in A or in B or in both, and that all that we can say
about thorn is that their difference is equal to u.
Now the point at which the purely relative theory of
motion conflicts with common-sense is that it will never
allow you to say of any two bodies that one is moving
and that the other is at rest. Distance between A and
B is a perfectly mutual relation ; if the distance between
A and B increases at a certain rate the distance between
B and A ipso facto increases at the same rate. If then
motion just means rate of change of distance between
bodies there is no sense in saying that A moves and B
stands still. Suppose now that I am the body A and
that B is the wall of the room. Common-sense is
perfectly sure that I move and that the wall stands
still. But for the consistent Relativist this is simply
nonsense ; it is true in precisely the same sense, and
in the only sense in which he admits motion, that the
wall moves towards me. Thus common-sense seems
here to be much more on the side of the Absolutist
than on that of the Relationist. It quite admits that,
in particular cases, it is difficult or impossible to tell in
what proportions a particular relative motion ought to
be divided between the two bodies, but it is quite
convinced that in ever^ case there is a genuine meaning
in the question : What is the real velocity of each body ?
This question, as we have seen, has a perfectly definite
meaning on the Absolute Theory, but its meaning is
not obvious on the Relational Theory.
Of course I do not regard this common-sense objec-
tion as at all conclusive, for I think that the Relationist
can make a fairly satisfactory answer to it. He will
say: "You think that certain bodies are absolutely at
rest and others in motion, not because there is really
anything but relative motion, but because you tacitly
assume a certain body for relating all others to." This
body, for the ordinary man, is the earth. He says
that the wall is at rest because it does not move relatively
to the surface of the earth ; he says that he himself
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS 99
moves because he does change his position with respect
to this body of reference. It is very easy to forget
about a relation altogether if we always tacitly relate to
the same term in a whole series of judgments. If our
common-sense friend replies that when he moves he
gets tired, whilst when other things move and he
stands still he does not get tired, the Relativist can
easily deal with this objection. He will say: "All
motion is relative, and all relative motions are equally
genuine facts ; but they do not all have the same effects.
When you and the earth move relatively to each other
effects are produced in your body, but when you rest
relatively to the earth and merely move with respect to
other things which are themselves in motion with
respect to the earth, such as tram-cars, no such effects
are produced. This is just a law of nature which we
have to recognise."
So far the Relationist has a perfectly good case.
It is when we come to deal with mechanics, and
particularly with rotation, that his difficulties begin
to accumulate. We will deal with rotation first,
because it can be discussed without any knowledge of
the laws of mechanics, and because it furnished Newton
with one of his strongest arguments in favour of absolute
rotation. Suppose that you take a pail of water and
hang it up by a string, then twist the string a number
of times and let it untwist itself. The pail will, of
course, spin rapidly round its axis. At first the water
will not spin, but gradually it will take up the spinning
movement of the pail, and eventually the water and
the pail will be spinning as one rigid body. Now stop
the pail. The water will go on spinning for some time
till it is gradually brought to rest by friction. Now
what we have to notice is this : At the beginning of
the experiment, i.e. when, in ordinary language, the
bucket is spinning and the water is still at rest, the
water has its maximum velocity of rotation with respect
to the pail. And at this stage the surface of the water
ioo SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
is quite flat. At the second stage of the experiment,
when, in ordinary language, we should say that the
water had picked up the speed of rotation of the pail,
the water has no rate of rotation with respect to the
pail. Yet at this stage the surface of the water is
depressed in the middle, so that it becomes a paraboloid
of revolution. Now we all say that this depression is
due to the rotation of the water. But, if we confine
ourselves to relative rotation, we see that the depression
was nil when the relative rotation was a maximum, and
that it was a maximum when the relative rotation is nil.
If we now pass to the next stage of the experiment,
where, in ordinary language, the pail has been brought
to rest and the water is still rotating, we have again a
maximum rate of relative rotation, but this is now
accompanied by a maximum depression in the surface
of the water. Thus there seems to be no regular con-
nexion between relative rotation and depression at all ;
for the depression can be a maximum both when there
is no relative rotation and when the relative rotation is
a maximum, and the depression can be nil both when
there is maximum relative rotation — as at the beginning
— and when there is no relative rotation — as at the
end of the experiment.
These are the facts which led Newton to hold that
we must distinguish between absolute and relative
rotation. The argument comes to this : If we take all
rotation to be simply and solely the rotation of one body
with respect to another we can find no general law
connecting rotation with depression. Yet we are all
agreed that in some sense the depression is due to
the rotation. Newton's suggestion was that absolute
rotation, and it alone, produces physical changes like
the depression of the water in the pail and the flattening
of the earth at the poles. It is true that we can observe
only the relative rotations of bodies ; but these are
appearances of absolute rotations, and by studying and
measuring such physical consequences as depression
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS 101
and flattening we can ascribe to each of the bodies its
proper amount of absolute motion.
Now of course the facts on which Newton based
his argument are genuine and very important. But
they certainly do not necessitate Newton's conclusion,
although that is no doubt one way of explaining them.
They can equally well be explained without recourse to
absolute motion. If we reflect, we shall see that it is
logically impossible that premises which are wholly
about bodies, such as water and pails, and about their
shapes and relative motions, could necessitate con-
clusions about something entirely different, viz., Absolute
Space and Absolute Time. By a logical argument you
may learn of new relations between the terms that are
mentioned in the premises, but you cannot possibly
learn about the existence of other terms of a quite
different kind from any that were mentioned in the
premises. So we can see at once, from purely logical
considerations, that Newton's argument cannot neces-
sitate a belief in absolute motion. What we can
legitimately argue is that, if there be such things as
absolute Space, Time, and Motion, it is in rotation that
they first disclose themselves by producing observable
effects in matter, and that by studying these phenomena
we may be able to detect the presence and measure the
magnitude of the absolute motion of each body.
But, as I have said, the Relationist can interpret the
pail experiment in terms of his theory. If we reflect
carefully on the results of that experiment, we see that
all that it tells us is that one particular relative rotation
is not connected by any simple law with the depression
of the water in the pail. It shows that the relative
rotation of water and bucket is irrelevant. It does not
in the least follow that no relative rotation is relevant.
At the beginning of the experiment the water was at
rest relatively to the fixed stars, at the middle it was
rotating, and at the end it was again at rest with respect
to them. What the Relationist must say is therefore
102 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
the following: "There is nothing but relative rotation,
and any body that you choose to mention has at one
and the same time all sorts of different relative rotations ;
for instance, the water at the beginning is rotating with
respect to the pail and is at rest with respect to the fixed
stars. Each of these states of motion is equally real
and there is no incompatibility between them, because
they are not properties of the water alone but are
relations between it and other things. It is no more
unreasonable to say that the water is at once at rest and
in motion than it is to say that a man is at once a father
and a son ; it only seems odd because we are haunted
by the ghost of the Absolute Theory. But of all these
various equally real and co-existing motions some only
are connected by simple laws with physical changes in
the water. Relative rotation between the water and the
fixed stars causes depression of the surface of the latter ;
relative rotation between the water and the walls of the
pail causes no such depression if the water be at rest
with respect to the fixed stars." This answer of the
Relationist seems to me to be perfectly compatible
with all the facts of the pail experiment and to be
perfectly consistent with itself.
I will now consider certain objections which have
been brought against this interpretation of the facts.
(i) It is sometimes said: Suppose the water stayed
still and that the fixed stars rotated round it ; the water
would be moving relatively to the fixed stars. On the
above explanation the water ought to be depressed.
Is it reasonable to suppose that the mere rotation of
the fixed stars would have any effect on the water in
the pail? This objection is merely silly and circular.
It is based on an assumption which has a meaning on
the Absolute Theory and no meaning at all on the
Relational Theory. On the Absolute Theory there is
a sense in distinguishing between the case where the
water rotates and the stars keep still and the case where
the stars rotate and the water keeps still. But the dis-
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS 103
tinction is meaningless on the Relational Theory. The
argument in question is therefore irrelevant as opposed
to the Relational Theory. It is really circular, for its
premise only has a meaning for a man who has already
rejected the Relative Theory, and, therefore, it cannot
consistently be used as an argument against this
theory.
(2) A stronger objection is the following: Even
if the sky had always been covered with thick clouds,
so that the fixed stars had never been observed,
we could still have discovered that the earth rotates,
have determined its axis, and have measured its rate
of rotation by means of the gyrostatic compass and
Foucault's pendulum. What is it that we discover and
measure in such cases if it be not the absolute rotation
of the earth ? How can it be the rotation of the earth
relative to the fixed stars, since they do not come into
the question at all? I think that this objection is
fallacious, but it needs a little reflection to answer it.
I will take the case of Foucault's pendulum ; and neglect
the gyrostatic compass, which is harder to discuss
without mathematics. It will suffice to say that the
answer that I shall give about Foucault's pendulum,
if valid at all, will apply equally to the gyrostatic
compass.
To simplify matters we will suppose that the compass
is hung up at the North Pole and started swinging.
Make a chalk mark on the ground where the plane in
which the pendulum starts swinging cuts the earth.
As time goes on you will find that the pendulum no
longer swings in this plane ; if you draw another such
chalk line it will make an angle with the first. In
fact, the plane will slowly rotate, and the time of its
rotation will be twenty-four hours. If this experiment
be done anywhere else on the earth, analogous results
will be got. The actual measurements will depend on
the latitude, and it will be found that they are all
connected with each other and with the latitude by a
104 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
simple law. The fact to be noticed is that what has
been measured in all cases is a relative rotation between
the plane of swing- of the pendulum and the earth's
surface. Let us suppose that the sky were always
covered with thick clouds so that the fixed stars coidd
never be seen. What people would probably have
said would be the following: "All pendula slowly
rotate their planes of rotation with respect to the
earth, and the way in which they do this at different
places follows a simple law."
Now, if motion be purely relative, this is precisely
equivalent to saying that the surface of the earth rotates
with respect to the planes of swinging pendula. It
follows that a perfectly clear meaning could have been
given to the rotation of the earth on the Relative
Theory, even if no stars had ever been observed.
Suppose some speculative scientist had said: "There
may be other bodies beyond those thick clouds ; if so,
does the earth rotate at the same rate with respect to
them?" Of course, no answer could have been given.
We who can see the fixed stars know that the planes
in which pendula swing do not rotate with respect to
them, and we therefore know that the rotation of the
earth or of any other body with respect to the plane
of swing of a pendulum is the same as its rotation
with respect to the fixed stars. This particular fact
of nature would, of course, have been hidden from us
if we had never seen the stars ; but otherwise we
should be in exactly the same position as we are in
now. We can say: "The earth rotates at such and
such a rate both with respect to the fixed stars and
with respect to the planes of pendula." Men who had
never seen the fixed stars could only make the latter
part of this assertion. We know an extra fact which
they do not, but what each of us knows is equally about
relative rotation.
(3) The third objection is one that is constantly
mixed up with the one that has just been discussed,
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS 105
but really is quite different from it. It is said: "If
there were no fixed stars the earth could not be rotating
with respect to them. Now you say that it is rotation
with respect to the fixed stars which causes the flatten-
ing of the earth at the poles and the depression of the
water in a rotating pail. Can you seriously maintain
that, if the fixed stars were annihilated, the earth would
become perfectly spherical and the water in the pail
perfectly flat? You certainly ought to hold this. For
you say that the cause of the depression of the water
is its rotation with respect to the fixed stars. If the
fixed stars ceased to exist, this relative rotation would
ipso facto vanish too. The alleged cause of the depres-
sion having thus ceased to exist, we may presume that
the depression itself would cease too."
Before discussing this argument, I want to point
out its precise connexion with the previous one, and
the cause of the frequent confusion between the two.
The present argument deals with the physical causation
of such phenomena as the flattening of the earth at the
poles, and the depression of the water in a spinning
pail. It points out an implication of the Relational
Theory which its supporters are very liable to forget.
The theory says that the cause of such phenomena is
the rotation of the earth or the pail with respect to
some other body or bodies. Now, if this is to be
literally true, it would seem that the existence of one
at least of the assigned bodies of reference must be an
essential part of the cause of the physical phenomena
in question. Relationists are inclined to regard the
fixed stars, or whatever frame of reference they may
happen to use, as mere axes of reference, and in no
sense causal factors. The present argument shows
that this is inconsistent. To square the Relational
Theory with the facts, it is necessary to hold that certain
relative motions stand out from all others in producing
observable physical consequences. Now these out-
standing relative motions are those which bodies have
H
106 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
witli respect to certain bits of matter, such as the fixed
stars. These particular bits of matter are thus put in
a unique position among all other bodies. Motion
with respect to any one of this particular set of
bodies produces physical phenomena ; otherwise similar
motions with respect to other bodies do not produce
similar physical consequences. Thus the existence of
this privileged set of bodies is an essential factor in
the production of these particular physical phenomena,
and we have no right to suppose that these phenomena
would continue to happen if all the bodies in this
set were annihilated. (It is not necessary to suppose
that the existence of any one member of the set, e.g.
the fixed stars, is essential. What does seem to be
essential is that there should be at least one member of
the set, though it is immaterial which particular one
it may be.) This is the basis of the present argument,
and the force of it is that it is hard to believe that
the existence of a certain privileged set of bodies is a
necessary condition of the flattening of the earth or the
depression of the water.
Now the previous argument was not about physical
causation, but was about the meaning of and the
evidence for the statement that the earth rotates. It
suggested that, since we could know that the earth
rotates and measure the rate at which it does so, even
though we had never seen the fixed stars, we cannot
mean by the statement that the earth rotates simply
that it does so with respect to the fixed stars. And it
concluded from this that, when we talk of the rotation
of the earth, we must mean absolute rotation, and that
we must be able to detect and measure it by observations
made on purely terrestrial bodies. As we have seen,
the premise of this argument and the first part of its
conclusion are true, but its final conclusion does not
follow. What we observe in these purely terrestrial
experiments is still relative rotation, and what men who
could not see the fixed stars would mean when they
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS 107
said that the earth revolved, would be that it does so
with respect to the plane of a swinging pendulum.
We who can observe the fixed stars have found out the
additional fact that the rotation of the earth with respect
to them is the same as its rotation with respect to a
pendulum swinging at the North Pole.
The arguments, then, are entirely different. Why
is it that they are so often mixed up? I think the
reason is the following : It is thought that, since you
could find out the rotation of the earth without knowing
anything about the fixed stars, therefore the fixed stars
cannot be an essential part of the cause of such
phenomena as the flattening of the earth. This is,
however, a very bad argument. We can find out a
good deal about the symptoms and treatment of
influenza, though no one has ever seen an influenza
germ. This does not prove that these symptoms do
not depend on a germ, or that they would not cease
altogether if the germ were exterminated.
Having cleared up the connexions,real and imaginary,
between these two arguments, let us consider the second
of them. Several answers might be made to it. The
first, which was made by Mach,* seems to me to be
logically sound, and to contain an important truth,
though — as I shall point out later — it does not altogether
satisfy our physical instincts. The argument that we
are discussing appeals to our conviction that such
remote bodies as the fixed stars cannot really be
essential factors in the causation of purely terrestrial
phenomena like the flattening of the earth and the
depression of the water in the pail. Now Mach's
answer is to say that this conviction is a mere prejudice,
and to point out how this prejudice arose. Mach says
that we have really not the least idea what would
happen if the fixed stars were annihilated, and that
therefore we have no right to suppose that the earth
would still be flattened and the water still depressed
* Science of Mechanics.
ioS SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
after such a cosmic upheaval. Mach's grounds for
this assertion seem to me to be sound. They are as
follows : The laws of motion and all other scientific
laws have been discovered and verified in a world
which, as a matter of fact, does contain the fixed stars.
Our laws do not make explicit mention of these bodies,
because they have been a constant factor, and are
assumed to be going- to be a constant factor in all
predictions which we make by means of these laws.
But, though constant factors need not be mentioned,
it does not follow that they are causally irrelevant.
We say that gas lights when you put a match to it ;
and we do not as a rule mention that air must be
present, because it practically always is present when
we strike matches and attempt to light gas. Never-
theless this constant factor is as relevant as the matches
and the gas, and if we argued that the absence of air
would make no difference, we should be wrong. You
can never safely assume that any factor which has been
present in all cases under which a law has been verified
is irrelevant to the truth of the law, until you have
produced a definite negative instance in which this factor
was absent and the law was nevertheless found still to
hold. Now we obviously cannot remove the fixed
stars, spin a bucket, and see whether the water is still
depressed in the middle. Therefore we have no right
to feel so sure that it still would be depressed in the
middle if there were no fixed stars.
I will now point out why this argument, though
logically sound and based on an important general
principle, is liable to leave us dissatisfied as physicists.
Mach's answer accepts the view that the flattening of
the earth and the depression of the water depend on
motion relative to the fixed stars, and that therefore the
existence of these bodies is an essential factor in the
causation of such phenomena. Now we must notice
that, if this be true, a very peculiar kind of physical
causation is introduced. It is of such a kind that, if
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS 109
there were much of it in the world, physics and all other
experimental sciences would be impossible. It is a
fundamental assumption in all our practical work that
the more distant a body is the less difference it makes
to the physical phenomena in a given region. The
chemist assumes that practically everything that goes
on outside his laboratory, and most things that go on
outside his test-tube, are irrelevant to the phenomena
inside his test-tube. We are, of course, prepared to
admit that possibly everything that happens anywhere
has some influence on everything else, and that the
more delicate we make our experiments the less we can
afford to treat anything as irrelevant. But, unless very
distant things could on the whole be safely neglected,
and neglected with greater safety the further they are
away, all experimental research would be hopeless,
because no phenomenon would be even approximately
isolable from the rest of the world. If gravitational,
electric, and magnetic forces varied directly instead of
inversely with the square of the distance, there would
be what Mr Mookerjee very justly termed "a rare
hullaballoo or pretty kettle of fish. " Now Mach's answer
does introduce a sort of physical causation which is of
just this objectionable kind. The fixed stars are the
most distant bodies that we know of, and yet they are
an essential factor in causing the flattening of the earth
and the depression of the water. This is why I said
that the implications of Mach's answer contradicted our
physical instincts. Of course it is quite possible that
here our physical instincts are mere prejudices. It may
well be that all the known laws of nature, when fully
expressed, involve two factors, viz., those that we
actually mention and measure on the one hand, and the
general structure of the stellar universe on the other.
The latter has kept fairly constant up to the present,
and so we have come to no harm as yet by neglecting
it and confining ourselves entirely to the first factor.
I now turn to a second possible answer to the present
no SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
objection to the Relational Theory of motion. I am
inclined to think that Mach's answer concedes more
than is necessary to the opponent. The opponent con-
fines himself to the fixed stars, argues that it is only
rotations with respect to them that produce physical
consequences on the Relational Theory, and therefore
confronts the Relationist with the conclusion that the
existence of the fixed stars must be an essential factor
in the production of these physical phenomena. Mach
accepts this as a fair consequence of the Relational
Theory, and simply argues that it is unobjectionable
for the reasons given above. This seems to me too
big a concession. I pointed out that every body has at
one and the same time many different relative motions,
all equally real, just as any town has at one and the
same time any number of different " distances." There
is no kind of contradiction or inconsistency in this unless
we tacitly smuggle in the idea of absolute motion.
Now, if the laws of Mechanics be true, all the motions
of all other bodies relative to (say) the fixed stars obey
a certain set of rules, viz., Newton's laws of motion,
or whatever modification of them may be found to be
necessary. Suppose that a whole set of bodies B1? B2,
. . . Ba obey Newton's laws for all their motions with
respect to the fixed stars. Let us select any body Br
out of this set. Then the motions of any other, such
as B:, with respect to Br, could be compounded out of
the motions of Bx and Br with respect to the fixed stars.
But, by hypothesis, the motions of both Bx and Br with
respect to the fixed stars obey Newton's laws. Hence
the motions of Ba with respect to Br must obey laws
which are merely mathematical transformations of
Newton's. Precisely the same remarks apply to the
motions of any of the other B's with respect to Br. The
standard body Br might be as wild as we like, it might
be a midge dancing in the sunlight ; still, if it and all
other bodies obey a certain set of rules for all their
movements with respect to the fixed stars, all other
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS in
bodies will obey a set of rules for their movements with
respect to it. No doubt these rules would be of perfectly
awful complexity if we had chosen a midge instead of
the fixed stars as our body of reference ; but what does
this prove ? Only, so far as I can see, that we should
probably never have discovered that all motions are
subject to laws if we had not had the fixed stars avail-
able as bodies of reference. When we say : " It is only
motions relative to certain bodies (of which the fixed
stars are typical) which obey the laws of Mechanics,"
this is true in one sense and false in another. It is true
that only such motions obey even approximately the
simple and familiar laws of motion discovered by Galileo
and Newton. It is not true that motions with respect
to other bodies obey no laws, or that the laws which
they obey are incompatible with or independent of
Newton's. The laws of such motions must be just
mathematical transformations, often of unmanageable
complexity, of the familiar and simple laws which
govern motions with respect to the fixed stars. This
seems to be a necessary consequence of the two facts
(a) that all motions with respect to the fixed stars are
subject to Newton's laws, and {b) that the motions of
any body with respect to any other can be compounded
out of the motions of both with respect to the fixed
stars.
If this argument be sound, we can now give an
answer to the present objection to the Relational Theory,
which shall accept all that is true in Mach's answer
and shall not shock our physical instincts or prejudices.
The objection, I may once more remind the reader,
was this: If the earth be flattened and water in a
spinning pail depressed only through rotation with
respect to the fixed stars, then, if there were no fixed
stars, the earth would not be flattened nor the water
depressed. We can now see that this consequence
does not really follow from the Relational Theory of
Motion. If you twisted the pail in the absence of the
ri2 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
fixed stars there would still be relative motion between
ii and other thing's. It is true that these other relative
motions would not be connected with the depression
of the water by the same simple laws which connect
that depression with the rotation of the pail relative to
the fixed stars. But the depression would be connected
with these other relative motions by laws which are
mathematical transformations of these simpler ones. In
that sense it would be true to say that the annihila-
tion of the fixed stars would not necessarily make any
difference to the phenomena. On the other hand, we
can still admit with Mach that it would not be safe
to assume that laws which have been discovered and
verified in the presence of the fixed stars would neces-
sarily continue to hold when such a large and important
part of the material universe as the fixed stars had been
annihilated. The difference between our answer and
Mach's comes to this : Mach accepts it as a necessary
consequence of the Relational Theory that the exist-
ence of the fixed stars is an essential condition of the
phenomena under discussion ; he then devotes himself
to showing that we ought not to be surprised at the
disappearance of these phenomena in the absence of
the fixed stars, and therefore that this consequence
of the Relational Theory is no objection to it. We
argue that this is not a necessary consequence of the
theory, but add that we too should not be surprised
if laws which had been ascertained in the presence of
the fixed stars should be found to break down after so
hug^e a change as the annihilation of those bodies.
The upshot of the discussion seems to me to be
that there is no conclusive objection to the view that
all motion is relative, and that all arguments which
have been produced to show that we must recognise, and
can indirectly measure, absolute motion, are fallacious.
This being so, I think there are strong reasons for
rejecting the Absolute Theory. After all, the laws of
motion are empirical laws, discovered by observing and
THE TRADITIONAL KINEMATICS 113
reflecting upon the actual movements of actual bodies.
Now, all that we can observe in the way of motion is
the change in position of one body with respect to
others. It were strange indeed if such observations
could lead to laws about something which is, from its
very nature, unobservable, and stranger still if such
laws enabled us to control and predict the movements
of bodies in nature. Absolute Space, Time, and Motion
have all the appearance of being mathematical devices,
and not substantial constituents of nature, and a theory
is to be preferred which reduces such mathematical
scaffolding to a minimum, provided of course that it is
adequate to all the facts with which it professes to deal.
I think that mathematicians and writers on dynamics
have been justified in rejecting the Relational Theory in
the forms under which it has been commonly presented
in the past ; but I think that this is because it has
been badly and inadequately stated, and not because
it is impossible to make it fit all the facts.
This is about as far as we can go when we confine
the discussion to ordinary mechanical phenomena. But
the whole question arose again in recent years over
electro-dynamics, and it has been found that reflection
on the facts of this region of phenomena necessitates a
still more radical overhauling of the traditional concepts
of kinematics. This leads to the Theory of Relativity,
which I shall deal with in the next chapter.
The following additional works may be consulted
with advantage :
Leibniz, Correspondence with Clarke.
E. Mach, Science of Mechanics, Chap. II., § vi., Appendix XX.
and XXII.
B. A. W. Russell, Principles of Mathematics, vol. i., Chap.
LVIII.
A. Muller, Das Problem des absoluten Raumes. (Vieweg.
Braunschweig., 191 1.)
P. Painleve, Les Axiomes de la Mecanique. (Gauthier-
Villars, Paris, 1922.)
H. Poincare, Science et Hypoth&se, Chap. VII. (Flammanon,
Paris.)
H. Poincare, Science et Methode, Part II., Chap. I.
CHAPTER IV
"Ah! that accounts for it," said the Hatter. "He won't
stand beating. Now, if you only kept on good terms with
Time, he'd do almost anything you liked with the clock. . . .
You could keep it to half-past one as long as you liked."
(Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.)
Modification of the Traditional Kinematics in the
Region of Physics (continued). (2) The Special
Theory of Relativity
The older controversies between Absolutists and Re-
lationists, which we have discussed in the last chapter,
took place wholly within the region of dynamics, i.e.
they dealt with the movements of bodies and with the
changes of shape, such as flattening and depression,
which some of these movements produce. It is clear,
however, that the same kind of question could be raised
over anything whatever that moves, and over any kind
of effects which movement may seem to produce. Now
there is good evidence — some of which will be men-
tioned in a later chapter — for the view that light
travels out from its sources with a very great but finite
velocity ; and this velocity has been measured. Again,
the motions of charged bodies produce magnetic effects
which vary with the velocities of the bodies.
Thus in theory the whole question between the
Absolute and the Relational views of Motion might
be argued out again in the regions of light and electro-
magnetics. A wave of light might be expected to have
all sorts of different relative velocities, and the question
might be raised : Which, if any of these, is what the
physicist means by the velocity of light? The Absolutist
114
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 115
might here step in and say that by the velocity of light
we must mean, not any of its relative velocities, but
its absolute velocity, in the sense discussed in the last
chapter. Similarly, we might ask : Which, if any, of
the numerous different relative velocities of any charged
piece of matter produces magnetic effects? And the
Absolutist might say that no relative velocity has this
effect, but only the absolute velocity of the charged
body. I do not think that these additional facts really
make any difference in principle to the conclusions
which we reached about the Absolute and the Rela-
tional Theories in the last chapter. I will try to justify
this statement before going on to discuss what modifica-
tions the new facts do make in the traditional kinematics.
The subject is a little confused at the outset through
the introduction of a new friend — the Luminiferous
Ether — which did not enter into the purely dynamical
arguments. Thus we get an apparently intermediate
view, put forward by physicists who reject Absolute
Space, Time, and Motion with righteous horror as
metaphysical figments, and tell us that what is im-
portant in light and electro-magnetics is motion, not
with respect to this or that body, but with respect to
the Luminiferous Ether. It seems to me that for the
present purpose there is no important difference between
the Ether and Absolute Space. A distinction was origin-
ally drawn, because various physical properties, such
as elasticity and density, used to be ascribed to the
ether, and because it was supposed to produce various
effects on ordinary matter. This is inconsistent with
the traditional view that Space does nothing, has no
physical properties, and is thus distinguished from
Matter. But there are two circumstances which make
the distinction between the Ether of the modern physicist
and the Absolute Space of the older Mechanics so slight
as not to be worth keeping. On the one hand, the
Absolutist has really no right to say that Absolute
Space does nothing to matter. For it is of the essence
Il6 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
of his view that absolute motion produces flattening
and other mechanical effects on matter ; and, since
Absolute Space is involved in Absolute Motion, it is
clear that he ought to hold that it is an essential factor
in the production of these effects. On the other hand,
as we shall see, the Ether has proved to be a more and
more retiring entity, until it is difficult to discover that
it plays any part in physics except that which Absolute
Space played in the older Mechanics. Thus I do not
regard the two views that the velocity of light means
its absolute velocity and that it means its velocity
relative to the Ether as genuine alternatives. The
Ether just is Absolute Space plus some hypothesis as
to its filling, and this latter addition is irrelevant for
our present purpose.
Having cleared this complication out of the way,
we can see fairly easily that the facts about light and
electro-magnetism make no difference in principle to
the question of Absolute versus purely Relative Motion.
When the velocity of light was measured, and when
the fundamental equations of the electro-magnetic field
were laid down, writers did not as a rule state very
clearly what frames of reference they were assuming.
But it is certain that they were, in fact, assuming the
familiar frame of reference with respect to which Newton's
laws of motion hold. If this be Absolute Space, then
they were talking about Absolute Motion, and if it be
the fixed stars, then they were talking about motions
with respect to the fixed stars. Every reason that there
is for taking the latter alternative as regards ordinary
dynamics exists for doing the same with regard to light
and electro-magnetics. The velocity of light is some-
thing that has been experimentally measured, and what
has been measured must have been the time that a
wave of light took to get from one body to another (or
rather from one body to a second and then back again
to the first). Clearly it was the velocity of light relative
to these bodies that was measured, and not the time
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 117
that it took to get from one point of Absolute Space
or one bit of the Ether to another. Similarly the laws
of electro-magnetics were discovered and verified by
experiments on bodies, and the velocities that were
observed were the velocities of these bodies relative
to others. Again, all the arguments that could be
produced to show that in light and electro-dynamics
we must be dealing with absolute motions, and that we
have the means of indirectly measuring them, are pre-
cisely parallel to the arguments to prove the same con-
clusion from the phenomena of rotation. And they
could be met in precisely the same way. Thus the
new sciences which have developed since Newton's
time leave the question between the Absolutists and the
Relationists exactly where it was ; and that is, if we
are right, they leave the Relationists in possession of
the field, provided they state their case carefully enough.
I do not suppose that any physicist would deny one
side of the above statement, viz., that the facts about
light and electro-magnetics lend no fresh support to
the Absolute Theory. But he might be inclined to
think that they do provide additional grounds for the
Relational Theory. I do not think this is strictly true ;
but it is plausible, and an explanation of why it is so
will carry us into the heart of our present subject.
In the purely dynamical arguments between Absol-
utists and Relationists the Absolutist staked his case
on absolute acceleration and absolute rotation. He did
not profess to be able to produce any direct empirical
evidence for absolute rectilinear velocity ; though, of
course, if he could prove the existence of absolute
acceleration, that of absolute velocity would be proved
indirectly. It follows at once from the form of Newton's
laws of motion that absolute rectilinear velocity, even
if it exists, will not show itself by any dynamical con-
sequences ; for it is acceleration, and not velocity in a
straight line, which Newton's laws connect with force,
and therefore with possible deformations of bodies.
n8 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
Now, when we come to deal with light and electro-
magnetics, there is a real difference in this respect. If
what is called the velocity of light be its absolute
velocity (or its velocity with respect to the "stagnant
ether," if you prefer that expression) we might expect
to be able to measure the absolute velocity of a body
like the earth by finding the velocity of light with
respect to it and noticing how much greater or less it
was than the velocity of light. The absolute velocity
of the earth in its orbit would presumably be the differ-
ence between the absolute velocity of light and the
velocity of a wave of light as measured from the moving
earth, given that the earth and the wave of light were
moviner in the same direction when the measurement
was made. Again, various observable electro-magnetic
effects depend on the velocities of charged moving
bodies. If it be the absolute velocity of the charged
body that is relevant to these effects, we ought to be
able to discover what part of the observed relative
velocity of a moving charged body is due to its own
absolute velocity and what part is due to the absolute
velocity of our axes of reference, for it will be only the
former that will be responsible for the electro-magnetic
effects which we measure.
Now it is a fact, and a very important one, as we
shall see in detail in a moment, that all attempts to find
the absolute velocities of bodies by these means have
failed, although the experiments were quite delicate
enough to detect the effects which were being looked for,
if they had really happened. We can now see what
amount of truth there is in the popular view that the
new facts about light and electro-magnetics have pro-
duced strong additional arguments for the Relationist
and against the Absolutist view of Motion. It is true
that light and electro-magnetics seemed to offer for the
first time a means of detecting and measuring absolute
rectilinear velocities^ and that when the experiments were
done the results were always wholly negative. But the
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 119
negative results of these experiments are just as para-
doxical on the traditional Relationist Theory as on the
traditional Absolutist Theory. They cannot therefore
be taken as arguing for the former and against the
latter. It is clear that neither theory, as it stands, is
fitted to deal with the facts. Of course, if it should
be found that the Relationist Theory can, and the
Absolutist Theory cannot, be so modified as to fit the
facts of light and electro-magnetics, we may say that
ultimately these facts furnish a conclusive argument
against the Absolute Theory. But at present we must
hold that their immediate consequence is simply to show
the need of modifying both theories. To this modifica-
tion we will now turn.
I shall confine myself to the question of the velocity
of light, and not touch on purely electro - magnetic
experiments. The argument in the former case can be
followed by any person who takes a little trouble and is
acquainted with the first book of Euclid and with
algebra up to simple equations ; whilst the electro-
magnetic experiments cannot be understood without a
fair knowledge of mathematical physics. And there is
no loss of generality in restricting ourselves to the
simple case of light, for light is really an electro-
magnetic phenomenon. All that the reader needs to
remember here is that the paradoxical result which we
are going to explain about the velocity of light is not an
isolated phenomenon, but is exactly paralleled by every
electro-magnetic experiment that has ever been done
with a view to detecting the absolute velocity of the
earth or other bodies.
The Michelson-Morley Experiment. I shall state the
argument here in terms of the Absolute Theory, because,
with our scientific traditions, this makes it more easy
to follow. But I shall show at the end that this does
not mean that the argument implies the truth of the
Absolute Theory, or that it would be inconsistent to
use the conclusion as the premise of an argument against
IJO
SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
that theory. Suppose we had a platform moving through
the "stagnant Ether" (which, as we have seen, is
practically the same thing as Absolute Space) in a
certain direction with a constant velocity v. On this
platform let there be an observer, a source of light, and
a couple of plane mirrors. Draw a straight line on the
platform through the source of light and parallel to the
direction of motion of the platform. Draw another
straight line on the platform through the source and at
right angles to the first line. Measure off equal distances
from the source along the two lines. At the points thus
obtained place the two mirrors, each one normally to its
line. The illustration below will show the arrangement.
At a certain moment let the source S give out a
flash of light and let part of this go to the mirror M1,
and another part to the mirror M2. Let us first consider
the part that travels to Mr This will have to travel
further through the ether than the marked distance /
between S and M1} for Mx will have travelled a certain
distance through the ether while the light is moving
towards it, and therefore the light will have to overtake
it. Now let the light be reflected back along its old
path to the source. It will now have to travel less than
the marked distance through the ether, because the
source is moving towards it. Suppose the light left S
at time O, reached Mx at tv was reflected instantaneously,
and got back to S at t%. Let c be the absolute velocity
of light, i.e. its velocity through the " stagnant ether."
It is then clear that
and
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY
121
M
/
M^T
f
\
whence it follows that t.z = 2lc\(cl — v%). This then is
the total time that elapses between the emission of this
part of the light and its return to the source after its
double journey.
Let us now deal with the light which travels to the
other mirror M., and is reflected back from it to the
source. This light must not travel out in the direction
SM2, as marked on the platform,
or it will never reach M2. For M2
will have moved to the right by
the time such light had got to
where it was when the light started.
We have therefore to consider light
which strikes the mirror at a point
in the ether equidistant between
the point where the source was when the light left it
and the point where the source will be when the light
returns to it. The diagram above will make this
quite clear.
The actual course of the light in the ether is the line
SWgS2. If T2 be the time when this light gets back to
S it is easy to see that
*"P 2 T *7
£2±2_ = /2 + t,2i2
5°
S'
>V
whence
TV
2/
*Jc2-v2
Thus the two parts of the original beam of light do not
get back to the source at the same time ; or, to put
it in a different but equivalent way, light which gets
back to the source at the same time from the two mirrors
must have started from the source at different times.
Now, under these conditions, there ought to be a
shifting of the position of the interference bands which
always arise when the two beams of light which have
travelled by different paths from the same source meet
again. And from the shift of the bands it would be
possible to find the difference between tt and T2. From
122 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
this we could calculate v, the absolute velocity of the
platform, in terms of cf the absolute velocity of light, by
using the two formula? just proved.
An experiment of this kind was done with great
care by Michelson and Morley. Their moving platform
was the earth. The velocity v was the tangential
velocity of the earth in its yearly motion round the
sun. Their apparatus was quite delicate enough to
detect smaller shifts in the interference bands than those
which were expected. Yet not the slightest trace of
any shifting at all was detected. A great many other
experiments have been tried in which electro-magnetic
effects were looked for as a result of the earth's motion
through the ether ; in every case the results have been
nil. This negative fact, that no effect due to the
uniform rectilinear motion of a body through the ether
has ever been detected, although it had been predicted,
and although the apparatus used was quite delicate
enough to detect and measure it if it were present, is
the basis of the first Theory of Relativity.
Before going any further I want to impress on the
reader the extremely paradoxical nature of this fact,
and to point out that it is as embarrassing to the
traditional Relational Theory of Motion as to the
additional Absolute Theory. If I travel in a slow local
train, and an express passes me going in the same
direction on the main line, I expect to find and I do
find that the express moves more slowly relative to me
than it would if I were standing on the platform of a
station. It is obvious that the express takes longer
to pass me under the former circumstances than under
the latter. Now we should certainly expect this to
happen for all kinds of motion, and this is common
ground to the traditional Absolutist and the traditional
Relationist. Yet the negative result of the Michelson-
Morley and the electro-magnetic experiments might
quite fairly be summed up as follows : The velocity
of light with respect to various bodies is the same, even
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 123
though these bodies be moving with various velocities
in the same direction as the light or in the opposite
direction to it. In the Michelson-Morley experiment
the earth in its orbit corresponds to a slow local train,
and the light which goes from S to Mx corresponds to
a very fast express moving in the same direction on a
parallel line. The result is as if an express train should
appear to be going just as fast to observers in the local
train as to observers standing on a station platform.
The paradox can be stated just as well in terms of the
Absolute and in terms of the Relational Theory. In
terms of the Absolute Theory we can say that, although
the earth is moving with an absolute velocity through
the ether in the same direction as the light, this does
not diminish the velocity of the light with respect to
the earth ; everything goes on as if the earth were
absolutely at rest in the ether. In terms of the Rela-
tional Theory we can say that the relative velocities of
a wave of light, with respect to a number of bodies
which are moving relatively to each other in the same
direction as the light, are nevertheless all the same.
Naturally the first thing to do is to see whether any
physical explanation can be given for this paradox,
without modifying the traditional views of Space and
Time which are common to the older Absolute and
Relational Theories. What physical assumptions were
made in the argument which led to the formulas of the
Michelson-Morley experiment? We assumed (a) that
the ether is not dragged along by the moving platform,
as water would be by a stick that was trailed through
it ; (b) that the absolute velocity of light in the
" stagnant ether" is the same in all directions ; (c) that
the reflection at the mirrors takes place practically
instantaneously ; and (d) that the fact that a source,
which emits light, is itself in motion through the ether
makes no difference to the velocity of the emitted light.
Would it be reasonable to account for the negative
result of the Michelson-Morley experiment by rejecting
124 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
or modifying any of these physical assumptions? As
regards (a) any modification will bring us into imme-
diate conflict with another set of well-established
experimental facts, viz., the aberration of light from
distant stars, due to the yearly movement of the earth
in its orbit. We shall have occasion to refer again to
this phenomenon in a later chapter. For the present
we may say that the amount of aberration will vary
according to the extent to which the earth drags the
ether along with it. The actually observed aberration
corresponds to the hypothesis that there is no dragging
at all, which is what we assumed in our argument.
The assumption (/;) seems to be the only reasonable
one to make on the subject. Nor would it help us to
reject it. For the earth is moving in its orbit in
different directions at different times of year. It follows
that the assumption that the velocity of light in the
ether is different in different absolute directions, even
if it be intelligible, could only account for the negative
result of the Michelson-Morley experiment at one time
of year. At other seasons the discrepancy between
prediction and observation would be worse than before.
The assumption (<r) is needlessly sweeping ; all that
we need to assume is that, whatever time the reflection
may take, it is the same for both mirrors. It were
surely absolutely arbitrary to suppose that reflection at
M0 always takes up a different amount of time from
reflection at Mx, and that this difference is always exactly
such as to neutralise the expected difference in the times
of arrival of the two beams of light at the source.
{d) On the wave theory of light there is no reason
why the velocity of a source at the moment of emission
should have any effect on the velocity with which the
emitted disturbance afterwards travels through the ether.
If we held the corpuscular theory of light, matters would
be different ; for a corpuscle shot out of a moving source
would presumably have a velocity compounded of that
of the source and that due to the emitting impulse.
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 125
But the cumulative evidence for the wave theory and
against the corpuscular theory is so strong that it
seems idle to try to explain the negative result of the
experiment by a hypothesis which is only plausible
on the latter view.
Interpretation of the Michelson-Morley Result in terms
of the Absolute Theory. It is clear then that no ordinary
modification in our physical assumptions will explain
the negative result of the Michelson-Morley experiment
without bringing us into still worse collision with well-
established facts. We are therefore forced to consider
the assumptions that were tacitly made in our measuring
of distances and time-lapses. This brings us, as regards
Space, to the Lorentz - Fitzgerald Contraction, and, as
regards Time, to the notion of Local Time.
I shall still confine myself in my exposition to the
terminology of the Absolute Theory, and we shall
now be seeing what assumptions as to our measure-
ments of distance and time-lapse have to be made in
order to square the results with that theory. It will
be remembered that we measured off on our platform
two lines at right angles to each other, each of which
had the measured length /. This means that our
measuring rod had to be laid down exactly / times
(if it was of unit length) before we made our mark
on each line. Now, on the assumption that identity
of measure means identity of physical distance, we saw
that the times taken by the two beams to get back
to the source were tv for the one that travelled parallel
to the direction of motion of the platform, and T2
for the other. The physical distances travelled by
the two, on the present assumption, will, of course,
be ct., and cT.2 respectively. The first of these is
and the second is
c1 T ?
Now actually the two get back at the same time
instead of the two different times /., and T.,. It therefore
m
[26 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
is necessary to suppose that really they travelled the
same physical distance through the ether. We can
only explain this on the assumption that, although our
measurements in the two mutually normal directions
on the platform were the same, the physical distances
measured were not the same. This is equivalent to
assuming that our measuring rod does not remain of
the same physical length when it is turned in different
directions on the moving platform. If we suppose
that the physical distance at right angles to the direction
of motion really is /, whilst that in the direction of the
otion is only /./ I — -^ , we can account for the negative
result of the experiment. For, in that case, both beams
will have traversed the same physical distance through
2/
the ether, viz. : . ; and, as they travel with the
J vL
same velocity c, they will get back at exactly the
same time. What we have to assume then is that a
measuring rod, which is of unit physical length when
held broadways on to the direction of motion of the
platform through the ether, shrinks to a physical
/ V-
length v i — — when laid down on the platform in the
direction of its motion. This is what is called the
Lorentz - Fitzgerald Contraction. It is not, of course,
supposed to be confined to one particular rod, but is
common to the platform and everything on it. The
result is that it cannot be detected by the use of another
measuring rod, because that will contract in precisely
the same way as the first when you lay it alongside
the first.
We can now deal with the question of Local Time.
We have supposed that the velocity of light in the
stagnant ether is c units of length per second. Now,
assuming the Lorentz-Fitzgerald Contraction, we have
seen that the distance travelled in the ether by either
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 127
beam of light from source to mirror and back again to
2/
2/
source is , units of length. It is clear then that
c2
a clock at the source, which marked zero when the
flash started ought to mark . .^-c seconds when the
flash returns to the source, if it is set in such a way
that it accurately measures seconds of physical time-
lapse. Now the distance travelled by the light relatively
to the platform is 2/ units of length. Therefore the
measured velocity of the light relatively to the platform
will be 2l^r ,= =* or , 9 units of length per
<? e*
second, assuming that the clock at the source is going
at such a rate that a second, as measured by it, really
does represent a physical time-lapse of one second.
The relative velocity of light would therefore vary with
the velocity of the platform. But this is exactly what
we do not find, although we might have expected to
do so. We actually find that the measured velocity
of the light does not depend on the velocity of the
source, the observer, or his instruments. It is therefore
evident that some further explanation beside the Lorentz-
Fitzgerald Contraction is needed to account for the facts.
It is evident that this further assumption must be con-
cerned with our clocks, since we have already dealt with
our measuring rods. Suppose that, when one second
of physical time has elapsed, the clock at the source only
indicates * \ — — seconds, i.e. that it is a little slow.
cz
2/
Then when . seconds have really elapsed the
2/
clock at the source will only indicate . 2x / j
CsJ ^ V T _ V_J
9 9
128 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
i.e. 2/ r seconds. The measured distance travelled by
the light relatively to the platform is, as before, 2/.
Thus the measured relative velocity of the light will
now be cy and will thus be independent of the motion
of the platform. This, as we saw, is the result which
is actually found by experiment. We must therefore
accept it as a fact that the clock at the source on the
moving platform goes more slowly than it would do if
the platform were at rest in the ratio ofv 1— 2 to 1.
This assumption is of course additional to the Lorentz-
Fitzgerald Contraction, and makes no difference to it.
But we are not yet out of our difficulties about the
measurement of time. So far we have dealt only with
the case of a single clock in a single place on the
platform ; for the light came back in the end to the
place whence it started, and the time-lapse was measured
wholly by the clock there. This of course does corre-
spond to the way in which the velocity of light is
measured in purely terrestrial experiments, such as
that of Fizeau and Foucault. Still, it is clear that we
often want to compare the time at which one event
happens in one place with the time at which another
event happens in some other place. In order to do
this we must have some reason to believe that the clocks
in the two places are, not merely going at the same
rate, but also that they agree in their zeros. Now the
mere fact that they agreed in these respects when they
were together is no guarantee that they will continue
to do so when one has been taken away to a distance.
In the case of a pair of ordinary clocks, for instance,
the shaking that one of them gets on its journey, the
possibly different average temperature of the region to
which it has been moved, the different gravitational
attraction at different parts of the earth, and many other
factors, combine to make it most unsafe to argue that,
because the two agreed when they were together, they will
continue to do so now that they have been separated.
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 129
It is thus absolutely necessary to have some criterion
of sameness of rate and sameness of zero which can be
applied to widely separated clocks whilst they remain
in situ. The only method that seems possible is that
of signals which travel from one to the other. Let a
signal be sent out from clock A when this marks tA and
received at clock B when this marks tB. Let another
be sent out when the first clock marks t'A and received
when the second marks f B. If it is found that t' A—tA =
t\—tm we say that the two clocks are going at the same
rate. Again, if a signal leaves A at /.,, reaches B when
the clock there marks tn, is immediately reflected back
to A, and reaches there when the local clock marks
t' A, it seems reasonable to conclude that the zeros of
the two clocks agree, provided that tB = \(tA + t' A). This
would obviously be the right criterion to adopt on the
Absolute Theory, provided the platform were at rest
in the ether. But, we have seen, whether the platform
be at rest in the ether or not, there is no observable
phenomenon by which the observers on it can detect
its absolute motion or rest. Hence, in any case, they
are forced to use this criterion faute de mieux. More-
over, with this criterion and with it alone, the observers
on the platform will find the same value for the velocity
of light relative to the platform whether they measure
it by observations all made with a single clock in one
place, or by observations made with two different clocks
in two different places. We can easily show this, as
follows : We have seen that the velocity of light, as
determined by observations with a single clock, is found
to have the same value c, no matter what may be the
velocity of the platform through the ether. Now let
the clock B be put where the mirror Mx was in the
Michelson-Morley experiment. Let a flash leave the
source (where the clock A is) when this clock marks O,
reach the clock B when this marks tB, be immediately
reflected back, and reach A again when this marks t' A.
Then, if the two clocks have been set by our criterion,
130 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
tH= i(0 + /'.,)--= A /'.i- Now we know that the velocity of
light relative to the platform, as measured entirely by
observations made at A with the clock there, is c. And
the measured distance that this light has travelled
relatively to the platform is 2/, i.e. the measured dis-
tance on the platform backwards and forwards between
A and B (or S and M1 in the diagram to illustrate
the Michelson-Morley experiment). Hence t'A = 2l\c.
Hence tin which is It' n is l\c. That is, a beam of light
which left A when A's clock marked O and travelled
the distance / relative to the platform to the point B,
will reach B when the clock there marks l\c. Thus the
observers at A and B on comparing notes will again
conclude that the velocity of light with respect to the
platform is c, which is exactly the same conclusion as
experimenters who had confined themselves to making
observations at A with A's clock had already reached.
So that the conventions just laid down for standardising
distant clocks are not only those which are practically
forced on the observers by their inability to detect the
movement of their platform through the ether, they
are also the only conventions which will lead to the
same measure for the velocity of light relative to the
platform, when two different but equally reasonable
methods of measurement are adopted. (It ought to be
remarked that the last point is of merely theoretical
interest, since the only practical method of measuring
the velocity of light by terrestrial experiments is by
observations made in a single place.)
Now these conventions, reasonable and inevitable as
they seem, lead to the result that on a moving platform
clocks which are set by them do not " really" agree in
their zeros. This means, in terms of the Absolute
Theory, that identity of clock-readings in different
places does not imply identity of physical date, if the
clocks have been standardised by these conventions and
are dotted about a platform which is in absolute motion
through the ether. This we will now show. We have
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 131
just seen that, with these conventions, if a flash leaves
A when the clock there reads O, it will get to B when
the clock there reads l\c. If there were nothing wrong
with the clocks except the systematic slowness which
we have already had to assume, this clock-reading would
mean a physical time-lapse of amount -. Now
actually the light which left A and went to B has
I ~v%
travelled (a) a distance /./ 1 — -^(allowing for the Lorentz-
Fitzgerald Contraction of the platform and the rod with
which it is measured), and (b) has had further to catch
up B, which is itself travelling through the ether in the
same direction with a velocity v. A very simple
calculation of exactly the same kind as that given on
p. 120 will show that the actual amount of time that has
elapsed between leaving A and reaching B is '
Now we have seen that, if we only allow for the
systematic slowness of all the clocks on the moving
platform, the physical time-lapse would be ,- —
r J sj v*1 c
l~~ 2
cz
These two quantities are not equal, and the one that we
have just obtained by direct calculation is the right one.
Hence the clock at B is not merely going somewhat too
slowly, like the clock at A ; it is also not really in
agreement with A as to its zero, i.e. identity of readings
between the two clocks do not represent identity of
physical dates. When the clock at B reads l\c the true
physical time-lapse is This equals
c—v
■I v_t
1 — .2\ C — V /
l~T*
C32 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
In general, if the clock at B marks /„, and the measured
distance of B from the source in the direction of motion
of the platform be denoted by xm the physical time-lapse
corresponding to the reading tB is given by the equation
sM*+?) <■>
i —
c~
We see then, that if clocks be dotted about a platform
which is moving through the ether with uniform velocity
in a straight line, and if these clocks be standardised by
means of light signals, and we want to pass from the
readings of any clock to the corresponding physical
time-lapse, we must not merely divide the reading by
s/ v*
i — — . Before doing this we must add to the reading
a quantity —^, where xH is the measured distance from
the standard clock to the given clock, in the direction of
motion of the platform. Not only are all the clocks
slow, in the sense that they all take more than an hour
of physical time to make a complete rotation ; in addi-
tion to this the hands of the various clocks are pushed
back from the very start by amounts which increase the
further they are away from the standard clock in the
direction of motion of the platform. Clock-readings,
like tBi are called Local Times, because they vary with
the position of the clocks on the platform, even when
the absolute time is the same.
It is usual, for convenience, to denote the fraction
i
I — ~2 by k. We can then say that the Lorentz-
Fitzgerald Contraction means that a measured length
x in the direction of motion of the platform represents a
physical length of only x\k. And the equation just
reached tells us that the absolute time is connected with
the local time of a clock on a moving platform by the
formula t=k(ta + vxj^ (l)
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 133
assuming- that the clocks have been set by light signals
according to the conventions laid down on p. 129. We
want one more equation before we can get any further.
Suppose that when the standard clock on the platform
marked O it was opposite to a point a in Absolute Space.
When the clock B marks tB let that clock be opposite to
a point (3 of Absolute Space. The co-ordinate of /3, in
the direction of motion of the platform and relative to
the platform, will of course simply be x„ the distance as
measured along the platform in
this direction from the standard a. — 5ji ,s
clock to the clock B. How | xB \
will this be related to X/3, the !' " — 1 — * /i =
physical distance in Absolute A g— ^-* fB= fB
Space between the point /Sand
the point a, which the standard clock was opposite to
at the beginning? The diagram above will illustrate
the problem.
We have two factors to consider. (1) Owing to the
Lorentz-Fitzgerald Contraction the measured length xB
only represents a physical length xB/k. (2) The plat-
form has moved through the ether for the physical
time-lapse that corresponds to the local time tB. If this
lapse be / the platform has moved a physical distance vt.
(VX \
tR-\ — 2"BJ. Hence
= k\XB\ ,2
1 v\ \
= k{xB + vtB). (2)
This is the other fundamental equation of the subject,
for it connects the physical distance of two points in
Absolute Space with the measured magnitude of their
co-ordinates relative to a moving platform. The k factor
134 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
enters through the Contraction and the Local Time, the
v factor through the ordinary rules of relative motion.
We can now sum up the results of the Michelson-
Morley experiment in terms of the Absolute Theory.
To explain the negative results of that experiment,
whilst preserving the Absolute Theory, we have had
to make three assumptions. Two of these involve
action between Space and Matter ; the third is merely
the explicit recognition of a convention, (i) We have
had to assume that Absolute Motion of a body produces
a contraction in the direction of motion. (2) We have
had to assume that all clocks on a platform, which moves
through the ether, are thereby made to go more slowly.
These are both definite assertions as to the action of
Absolute Space (or ether) on matter. (3) We saw that
the conventions which we use to judge of identity of
zero in scattered clocks are not justified if the clocks
be in motion through the ether. This is not a new
physical assumption, but is in accordance with common-
sense. What is new is that we must still go on using
this convention, because we can never tell whether we
are in motion or not through the ether. It will be seen
then that the results of the Michelson-Morley Experi-
ment can be dealt with in terms of the Absolute Theory,
provided we are prepared to make suitable physical
assumptions as to the effect of absolute motion on clocks
and measuring rods. Thus, it cannot be said that the
newer facts definitely settle the old question betweerf
Absolutists and Relationists in favour of the latter.
Nevertheless, I think that reflection on the newer facts
does strengthen the case of the Relationists by making
the Absolute Theory seem more and more arbitrary and
improbable. Before going further I will point out why
I think this. (1) In order to explain the fact that
motion through the stagnant ether does not produce
the observable effects which one might reasonably
expect it to do, the Absolutist has to assume that it
does produce two different effects on matter, and that
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 135
the combination of these exactly neutralises the ex-
pected phenomena. If a student, when taxed with not
showing up an essay, were to reply that he had written
it and then upset the ink over it, we should perhaps
feel a little doubtful, and ask him to let us see the paper.
If he then said that, by a strange coincidence, as the
ink dried it faded, so that it was now impossible to
see anything on the paper, even the Charity which
"believeth all things" would be severely strained.
Yet this is about the position in which the Absolute
Theory finds itself when dealing with the Michelson-
Morley experiment. (2) The alleged physical effects of
motion through the ether are of the most extraordinary
kind. For instance, the Lorentz-Fitzgerald Contraction,
if taken as a physical fact, affects all kinds of matter
equally. A rod of steel contracts as much as a bit of
india-rubber. We might at least expect that such a
contraction would be accompanied by strains, and that
these would show themselves in the usual way by lead-
ing to phenomena, such as double refraction, in other-
wise isotropic transparent materials like glass. Such
effects have been carefully looked for* and have never
been found. Similar remarks apply to the systematic
slowing of the clocks. In fact we may fairly say that
the assumptions which the Absolute Theory has to
make to square itself with the results of the Michelson-
Morley experiment are so " fishy " as to cast additional
^grave doubt on that theory. Let us then try to interpret
the Michelson-Morley result in terms of the Relational
Theory.
Interpretation of the Michelson-Morley Result in terms
of the Relational Theory. The two transformation equa-
tions which we reached in the last section contain
unobservable factors which we must now try to eliminate.
On their left-hand sides they contain absolute time-
lapses and absolute distances. On their right-hand
sides they contain v, the supposed absolute velocity
* In particular, by Rayleigh and Brace.
136 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
of the platform through the ether, which it is admitted
we cannot detect. This occurs both explicitly, and also
implicitly in the term /'. We want to get equations
which will contain nothing but relative velocities,
actual clock-readings, and measured distances. This
is not difficult to do. First of all we must take
two platforms, px and pv Let us still talk in terms
of the Absolute Theory, and suppose that p1 has an
absolute velocity vx and p., an absolute velocity v2 in the
same direction. Let this common direction, as before,
be taken as the ,i-axis. The first thing that we must find
is the measured relative velocity z/a which the platform />2
has with respect to observers on/j, who measure it with
their own clocks and rods. Let a certain point on the
platform p% be opposite to the standard clock of px when
this reads O. Let the same point of p2 be opposite to B
in px when the clock there reads tB. The velocity of p2
relative to px as measured by the observers on px will
then obviously be xB\tB. This is v,,x. Now from equations
(i) and (2) we can easily derive the equations
tr=k(t-vxXp/c2) (1)
and x = k(Xp —vxt). (2)
Xp-vJ
Hence v9, = ^
21 f ^t
1 c2
Now — ' s = z/2, the absolute velocity of/2.
.•., dividing through by i, we get
21 !_?!&_. (3)
This formula is both intrinsically interesting, and
essential for the next stage of our work. Let us put
h= , l 2 , h= /==, and K= /=^=2.
c2 c2 c2
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 137
We have t = kx{tx + *f) = k% (t% + V-f)
and x = k1(xl + v1t1) = k2(x2 + v2t2),
where xx and tx are the measured co-ordinate and the
clock-reading on px which correspond to physical
distance x and absolute time-lapse t respectively,
whilst x2 and t2 are the measured co-ordinate and clock-
reading that correspond on p2 to the same physical
quantities. From these equations we can at once
show that
fj — ^i^2\ I
VlV3\ ( t > + *2V2-Vl
= ^2(i-^2)(^^2) by (3).
i — -V2) ; whence
'1 = ^2 + ^)' (4)
In the same way we can prove that
x\ = ^21(^2 + vziQ' (5)
These equations are absolutely symmetrical as between
tx and t2, xl and x2. For it follows from them that
t -k (t -v*&\
and x2 = k2l {xx — v2lt^) .
But k2X = k12 and v2l = — v12, whence
'2 = M/i + ^) (41)
and x2 = k12(x\ + v^tj (51)
which are of precisely the same form as (4) and (5)
respectively.
We have thus eliminated almost the last trace of
anything " absolute " and unobservable. Our equations
K
138 SCIENTIFIC" THOUGHT
now contain only clock-readings ; measured distances ;
relative velocities of one platform to another ; and
the velocity of light with respect to the two platforms,
which the Michelson-Morley experiment shows to have
the same value for all platforms, even though they be
in motion relatively to each other, provided the motion
be rectilinear and uniform. The equations now tell
us what co-ordinates and dates observers on one plat-
form will ascribe to an event, provided we know what
co-ordinates and dates the observers on any other
platform ascribe to the same event, and also know the
measured velocity of the one platform with respect to
the other. The only trace of "absoluteness" that is
left is the proviso that the platforms must be moving
in straight lines, and with uniform velocities in the ether.
This must be left till we come to the General Theory
of Relativity in Chapter VI.
In the meanwhile the reader may be inclined to raise
a purely logical question, which ought to be settled
before we go anv further. He may say : "You have
just been deducing certain transformation equations
from the assumption of absolute motion through the
stagnant ether, and in this connexion you have
assumed a real physical contraction in moving bodies
and a real physical slowing down of moving clocks.
It is true that you have at last deduced a set of equations
which are entirely in terms of measured distances,
clock-readings, and measured relative velocities. But
even these were deduced from the assumption of two
platforms moving with different absolute velocities
through the stagnant ether. Would it not be a gross
inconsistency if you were finally to make these equations
the basis of a purely Relational Theory of Space, Time,
and Motion? Would you not obviously be using your
conclusions to prove something which directly con-
tradicts the premises from which you derived those
conclusions? And is this not plainly inconsistent?"
This objection is invalid, as I shall now show. To
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 139
some people this fact may be obvious, and they may
think the whole objection far fetched. I can assure
them, however, that it is fetched from no farther than
the University of Oxford ; and respect for the difficulties
felt by that learned body induces me to make the logical
position perfectly clear. To say that p is the premise
from which we deduce q means more than to say that
p implies q, though of course it involves this. It means
in addition that our belief in p is our only ground for
believing in q. When p and q are related in this way
we cease to have any ground for believing in q so soon
as we cease to believe in p. But/ may imply q, though
/ is false and q is true. And, provided that we have
other grounds for believing q, there is not the least
logical objection to our first getting to know q as an
implication of p and then using our belief in q as an
argument against p. A foreigner might come to believe
the true proposition that the Prime Minister of Great
Britain in 192 1 was a Welshman because he mistakenly
believed that Mr Asquith was Prime Minister at that
date and that Mr Asquith was a Welshman. He might
then find other grounds for believing that the Prime
Minister was a Welshman ; he might, e.g., read in the
papers that the Prime Minister had delivered a moving
address in Welsh to the Free Calvinistic Anabaptists of
Llanfairpwllgwyn. ... On subsequently comparing
the Welsh national characteristics with what he could
learn about those of Mr Asquith he might begin to
feel a legitimate doubt as to his original belief that
Mr Asquith was Welsh. Yet he would commit no
inconsistency if he continued to believe that the Prime
Minister in 192 1 was Welsh. He would have been
inconsistent if he had never had any other reason for
thinking that the Prime Minister was Welsh except
the belief that Mr Asquith was Welsh and was Prime
Minister ; but we are assuming that this was only his
original ground for his conclusion, and that he subse-
quently found other reasons to support it.
i4o SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
Now this is precisely the position about the trans-
formation equations. They do not begin to be directly
verifiable till they are got in the purely relational
forms (4) and (5). Once they are in these forms they
contain nothing but what is observable, and the
evidence for them is that they, and they alone, fit all
the known facts. They do indeed follow from the
Absolute Theory, together with the physical assumptions
about contractions and clocks. This is not surprising,
since those assumptions were made precisely in order
to square the Absolute Theory with such facts as the
negative result of the Michelson-Morley experiment.
But, once they have been reached, by whatever means,
the evidence for or against them is direct and inductive.
The Absolute Theory is not the premise of them, and
there is thus no inconsistency in using them to cast
doubt on the Absolute Theory. We do this just
because the Absolute Theory only leads to them when
supplemented by certain physical assumptions which
are intrinsically very improbable. If q be known to
be true, and p only leads to q when supplemented by
the very improbable premise p', the truth of q reflects
the improbability of p' back on to p. This I think
settles the purely logical question. In future the trans-
formation equations in the relational forms (4) and (5)
are to be accepted on their own merits, and without
regard to the particular way in which it happens to be
convenient to introduce them to the notice of readers
brought up (as most of us are) on Absolutist traditions.
There is, however, a real logical incoherence in a
good many expositions of the Theory of Relativity. The
Lorentz-Fitzgerald Contraction and the slowing of the
clocks on a moving platform are first introduced as
physical changes due to absolute motion. Later on
the Absolute Theory is rejected. But the Lorentz-
Fitzgerald Contraction is still recognised as a fact, and
the same is true of the slowing down of the clocks.
There is an apparent inconsistency here which is very
0
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 141
puzzling to the student of the subject. It is clear that,
if the Contraction and the slowing of the clocks are
still to be recognised, they must be reinterpreted, and
this is what is actually intended but not always clearly
brought out. Let us then reinterpret them in purely
Relational terms.
We have two platforms, px and p.2, of which the
second moves in a straight line along the Jt-axis of the
first with a uniform measured relative velocity of v.21.
A rod is lying on p2 along the A'-axis. The people on
p.2 measure it and find that their unit measure goes into
it /2 times. What measure will the people on/j ascribe
to this rod? They cannot, of course, measure it directly
so long as it remains on p2, so they will have to adopt the
following expedient. Suppose that one end of the rod is
opposite to a point B of px when the clock there marks tiB.
Suppose that the other end is opposite to a point C of P1
when the clock there marks he. Let tiB — tv:. Then the
people on pi will say that the distance BC on their plat-
form, as measured by themselves, is the length of the
rod which is fixed in p.2. For it is the distance between
the points in pi which were opposite the two ends of
the rod at the same moment, as judged by the clocks
on pY. The length, as measured by them, will therefore
be Xic — x-iB' Now, by equation (5),
xiC = k2i{x2c + v2i t2c)
and x1B = ti21[x2ll + ^21*2^)
Xlc XiB = K21\{X2c. X2ls) +^2i('2c Izb))'
By equation (4),
+ h ( / _1_ V^X''
and tu, = k2l(t2C + V^)
Now /1B= tlc, by hypothesis,
• • t2c t2B= ZzK^-ZC X2b).
142 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
Hence xx — x1B = kn{xt0— xiB)[i - ^
= T (.XZr -Vj/.j
A 21
i.e. / ' h^i-Hh (6).
Thus we see that a rod whose length is /.,, as measured
by observers who are at rest relatively to it, has a
shorter length as measured by observers relatively to
whom it moves with a uniform rectilinear velocity. If
the two sets of observers can communicate with each
other, those on px will say that moving bodies are
shortened in the direction in which they are moving,
and the amount of shortening is that given by the
Lorentz-Fitzgerald formula. Suppose now that the rod
were transferred from p., to pi, and the observers on
pt now measured it directly, whilst those on p., now
measured it in the same indirect way which the px
observers had to use before. The observers on px
would now find that the rod had the measured length /2,
whilst those on p.2 would ascribe to it the measured
length j^, which is the same as 2- since kvz = k21.
The observers on p2 would put the case to themselves
as follows : They would say that the rod, which was
formerly at rest, has now acquired the velocity vl2
(which is equal to — v21), and that this makes it con-
tract in the proportion given by the Lorentz-Fitzgerald
formula. Thus both parties would agree that motion
causes contraction, and both would agree in the formula
which connects contraction with velocity. Both get
the same measure when the rod is at rest on their plat-
forms and they can measure it directly. This measure
is l%. Both get the same measure when the rod is
moving relatively to their platform and they can only
measure it indirectly. This measure is ~, or, what is
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 143
the same, ~ • The contraction is thus no longer a
^2t
physical change caused by absolute motion through the
stagnant ether ; it is simply a change in the measure
of length of the same body, according as it is at rest
relatively to the observers and can be measured directly,
or is in uniform motion with respect to the observers
and can only be measured indirectly. The measure-
ments of the two sets of observers are perfectly con-
cordant with each other, whenever the conditions under
which they are made are precisely similar. And there
is nothing particularly shocking in the fact that the
measurements by two different sets of observers of the
same body are not concordant when the conditions under
which they measure it are not precisely similar. It is
not even inconvenient, since the transformation equa-
tions tell us how to pass from the one measure to the
other.
We can now deal with the interpretation of the
facts about the clocks in terms of the Relational Theory.
Let the clock at the point B on p2 first read t2B and
later on let it read T2«. The time-lapse as measured
by observers on p2 will, of course, be T2S — t2B. Let
the clock which is opposite to B in p1 on the first
occasion read t1B, and the clock which is opposite
to B in pi on the second occasion read TlB. Then
we have
^21-^2 B
IB" ~ 72"
A « B /Soil 1 OB ~T
"^21^ZB
and *i* = &2i(*m+ —
Whence TlB—t1B = k21(T2B—t2B) = 2(T2fl — t2B) (7).
V I ~ U21
c2
Thus the time-lapse, as measured indirectly from pv
is greater than the time-lapse as measured directly on
p2. The people on px, on communicating with those
on p2, will therefore say that the clocks on p2 are
i44 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
rendered slow by the motion of f>2. If, however, a
clock from />2 were transferred to px and the time-lapse
were measured with it directly by people on pt and
indirectly by people on p.2, the latter would say that
their old clock was now going more slowly, and would
ascribe this to its transference to the moving body px.
Thus both parties would agree that rectilinear motion
slows clocks, and both would agree as to the connexion
between this slowing and the relative velocity. But,
once again, the slowing is not now a physical effect,
due to absolute motion through the ether. It is simply
a change in the measure of time-lapse, according as it
is measured by the readings of a single clock which
is fixed in the place where the time-lapse is measured,
or by the readings of two different clocks which
successively face this place in the course of their
motion with respect to it. The measurements of the
two sets of observers are again quite concordant,
whenever they are carried out under precisely similar
conditions; and when the conditions of the two observa-
tions differ in the way described above, we can always
pass from the one measured time-lapse to the other
by using the equations.
We might sum up these results as follows: (i)
There is a direct and an indirect way of measuring
length. The former can only be applied to bodies that
are at rest relatively to the person who is making the
measurement, and consists of the familiar process of
applying a measuring rod and seeing how many times
it has to be laid down before it reaches the other end
of the body. When the body to be measured is moving
relatively to the observer this method cannot be applied.
What has to be done then is for two observers on the
same platform to note what points on the platform the
two ends of the moving body face at the same moment
as judged by the clocks on their platform. They then
measure this distance directly, and take it as the
measure of the length of the moving body. These
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 145
two methods lead to the same measure for the same
body (assuming that clocks have been standardised on
the two platforms by the principles laid down earlier
in the chapter) if and only if the two platforms be at
rest relatively to each other. If the two platforms be
in uniform rectilinear relative motion, the two methods
do not lead to the same measure for the same body.
The two measures are then connected with each other
and with the measured relative velocity by the Lorentz-
Fitzgerald formula. It will be noticed — and this is
very important — that the indirect method of measuring
length necessarily involves a reference to time, since we
measure the distance between those two points which
the two ends of the moving body are judged to face
simultaneously. Whether the direct method of measure-
ment also implicitly involves a reference to time we
will not discuss at present, though we shall have to
do so later.
(2) There is a direct and an indirect way of
measuring the time that elapses between two successive
events which happen at the same point on a platform.
The former can only be applied by observers who are
and remain at this place on the platform, and it con-
sists of the familiar process of noting how far the
hands of the clock there have turned between the two
events. When the two events happen on a body which
is moving relatively to the observer this method cannot
be used. What has to be done then is for two observers
to note the readings of their clocks when the first event
happens opposite to one and the second event happens
opposite to the other. The difference between the
readings of these two separated clocks is then taken
as the measure of the time-lapse between the two events
on the moving body. These two methods lead to the
same measure for the time-lapse between the same pair
of events (assuming that both sets of clocks have been
standardised by the principles already laid down) if
and only if the two platforms be at rest relatively
i4<) SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
to each other. If the two platforms be in uniform
rectilinear relative motion, the two methods do not
lead to the same measure of the time-lapse between
the same pair of events. The two measures are then
connected with each other and with the measured
relative velocity by the formula (7). It is important
to notice that the indirect measure of time-lapse is
essentially bound up with distance. For the two events
which happen in the same place with respect to the
one platform happen in different places with respect
to the other. The greater the relative velocity of
the two platforms the greater the spatial separation
of the two events will be, and the greater will be
the discrepancy between the two measures of the time-
lapse.
This connexion between the spatial and temporal
separations of a pair of events comes out still more
clearly when we consider a more general case, which
must anyhow be treated for the sake of completeness.
We have assumed so far that the two events whose
temporal separation was to be measured happened at
the same point on one of the platforms. Let us now
suppose that a certain event happens at B on p2 when
the clock there reads iiB. Let a second event happen
at C on p2 when the clock there marks t2C.
Then the time-lapse as measured on p2 istiC.— t2B. But
1 7 / 21 2.C \
and t1c = Ki[t2o+— -J-)-
Whence tlc-tVl = k21{(t2C-t2lj) + -f(x2c-x2H)}. (8).
Now x2 B = k12 {x1H + vlZt1B)
X2 c = A\2 [X1 +"V12txc).
Whence x2C-x2R = k12{(xlc-xlls) + v12(tlc-t1B)}
— Kn{\x\c—xlB) — v2k(tlC—tlB)}.
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 147
Whence tlc-tx = £21{(72 - t2B) + -^r{x10-x1B)
,-2 Vl l\n))
k 2V
Whence k^{tx - tllt) = k21(t2 -t2R)+^L^{xlc-x\B),
V2Xt
°r *X -tlB=T-{t2C-t2B) + -2{X10-X1B). (9)
k21
Thus the time-lapse between two remote events has
a different measure according to whether it is deter-
mined by clocks which are at rest relatively to the
events, or by clocks which are in uniform rectilinear
motion relatively to ^em. The discrepancy between
the two measures depends on the spatial separation
between the two events, in the direction of relative
motion of the two platforms. Equation (8) expresses the
relation in terms of the spatial separation, as measured
by observers who are at rest relatively to the two events ;
equation (9) expresses it in terms of the spatial separa-
tion as measured by observers who are in uniform
rectilinear motion relatively to the two events. In par-
ticular, let us suppose that the two events are contem-
porary as judged by the clocks of their own platform.
This means that tilB = t.1 . Then they will not be contem-
porary as judged by the clocks on the other platform,
for txc— tXB will be equal to z(x\c~ x\b)- Thus the tem-
poral separation with respect to p will increase with
the spatial separation.
The upshot of the whole matter is to show how
inextricably our measurements of distance and of time-
lapse are bound up with each other. It is now quite
evident that any attempt to measure lengths of bodies
which are moving relatively to us involves judgments
of simultaneity. On the other hand, a pair of events
which are simultaneous with respect to a certain plat-
form, and are separated in space with respect to that
148 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
platform, will be successive with respect to any platform
that moves relatively to the first; and the time-lapse
between them with respect to the second platform will
depend on the spatial separation of the two events. It
is only pairs of events that happen both at the same
place and at the same date with respect to some platform
which will happen at the same place and date with
respect to rf// platforms that move with uniform rectilinear
velocities relative to the first. A pair of contemporary
events, which occupy different places with respect to the
platform in which they are contemporary, will be succes-
sive in all other platforms that move relatively to the
first. A pair of successive events, which occupy the
same place with respect to a certain platform, will occupy
different places with respect to all other platforms which
move relatively to the first. The latter fact was familiar
enough before the Theory of Relativity was developed.
If I travel to Scotland and eat my lunch in the dining-
car, the two events of eating my soup and drinking my
coffee are successive ; and they happen in the same
place relatively to the train, viz., at my seat in the
dining-car. But, with respect to the earth, they happen
at different places, e.g., at Grantham and at York. The
fact which has only lately been recognised is that the
same applies to the dates of events which happen in
different places. If the watches of the travellers and the
officials on the train had been set, by the same principles
as clocks are set on the earth, while the train was in
motion, we should have the following result : My
neighbour and I might each take a mouthful of soup at
the same time, as judged by our watches ; but, as judged
by the clocks on the earth, his mouthful would happen
a little later than mine, if I were facing the engine and
he had his back to it. And the difference in date would
be proportional to the width of the table at which we were
both sitting. The reason why this point has long been
obvious about Space but has needed very delicate experi-
ments to force it on our attention as regards Time is
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 149
the following : The separation between Grantham and
York is gross and unmistakable. But the separation
in time between my mouthful and my neighbour's, as
judged by clocks on the earth, is proportional to the
ratio of the velocity of the train to the square of the
velocity of light (see equations S and 9). Now the
velocity of light is enormous as compared with that of
the trains on even so efficient a railway as the Great
Northern, and so the temporal separation is negligible
and can only be detected indirectly through the negative
results of such delicate experiments as the Michelson-
Morley.
We see then that, in the long run, the Theory of
Relativity is more whole-heartedly relational than the
traditional Relational Theory of Motion which we
discussed in the last chapter. For, according to it,
not only is the spatial separation of successive events
relative to the system of co-ordinates chosen, but also
the temporal separation of two events in different places
is relative to the system of co-ordinates and the clocks
associated with them.
The Restricted Physical Principle of Relativity. I will
end this chapter by trying to state this physical principle
clearly, and then to explain it. It may be stated as
follows : The laws of any physical phenomenon have
the same mathematical form, whether they have been
discovered and verified by observers who were at rest
relatively to this phenomenon or by observers who
were moving relatively to it with a uniform rectilinear
velocity. Let us now try to see exactly what this means.
The law of any phenomenon, when expressed in
mathematical form, is a differential equation connecting
some measured quantity which is observed in a certain
place at a certain time with some other measured
quantity which is observed in some other (or it may be
the same) place at some other (or it may be the same)
time. The law will also involve the distance between
the two places and the time-lapse between the two
150 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
dates. Maxwell's equations are a perfect example
of a physical law. Now it is clear that such laws
are, in the end, verifiable only in so far as they
express relations between actually measured magnitudes,
such as clock-readings, deflexions of galvanometers
or magnetometers, number of weights put into a balance,
number of times that a certain rod has to be laid down
to get from one place to another, and so on. We may
take these measures to represent so much time-lapse, so
great a current or magnetic force, such and such a
gravitational attraction, so much length, etc. ; and
we may, if we like (and if we can make clear what
we mean), raise the question whether these actual
measures which we read off our instruments "truly"
represent the "real" physical magnitudes in question.
But, so far as our laws and their verification are con-
cerned, the measured magnitudes are the important
things, and the question of what they stand for in
the physical world is a secondary matter of theoretical
interpretation. E.g., Maxwell's equations, so far as
they can be verified, state relations between the readings
of electrometers, magnetometers and galvanometers in
various places ; the readings of clocks in these places ;
and the number of times rods have to be laid down to
get from one place to another.
Now it is not true, and the Physical Principle of
Relativity does not assert, that if one observer is at rest
with his instruments relatively to a certain phenomenon,
and a second observer is in uniform motion with his
instruments relatively to the first, the corresponding
instruments of the two observers will give the same
readings. We already know in fact that they will
ascribe different time-lapses and different spatial separa-
tions to the phenomena under observation. And the
same is true in general of their other measurements.
Suppose, e.g., that one observer with a magnetometer
and a quadrant electrometer is at rest with respect
to a charged particle, and the other observer, provided
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 151
with similar instruments, is in uniform rectilinear
motion with respect to the first. The first observer's
magnetometer will give a zero reading, whilst the second
observer's will give a finite reading. What the Physical
Principle of Relativity does assert, and what is true, so
far as we know, is the following proposition : The
equations which interconnect the readings of one
observer's instruments with each other and with his
measured distances and time-lapses are of precisely
the same form as those which interconnect the read-
ing's of the other observer's instruments with each
other, and with his measured distances and time-
lapses.
To put the principle formally, let us suppose that
the observers on px are at rest with respect to the
phenomenon in question. Let the relevant readings
of their measuring instruments be Px, Qx, Rr . . . Let
the relevant distances and time-lapses, as measured by
them, be dt and tx respectively. The velocity of the
phenomenon with respect to them is o. Suppose they
find that these various readings are connected with each
other and with the measured distances, time-lapses,
and velocity, by the equation or set of equations —
<£i (pi> Qi> Rr • • • ; dx ; tx\ 0)= o.
Let the corresponding readings of the observers on p2
who watch the same phenomenon be P2, Q2, R2. . . .
Let their measured distances and time-lapses be d2
and t2 respectively. With respect to them of course
the phenomenon under observation has the measured
velocity v12. Then their readings will be connected
with each other by the equation or set of equations —
& (p2> Q2> R2. . . • ; 4 ; 4 ; ^12) = 0.
Now what the physical principle states is that <£2 is the
same as <\>x. This may be briefly summed up in the
statement that, according to the Restricted Physical
Principle of Relativity, the laws of nature are co-variant
152 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
with respect to the space-time transformations of the
Special or Restricted Theory of Relativity.
It is important to be quite clear as to the connexion
between this principle and the invariance of the
measured velocity of Light with respect to all observers
who move relatively to each other in straight lines with
uniform velocities. This latter fact neither implies nor
is implied by the physical principle, though it is of
course compatible with it. It is obvious that a fact
about light could not by itself logically imply a principle
about all natural phenomena whatever. Conversely,
the physical principle only implies that the measured
velocities of light with respect to all observers will be
the same function of their respective measurements of
distance and time-lapse. It does not imply that all
these measured relative velocities will have the same
numerical value. That they do in fact have the same
numerical value is an uncovenanted mercy, revealed to
us by the Michelson-Morley and other experiments.
This fact is of immense practical importance, because
it enables us to bring the Physical Principle down from
the clouds and apply it to get concrete results. For
the invariance of the measured velocity of light enables
us, in the way that we have described, to reach the
transformations for space and time, i.e., to express d2
and t2 in terms of dx and tx. Having done this, we
can see how P2, Q2, R2. . . . must be related to Px, Qx,
Rr ... in order that the form of the laws of any
phenomenon may be the same for the observers on px
as for those on p%. The result is that, if we once know
the readings on the instruments of an observer who is
at rest with respect to a phenomenon, we can calculate
the corresponding readings of the instruments of an
observer who is moving with uniform rectilinear velocity
relatively to the phenomenon. This is of course an
immensely important power to possess.
If we accept the Physical Principle we shall have
to investigate all alleged laws of nature to see whether
FIRST THEORY OF RELATIVITY 153
they agree with it, i.e., whether they be co-variant with
respect to the transformations of the Special Theory
of Relativity. Some alleged laws of nature, we find,
are already in the right form ; Maxwell's equations are
a case in point. Others are not, e.g., the Conservation
of Momentum, on the traditional view that mass is
independent of velocity. Such examples might, at first
sight, be taken as casting doubts on the principle.
Here, however, there are two points to notice: (1) If
the principle be true and the laws wrongly stated, it
is not surprising nevertheless that the laws have seemed
to be constantly verified. For the divergence would
only begin to show itself when we deal with velocities
which are comparable with that of light. Now of
course the velocities of ordinary bits of matter are quite
negligible in comparison with that of light. (2) As
soon as people did come to deal with matter moving
with very high velocities, as in the case of particles
shot out from radio-active bodies or from the poles of
vacuum tubes, it was found that the traditional laws
had to be modified, and that the modification was in
the same direction and of the same order as that de-
manded by the Physical Principle. The strong point
about the principle in such cases is this : If you keep
the traditional form of the laws and try to reconcile
them with the facts about particles that move with
velocities comparable to that of light, you have to
make special physical hypotheses as to the nature
and minute structure of matter. The other plan, of
modifying the laws till they accord with the Physical
Principle, has the advantage that it accounts for
the experimental results, and requires no special
physical hypotheses as to the nature and structure of
matter.
With the further development of the Theory of
Relativity, and the further modification of traditional
physical concepts which this entails, I will deal in the
next chapter but one.
154 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
The following works may be consulted with
advantage : —
L. Silbkrstein, Theory of Relativity.
M. SCHLICK, Space and Time in Contemporary Physics.
E. Cunningham, Relativity, Electron Theory, and Gravitation.
[The reader may here be warned that most popular
expositions of the Theory are either definitely wrong,
or so loosely expressed as to be dangerously misleading;
and that all pamphlets against it — even when issued by
eminent Oxford tutors — are based on elementary mis-
understandings.]
CHAPTER V
" Die Entscheidung dieser Fragen kann nur gefunden werden,
indem man von der bisherigen durch die Erfahrung bewahrten
Auffassung der Erscheinungen, wozu Newton den Grund gelegt,
ausgeht und diese durch Tatsachen, die sich aus ihr nicht
erklaren lassen, getrieben allmahlich umarbeitet ; solche Unter-
suchungen, welche .... von allgemeinen Begriffen ausgehen,
konnen nur dazu dienen, dass diese Arbeit nicht durch die
Beschranktheit der Begriffe gehindert und der Fortschritt im
Erkennen des Zusammenhangs der Dinge nicht durch iiber-
lieferte Vorurteile gehemmt wird."
(Riemann, Uber die Hypothesen welche
der Geometrie zu Grunde liegen.)
The Traditional Kinetics, and its Gradual Modification
in the Region of Physics, (i) Newton's Laws of
Motion and Gravitation
I do not propose to pass directly from the Special
Theory of Relativity, explained in the last chapter,
to the General Theory of Relativity. The latter is
largely concerned with the laws of motion and the law
of gravitation, and so it will be more profitable to begin
by discussing the traditional form of these. Thus this
chapter will be more closely connected with Chapter III,
and the next with Chapter IV.
Newton's first law of motion states that, under the
action of no forces, a body continues at rest or in
uniform rectilinear motion. This statement, as it stands,
is meaningless, if we do not assume the Absolute Theory,
and is a mere pious opinion incapable of verification or
refutation if we do assume that theory. If we assume
the Relational Theory, it is an incomplete statement.
If all motion be change of position of one body with
respect to others it is useless to talk of rest or of motion
155
156 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
in a straight line until we have specified what set of
bodies we are using as our axes of reference. I am at
rest with respect to my room and in motion with respect
to the sun. The planet Mars is describing an ellipse
with respect to the sun and a very complicated curve
with respect to the earth. No doubt the law, as origin-
ally stated, professed to apply to motions in Absolute
Space. But, as these, even if they exist, are unobserv-
able, the law with this interpretation is as idle as the
statements in the Athanasian Creed on the internal
structure of the Blessed Trinity. The first thing needed
then, is to assign our axes of reference. I assume these
to be the fixed stars primarily. But it follows from the
form of the first two laws that any set of axes which
is in uniform rectilinear motion with respect to the
fixed stars will do equally well, provided we take tradi-
tional views about the measurement of Space and Time,
and do not at present introduce the complications which
emerged in the last chapter.
Even when the spatial axes have been fixed there
remained two unexplained terms, viz., uniformity and
force. Let us begin with uniformity. Uniformity of
motion is meaningless unless it refers to absolute
motion or states clearly what it takes as its standard
measurer of time. A uniform motion means one which
covers equal distances in equal lapses of time. If we
take the Relational View of Time a lapse of time is a
relation between two events ; and, even if in theory
we take the Absolute View, it is only lapses between
events that can actually be observed and measured.
It is therefore assumed that we have some process
which recognisably repeats itself, and that the time-
lapse between corresponding stages in each repetition
is the same. A uniform motion is one that covers
equal distances during the same number of repetitions
of some standard process which is itself isochronous.
The question at once arises : How are you to tell
that your standard process is isochronous, i.e., that the
TRADITIONAL KINETICS 157
time-lapse between corresponding stages in it is always
the same ? If you determine this indirectly by mechanical
arguments the first law of motion becomes a tautology,
for you will first use arguments based on the law to
prove that such and such a process is isochronous and
will then use this process to give a meaning to the
uniformity of motion, which the first law is about.
This fallacy is not, of course, commonly committed in
so glaring a form. But, in a rather subtler form, some-
thing very like it is committed. Our common standard
of isochrony is the successive swings of a pendulum.
Suppose then we define uniform motion with respect
to a certain set of axes, as motion that covers equal
distances with respect to these axes during successive
swings of a pendulum. So far no fallacy has been
committed. But if we verify the first law experiment-
ally on this definition of uniformity, and then later on
use the first law as the basis of an argument to explain
that the pendulum does not take quite equal times for
successive swings, and to correct its errors, we do
commit a fallacy. If uniformity of motion in the first
law just means uniformity as compared with a pendulum,
anyone who afterwards says that pendula do not move
quite isochronously cannot continue to use "uniformity"
in the original sense in which it was used in formulat-
ing the first law. And then two difficulties will arise.
(1) We must ask him what process he is now taking
as his standard, since it is admitted that uniformity, if
it is to be observable and measurable, must involve
a comparison with some standard physical process.
(2) We may remind him that, if the first law has been
verified when uniformity is interpreted by reference to
a pendulum, no argument resting on the law can fairly
be used to prove that pendulums do not in that sense
move isochronously. Whilst (3), if the law be not
accurately true, when uniformity is defined in this way,
it ought not to be used to prove anything until either
(a) it has been modified so as to be accurately true on
158 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
the old definition of uniformity, or (/<>) a new meaning
of uniformity has been given in which it is accurately
true in its original form.
There are in fact only two alternatives open to us.
Either the first law is simply a definition of uniformity,
in which case it reduces to the statement that a uniform
motion means one that takes place under the action of
no forces. Or it is a substantial statement, in which
case some standard process or set of processes must be
judged immediately to be isochronous and used after-
wards as the criterion of uniformity. I think it is quite
certain that the first alternative is not the right one. It
seems quite clear that the meaning of uniformity or of
isochronism has nothing to do with the laws of motion.
People judged certain processes, such as the swings
of pendula, the burning of candles in the absence of
draughts, the descent of sand in hour-glasses, etc., as
isochronous long before they had thought of the
question whether forces were present or absent.
We must therefore take the second alternative. This
implies that, under favourable circumstances, we can
directly judge equality of time-lapses, just as we can
judge equality of lengths. This seems to be true. It
does not of course imply that such judgments are
infallible. And the question arises : Can we ever con-
sistently correct our standard process by means of laws
which are in terms originally defined by it? I think
that we can and do, and that the logic of such a pro-
cedure is well worth considering.
I take it that our immediate judgment that the time-
lapses between successive swings of an ordinary
pendulum are equal is very approximately true, if we
be at rest with respect to it. Suppose we take this as
our original standard of isochrony and define uniformity
by means of it, and that we find that, with this defini-
tion, the first law is verified over a wide range. This
verification again will only be within the limits of
experimental error. Now, suppose we apply the first
TRADITIONAL KINETICS 159
law, thus stated and thus approximately verified, to a
very large number of phenomena. We may find, as we
extend our observations and make our measurements
more accurate, that a great number of phenomena are
very approximately, but not exactly, in accordance with
the first law. There are, we will suppose, small residual
effects left unexplained in a number of cases. At this
stage two alternatives are open to us : (1) We may keep
the first law, as originally stated, and hold that small
disturbing causes are operating in all the exceptional
cases. We may then put forward physical hypotheses
to account for these. Or (2) we may say that the first
law, as originally stated, is not accurately true. Sup-
pose we find that a single slight modification in it will
account for all the slight inaccuracies in the predictions
based upon it. Obviously it is more reasonable to
make this one modification than to put forward different
supplementary physical hypotheses in each case which
the original law fails accurately to account for. Now,
this modification of the first law might itself take place
in two alternative ways, (a) We might say: "The
pendulum is accurately isochronous, and under the
action of no forces, bodies move with very nearly, but
not quite, uniform rectilinear motions with respect to the
fixed stars. " Or we might say (b): " The swinging of a
pendulum is an approximately, but not exactly iso-
chronous process, and therefore a body that moves
'uniformly,' as judged by a pendulum, is not really
moving uniformly." If we assume that the times taken
by successive swings differ by a certain very small
amount, we may be able to keep the form of the first
law unmodified, and yet accurately explain all the facts.
So, in a sense, you may say that the first law was
formulated in terms of uniformity, as defined by a
pendulum, and was then used to show that such
"uniformity" is not quite uniform. Is there any
logical objection to such a process?
Not if we clearly understand what we are doing.
160 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
We did not start by defining equality of time-lapses to
mean the relation between the successive swings of a
pendulum. We simply said that these two durations
could be immediately perceived to be in fact very nearly
equal. We admitted that this judgment might quite
well ignore differences too small to be immediately per-
ceived. Again, we find that, with the sense of uniformity
which is based on the assumption that pendula are
accurately isochronous, the first law is true within the
limits of unaided observation. More extended and more
delicate observations forced us either to modify the law
itself, or to make a large number of supplementary
physical hypotheses, or to reject the view that pendula
are exactly isochronous. We preferred to take the last
of these alternatives. The result is that both the law
and the standard of uniformity contain a small leaven
of convention and a large mass of substantial experi-
mental fact. Uniformity is tested by a standard physical
process, known to be nearly isochronous, but slightly
"cooked," so as to keep the form of the first law fixed.
The first law is known to be very nearly true, even when
uniformity is tested by the uncorrected process ; but the
test for uniformity is slightly changed, so as to make the
law, in its original verbal form, quite true and yet
compatible with all the facts.
This mixture of convention and observation is a very
common feature in scientific laws, and is unobjection-
able on three conditions: (i) That, even without it,
the law is verified very approximately over a very wide
range; (2) that the amount of " cooking " needed is
below the limits of possible direct observation ; and
(3) that, with it, the law keeps its original simple form,
and yet now accounts accurately for all the facts without
supplementary hypotheses.
The remaining ambiguous term in the first law
is Force. Granted that the first law is not a definition
of uniformity, it might still be held to be a definition
of the absence of forces. If it is not to be this, but is to
TRADITIONAL KINETICS 161
be a substantial statement, the following conditions
must be fulfilled. We must, in certain cases at least,
be able to know whether a body is or is not acted on
by forces, independently of knowing whether that body
is in fact moving uniformly in a straight line in the
sense defined above. For the first law says that, under
the action of no forces, bodies rest or move uniformly
in straight lines. If this be an experimental fact about
nature it must be based on observing bodies which were
known to be under the action of no forces, and finding
that they always rested or moved in straight lines with
respect to the fixed stars with a velocity which is uniform,
as judged by some standard process, corrected, if
necessary, in the way discussed above. We must
therefore ask : What do we mean by force, and can
we ever tell, apart from the laws of motion, whether
forces are acting on a body or not?
To answer this question we shall need to take account
of the second law of motion as well as the first. Many
eminent men have held that the notion of force is need-
less and useless in Mechanics. Their view is that the
so-called second law of motion is not the expression
of an experimental fact, but is simply a definition of
force; so that, wherever the latter word occurs in
Mechanics, we can substitute for it the definition given
in the second law. Now, the second law may be put
in the form that the rate of change of momentum of
a particle at any moment in a given direction is equal
to the force which is acting on the particle at that
moment in that direction. "Direction" of course
involves a tacit reference to some set of axes, and
" rate of change " involves a reference to some standard
process for time measurement. These may be taken to
be the same as those which have already been fixed
upon in discussing the first law. Now, we might regard
the second law in two different ways : (i) We might
suppose that we already know what we mean by force,
and already have a method of measuring its magnitude
162 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
and direction. On that view the second law is a sub-
stantial statement expressing the observed connexion
in magnitude and direction between a force and the
rate of change of momentum of a particle. (2) The
other view is that the second law simply gives a meaning
to the word " force," and defines the phrase "a force of
such and such a magnitude acting in such and such a
direction." The latter interpretation is, for some reason
or other, considered to be tremendously hard-headed and
"scientific," the former to savour of metaphysics. We
shall see that, although there is a certain amount of truth
underlying the second view, it is greatly exaggerated
and has nothing to do with any antithesis between
" science " and " metaphysics."
It seems clear to me that no one ever does mean or
ever has meant by " force " rate of change of momentum.
It is certain that the second law, as originally stated,
was not intended for a definition of force but for a
substantial statement about it. Unquestionably the
sensational basis of the scientific concept of force is
the feelings of strain that we experience when we drag
a heavy body along, or throw a stone, or bend a bow. I
do not understand that this historical fact is denied by
the upholders of the "descriptive" (or better, "defini-
tional ") theory. What they would probably say is
that, in this sense, force is purely human and has no
relevance to the laws of Mechanics. We cannot
seriously suppose, e.g., that the sun feels a strain in
keeping the earth in its orbit, as we do when we whirl
a weight on a string. Hence it is argued that what we
mean, when we say that the sun exerts a force on the
earth, cannot be derived from the experiences of strain
which we feel. I think there are two answers to this :
(1) We must distinguish between our feeling of strain
and the strains that we feel, just as we must distinguish
between our feeling of movement and the movement
which we feel ourselves to be making-. Force is not
supposed to be our feelings of strain ; it is simply
TRADITIONAL KINETICS 163
supposed that the strains which we feel are forces, or
are indications of forces. It is of course absurd to
suppose that the sun feels a strain when it pulls the
earth ; but this is absurd, not because the sun could not
be subject to a strain, but because — having no mind — it
cannot yW a strain or anything else. It is thus perfectly
consistent for a man to describe forces as the sort of
factors in nature which reveal themselves to us directly
in our feelings of strain, and to add that inanimate
bodies, like the sun, are subject to forces. (2) The
argument under discussion, if pressed, would make it
as unreasonable to say that an inanimate body like the
earth is round or rotates as to say that it is acted on by
forces. For there is no kind of doubt that our concepts
of roundness and rotation are founded upon sensations
of sight and touch. If I had not had sensations of
round or approximately round objects, I should no
more know what roundness means than a colour-blind
man knows what red means. The person who uses the
argument about the sun not feeling strains, as an
objection to the view that the feeling of strain is the
sensational experience which gives a meaning to the
concept of force, may be invited to consider the follow-
ing parallel argument : " How can the concept of
roundness be based on our sensations of sight and
touch when the earth, which can neither see nor feel,
is admitted to be round?" The answer of course is
that the earth has the sort of properties which we have
become acquainted with by seeing and feeling, and that
it does not need to see or feel in order to have them.
Similarly, there seems to be no reason why the earth
should not be subject to forces which it does not
feel, whilst forces are the sort of natural facts which
we become acquainted with through our feelings of
strain.
I think then that we may quite reasonably hold
that the strains that we feel are the original sensational
data on which we have based the concept of physical
i64 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
force, just as coloured and shaped patches sensed by
us are the original sensational data on which we have
based the concepts of physical shapes and colours. The
descriptive theory simply puts our sensations of sight
and touch into a quite irrationally privileged position
as compared with our sensations of strain. We shall
see later on, what amount of practical justification there
is for this procedure.
t Now, even if we confine ourselves to the crude data
of muscular sensation, we can distinguish the factors of
direction and magnitude. We have to exert ourselves
more to throw a heavy hammer than to throw a small
stone with the same velocity. And to make a thing
move in a given direction we have got to adjust our
bodies so as to push, pull, or throw it in that direction.
Thus force, as actually sensed in our feelings of strain,
is obviously in rough general agreement with the second
law, when the surface of the earth is taken as our spatial
axes and any common rate measurer as our standard
of time. The trouble, of course, is that felt strains are,
and remain, vague both in magnitude and direction.
Moreover, most of the forces with which we have to
deal in science are not felt by us as strains. We cannot,
then, base a satisfactory scientific measure of force on
felt strains. But this is not a peculiarity of strains.
It is equally true of felt temperatures. The meaning of
temperature and of force is derived from felt hotness
and felt strain respectively. A person who had no
such sensations would not understand these terms at all.
Again, both these felt characteristics have a perfectly
noticeable though vaguely discriminated intensive mag-
nitude. We want to define methods of measurement
in each case, which shall agree in the main with our
rough immediate judgments, but shall be capable of
much greater accuracy, and of application to cases
where the sensations cannot be got at all. This is what
a thermometer does for us, in the instance of tempera-
ture; but no one " except a fool or'an advanced thinker"
TRADITIONAL KINETICS 165
(to quote Mr Bradley) imagines that what we mean by
temperature is the height of a column of mercury,
v In any case, then, the second law is not a statement
of what is meant by force. But it might still be merely
a statement of how force is to be measured for scientific
purposes. -' It will be so if the one and only way of
measuring force is by measuring rate of change of
momentum. If, however, there be any independent
way of accurately determining the direction and magni-
tude of a force, the second law will be neither a defini-
tion of force nor a mere statement as to how it is to be
scientifically measured. It will be a substantial state-
ment about force. Now I think it is quite evident
that, in favourable cases, we can measure force without
reference to rate of change of momentum. Suppose a
number of strings are attached to a body ; that they
then pass over pulleys ; and have weights attached to
them. Then the momentary directions of the strings
give a clear and measurable meaning to the directions
of the forces, and the weights give a clear measure of
their magnitudes. And these magnitudes and direc-
tions are: (1) in fair agreement with what our sensations
of strain tell us in all cases where a comparison can
be made ; (2) are far more accurate and definite, and
can be determined in cases where we cannot get sen-
sations of strain ; and (3) are quite independent of all
reference to rate of change of momentum. The second
law is, therefore, neither a definition nor a statement
as to how force is to be measured ; but is a substantial
proposition, asserting a connexion between two inde-
pendently measurable sets of facts in nature. ' Of course,
once this connexion between the magnitude and direc-
tion of a force on the one hand and the rate of change of
momentum of a body on the other has been established
from a study of those favourable cases where force can
be measured independently, we can use the law to
measure indirectly the forces which are acting in un-
favourable cases, where direct measurement is impossible,
i66 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
If I want to find the pull on a string which is whirling
a weight, my best plan now is to find the angular
velocity of the weight and its mass; to determine from
these data its rate of change of momentum ; and to
equate the magnitude of the pull to this. But I now
use this method, not because I mean rate of change
of momentum by " force" ; nor because this is the only
possible way of measuring force accurately ; but because,
in the past and in more favourable cases, I have been
able to measure force independently, and have found it
to be proportional to rate of change of momentum.
So far then we have not seen anything in favour of
the " descriptive " theory of force. Yet I believe that an
important truth underlies it, and that it has been obscured
by carelessness of statement. The typical descriptionist
generally combines the two views that force just means
rate of change of momentum and that force is not
ultimately a very important conception in Mechanics.
He often gives the former as a reason for the latter
proposition. We have seen that the former is false.
And in any case it is inconsistent to combine it with
the latter. For, if force just means rate of change of
momentum, and if force be unimportant in Mechanics,
it follows inevitably that rate of change of momentum
is unimportant in Mechanics. And no one in his senses
would maintain this proposition. I believe the truth to
be that force is not ultimately a very important concep-
tion in Mechanics ; although this is not implied by the
view that force means rate of change of momentum,
and although that view about the meaning of force is
mistaken.
I will now try to explain why I hold this. To know
what forces are acting on a body you need to know
what other bodies, near and far, are made of, what
physical and chemical states they are in, and so on.
For instance, when magnetic forces are under discussion,
it is vital to know whether the moving body and those
in its neighbourhood are made of iron or of wood, and
TRADITIONAL KINETICS 167
so on. Again, when motion is produced by impact or
impeded by friction, it is vital to know the elasticities
of the bodies and the state of their surfaces. Now,
when we reflect on the special laws of nature which
involve these special properties that vary from one bit
of matter to another, we notice that force simply acts
as a kind of middle term between the special laws of
nature and the general laws of motion ; and that, except
for convenience of expression, it might be dropped.
You may regard the laws of motion as being expressed
by equations, with force on one side and rate of change
of momentum on the other. You may regard the special
laws of nature as being expressed by equations, with
forces on one side and the special configurations, electric
charges, magnetic properties, etc., of the bodies that you
are dealing with, on the other. Thus you might just
as well express the facts by a single set of equations,
directly connecting the configurations, charges, etc.,
with the rate of change of momentum, and drop the
mention of force altogether. In practice this is what we
generally do when we get the final equations for solving
any particular problem. To take a very simple case,
the final set of differential equations for the motion of
a particle in a central orbit contains nothing that stands
for force. They connect the rate of change of momentum
of the particle directly with the mass and distance of
the attracting central body, and with the gravitational
constant.
Why then do we trouble to keep the concept of force,
and why were the laws of Mechanics stated in terms of
it? The main advantage of keeping it is when we want
to make general statements. We want to be able to
state and discuss the general laws of motion, without
reference to any particular cause which produces or
modifies motion. It is then convenient to lump to-
gether every such cause under the common name of
force. Again, we want to be able to state the special
laws of nature (e.g., those of electricity or magnetism),
168 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
without referring to the particular motion of some definite
body in some definite system of other bodies. It is
then convenient to use the term force for the effect of
any such system on a hypothetical particle of unit mass.
When we pass from general statements to some definite
problem the notion of force becomes useless and drops
out. Now many, though by no means all, material
systems which affect the motions of a body also cause
feelings of strain in our own bodies. That is why force
does not appear to us as a mere mathematical parameter,
although this is the position that it actually comes to
occupy in the treatment of concrete problems. Lastly,
material systems which affect the motions of bodies do
also produce other measurable effects, such as balancing
weights on strings over pulleys, or stretching spring-
balances. The first and second laws are really state-
ments about the observed relations between these latter
effects of material systems and their effects in modifying
the motions of bodies.
We have now cleared up the notion of force, so far
as it is common to the first and second of the traditional
laws of motion. But the second law involves another
concept, viz., that of mass, and this we must now discuss.
The momentum of a body is defined as the product of
its velocity by its mass. All that we need say at present
about its velocity is that its magnitude and direction
must be determined with reference to a suitable set of
material axes, such as those given by the fixed stars,
and a suitable physical time-measurer, such as an
ordinary pendulum.
The factor of mass actually enters into the traditional
Mechanics in two quite different ways ; and it is simply
a stransre coincidence that the two kinds of mass are
proportional to each other, so that, by a suitable choice
of units, the two masses of a body have the same
measure. We may call the two kinds of mass gravita-
tional and inertial respectively. The first is the mass
that is mentioned in the law of gravitation, the second
TRADITIONAL KINETICS 169
is the mass which is involved in the second law of
motion. At present we shall deal with inertial mass,
a factor which occurs equally in every kind of motion,
whether produced by impact, gravitation, electric or
magnetic attraction, or any other cause. We will start,
as we did in treating force, with the crude data of
sensation, and consider what feature it is in these which
forms the basis of the scientific concept of inertial mass.
If we take two bodies which are geometrically exactly
alike, say a sphere of wood and an equal sphere of
platinum, we may find that we have to exert ourselves
to a markedly different extent to make them move with
the same velocity relative to the same axes and the
same time-measurer. We have already seen that, with
a single body, e.g., the wooden sphere, we have to exert
ourselves more the faster we wish to make it move. We
see then that the effort that we feel ourselves exerting
when we try to make a body move depends on two
factors. One of these is the velocity which we give to
the body. The other is a factor which apparently depends
simply on the material of the body itself. It is the latter
which gives us the primary meaning of inertial mass.
As usual, the crude data of sense only allow of a very
crude measure of magnitude. We therefore need some
method of measuring mass which shall agree pro tanto in
its results with the rough judgments based on our ex-
periences of effort, but shall be capable of much greater
accuracy.
Experiments on the impact of bodies give us a means
of accurately measuring inertial mass in favourable
cases. When two bodies Bx and B2 hit each other, it
is found that we can ascribe a numerical coefficient mvl
to Bx and a coefficient m21 to B2, such that, if ux and u2
be their respective velocities before and vA and v2 their
respective velocities after the collision
m12u1 + m21u2 = ?n12v1 + in2Xv2.
What we have learnt at this stage is that (1) the two
M
170 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
coefficients are independent of the velocities ux and
u.y And (2) that, for any pair of bodies, such a pair of
coefficients can be found. But, suppose that we first
try the experiments with a pair of bodies Bj and B2,
and then with B., and a third body B8. It is ante-
cedently possible that mnt the coefficient which has
to be ascribed to B.2 in its transactions with Bp might
differ from ;;/.,3, the coefficient which has to be ascribed
to B2 in its transactions with B.,. Further experiments
prove that this is not so, i.e. that the coefficient of any
given body is independent, not only of its velocity, but
also of the other bodies with which it is interacting.
We can thus in future drop doubly-suffixed coefficients,
like w.(1, and write simply mlf mv etc. We find then
that to any body there can be ascribed a certain co-
efficient, which is independent of its velocity, and
which it carries with it into all its mechanical trans-
actions with other bodies. This coefficient is the
scientific measure and meaning of inertial mass. It
obviously accords in rough outline with the notion of
mass which we get from our sensations of effort, but
it is capable of accurate measurement. Having defined
and measured the inertial mass of a body in this way,
we find two further important facts about it by experi-
ment. (1) It belongs to a body, not only in the case
of motions caused by impact, but in all its motions
however produced or modified. (2) Such coefficients
are additive scalar magnitudes. If you do experiments
with a compound body, made up of two smaller ones,
to which you have already ascribed the masses mx and
m2, you will find that you have to ascribe to this
compound body the mass m1 + m.2.
We can now deal with gravitational mass. All
bodies, no matter what their inertial mass may be,
fall to the ground with the same acceleration in vacuo
in the same region of the earth. Now the rate of
change of momentum of a body of constant mass is
equal to the product of its mass by its acceleration.
TRADITIONAL KINETICS 171
Since bodies of different inertial mass all fall with the
same acceleration, it follows from the second law that
they must be acted on by unequal forces, and that
these forces must be proportional to the inertial masses
of the bodies. Again, if we do experiments with a
delicate torsion balance, we find that the attraction of
a body A on a body B is proportional to the inertial
mass of A. Combining these two facts we see that
the gravitational attraction between any two bodies is
proportional to the product of their inertial masses.
It is evident then that, even if we had never done
experiments with moving bodies at all, but had con-
fined ourselves to statical experiments with balances,
torsion apparatus, etc., we should have come to ascribe
certain coefficients to every body. We should also
have found that these coefficients were independent of
the velocity, chemical or physical state, etc., of the
body to which they were ascribed, and were more-
over independent of the other bodies with which it was
interacting. And these coefficients would have been
additive. They would, in fact, be proportional to the
inertial masses ; and therefore, with a suitable choice
of units, identical with the latter. Now, the coefficients
required by the gravitational facts are what we mean
by gravitational masses ; and, on the traditional theory,
it is just a strange coincidence that the two masses of
a body are proportional to each other. The theory of
gravitation which is bound up with the General Theory
of Relativity suggests a reason for this identity of
inertial and gravitational mass.
We must next consider the third law of motion,
which says that action and reaction are equal and
opposite. It involves no new concepts, but it makes
a most important additional statement about force.
It says, in fact, that the force on one particle is only
one side of a transaction which, taken as a whole, is
a stress between two particles. It is in virtue of this
principle that we are able to deal with the motions
172 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
of finite rigid bodies, which rotate as well as change
their places, and therefore cannot be treated as particles.
The law, as stated, is indefinite both as to direction
and as to time. The action and reaction between two
particles might be equal and opposite, but might make
any angle with the line joining them. It seems to be
sometimes assumed that the law requires the direction
of the two forces to be the line joining the particles.
This is not so, and the law would be false if it were.
Two moving electrons exert equal and opposite forces
on each other, but these are not in the line joining
the two electrons. In fact the question of the direction
of the two opposite and equal forces belongs to the
special laws of nature, such as gravitation, electricity,
magnetism, etc., and not to the general laws of motion.
Again, I think it is often assumed that action and
reaction are always contemporary. If the law be
understood to assert this, it is certainly false, unless
we supplement it by assuming particles of ether and
a mechanical theory about stresses among them.
When a beam of light from the sun strikes upon any
surface on the earth it produces a pressure on that
surface. If there be any reaction from the earth it
will be exerted primarily on the surface of the ether
next to the earth, and will not be conveyed back to
the sun in less time than light takes to travel between
the two. Thus, if you confine yourself to the earth
and the sun, action and reaction are not contemporary
as regards light-pressure.
The first "two laws of motion have been stated with
respect to motions relative to the fixed stars and to a
standard time-measurer, such as an ordinary pendulum.
Now, it is very important to notice that, apart from the
third law, this restriction to a particular set of axes
and a particular physical time-measure could be removed,
provided that we introduced suitable new forces with
each new frame of reference. I will illustrate what I
mean by two examples : (i) Suppose that a particle is
TRADITIONAL KINETICS 173
at rest on a plane with respect to a Newtonian frame
of reference, i.e., with respect to such axes and such a
time-measurer as we have hitherto been assuming.
Suppose that in this plane there lies a wheel, and that
we take two mutually normal spokes of this wheel as
our X and Y axes respectively. So long as the wheel
is at rest, these two spokes and the line through the
centre of the wheel perpendicular to the plane in which
it lies, constitute a Newtonian set of axes ; and the
particle is at rest with respect to them. It is therefore
under the action of no Newtonian forces. Now suppose
that the wheel is spun with a uniform angular velocity
co in its own plane. Let us continue to take the two
spokes as our axes, and the old clock as our time-
measurer. The resulting frame is, of course, non-
Newtonian, for it is neither at rest nor in uniform
rectilinear motion with respect to the fixed stars.
Relatively to this new frame the particle describes a
circle in the X-Y plane with uniform angular velocity <o.
It therefore has a relative acceleration of amount m?
towards the origin. But this can be made compatible
with the first and second laws if we assume a force of
this intensity per unit mass attracting the particle to
the origin. The particle is acted on by no forces with
respect to the Newtonian frame ; it is acted upon by
an attraction of amount mroo2 towards the origin with
respect to the new non-Newtonian frame. Thus the
first and second laws have been rendered independent
of special reference to Newtonian frames by the assump-
tion that force (like position, velocity, etc.) is relative
to the spatio-temporal frame of reference which is
used for placing and dating the phenomena under
consideration.
(2) Let us now take a slightly more complex case.
Let us suppose that the particle in question is a friction-
less ring which can slide along the particular spoke
of the wheel that is chosen as the X-axis, and that the
wheel rotates as before. Relative to Newtonian axes
174 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
the ring has no acceleration along the instantaneous
direction of this spoke. Along the instantaneous
direction of the normal to it, it has an acceleration
2.1V0. It is therefore acted upon by a Newtonian force
(viz., the pressure of the spoke pushing it from behind)
of amount P = 2mxa>. How will this appear to people
who rotate with the wheel? Relatively to their axes,
the particle will move along the X-axis with an accelera-
tion .r, whilst it will have no velocity or acceleration
along the Y-axis. They will therefore have to say (if
they want to keep the form of the first two laws of
motion) that the ring is repelled from the origin with a
force mx. And it is easy to show that the intensity
of this must be ;/mo2, i.e., it will be a force varying
directly with the distance of the particle from the origin.
On the other hand, they will have to say that there is
no resultant force acting on the ring in the direction
of their Y-axis. For the ring keeps all the time to the
X-axis. But, if they measured, they might be expected
actually to find the pressure P acting from the spoke
to the ring. How would they get over this? They
would say : "The spoke attracts the ring with a force
equal to P, and this just balances the pressure of the
spoke on the ring." Thus by assuming a repulsive
force from the origin, varying directly with the distance,
and an attractive force between the ring and the spoke,
varying directly with the velocity along the spoke, they
could reconcile the form of the first two laws with their
non-Newtonian frame of reference. This latter force
would indeed be of a curious kind, for particles would
be attracted by the side of the spoke that faced the
direction of rotation and repelled by the other face, but
they could deal with this by something like a "two-
fluid theory."
In these two examples we have only partially departed
from a Newtonian frame of reference. We have taken
non-Newtonian axes but have kept to a Newtonian clock.
It is obvious that, if we kept Newtonian axes but took a
TRADITIONAL KINETICS 175
non-Newtonian clock, we could equally preserve the
form of the first two laws by introducing suitable non-
Newtonian forces. Suppose a particle were moving
with a uniform rectilinear velocity with respect to a
Newtonian frame. Suppose that we then substituted
for a pendulum clock a water-tank with a hole in it as
our time-measurer, and judged equal times as those in
which equal masses of water flowed from the tank. Let
us keep the Newtonian spatial axes this time. As the
head of water in the tank decreases the water flows out
more slowly, as judged by a Newtonian clock. It follows
that, at the latter part of the experiment, the particle will
move further while a pound of water flows out of the
tank than it did at the beginning. Hence, with respect
to our new non-Newtonian clock, the particle will be
moving with an accelerated rectilinear motion. If we
want to keep the form of the first two laws we shall
therefore have to introduce a non-Newtonian force, acting
in the direction of motion of the particle.
It should now be evident that, so far as concerns the
first two laws of motion, their form can be kept, irre-
spective of the frame of reference chosen, provided we
admit the (at any rate partial) relativity of forces to
frames of reference. It remains to consider more care-
fully the nature of the non-Newtonian forces that would
have to be introduced with non-Newtonian frames of
reference. In particular we want to know whether the
third law can be kept too when we give up the restriction
to Newtonian frames. One thing we notice at once.
That is that the non-Newtonian attractionsand repulsions,
which were introduced by the adoption of non-Newtonian
frames of reference, are all proportional to the inertial
masses of the particles on which they act. Again, they
act on every particle under consideration, regardless of
its physical or chemical peculiarities, of the medium in
which it may happen to be, and so on. Now this reminds
us irresistibly of gravitational attractions ; and suggests,
as it did to Einstein, that the law of gravitation may
176 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
have some connexion with these non-Newtonian forces
which are bound up with non-Newtonian frames of
reference. Compare e.g., the two cases of a heavy body
resting on a weighing machine, and the ring in the
second example. The heavy body rests in a Newtonian
frame, and yet the spring of the machine is compressed,
thus indicating that an upward thrust is being exerted
by the spring on the heavy body. We say that this
thrust must be balanced by a pull downwards on the
body, and we ascribe this pull to the gravitational
attraction of the earth. In exactly the same way we
found that the observers who used the rotating wheel
as their spatial axes would have to assume an attraction
between the ring and one side of the spoke, to account
for the fact that the ring did not move at right angles to
the spoke in spite of the observable pressure of the latter
on the former. Lastly, consider the repulsive force
from the origin which the observers on the moving
wheel would have to suppose to be acting on the ring.
The peculiarity of this is that to all appearance it does
not obey the third law. There is a field of force, to
which every particle is subjected when referred to the
axes in question ; but it cannot be said that the force
on one particle is balanced by an equal and opposite
force on another particle. Some non-Newtonian forces
then, it would seem, do not obey the third law. Thus
it seems that the first two laws are more general than
the third, since they can be reconciled with any frame
of reference by the introduction of suitable forces, whilst
it is only for Newtonian forces that the third law holds
universally. This conclusion could however, in theory,
be avoided by the introduction of hypothetical concealed
masses ; so that the non-Newtonian forces on observable
masses might be regarded, as the third law requires,
as one side of stresses between these observable masses
and the hypothetical concealed ones. Thus all the laws
of motion can be formally preserved relative to any
frame of reference, provided it is assumed that new
TRADITIONAL KINETICS 177
frames imply new forces, and provided that we are
allowed to assume such concealed masses as we need.
I will end this chapter by trying to make clear the
difference between the laws of motion and the special
laws of nature, such as those of electricity or magnetism
or heat. We shall then see that, on the traditional
view, the law of gravitation occupies a curious position,
intermediate between the two sets of laws.
The laws of motion do not profess to tell us in detail
how motions are caused or modified. What they do is
to tell us the general conditions which all motions, how-
ever produced, must conform to. They take no account
of the kind of matter which is moved, or of its physical
or chemical state at the time ; the one property of
matter, other than purely geometrical properties, which
appears in the laws of motion is inertial mass. The
special laws of nature, on the other hand, tell us about
the various causes of motion. They have to take into
account all sorts of properties of bodies beside their
inertial masses. They have to consider whether they
be electrically charged or not, whether they be hot
or cold, magnetised or unmagnetised, and what sort
of medium surrounds them. Now, the law of gravi-
tation, on the traditional view, is in one way like a
special law of nature, and, in another way, more like
the general laws of motion. It professes to tell us one
of the causes which start and modify motions. So far
it resembles a special law of nature. But the only
property of matter that it has to consider is common
to all matter, viz. gravitational mass. And this proves
to be identical with the one property which is considered
in the laws of motion, viz. inertial mass. Thus there
seems to be a very much closer connexion between the
laws of motion and the law of gravitation than between
any of the special laws of nature and the laws of motion.
Again, if we are in earnest with the Relational Theory
of Motion, we must suppose that all the motions with
which Mechanics deals take place with respect to
i78 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
material axes. And, since all matter attracts all other
matter gravitationally, on the traditional view, all bodies
will be attracted more or less by the axes to which their
motions are referred. It thus seems not unlikely ante-
cedently that there should be a very close connexion
between the laws of motion and the law of gravitation,
and that a completely Relational system of Mechanics
should contain a theory of gravitation. The details of
this are reserved for the next chapter, but it is hoped
that the foregoing discussion of the traditional laws of
motion and gravitation may have brought the reader
into a proper frame of mind for understanding and
criticising the General Theory of Relativity.
The following additional works may be consulted
with advantage :
B. A. W. Russell, Principles of Mathematics, vol. i, Part VII.
E. Mach, Scie?ice of Mechanics.
H. Poincare, La Science et VHypothese.
„ Scie?ice et Methode.
,, Le Vaieur de la Science.
P. Painleve, Les Axiomes de la Mecaniq ue. (Paris. Gauthier-
Villars.)
CHAPTER VI
"What's the use of Mercator's North Poles and Equators,
Tropics, Zones, and Meridian Lines ?"
So the Bellman would cry ; and the crew would reply ;
" They are merely conventional signs ! "
" Other maps are such shapes, with their islands and capes !
But we've got our brave Captain to thank,"
(So the crew would protest), " that he's bought us the best —
A perfect and absolute blank ! "
(Lewis Carroll, The Hunting of the Snark.)
Modification of the Traditional Kinetics (continued).
(2) The General Theory of Relativity. Summary
of Part I
In the last chapter we treated the traditional laws of
motion without reference to the kinematic results of the
Special Theory of Relativity, outlined in Chapter IV.
That is to say, we combined the traditional Kinetics
with the traditional Kinematics. We must now take
a step forward, and show that the traditional laws of
motion are not compatible with the modified kinematics
of even the Special Theory of Relativity. We shall
then be able to advance to the General Theory.
There is no need for me to treat the kinetics of
the Special Theory in any detail, because it is only a
half-way house to the General Theory. I will therefore
content myself with a single example to show that
the traditional laws of motion cannot be reconciled,
without modification, with the kinematics of the Special
Theory and with the Restricted Physical Principle of
Relativity.
Let us suppose that two sets of observers were doing
179
i8o SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
experiments to determine inertial mass by the impact
of bodies, as described in the last chapter. One shall
be on the platform/, and the other on the platform />2 of
Chapter IV. These platforms are in uniform rectilinear
relative motion in a Newtonian frame. The velocity
of the first with respect to the second, as measured by
observers on the second, is v12. Let two bodies be
moving along />, in the direction in which px is itself
moving relatively to p2. Let their velocities relative
to />,, as measured by observers on it, be Uj and ut
respectively, before they hit each other. After they
have hit, let their velocities with respect to px be W,
and w1 respectively. Let the observers on px ascribe
to these bodies the inertial masses M1 and mx respec-
tively. As we saw in the last chapter,
M1Ul + m1u1=M1W1 + mlw1. (i)
Each body has its own coefficient, which it keeps when
its velocity is altered by the collision, and which is
independent of its initial velocity. There is no doubt
that this is very approximately true under ordinary
conditions of experiment ; the question is whether it
can be exactly true, consistently with the Physical
Principle of Relativity and the kinematics of the
Special Theory.
Let the whole experiment be also watched by the
observers on p2. Let the velocities which they ascribe
to the bodies relatively to p2 be U2, u2, W2 and w2
respectively. The Physical Principle of Relativity tells
us that if equation (i) expresses a genuine law of nature
in terms of the observations of people on/j, the people
on p2 must be able to find an equation of precisely the
same form in terms of their observations on the same
phenomena. That is, they ought to find that their
observed relative velocities are connected by an equation
M2U2 + m2u2=M2W2 + m2w2. (2)
In this equation M2 and m2 will have to be independent
of the velocities of the bodies ; for it is obvious that
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 181
the form of the law would not be the same for both sets
of observers, if, in the one case, the coefficients were
constants, and, in the other, were functions of the
velocity of the body.
Now it is easy to see that anything of the kind is
inconsistent with the kinematics of the Special Theory
of Relativity. If the reader will look back to equa-
tion (3) in Chapter IV he will see that
U.=
2— TT „. :
I — ■
C8
with similar equations, mutatis mutandis, for u2, W, and
zv2. It is quite obvious that, if these values be substi-
tuted in equation (2), we shall reach a result which is
inconsistent with equation (1), on the assumption that
the masses are independent of the velocities. It follows
that the traditional view that mass is independent of
velocity cannot be reconciled with the Physical Principle
that genuine laws of nature have the same form for
all observers who are in uniform rectilinear relative
motion, and with the kinematics of the Special Theory
of Relativity. It is not difficult to see what modification
is needed. Let us denote by MliTJ the mass which has
to be assigned to a body moving with a measured
velocity \J1 relatively to the Newtonian frame px. Let
us put
M M
M — Q— — K M M — ° — K M •
ml. u— -. FT~2— l-u 01 mi,w— ,— tTt~2— i-w o>
l—* l
and
mo _u _ m mo
J III \/,_z^l
c*
where M0 and m0 are independent of the velocity. Let
us then see whether the equation
M1,uU1 + *«1,1(K1=M1,wW1 + 7//1,wze/1 (4
182 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
expresses a possible law of nature, consistent with the
Physical Principle of Relativity and the kinematics of
the Special Theory. If it does, we ought to find that
the measured velocities U2, etc., which the observers on
/\, ascribe to the bodies under experiment, are inter-
connected by the equation
MvvU%+mvjta= M2,wWz+m2,„w2. (5)
By using the transformation equation for relative
velocities, and doing a little tedious but quite straight-
forward algebra, the reader will be able to see for him-
self that this is so, on one condition. The condition is
that the total mass of the system in the direction of
motion is unaltered by the collision, i.e. , that
M1,u + w1„/=M1,w + /«1,,„. (6)
On the traditional view this is of course a merely
analytical proposition, since it is part of that view that
the mass of each body is an absolute constant. On the
present view of mass, it is an additional assumption.
The law, obtained by combining (4) and (6) with the
definitions embodied in (3), is then a permissible law
of nature, whilst the traditional law embodied in (1) is
not. The assumption (6) is, to a very high degree of
approximation, equivalent to the assumption that the
total kinetic energy of the system is unaltered by the
collision. For
M
0 1 M U 2
M1,u = N/I_Ui2=M0 + 2 -^ very nearly.
c2
Whence (6) practically reduces to
1 MoU,2 + Imp* = iMoW,2 + l-m^w*. (7)
2 22 2
Thus the attempt to express the laws of Mechanics in
a form which is consistent with the kinematics of the
Special Theory of Relativity leads to a connexion
between the three principles of the Conservation of
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 183
Momentum, of Mass, and of Energy, which was not
obvious on the traditional view.
The modified conception of mass, which the Special
Theory of Relativity requires, differs so little in
magnitude from that of the traditional view, for all
ordinary velocities, that it is reasonable to suppose
that the modified laws are not merely admissible in
form but also true in substance. Moreover, the modified
laws agree with observations on the motions of electrons,
shot out with enormous velocities in vacuum tubes ;
whereas the traditional form of the law cannot be
brought into accordance with these results, except by
the help of supplementary physical hypotheses about
the charges, shapes, etc., of the particles.
The General Theory of Relativity. Enough has now
been said to show that the traditional kinetics needs
modification as soon as the traditional kinematics is
dropped and that of the Special Theory of Relativity
is substituted for it. And, as I have tried to show in
Chapter IV, the negative results of the Michelson-
Morley and other experiments leave us no option about
making at least this substitution. The question now is,
not whether we shall go so far, but whether we ought
not to go further still. Let us open the subject by
asking : In what way is the Special Theory of
Relativity special?
The answer to this question is obvious. In discuss-
ing the Special Theory of Relativity we explicitly
confined ourselves to Newtonian frames. In the first
place, our kinematic transformations assumed that the
two platforms px a.ndp2 were in uniform rectilinear relative
motion. We did not deal at all with the case of pt
rotating with respect to pt or moving with a rectilinear
but accelerated motion with respect to px. But this is
not all. If one frame be Newtonian and another moves
with a uniform rectilinear motion relatively to it, the
second is also Newtonian. But the converse of this is
not true. Two platforms might be in uniform rectilinear
184 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
relative motion, but neither of them need, for that reason,
be Newtonian. E.g., if their clocks were non-Newtonian
(e.g., were water-tanks, as in a previous example) both
these platforms would have accelerated rectilinear
motions in a Newtonian frame, and therefore neither
of them would be a Newtonian set of axes. Again,
suppose that px and pa were attached at different
distances from the centre to the same spoke of a wheel
which rotated uniformly in a Newtonian frame. There
would be no relative motion between them, but neither
of them would be Newtonian axes. So the "speciality"
of the Special Theory is that it is wholly concerned
with Newtonian frames ; and this not only restricts
the transformations to uniform rectilinear relative
motion, but imposes a further condition, in virtue
of which one at least of the set is known to be
Newtonian.
How does this limitation show itself? The funda-
mental fact on which the kinematic transformations
of the Special Theory was based was that light was
found to travel with the same velocity, and in a
straight line, relative to all the observers, although
they were in motion relatively to each other. It is
quite obvious that, if observers had chosen the spokes
of a rotating wheel as their axes, they would not have
found that light travelled in straight, lines with respect
to them. And, if they had taken as their time-measurer
some process which was not isochronous as compared
with a Newtonian clock, they would not have found
the velocity of light to be uniform, even though they/
had used the fixed stars as their axes. A Newtonian
frame may then be defined in one of two alternative
ways : (i) It is a set of axes and a physical time-
measurer with respect to which light in a homogeneous
medium travels with a uniform rectilinear velocity.
Or (2) it is a set of axes and a time-measurer with
respect to which a particle, under the action of no
resultant force, rests or moves uniformly in a straight
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 185
line. Owing to the universality of gravitation the
second criterion cannot literally be applied. We shall
also see, later on, that the same reason renders the
first criterion not strictly true of any natural frame.
Thus a Newtonian frame is an ideal limit rather than
an actual fact. Still, the frame in which the fixed stars
form the axes and a properly constructed and regulated
clock forms the time-measurer is very nearly Newtonian
for all experiments that we can do. The transformation
equations of the Special Theory enable us to pass from
the place and date of any event in any one such frame
to its place and date in any other such frame. But
they tell us nothing about its place or date in any
frame which is not Newtonian ; and no frame is
Newtonian unless its axes either rest or move with
a uniform rectilinear velocity, as judged by a New-
tonian clock, relatively to Newtonian axes. Again, the
Restricted Physical Principle of Relativity only says
that observers on different Newtonian frames will all
find laws of identical form for the same natural
phenomena. It does not assert that an observer on
a non-Newtonian frame will find no difference in the
form of the laws which interconnect the magnitudes
that he measures, when watching a certain natural
phenomenon.
The question is whether, and to what extent, this
restriction to a certain set of frames of reference can
be removed. It is easy to state in general terms the
kind of problem with which we are faced. On the
one hand, we can get at the laws of nature only by
measuring various observable magnitudes and finding
out the functional correlations that hold between them.
And we can do this only by referring all events
in nature to a spatio-temporal frame of reference of
some kind, in which each event has a certain place
and date. Innumerable different frames of reference
could be taken for dating and placing the events of
nature. On the other hand, presumably there are laws
N
i86 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
of nature which are absolute, and independent of any-
particular frame of reference. The laws discovered by
observers who use a certain frame of reference wrill
be transcriptions of these absolute relations, in terms
of that particular frame. Thus, we may suppose that
they will depend partly on the absolute relations of
events in nature and partly on the particular frame
used by these observers. It would thus be reasonable
to suppose that, on comparing the laws discovered by
observers who observe the same phenomenon and use
all kinds of different frames of reference, we might be
able to extract a kind of "kernel," which should be
neutral as between them all. This kernel would be the
absolute law of the phenomenon in question, and it
is this which the General Theory of Relativity seeks
to extract.
It may be worth while to give a few illustrations
from other regions, in order to make the idea familiar
to the reader. (i) Suppose the League of Nations
were to lay down certain general rules about naviga-
tion, which were binding on all members of the
League. They would have to be translated into
English, French, Italian (and soon, one hopes, German
and Russian). These various translations would look
extremely different. And it would be impossible to
express the rules without some symbolism or other
until telepathy becomes commoner than it now is.
Yet there would be something, viz., the content of the
rules, which would be independent of any particular
language or other system of symbols in which they
happened to be expressed.
(2) Another example may be helpful to persons with
an elementary knowledge of mathematics. It is a very
simple intrinsic property of the triangle that the bisectors
of its three angles all meet at one point. If you try
to prove this by analytical geometry you will have to
choose some set of co-ordinates ; they may be rect-
angular Cartesians, or oblique Cartesians, or polars.
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 187
In any case you will get very complicated equations
in terms of the co-ordinates which you assign to the
three corners of the triangle. And these equations
will be very different according to the system of co-
ordinates that you have chosen for reference. Yet they
all express the same simple fact, which is intrinsic to
the triangle as such, and quite independent of any set
of co-ordinates.
Now, on the traditional view, the distance between
two events and the time-lapse between them are two
distinct facts. It is true that, on the traditional view,
the measured distances between non-contemporary events
will be different for observers who are in uniform recti-
linear motion with respect to each other. But it is
supposed that their dates will be the same for all
Newtonian frames, and that it will be independent of
the distance between the events. Now, the Special
Theory shows that this is not true even when we
confine ourselves to Newtonian frames. We saw that
observers on platforms which are in relative recti-
linear uniform motion will not ascribe the same time-
lapse to the same pair of events ; and that, if these
events be separated in space, the amount of time-lapse
ascribed to them by observers who move relatively
to them will depend on their distance apart. Thus,
measured distance between events and measured time-
lapse between events are mixed up with each other,
and are partly dependent on the frame of reference,
even when we confine ourselves to Newtonian frames.
Is there anything connected with spatial and temporal
separation which has the same measure for all Newtonian
frames? There is, as can easily be seen. Suppose that
two adjacent events have respectively the co-ordinates
and dates xly yx, z1} /,, andxx + dxx, yx + dyx, sx + dzx, and
tlJrdt1 with respect to the Newtonian frame px. Let
them have the corresponding letters, with 2 suffixed
instead of 1, with respect to the frame p^, which moves
relatively to px in the ^-direction with the uniform
iSS SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
velocity v21. It follows immediately from the transfor-
mation equations of Chapter IV that
dx2 = kn(dx1 — v^dtj)
a n d dtt = kAd^ — " dxx ) •
Whence
since kol--= —==. by definition.
c2
Now d^2 = d[y22 and dz* = ^2a, since there is no relative
motion in these directions. Therefore finally,
dx2 + dy2 + dz2 — c2dt2 = dx2 + dy2 + dz2 — c2dt2. (8)
Here then we have a magnitude, connected with a
pair of events, which has the same numerical measure
with respect to all Newtonian frames. We will take
this magnitude with its sign reversed, for reasons which
will appear later. We will call it the square of the
Spatio-Temporal Separation of the two events, and will
denote it by dcr. The square of the spatial separation
is, of course, dx^ + dy^ + dz^ in the one system and
dx£-\-dy£-\-dz£ in the other. The temporal separation
is dtx in one system and dt2 in the other. It is clear
that the spatio-temporal separation has a claim to
represent something intrinsic to the pair of events,
and neutral as between different frames of reference,
which claim cannot be made for either the spatial or
the temporal separation. It is, at any rate, invariant
and neutral as between all Newtonian frames, whilst
the other two are not invariant or neutral, even with
this restriction.
It will be noticed that, if the two events be the
successive occupations of two adjacent places by some-
thing that travels with velocity ux with respect to one
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 189
frame and u2 with respect to the other, the spatio-
temporal separation takes the form
do* = {<*- u*)dt* = (c-2 - tt*)dt2\
If what is travelling be light, or any other electro-
magnetic disturbance, ?/x = u2 — c. Whence da* = o.
That is, the spatio-temporal separation between two
events which are the successive arrivals of a wave of
light at two adjacent positions is o, although of course
both the spatial and the temporal separations of the
two events are finite. This explains why we took the
expression with its sign reversed. We want the square
of the separation to be always positive for the successive
events that constitute any real motion. With the present
choice of sign this will be so, unless the moving thing
travels faster than light. With the other choice of
sign the square of the separation would always be
negative for anything that travelled more slowly than
light. Now we know nothing that travels faster and
innumerable things that travel more slowly than light.
Hence our convention as to sign is justified.
This concept of spatio-temporal separation is funda-
mental to the General Theory of Relativity. We take
it as a hypothesis that this separation is an intrinsic
relation between a pair of events, which has nothing to
do with frames of reference, though, of course, we shall
always meet with it and measure it in terms of the
particular frame that we happen to use in order to place
and date the events of nature. If it be asked what
ground there is for this hypothesis, I think we must
begin by distinguishing between what suggests it and
what justifies it. What suggests it is the in variance of
this measured magnitude as between all Newtonian
frames. But, if it is to be justified, this must be done
in the usual way by working out the consequences of
the hypothesis and seeing whether they accord with
experimental facts.
We have seen what form the spatio-temporal separa-
190 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
tion takes when expressed in terms of Newtonian co-
ordinates and clock- readings. It will be worth while,
however, explicitly to mention the important character-
istics of this expression before going further, (i) It
is homogeneous and of the second degree in the four
variables which it involves. (2) The coefficients of the
variables are all constants. In fact, by a suitable choice
of units, they could all be reduced to unity. When
distance is measured in centimetres and time-lapse in
seconds, light has the velocity c, and the time-factor
has to be multiplied by this constant. But, if the unit
of time were taken to be, not the second, but - of a
c
second, the velocity of light would be unity. We chose
our units of space and our units of time quite inde-
pendently, when it was not suspected that there was a
fundamental connexion between these two factors in
nature. It so happens that we have chosen a very
large unit of time as compared with the unit of space ;
and that is the only reason why the large constant c
appears in the expression for the spatio-temporal separa-
tion. (3) The last important point to notice in this
connexion is that the coefficient of the time-variable is
of opposite sign to that of the space-variables in the
expression for the spatio-temporal separation. This
betrays the fact that there is ultimately a radical dis-
tinction between the space factor and the time factor
in nature, in spite of their intimate interconnexion, and
in spite of the fact that the two are, within certain limits,
interchangeable.
Now we can quite well understand that the expres-
sion for the spatio-temporal separation, in terms of the
co-ordinates and time - readings of a non-Newtonian
frame, may be very different from the expression for the
same fundamental fact in terms of a Newtonian frame.
Let us first illustrate this by a very simple example
from ordinary geometry. If we take the traditional
view of Space and Time the distance between two points
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 191
is an intrinsic relation between them, and is wholly
independent of the system of co-ordinates to which we
refer the points. Let us first suppose that they are
referred to a set of rectangular Cartesian co-ordinates
Cx. Let their ;r-co-ordi nates in this system be x\ and
.r1 + dx\ respectively, with similar expressions for their
y- and ^-co-ordinates. Then the expression for the
square of their distance apart is
dx\2 4- dyf + dz*.
Now refer them to another set of rectangular Cartesians
C2. This might consist of the original ones twisted as
a rigid body about their origin. The three edges of a
biscuit box with one corner fixed would be an example.
Let the co-ordinates of the points with respect to this
system be x\ and x2 + dx'2, etc., respectively. The ex-
pression for the square of the distance apart of the two
points in the new co-ordinates is
dx22 + dy22 + dz?.
It is of the same form and the same magnitude as
before. This is exactly analogous to the invariance of
the expression for the spatio-temporal separation of two
events with respect to two Newtonian frames.
Suppose now that, instead of referring the two points
to Cartesian co-ordinates, we were to refer them to polars.
Call this system P3. Let the co-ordinates of the two
points be respectively r3,#3,c£3 and r3 + dr3,93 + d63,<f>3 + d<i>3,
in this system. The distance apart will now be ex-
pressed by the formula
dr./ + r32d032 + r32sin%d<f>3*.
It will be noticed that this expression has one important
analogy to, and one important difference from, the ex-
pression in terms of Cartesians. It resembles the latter
in that it is still a homogeneous function of the second
degree in terms of the three differentials. It differs in
that these differentials no longer all have constant co-
efficients. Their coefficients now contain functions
of the co-ordinates themselves.
K)j SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
Now, just as the passage from Cartesian to Polar
co-ordinates makes this difference in the expression for
the distance between two points on the ordinary geo-
metrical view, so we may expect that the passage from
a Newtonian to a non-Newtonian frame of reference
will make a similar difference to the expression for the
spatio-temporal separation between two events. We
may expect that the expression will still be homo-
geneous and of the second degree in terms of the
differentials of the non-Newtonian co-ordinates and
dates, but that these differentials will no longer have
constant coefficients.
In order to make the next step, let us again revert
to a simple example in ordinary geometry. Let us
confine ourselves to points on a surface, and let us
suppose, to begin with, that this surface is a sphere.
We will suppose that persons confined to the surface
of the sphere are trying to find an expression for the
distance apart of two adjacent points, as measured on
the surface of the sphere. This will of course be that
part of the great circle passing through the two
points, which is included between them. Now the
surface of the sphere could be mapped out into a
network of co-ordinates in innumerable different ways.
We might fix the position of a point by parallels
of latitude and meridians of longitude, as ordinary
Atlases do. Or we might fix it by taking an origin
on the equator and drawing a great circle from here to
the point in question, and noticing the length of this
arc and the angle that it makes with the equator.
Again we might take the equator and some meridian
of longitude as a pair of mutually normal axes and
define the position of a point by the arcs of the two
great circles which pass through it and are normal to
the equator and the meridian respectively. The last-
mentioned set of co-ordinates would be analogous to
Cartesians in a plane, and the set mentioned before
would be analogous to plane Polars. We should find
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 193
that two independent variables were always necessary
to fix the position of a point. And we should find that
the distance between any pair of adjacent points on the
sphere, as measured along the sphere's surface, was
always a homogeneous quadratic function of the small
differences between their corresponding co-ordinates in
any system. So far there is complete analogy with a
plane. But we should find the following very important
difference. In the plane, or in ordinary three dimen-
sional Space, as we saw, we always can find a system
of co-ordinates, viz., Cartesians, in terms of which the
expression for the distance involves no coefficients
other than constants (which can of course always be
reduced to unity by a suitable choice of our units).
On the sphere we should find that it was impossible to
choose any set of co-ordinates for the whole surface, in
terms of which the expression for the distance between
two points involves nothing but constant coefficients.
Always we shall find that one or both of the differentials
is multiplied by a function of the co-ordinates.
This then is an intrinsic difference between spheres
and planes. It is connected with the fact that a sphere
cannot be unfolded into a plane without stretching, as, for
instance, a cone can. We see then that there are at least
two intrinsically different kinds of surface. With both
of them the expression for the distance of two points
measured along the surface will involve non-constant
coefficients, when expressed in terms of some set of co-
ordinates upon the surface. But with the one kind of
surface this will be so, not merely for some, but for all
possible sets of co-ordinates upon the surface. And,
with the other kind, it will be possible to find a set of
co-ordinates on the surface, in terms of which the ex-
pression for the distance of two adjacent points involves
no coefficients but constants.
Let us now leave the points and surfaces of pure
geometry, and apply our results to the events of nature
and their spatio-temporal separations. Just as surfaces
194 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
mav be of two intrinsically different kinds, so nature,
as a sum total of events, might theoretically be of one
kind or another. It might have such an intrinsic
structure that it was always possible to find a frame,
viz., a Newtonian one, with respect to which the spatio-
temporal separation of any pair of events takes the form
<*d?-cb?-df-d&.
On the other hand nature might, like the sphere
in geometry, have such an intrinsic structure that no
possible frame could be found with respect to which
the spatio-temporal separation involved only constant co-
efficients. Now the most general homogeneous quadratic
expression for the spatio-temporal separation of a pair
of adjacent events in terms of any frame is obviously of
the form
+ gudOidt + g2Zdd2d63 + gtide2dt + gZidOzdt, (9)
where 6V 02, and $3 are the spatial parameters, and t is
the temporal parameter, which one of the events has in
respect to the spatial axes and the clocks of this frame.
The g's are any functions whatever of these four
variables. Now, if it is to be possible to find a frame
with respect to which the spatio-temporal separation
takes the Newtonian form, these g's cannot be just any
functions. The reducibility to the Newtonian form
imposes certain very general conditions on the g's.
It can be shown that it is possible to find a frame,
with respect to which the spatio-temporal separation
assumes the form with constant coefficients, if and only
if the g's are of such a kind that a certain very com-
plicated function of them, called the Riemann-Christoffel
Tensor', vanishes. To say that the Riemann-Christoffel
Tensor vanishes would therefore be equivalent to saying
that nature, as a system of interconnected events, has
a certain kind of intrinsic structure, which is formally
analogous to that of the plane in Euclidean space and
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 195
formally unlike that of the surface of a sphere in
Euclidean space.
The next thing that we have to consider is the
dynamical meanings of the various conceptions which
we have been introducing and discussing. There are
now two problems to be considered. The first is
independent of the view that we take as to the two
alternative possible intrinsic structures of nature. This
leads to a generalisation of the first law of motion, so
that it becomes independent of any particular frame of
reference. The second depends on which alternative
the facts force us to choose as to the intrinsic structure
of nature. This leads to a generalisation of the law of
gravitation. We will now consider them in order.
(1) According to Newton's first law of motion a
particle which is under the action of no resultant force
in a Newtonian frame either rests or moves with uniform
rectilinear velocity in that frame. Consider two events
in the history of this particle as it moves. One is
its presence at the point xM jr,, zA in the axes of the
frame at the date tA as measured by the A-clock of
the frame. The other is its presence at the point xB, yEy
zB, in the same axes when the B-clock reads ta. Since
the particle is under the action of no Newtonian forces
it will have moved in a straight line between these
two points with a uniform velocity. Let us consider
the total spatio-temporal separation between these two
events. By this we are going to mean the sum of
all the infinitesimal spatio-temporal separations between
successive closely adjacent events in the history of the
particle, which are intermediate between the first and the
last event under consideration. It is easy to show that,
when the particle moves uniformly in a straight line,
this total separation has a stationary value. This
means that it would either be greater for all alternative
ways of moving from the one place to the other in
the given time, or that it would be less for all alternative
ways. As a matter of fact the actual path is that which
196 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
makes the total spatio-temporal separation a maximum.
If the particle moved in any other course, or with a
non-uniform velocity, the total spatio-temporal separa-
tion would be less than it is when it moves uniformly
in a straight line.
Now the fact that the total separation between remote
events in the history of this particle is a maximum is
an intrinsic fact about the history of the particle. It
depends in no way on the frame of reference which is
chosen for placing and dating the events. We have
thus got to something about the motion of the particle
which is independent of frames of reference. Now
refer the particle to any other frame you like. The
characteristics of the new frame are completely summed
up in the ten g's which appear in the expression for
the spatio-temporal separation of two adjacent events
in terms of the spatial and temporal parameters of this
frame. We have therefore simply to express the fact
that the integral of the expression (9) has a stationary
value for the course which the particle actually takes
with respect to this frame. This can easily be done
by the Calculus of Variations. As a result a set of
four second-order differential equations emerges. These
are the equations of motion in any frame whatever for
a particle which is under the action of no forces in a
Newtonian frame.
Now, as we saw in last chapter, the change from a
Newtonian to a non-Newtonian frame of reference in-
volves the introduction of non-Newtonian forces. These
forces are completely determined by the nature of the
non-Newtonian frame chosen. Again, as we have seen,
the nature of the frame is completely determined by
the ten gs which appear in the expression for the
spatio-temporal separation in terms of the parameters
of the frame. Thus there is complete correlation between
the g's which characterise the frame, and the non-
Newtonian forces which people who used this frame
would observe to act on particles. Thus, if all forces
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 197
be of this type, the four differential equations which
express the fact that the total spatio-temporal separation
for the actual course of the particle is to be stationary
will be the laws of motion. For they will sum up the
relations between the motion of any particle with respect
to any frame and the observable forces which people
who use that frame find to be acting on the particle.
To observers on a Newtonian frame it will appear that
the other observers are using very foolish axes and
very wild clocks {e.g., a rotating wheel and a water-
tank). For the Newtonian observers then, theg's will not
seem to have anything to do with forces, but only to
characterise the particular kind of axes and clocks which
the other observers are using. But, for the observers
who use the frame characterised by the gs, these g's
will appear as the potentials of forces which are functions
of position and time with respect to their frame. (I
say as potentials of forces, and not as forces, because the
g's do not appear as such in the equations of motion,
but appear in the form of first-order differential co-
efficients with respect to the co-ordinates and dates
which events have in the frame.) The four differential
equations of motion, thus deduced for any frame what-
ever, degenerate, in the special case of a Newtonian
frame, to the three ordinary equations which express
the fact that the acceleration of the particle vanishes
in three mutually rectangular directions, and to the
platitude 0 = 0.
I will illustrate the connexion between the g's and
the potentials of the non-Newtonian forces which are
introduced along with a non-Newtonian frame, by
working out a little further a simple example which
was used in the last chapter. It will be remembered
that we there took a particle at rest on a plane in a
Newtonian frame and referred it to a non-Newtonian
frame, consisting of the same clock as before for the
time-measurer and two mutually rectangular spokes
of a rotating wheel, that lay in this plane, as the spatial
igS SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
axes. We saw that the observers who use this frame
will ascribe a non-Newtonian attraction from the particle
to the origin of amount mrao2. The non-Newtonian
potential required to produce this force is £////"V, since
Fr= — -3— by definition, and F,. = — mrw in this case.
Ov
Now let us consider what will be the expression for
the separation of two adjacent events in terms of the
new frame. In terms of the original Newtonian frame
it is, of course, c*dtz — dx2 — dy2. It is easy to show that
it will be {c"-i^)df-de-dif+2^rid^dt-2i,4dndt in
terms of the new frame. Thus the new frame is
characterised by the following values for the six g's
which are needed when we confine ourselves to a two
dimensional space, as we are doing in this example : —
gtt = <*- o)V ; g^ = gvv = - 1 ; g$= 2a)>7 ; g¥ 2< ;
gt„ = o. If we ascribe to the non-Newtonian force a
potential — hngtt^ we shall account for the observable
facts, since — ^-( — \mg )= — ?WV, and the observed
dr tt
non-Newtonian force is —mw2r. Thus we see that gto
which, from the point of view of observers on the
Newtonian frame, is merely one of the coefficients
that characterise the special non-Newtonian frame used
by the other observers, is, from the point of view of
the non-Newtonian observers themselves, the potential
of a force which acts on all particles with respect to their
frame.
So far we have confined ourselves to the case of a
particle which is under the action of no Newtonian
force, and we have derived the equations of motion for
such a particle under the action of the non-Newtonian
forces to which it will be subjected when referred to a
non-Newtonian frame. But of course most particles,
if not all, are, at some time at least in their history,
under the action of Newtonian forces, and do not move
uniformly or in straight lines with respect to Newtonian
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 199
frames. What are we to say of the equations of motion
of such particles?
We have said that a particle under the action of no
Newtonian force moves in such a way that the total
separation between two remote events in its history is
greater than it would be for any other possible way of
moving. We also said that this property of the actual
history of the moving particle is independent of the
particular frame of reference to which it may be referred.
Before we can get any further we must clear up these
two statements a little further. We will begin with a
geometrical analogy.
Suppose there were two remote points and we were
told to find the shortest possible path from one to the
other. The problem would not yet be perfectly deter-
minate. Possibility is always relative to a set of
conditions implied or asserted. What would be the
shortest possible path, relative to one set of conditions,
would not be so, relative to another set. If we were
allowed to move from one point to the other on the
Euclidean plane on which they both lie, the shortest
possible path would of course be the Euclidean straight
line joining them. But if we were told that we must
keep to the surface of a certain sphere on which both
points are situated, the shortest possible path would be
along the great circle on this sphere which joins them.
And a great circle is an intrinsically different kind of
curve from a Euclidean straight line. Thus the curve
which is the shortest path between two points depends on
the intrinsic structure of the region in which the points
are situated, and to which all paths between them are to
be confined. Once this intrinsic structure is given, the
property of being the shortest path between the two
points is independent of all possible sets of axes which
might be used for mapping out the region. But, of
course, the intrinsic character of the region will impose
certain restrictions on the kind of axes that are possible
for mapping it out. Similarly, the nature of the move-
200 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
ment which gives the maximum possible spatio-temporal
separation for two remote events in the history of a
moving particle will depend on the structure of that
part of the history of Nature in which the events happen,
and within which all courses from one to the other are
to be confined. Given the structure of this part of the
history of Nature, the course with the maximum possible
total spatio-temporal separation is independent of all
frames of reference which can be used for placing and
dating events within this region. But the intrinsic
structure of this part of the history of Nature will
impose certain restrictions on the kind of frames that
are possible for mapping it out.
We can now deal with the case of a particle subject
to Newtonian forces. We assume (a) that it is a general
fact about all moving particles (and not merely about
those which are under the action of non-Newtonian
forces) that they move in such a way that the total
spatio-temporal separation for two remote events in
their history is greater than it would be for any other
way of moving which the intrinsic structure of the
part of the history of Nature in which the two events
fall would allow, {b) That, in those parts of the history
of Nature in which Newtonian forces show themselves,
the intrinsic structure is not such that the expression
for the spatio-temporal separation for two adjacent
events can be reduced to the form with constant
coefficients. This is equivalent to assuming that
Newtonian frames are strictly applicable only to those
parts of the history of Nature (if such there be) in which
no Newtonian forces are acting.
On these assumptions the general equations of
motion, which have just been deduced for ?ton-
Newtonian forces, will hold for all forces. These
four equations are simply the analytical conditions
which must be fulfilled if the actual course of a particle
is to be such that the total spatio-temporal separation
between two remote events in its history shall be a
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 201
maximum or minimum. And they were deduced from
the most general expression possible for the spatio-
temporal separation of a pair of adjacent events. For,
although we were in fact dealing with cases where the
expression for the separation can be reduced to the
Newtonian form with constant coefficients, no use was
made of this special assumption in deducing the con-
ditions that the total separation for the actual course
shall be stationary. We may say then that, if the
above assumptions be true, we have got the general
equations of motion in a form which is (a) independent
of any special frame of reference, and (b) applies equally
to Newtonian and non-Newtonian forces. If the forces
be all non-Newtonian there will in addition be a set of
equations between the g's of all possible frames, ex-
pressing the fact that the structure of the region under
discussion is such that the separation can be reduced
to the form with constant coefficients. If some of the
forces be Newtonian this extra set of conditions will
not of course hold, though it will still be possible that
the g's of all possible frames are subject to some less
rigid set of conditions.
On this view the one fundamental mechanical fact,
which is absolute and independent of all frames of
reference, is the stationary character of the actual history
of a moving particle, i.e., the fact that it moves with
such a velocity and in such a path that the total
separation between remote events in its history is a
maximum or minimum. This is independent of whether
it be under the action of Newtonian forces or not. But
the course which in fact has the greatest or least possible
separation will differ intrinsically, according to the
intrinsic structure of the history of Nature in the spatio-
temporal region under discussion. If this region be
such that the separation between two adjacent events
in it can be expressed in the form with constant co-
efficients, the course which has the stationary property
is a Euclidean straight line traversed with a uniform
o
202 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
velocity as judged by a Newtonian clock. If the region
be such that the separation cannot, by any choice of
frame, be reduced to this specially simple form, the
stationary course will be some intrinsically different
kind of curve traversed with a non-uniform velocity.
It is assumed that the presence of Newtonian forces in
a region of the history of Nature is a sign that the
intrinsic structure of that region is such that no frame
can be found, with respect to which the separation of
two adjacent events takes the form with constant
coefficients.
How are we to verify or refute these assumptions?
Obviously the only way is to see whether (a) they
agree with known facts as well as the traditional
theory, and (b) account for and predict facts which were
not predicted or accounted for by the traditional theory.
We have seen that, when the forces are purely non-
Newtonian, the g's of any frame of reference appear
to the observers who use that frame as the potentials
of the non-Newtonian forces. Reversing this analogy,
it is reasonable to suppose that the potentials of
the Newtonian forces that are observed with respect
to any frame will be the g's which characterise the
spatio-temporal separation of two adjacent events in
that part of the history of Nature in which these
Newtonian forces act. In dealing with any particular
field of Newtonian force we must therefore find a set
of g1 s which (a) satisfy the general equations of motion,
and {b) differ numerically from the potentials which
the traditional theory would ascribe to this field by
amounts which fall below the limits of experimental
error in the experiments that have already been done
with such fields. If this can be done, the resulting
equations will have at least as good a claim to represent
the facts of motion in this field as the traditional
equations. And if, in addition, they enable us to
predict small residual effects, which are not accountable
for on the traditional theory but can be observed when
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 203
looked for, they will have better claims to truth than
the traditional equations. It must be admitted, how-
ever, that this would not amount to a knock-down
proof of the truth of the assumptions, since the
modified equations could no doubt be deduced on
traditional views of space and time, provided suitable
modifications were made in the expressions for the
potentials.
Evidently then we can only hope to find evidence
for or against the present theory by considering definite
fields of force and the observable phenomena that
happen in them. And, even so, as it seems to me,
no absolutely conclusive proof of the theory will ever
be found, since alternative explanations which involve
the traditional views of space, time, and force could
always be constructed to fit the facts. If, however,
these should prove to be very complicated and artificial,
as compared with the explanation offered by the new
theory, we shall have the same sort of grounds for
preferring the latter as we had for preferring the
Relational Theory of Motion, in spite of the fact that
no downright refutation of the Absolute Theory is
possible.
(2) We have now to raise the question whether
Nature, as a sum total of events, has any one type of
intrinsic structure always and everywhere, and, if so,
of what type the intrinsic structure is. It is admitted
that not all forces are. non-Newtonian, i.e., that, if we
insist on trying to refer all the events in Nature to
a Newtonian frame, many particles will at some time
in their history be subject to observable forces with
respect to it. And there is no frame that we can take
which will transform away all forces always and every-
where, though it is always possible to find a sufficiently
wild frame which will transform away Newtonian forces
over a small enough region of space for a short enough
lapse of time. Now we might deal with this fact in one
of two alternative ways : (a) We might hold that the
204
SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
intrinsic structure of Nature is such that the spatio-
temporal separation of a pair of adjacent events can
take the Newtonian form always and everywhere. We
shall then have to hold that this fact is disguised from
us by the presence of forces in Nature, which appear
in every frame we choose. This is a little like Swift's
view that the English Government always chose admir-
able bishops for Ireland, but unfortunately they were
always stopped on Hounslow Heath by highwaymen,
who exchanged clothes with them and travelled on in
their coaches. Or (b) we might hold that Nature is so
constituted that no frame can be found with respect
to which the separation takes this simple form. We
might then try to explain the forces, which are found
in all frames, by reference to the intrinsic peculiarity
of structure in Nature, which prevents the separation
from being expressed in this simple way.
Before attempting to decide between these two
alternatives for the dynamical case, I will, as usual,
illustrate their precise meaning by
a geometrical example. Suppose
people were confined to the sur-
face of a sphere, and that they
took as axes a pair of mutually
normal great circles. The co-
ordinates of any point P on the
sphere are to be the arcs of the
two great c.ircles through it which
are normal to these two axes respectively. The figure
above will illustrate the arrangement.
If they measured the arcs OP, P;« and Pn, and
found their lengths to be r, x and y respectively they
would find that r2 is not equal to x*+y*, as it would be
if the square of the spatial separation for adjacent points
on a sphere were of the form dxt + dy*. But, if they were
specially wedded to the view that the spatial separation
must take this form, they could get over the difficulty
by assuming that there are forces of suitable magni-
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 205
tudes and directions at different points on the sphere
which distort their measuring rods. Conversely, they
might just recognise that they were "up against" an
intrinsic peculiarity of spherical surfaces, and avoid the
supposition of distorting forces. Similarly, when you
find that there are untransformable forces with respect
to Newtonian frames, you can either leave it at that,
or take up the suggestion that Nature has such an
intrinsic structure that the spatio-temporal separation
of two adjacent events is not accurately expressible in
the Newtonian form.
The actual relation between r, the total separation,
and x and y, the co-ordinates in this system is
• 2 r • 2 x , • 2 y
sin2T = sin2-7 +sin ^
where k is the radius of the sphere. If the observers
confined themselves to a very small region, the sines
could be replaced by the angles themselves, and the
relation
r2 = x2+y\
which is characteristic of the Euclidean plane, would
approximately hold. This is analogous to the fact,
already mentioned, that it is always possible to find
a frame, in terms of which particles move with uniform
rectilinear velocities for a sufficiently small region of
Space and for a sufficiently small lapse of time, though
not for all places and all time.
We can now return from the geometrical analogy
to the dynamical problem. If we consider the various
kinds of Newtonian forces we find that they divide
sharply into two classes, viz., gravitational attractions
and the rest. We have already pointed out the
peculiarities of gravitation. It acts always and every-
where, it is independent of all properties of matter
except its inertial mass, it is indifferent to the sur-
rounding medium, and so on. We saw that these
peculiarities make gravitation closely analogous to the
206 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
non-Newtonian forces to which a particle, at rest or in
uniform motion in a Newtonian frame, is subjected
when referred to a non-Newtonian frame. Again, we
saw that, in no frame composed of material axes and
clocks, could a particle literally be under the action of
no forces, since there would always be gravitational
attractions between it and the axes themselves, though
these might be negligible if it were a solitary particle
referred to the fixed stars as axes. For these reasons
it seems plausible to suppose that gravitation, at least,
is something connected with the intrinsic structure of
Nature as a sum total of events. This structure is such
that no frame, in which the spatio-temporal separation
takes the simple form with constant coefficients, accu-
rately fits the whole of Nature ; and the gravitational
forces, which we find when we use a Newtonian frame,
are an expression of the "misfit" of that frame to the
structure of Nature. This is exactly analogous to the
fact that the contracting and expanding forces, which
observers on the sphere would have to assume to be
acting on their measuring rods in the last example,
would simply be an expression of the " misfit" between
the intrinsic character of the surface of a sphere and
the plane system of co-ordinates which they insisted
on applying to it.
As regards other kinds of Newtonian forces, which
depend on the special properties of bodies and of the
medium, and do not show themselves always and
everywhere, as gravitation does, we can hardly expect
a similar explanation to work. We may illustrate this
difference again from the example of people living on
the surface of a sphere and trying to measure it, on
the assumption that the expression for the square of the
spatial separation of two adjacent points must be reduc-
ible to the simple form dx2 ' + dy2 '. Let us suppose that
there were big fires burning at some parts of the surface
of the sphere. The measurements of the observers
would then be inconsistent with their fundamental
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 207
assumption and would have to be " cooked" in two
different ways : (a) They would be systematically
wrong- on account of the fact that no system of co-
ordinates on the surface of a sphere can really give
an expression for the separation, which shall involve
only constant coefficients. This systematic error they
will have to correct by ascribing contracting and ex-
panding forces on their rods to the sphere itself, (fr)
Apart from these systematic errors, there will be special
discrepancies when they measure near one of the fires,
owing to the physical expansion of their rods in such
a neighbourhood. Now we should say that it was
not unreasonable of the observers to ascribe the special
discrepancies in their measurements near the fires to
forces acting there on their rods, for there is something
visible and tangible there (viz., the fire) to account for
these assumed forces. But we should think it very
foolish of them to ascribe the systematic discrepancy
between measurement and theory, which they find
everywhere on the sphere, to forces bound up with
the sphere and varying in a systematic way from place
to place on its surface. We should advise them,
instead of sticking obstinately to their view that the
separation of adjacent points on the sphere must take
the form with constant coefficients, and then invoking1
forces to account for the discrepancies between this fact
and their observations, to see whether they could not
account much more simply for the facts by supposing
that the surface on which they live is intrinsically of
such a character that no set of axes, in which the ex-
pression for the separation of two adjacent points takes
this specially simple form, can exist upon it. In the
same way, when you find that there is a certain kind
of force, viz., gravitation, which acts always and every-
where on all particles, when referred to Newtonian
frames, it becomes reasonable to suppose that this
"force" is merely an expression of the inappropriate-
ness of a Newtonian frame to the intrinsic structure
208 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
of Nature, as a sum total of events. Other Newtonian
forces, which act in one place and not in others, or
at one time and not at another, or on one kind of
matter and not on another, are in a different situation,
and may be compared to the fires at various places
on the sphere in our geometrical example.
We are going to see then, whether we can account
for the gravitational forces, which are present in all
Newtonian frames, by the assumption that the events
of Nature form an interconnected manifold of such an
intrinsic structure that no frame of reference can be
found, in respect to which the expression for the spatio-
temporal separation of two adjacent events accurately
takes the form (8) with constant coefficients.
Now we have so far distinguished two kinds of
surfaces in ordinary space. With one of them (such
as the plane; the cone, the cylinder, etc.) it was
possible to find a system of co-ordinates on the surface,
in terms of which the expression for the spatial separa-
tion of two adjacent points, as measured along the
surface, contains only constant coefficients. The sign
of this was the vanishing of the Riemann-Christoffel
Tensor. The more familiar criterion is that such
surfaces are either planes or can be unfolded without
distortion or stretching into planes. In the other kind
of surface this condition is not fulfilled. We gave
the sphere as an example. We agree then that the
universality and other peculiarities of gravitation suggest
that the structure of Nature, as a sum total of events,
is not formally analogous to that of surfaces of the
first kind, i.e., we shall henceforth [reject the view that
the intrinsic structure of Nature is such that the
Riemann-Christoffel Tensor vanishes for all frames of
reference within Nature. Does Nature then impose
no general condition on possible frames of reference
except this negative one?
If we return once more to elementary geometry we
shall see that the surfaces for which the expression for
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 209
the spatial separation cannot take the form with constant
coefficients can be further subdivided. We took the
sphere as an example of such a surface. The outside
of an egg would be another example. Now these two
surfaces have an important intrinsic difference. A
sphere is a much more special type of surface than
an egg-shell, just as a plane or a cone is of a much
more special type than a sphere. The sphere agrees
with the plane and differs from the egg-shell in the
following respect : A triangle bounded by arcs of
great circles on the sphere could be slid about all
over the surface, remaining everywhere in complete
contact with it, and needing no stretching or distortion.
In fact any figure that fits on to the sphere in one part
will do so in all parts. The same is obviously true
of figures in a plane. It is not true of figures on
the surface of an egg-shell. A cap, which fitted the
blunt end of the egg-shell, could not be made to fit
exactly on to the sharp end without stretching some
parts of it and folding others. Thus, granted that
the Riemann-Christoffel Tensor does not vanish for
Nature, and that the intrinsic interconnexions of events
in Nature are therefore not formally analogous to those
of points on a plane, the question can still be raised :
Are the intrinsic relations of events in Nature formally
analogous to those of points on a sphere or to those of
points on an egg-shell? If the former alternative be
fulfilled a function of the g's, derived from the Riemann-
Christoffel Tensor, and called the Modified Riemann-
Christoffel Tensor, will have to vanish. This imposes
a limitation upon possible gs, and therefore upon
possible natural frames of reference, but the restriction
is less rigid than it would be if the unmodified Tensor
were to vanish.
If then gravitation be the way in which a certain
intrinsic peculiarity in the structure of Nature exhibits
itself, we might suppose that the equating of the
Modified Tensor to O would be the generalised expres-
210 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
sion for the law of gravitation, with respect to any
admissible frame of reference. So far, however, this is
merely a conjecture. It might be that gravitation is
not the expression of a general intrinsic peculiarity in
the structure of Nature, as a sum total of interconnected
events. And it might be that, even if this were true,
the structure is not of the particular kind which is
expressed by the vanishing of the Modified Tensor.
Here, as elsewhere, we must carefully distinguish
between what suggests the theory and what verifies it.
What suggests that gravitation is an expression of the
general intrinsic structure of Nature is its universality
and its peculiarities as compared with other forces.
What suggests taking the vanishing of the Modified
Tensor as the expression of this structure is that it is
the next simplest assumption to make, after the facts
have proved to be inconsistent with the still more
special structure which would be indicated by the
vanishing of the unmodified Tensor. We have now
to see what verifies the theory thus suggested.
We know the traditional form of the law of gravita-
tion, with respect to the nearest approach that we can
get to Newtonian frames. For a region free from
matter (approximately for the inside of an exhausted
bulb) it takes the form of Laplace's Equation
92V 92V 92V_
dx* dy2 dz2 ~ °'
where V stands for the gravitational potential at a point
in the region, and x, j>, and z are the Cartesian co-
ordinates of this point with respect to a Newtonian
frame. There is no doubt that this equation is true
to a very high degree of approximation. It follows
that any candidate for the position of the true law of
gravitation must reduce to something which differs
very slightly indeed from Laplace's equation, when
expressed in terms of the nearest approach to a
Newtonian frame that we can get.
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 211
Now the Modified Riemann-Christoffel Tensor is
an expression involving second order differential co-
efficients of the g's for a frame, with respect to the co-
ordinates and dates of an event as referred to this frame.
So far there is a formal analogy between it and the
left-hand side of Laplace's Equation, if the g's be re-
garded as analogous to Laplace's V. The right-hand
side is o in both cases. Now Laplace's V is a potential,
and we have already seen the close analogy between
the g's of a frame and the potentials of the forces which
act on particles when referred to that frame. The
only question that remains then, is the following: Can
we find a set of ten functions g^v of the Newtonian
co-ordinates and clock-readings, which (a) when sub-
stituted in the expression for the Modified Tensor
make it equal to o, and {b) differ so little from the
gravitational potentials of the ordinary Newtonian
theory that the difference could only have been detected
by very special methods, and when there was a very
special reason for looking for it? If so, we may
reasonably suppose that gravitation is an expression
of the fact that Nature has a kind of intrinsic structure
formally analogous to that of the sphere, and that
the formula obtained by equating the Modified Tensor
to o is the true form of the law of gravitation. The
answer to this question is in the affirmative ; and so
we may take it that the vanishing of the Modified
Tensor is the true form of the law of gravitation for
a region empty of matter.
There is one point which must be mentioned here.
We are accustomed to think of the traditional law of
gravitation in the form that two particles attract each
other with a force proportional to their masses and
inversely proportional to the square of the distance
between them. And we are wont to regard Laplace's
differential equation as a rather recondite mathematical
deduction from this. In the Relativity theory of gravi-
tation the order is reversed. The law obtained by
212 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
equating the Modified Tensor to o is directly analogous
to Laplace's Equation. The notion of remote particles
attracting each other is here a rather recondite mathe-
matical deduction from the differential equations. In
fact, material particles turn up now only as points of
singularity in a gravitational field ; the field itself is
the fundamental thing. And, when you do make this
deduction, it is found that the force between two
particles is not wholly in the line joining them, if I
may put it rather crudely. The remaining term,
which the new form of the law involves, accounts for
the slow rotation of the orbits of the planets as wholes
in their own planes. This had been noticed for the
planet Mercury, and was unintelligible on the tradi-
tional law of gravitation. It is accounted for both
qualitatively and quantitatively by the Relativity
theory.
The last point to be noticed is that, on the present
theory, gravitation modifies the movements, not merely
of ordinary material particles, as on the traditional view,
but also of any form of energy, such as light, radiant
heat, etc., which travels through space. We must
now see how this comes about. In the first place some
such consequence is suggested at once by the modifica-
tions which the Special Theory of Relativity entails in
the traditional conception of mass. We saw at the
beginning of this chapter that, if a body moves with
velocity v in a straight line with respect to a Newtonian
.. M0 .
frame, it is necessary to ascribe to it a mass 8 in
l-V-2.
r
order to get the Principle of the Conservation of
Momentum into a form consistent with the Restricted
Physical Principle of Relativity. We also saw that
this is approximately equal to M0 + | — |— . Now the
second term in this is the kinetic energy of the particle
divided by the square of the velocity of light. It is
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 213
thus certain that the kinetic energy of a particle of
matter appears as an increase in its inertial mass. It
is therefore plausible to suppose that any region filled
with any form of energy, such as light or radiant heat,
would thereby acquire an inertial mass equal to the
total energy contained in it divided by the square of
the velocity of light. It by no means follows, on the
traditional theory of gravitation, that such a region
would contain any gravitational mass. It is true that
for any particle of matter the gravitational and the
inertial masses are proportional, to an extremely high
degree of approximation. Still, this would be com-
patible with the view that the gravitational effect
depends wholly on the factor M0 ; seeing that the
second factor in the inertial mass contains the square
of the velocity of light in its denominator, and is there-
fore excessively small unless the energy of the body be
excessively great. On this view we should not expect
a beam of light to have gravitational mass, in spite of
its having inertial mass. On the other hand, it is of
course possible that the gravitational and the inertial
masses are always exactly, and not merely approxi-
mately, proportional. In that case we should expect
the course of a beam of light to be modified when it
passes through a gravitational field, just as the path
of a material particle is known to be modified under
like conditions. Now experiments with pendulums
had already suggested very strongly that the gravita-
tional mass of a piece of matter is accurately, and not
merely approximately, proportional to its whole inertial
mass, and not only to the first factor in this. Thus,
the Special Theory of Relativity had already made it
extremely likely that the course of a beam of light or
any other kind of radiant energy would be modified
when it passed through a gravitational field.
Now what is thus merely a plausible suggestion on
the traditional theory of gravitation, combined with the
modified dynamics of the Special Theory of Relativity,
214 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
is a necessary consequence of the General Theory of
Relativity. We know that light would not travel
uniformly or in a straight line with respect to non-
Newtonian frames. The people, e.g., who used the
spokes of the rotating wheel as their axes would not
find that light travelled in a straight line with respect
to their axes, or with a uniform velocity with respect
to their clocks. And the actual course that a beam of
light would follow in their system would be determined
by the^-V which characterise that system. Now it is a
fundamental assumption of the General Theory that
the analogy between the g's of a non-Newtonian frame
and the potentials of the non-Newtonian forces which
act on particles with respect to that frame is to be
extended to the potentials of Newtonian forces.
Suppose then that we have found the equations for
the path of a beam of light with respect to any frame,
in terms of the gs of that frame, on the assumption
that it would move accurately in a straight line with a
uniform velocity relative to a Newtonian frame in the
absence of gravitation. To find its actual path with
respect to a Newtonian frame in a gravitational field we
must just substitute in these equations those values of
the g's which (a) satisfy the condition that they make
the Modified Riemann-Christoffel Tensor vanish, and
{b) account for the observed strength and distribution
of the field. These equations will not in general
represent a motion with a uniform velocity in a
straight line with respect to the axes defined by the
fixed stars. The divergence, which is excessively small
even in the intense gravitational field which surrounds
a huge body like the sun, can be calculated and has
been experimentally detected.
I have now sketched to the best of my ability the
gradual modifications which experimental facts and
reflection upon them have forced upon physicists.
There are two dangers to be avoided here by plain
men. One is to think that the Theory of Relativity is
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 215
essentially unintelligible to all but profound mathe-
maticians, and that therefore it is useless to try to
understand it. The other, and much more serious
danger, is to suppose that it can be made intelligible
in popular expositions of a few pages to men who have
never had occasion to consider the subjects with which
it deals. Like every other conceptual scheme it grew
up, by a kind of inner necessity, against a whole
background, of interconnected concepts, principles, and
experimental facts. Presented in the absence of this
background it is and must be as unintelligible as the
orthodox doctrine of the Trinity is to persons who know
nothing of the theological controversies which preceded
the formulation of the Athanasian Creed. In the course
of my exposition I have constantly enlivened the dis-
cussion by geometrical anecdotes about men living on
spheres, and dynamical parables about persons with an
unintelligible fondness for rotating wheels as axes of
reference. I think this course was inevitable, in order
to illustrate the conceptions which I was expounding.
But it has the grave disadvantage of breaking the train
of argument and obscuring that distinction between
inference and illustration which it is so important to
keep clear. I shall therefore end by summarising the
whole matter in a connected form.
Summary of Arguments and Conclusions of Part I.
(1) Nature is a sum total of interconnected events;
and every actual event lasts for some time, has some
extension, and is in spatio-temporal relations to the
other events in Nature. (2) But the extensions,
durations, and spatio-temporal relations of events are
of such a kind that we can apply the Principle of
Extensive Abstraction to them, and thus define
"instantaneous point-events" and their exact spatio-
temporal relations. We can then give a clear meaning
to the statement that the actual extended and enduring
events of Nature are "composed of" instantaneous
point-events, and that the crude relations of such actual
216 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
events are " compounded out of " the exact relations of
the instantaneous point-events which compose them.
(3) This being so, we can henceforth safely state our
theory in terms of instantaneous point-events and their
exact relations, which are notiora nobis, though not
notiora Natunc. For we know how to translate pro-
positions about instantaneous point-events and their
merely conceivable relations into propositions about
actual extended and enduring events and their per-
ceptible relations.
(4) It is impossible to state general laws about the
events in Nature till we have fixed on some way of
assigning a date and a position to every instantaneous
point-event in Nature. For the laws of Nature express
universal types of connexion between events of one
kind happening in one place at one date and events
of the same (or some other) kind happening at the
same (or some other) place at the same (or some other)
date. If the places and dates be different, the laws of
Nature will in general involve the difference between
the spatial co-ordinates and the difference between the
dates of the events. (5) There are infinitely many
different ways of assigning places and dates to all the
instantaneous point-events in Nature ; but each will
involve the choice of certain observable events and
processes in Nature as spatial axes and time-measurer.
All other events will be placed and dated by their
spatio-temporal relations to these chosen ones. Any
such chosen set of events may be called a Frame of
Reference. (6) It is reasonable to suppose that the
expression for the laws of Nature in terms of any
frame will depend partly on the particular frame chosen
for placing and dating the events of Nature and partly
on the intrinsic structure of Nature. The aim of science
should be to find general formulas for the laws of
Nature, which will immediately give the special ex-
pression of the law in terms of any particular frame, as
soon as the defining characteristics of the frame are
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 217
known. This is as near as anyone but God can get
to the absolute laws of Nature. (7) There are two
intrinsic peculiarities of Nature which reveal them-
selves at once, (a) No matter what frame we choose,
we shall need four independent pieces of information
to place and date any instantaneous point-event. This
fact is expressed by saying that Nature is a four-
dimensional manifold ; and nothing further is expressed
thereby, (h) In whatever frame we choose we shall
find that our four pieces of information divide into
two groups ; three of them are spatial and one is tem-
poral. Thus we must be careful not to talk, or listen
to, nonsense about "Time being a fourth dimension
of Space."
(8) There is one frame which has been tacitly used
in the past for placing and dating the events of Nature
for scientific purposes, and therefore the laws of Nature
have been expressed in terms of this frame. The axes
of it are defined by the fixed stars, the dating is done
by pendulum clocks set in agreement with each other
by means of light signals. (9) The choice of this frame
is not altogether arbitrary. With it, the supposed laws
of Nature can be expressed in a comparatively simple
form, and yet are verified to a high degree of approxi-
mation. With it, again, distances and time -lapses
which we should immediately judge to be unequal,
. when we are favourably situated for making such
comparisons, are unequal, whilst those that we should
immediately judge to be equal, under similar condi-
tions, are either exactly or approximately so. In many
frames this approximate agreement with our immediate
judgments of equality and inequality would not hold.
(10) With respect to such a frame, light in vacuo
travels, to an extremely high degree of approximation,
in straight lines and with a constant velocity ; and the
laws of motion, in the traditional Newtonian form, are
very approximately true. Until quite recent years there
was no motive for adding these qualifying phrases.
p
218 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
(i i) Suppose now that we take a set of frames, whose
clocks are set in the same way as those of the funda-
mental frame just described, and which only differ from
it and from each other in that they move with various
uniform velocities in the same straight line with respect
to the fundamental frame. On traditional views about
the measurement of space and time the measured time-
lapse between any pair of events should be the same
with respect to all these frames, and should be inde-
pendent of their spatial separation and of the relative
velocities of the two frames. The spatial separations
should have different measured values in terms of any
two frames of the set, and they should depend on the
time-lapse and the relative velocities ; but they should
depend on nothing else, and the connexion between
them should be of a very simple form. If this be
so, the measured velocity of anything that moves with
respect to the various frames should be different for
each frame. (12) But very accurate experiments, which
would be quite capable of detecting these expected
differences in the measured velocity of light with
respect to a pair of such frames, fail to show any
sign of difference. Hence the traditional views about
the measurement of time and space must be revised,
or some purely physical explanation must be found
for this discrepancy between theory and observation.
(13) No plausible physical explanation can be found, ,
which does not conflict with other well-established
physical results. Hence the traditional views about the
measurement of space and time must be revised. (14)
The transformation equations of the Special Theory
of Relativity express the relations which must hold
between the measured distances and the measured time-
lapses of a pair of events with respect to any two frames
of this set, if the measured velocity of light with respect
to all these frames is to be the same. They must
therefore be accepted. (15) According to these trans-
formation equations the measured time-lapses between
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 219
the same pair of events will not be the same with
respect to all frames of the set. They will depend on
the measured distances of the events and on the relative
velocities of the frames. And the measured distances
will not be connected with the measured time-lapses
in the simple way in which they are connected on
the traditional theory. The differences between the
traditional transformation equations and those of the
Special Theory of Relativity are, however, so extremely
small, when the relative velocities of the frames are
small as compared with that of light, that it is not
surprising that the defects of the traditional view should
have remained unnoticed until recent years. (16) It
follows that, although (as stated in (7)) the distinction
between time and space will appear in every frame, time-
separation and space-separation are not independent facts
in Nature. Events that are separated in time but co-
incident in space for one of these frames will always
be separated in space for another of them. And events
which are separated in space but coincident in time for
one frame will be separated in time for another. But, if
a pair of events be coincident both in time and in space
for one frame, they will be so for all.
(17) Newton's laws of motion are in such a form that
they are co-variant with respect to this set of frames for
the traditional transformation-equations, but are not
co-variant for the transformations of the Special Theory
of Relativity. On the other hand, Maxwell's equations
for the electro-magnetic field are co-variant for the latter
and not for the former. This means that Maxwell's
equations are already in a form which remains un-
changed with change of frame, so long as we confine
ourselves to the particular group of frames at present
under discussion and use the transformation equations
which the facts about light have shown to be necessary.
Since this is not true for Newton's laws, unless we use
a set of transformation equations which the facts about
light have proved to be slightly inaccurate (viz.,
220 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
those of the traditional kinematics), we must con-
clude that Maxwell's equations are a nearer approach
to "absolute" laws of Nature than the laws of motion
in their traditional form. (18) It is, however, easy to
make quantitatively small modifications in the traditional
laws of motion, which will render them co-variant for all
frames of the present set when the true transformation
equations are used. The modified laws will then be
as near an approximation to absolute laws of Nature
as Maxwell's equations. (19) The necessary modifica-
tions require us to drop the notion that inertial mass is
an absolute constant. The measured inertial mass of
a particle with respect to a frame of the set depends
on its velocity in that frame, and very approximately
splits up into two factors, one of which is a constant
and the other is its traditional kinetic energy divided
by the square of the velocity of light. (20) Delicate
experiments with pendula strongly suggest that the
gravitational mass of a body is accurately proportional
to its total inertial mass, and not merely to the part of
this which is independent of the energy. (21) The
frame whose axes are determined by the fixed stars
and whose clocks are regulated by light-signals, and
all other frames whose clocks are regulated in the
same way and whose axes move with a uniform recti-
linear velocity with respect to the former, together
make up the set of empirically Newtonian frames. With
respect to all frames of this set it is certain that light
travels very approximately in straight lines with the
same constant velocity, and it is certain that Newton's
laws of motion — as modified by the Special Theory of
Relativity — very approximately hold. So close is the
approximation in both cases that nothing but theo-
retical considerations would induce us to look for any
exception to it. We have now to remove our previous
restriction to Newtonian frames, and to try to generalise
the laws of Nature for frames that are not Newtonian.
(22) It is possible to keep the form of Newton's first
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 221
two laws of motion for non-Newtonian frames, provided
we will introduce appropriate non-Newtonian forces
with each non-Newtonian frame. These forces will be
peculiar in that (a) they act on all particles referred to
the frame, and are in general functions of the position
and date of an event in the frame ; (If) they depend on
no property of the particle except its inertial mass ; and
(c) they do not in general obey Newton's third law,
unless concealed particles be assumed ad hoc to carry
the reaction. In the first two of these respects they
resemble the Newtonian force of gravitation. (23)
According to Newton's first law a particle under the
action of no force rests or moves uniformly in a
straight line with respect to a Newtonian frame. This
is equivalent to saying that the total spatio-temporal
separation between any two remote events in its history
is either greater or less than it would be for all other
possible ways in which the history of the particle might
unfold itself between these two events. (24) The spatio-
temporal separation between two adjacent events (unlike
the spatial and the temporal separations) is independent
of the frame of reference, though it depends on the
intrinsic structure of the region in which the events
happen, and this in turn determines the set of frames
which can be used for mapping out this part of the
history of Nature. Its particular expression, in terms of
co-ordinates and dates, of course varies with the particular
member of the whole set of admissible frames which
is used. Thus, the fact that the total spatio-temporal
separation between a pair of remote events is a maxi-
mum or minimum is independent of frames, though the
particular course for which the total separation is in fact
stationary differs according to the intrinsic structure of
the region in which the events are contained. (25) The
particular conditions which must hold if the total spatio-
temporal separation is to be a maximum or minimum
can be stated in a form which applies equally to all struc-
tures and all frames. The four equations which sum
222 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
up these conditions constitute the equations of motion of
a particle, at least under the action of non-Newtonian
forces. On comparing them with the traditional
Newtonian equations, we see that the g*s which
characterise any non - Newtonian frame are of the
nature of potentials of the non-Newtonian forces intro-
duced by that frame. (26) We now make two assump-
tions, which are only justified in so far as they work.
(«) We assume that it is a universal law of Nature
that a particle moves in such a way that the total
separation of remote events in its history is stationary,
as compared with that of all other possible ways of
moving. This is to hold equally whether it be subject
only to non-Newtonian or also to Newtonian forces.
In that case the equations deduced for the non-
Newtonian case become the equations of motion, (b)
We assume that in those regions of Nature, regarded
as a sum total of events, in which Newtonian forces
show themselves, the structure of Nature is not such
that the separation can be reduced to the form with
constant coefficients. If that be so, the course with
the maximum total spatio-temporal separation is not
a Euclidean straight line traversed with a constant
velocity, as judged by a Newtonian clock. We treat
the traditional potentials of the Newtonian forces in
any field as first approximations to a set of g's, which
satisfy the general equations of motion thus deduced.
And we treat the result as the true law of the field.
(27) Continuous manifolds of several dimensions,
such as Nature has proved itself to be, can be of various
intrinsically different kinds. As we might put it, they
can be "plane-like," "sphere-like," "egg-like," and
so on. Whatever intrinsic spatio-temporal structure
Nature may have, there will be an infinite number of
different possible frames to be found for placing and
dating the events of Nature. Nevertheless, the intrinsic
structure of Nature will impose certain conditions on
all possible natural frames of reference. These re-
GENERAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY 223
strictions will take the form of certain very general
equations connecting the g's of any possible natural
frame. If the structure of Nature be plane-like, the
condition is that the unmodified Riemann-Christoffel
Tensor shall vanish for the g's of all possible natural
frames. If its structure be sphere-like, the condition
is that the Modified Riemann-Christoffel Tensor
shall vanish for the gs of all possible frames. The
latter is a less rigid condition than the former. (28)
If the intrinsic structure of Nature be plane-like, an
accurately Newtonian frame will be fitted for dating
and placing all the events of Nature ; otherwise it
will not. (29) If we try to map out a manifold by a
frame which is unsuited to its intrinsic structure, we
shall only be able to square our measurements with
our theory by the assumption of forces which distort
our measuring instruments and upset their readings.
(30) We cannot find any frame that will transform
away gravitational forces always and everywhere,
though we can find non-Newtonian frames which will
transform them away over sufficiently small regions
of space and time. With respect to Newtonian frames
all particles are always acted on by gravitational forces,
though these may sometimes be negligibly small for
practical purposes. It is therefore plausible to suppose
that the universality of gravitation with respect to
Newtonian frames is a mark of the misfit between this
type of frame and the intrinsic structure of Nature.
(31) On the other hand (a) gravitation has many
analogies to non-Newtonian forces ; (b) the traditional
law of gravitation, which is certainly very nearly true,
can be expressed as a differential equation of the
second order, involving the gravitational potential at
a place and the co-ordinates of the place with respect
to Newtonian axes ; and (c) we have already assumed
that potentials and the g's of frames are mutually
equivalent. (32) The facts mentioned in (31) strongly
suggest that the law of gravitation must be some
224 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
general condition imposed on the g's of all possible
natural frames, and expressed as a differential equation
of the second order involving these g's. The facts
mentioned in (30) suggest that this condition is not
that the unmodified Tensor vanishes. For, if this
were so, the intrinsic structure of Nature would be
such that a Newtonian frame is suited to it, and the
necessity of assuming gravitational forces always and
everywhere with Newtonian frames strongly suggests
that this is not so. (33) It is obvious that the
next suggestion to try is to suppose that the law of
gravitation is expressed by the vanishing of the
Modified Tensor, i.e., that gravitation is the sign of
an intrinsically sphere-like structure in Nature. (34)
It is found that, if this be the true law of gravitation,
the observable effects will in most cases differ so little
from those predicted by the traditional law that the
difference could not be detected. Hence the very full
verification which the traditional law has received is
no obstacle to accepting the amended law. (35) On
the other hand, there are certain very special cases
in which a small observable effect might be expected
on the new form of the law and not on the old. In
such cases (notably the movement of the perihelion of
Mercury and the bending of a ray of light in passing
near a very massive body like the sun) the predicted
effects have been verified both qualitatively and
quantitatively.
The following additional works may be consulted
with advantage :
A. S. Eddington, Report on the Relativity Theory of
Gravitation.
„ ,, Space, Time, and Gravitation.
E. Cunningham, Relativity, Electron Theory, and Gravitation.
B. Riemann, Uber die Hypothese?i welche der Geometrie zu
Grunde liegen . (Julius Springer. Berlin.)
H. Weyl, Space, Time, and Matter.
PART II
THE SENSATIONAL AND PERCEPTUAL BASIS
OF OUR SCIENTIFIC CONCEPTS
Contents of Part II
CHAPTER
VII. Matter and its Appearances ; Preliminary Definitions
VIII. The Theory of Sensa, and the Critical Scientific Theory
IX. The Positions and Shapes of Sensa and of Physical Objects
X. The Dates and Durations of Sensa and of Physical Objects
and Events
XL Sensible and Physical Motion
XII. Sensible and Physical Space-Time
XIII. The Physiological Conditions of Sensations, and the Onto-
logical Status of Sensa
CHAPTER VII
" Fallunt nos oculi, vagique sensus
Oppressa ratione mentiuntur.
Nam turris, prope quae quadrata surgit,
Detritis procul angulis rotatur."
(Petronius Arbiter.)
Matter and its Appearances ; Preliminary Definitions
In the First Part we have been dealing with the
gradual development and modification of the traditional
scientific concepts of Space, Time, and Motion, within
the region of Physics. These concepts were taken over
by science from educated common-sense, and we have
been tracing the process of clarification and definition
which they have undergone at the hands of scientists
in pursuit of their own business. At two places only
have we deliberately gone outside the range of ordinary
scientific reflection. The first was where we explained
the Principle of Extensive Abstraction, and tried to
justify by its means what mathematical physicists take
for granted, viz., the application of geometry and
mechanics, stated in terms of points, instants, and
particles, to a world of extended objects and non-instan-
taneous events. The second was where we dealt with
the general problem of Time and Change, and tried
to defend their reality against the very plausible ob-
jections which have been made to them by certain
philosophers.
Now the careful reader will have been struck by
two points in Part I. (i) He will have noticed that the
" raw material," which science took over from common-
sense and elaborated, was really anything but "raw."
227
>2$ SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
It was already highly complex and sophisticated. The
common-sense notions of a single Space, a single Time,
and persistent bits of Matter which exist, move, and
change within them, are by no means primitive. They
must be the results of a long and complex process of
reflection and synthesis, carried out by countless genera-
tions of men on the crude deliveries of their senses,
embodied in everyday speech, and thus handed down
from father to son for further elaboration. The main
outlines of this conceptual scheme have been accepted
without question by scientists, and we have so far
merely been tracing those modifications of detail within
the scheme, which a more accurate knowledge of the facts
of nature has shown to be necessary. In Part II, I
want to dig below the foundations of Part I, and to
try to connect the concepts of science and common-
sense with their roots in crude sensation and perception.
If we should find, as I think we shall, that recent
modifications in the traditional concepts, which have
been made on purely scientific grounds, bring the
general scheme into closer connexion with its sensible
and perceptual basis, this will be an additional argument
in favour of such modifications, and should tend to
neutralise the impression of paradox which these later
developments produce on men who have been brought
up on the traditional scheme.
(2) The second point which will have struck the
reader is that practically nothing has been said so far
about the concept of Matter. This is true. There is
a much wider divergence between the common-sense
and the scientific concepts of Matter than between the
two concepts of Space or of Time. The scientific con-
cepts of Space and Time are fairly straightforward de-
velopments and clarifications of the concepts of common-
sense. But common-sense thinks of Matter as having
many intrinsic qualities, such as colour, temperature,
etc., besides its merely spatio-temporal characteristics.
Science, on the other hand, tends to think of Matter
MATTER AND ITS APPEARANCES 229
as being simply "the movable in space," and to ascribe
to it no intrinsic non-spatio-temporal qualities except
mass. Now the treatment of Matter and our knowledge
of it will bring us in the most direct way to the heart
of the problem of Part II. Matter is admitted to be,
or to be specially closely connected with, what we
perceive with our senses. And again, it would be
admitted by most people that we should never have
known of spatial attributes, like shape, size, and posi-
tion, if we had not perceived bits of matter of various
shapes and sizes in various places. Lastly, we learn
about Motion by watching bits of Matter moving about,
and by moving about ourselves. Thus, in trying to
clear up the relations between Matter, as conceived by
science, and what we perceive with our senses, we
shall at the same time be dealing with the sensible and
perceptual bases of the concepts of Space, Time, and
Motion. So, in one sense, this Part will be wholly
about the concept of Matter. But this will involve a
reconsideration of the concepts of Space, Time, and
Motion. I shall begin by stating the problem in its
most general form, and shall gradually go into greater
detail.
The Traditional Notion of a bit of Matter. — When we
ask what is meant by a bit of Matter the question is
itself ambiguous. In one sense a complete answer to
it would be a complete theory of Matter, and this
could only be made, if at all, at the very end of our
discussion. This, however, is not the sense in which
I am asking the question here. All that I am asking
is: "What is the irreducible minimum of properties
which practically everybody would agree that an object
must possess if it is to be called a bit of Matter?" I
think that science and common-sense would agree that
at least the following conditions must be fulfilled :
(i) Its existence and properties must be independent
of the minds that happen to observe it, and it must
be capable of being observed by many minds. This
230 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
characteristic may be summed up by saying that Matter
is neutral as between various observers, or is "public"
— to use a convenient word of Mr Russell's. This dis-
tinguishes Matter sharply from any ordinary conscious
state of mind. The latter is in a unique way private
to the person whose state it is. My belief that 2 + 2 =4
is different from yours, though the two beliefs refer to
the same fact. My belief cannot literally wander out
of my mind and turn up in yours. It is true that I
may convert you from your erroneous belief that
2 + 2 = 5, and replace it by my true belief that 2 + 2=4.
This does not, however, mean that my belief has
become yours, in the sense that it has left my mind
and taken up its abode in yours. Were this so, I
could never persuade you of anything without losing
my own belief in it, and schoolmasters would pre-
sumably be distinguished from other men by an ultra-
Humian scepticism as to all the subjects that they
teach. This is not, in fact, found to be the case. All
that really happens when A converts B to his own
belief is that A's arguments, or the amount of A's
bank balance, produce in B's mind a state of belief
which refers to the same fact as B's belief, and has
the same relation of concordance or discordance to this
fact. My belief and yours are only called the same
belief in the derivative sense that they are two different
acts of believing which are related in the same way
to the same fact.
Exactly the same is true of desires. We do some-
times say that you and I have the same desire ; but
what we mean is that your desire and mine, though
two states of mind, have a single object. Now, if
there be such things as bits of Matter at all, they are
not private in this way to each mind, but are common
to all the minds that observe them. We talk of my
beliefs and your wishes ; we do not talk of my hydrogen
atom or of your electron. We just speak of the or this
atom or electron. It is, of course, true that a hat or
MATTER AND ITS APPEARANCES 231
an umbrella is regarded as a bit of Matter, and that
we do talk of my hat and of your umbrella. But this,
which at first sight seems an objection, is seen on
further reflection to support what we have been saying.
The sense in which my umbrella is mine is different
from that in which my beliefs are mine. My umbrella
is mine only in the sense that it is legally my property ;
my beliefs are mine in the sense that they could not
exist out of my mind or pass into yours. You cannot
take my beliefs ; it is only too fatally easy for you to
take my umbrella. So that even those bits of Matter
to which we apply possessive adjectives are public in
a way in which no state of mind is public.
(ii) A bit of Matter is supposed to be neutral, not
only between different observers, but also to be in a
certain way neutral as between several senses of the
same observer. We are said to see, hear, and feel a
bell. This sort of neutrality is not supposed to be
complete. The shape and size of the bell are indeed
supposed to be in some way common to sight and
touch. As regards its sensible qualities the view of
common-sense is that any bit of Matter combines a
number of these, and that different senses are needed
to reveal different sensible qualities. Thus sight, and
it alone, makes us aware of the colours of bodies ;
touch, and it alone, makes us aware of their temper-
atures ; and so on. But it is part of the ordinary view
of a piece of Matter that all these various sensible
qualities co-exist in it, whether the requisite senses
be in action to reveal them all or not. If we first
only look at a body, and then shut our eyes and go
up to it and feel it, it is not supposed that it had no
temperature on the first occasion and no colour on
the second.
(iii) These two properties of publicity, as between
different observers, and neutrality, as between the
various senses of a single observer, are closely con-
nected with a third feature which is held to be
232 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
characteristic of Matter. Bits of Matter are supposed
to persist with very little change, whether anyone
happens to observe them or not, and to pursue their
own affairs and interact with each other, regardless of
our presence and absence.
(iv) This brings us to the fourth characteristic of
Matter. It is commonly held to be part of what we
mean by a bit of Matter that it shall have a more or
less permanent shape and size, and that it shall have
a position in Space, and be capable of moving from
one position to another. It is admitted that bits of
Matter are constantly changing their shapes, sizes,
and positions ; but it is held that they do this through
their interactions with each other and not through any
change in our acts of observation, and that in all their
changes they continue to have some shape, size and
position. If it could be shown that nothing in the
world actually has such properties as these, it would
commonly be held that the existence of Matter had
been disproved, even though there were public, inde-
pendent, and persistent objects.
Berkeley, e.g., is commonly held to have denied
the existence of Matter, and he certainly thought
himself that he had done so. Yet Berkeley's theory
undoubtedly involves the existence of certain entities,
viz., the volitions (and perhaps the sensations) of God,
which are independent of the mind of any finite observer
and are neutral as between my mind and yours. The
reason why we say that, if Berkeley be right, there is
no Matter, is because the volitions of God, though
neutral and independent of us observers, have nothing
corresponding to shape, size, and position ; whilst the
only entities which Berkeley allows to have these
attributes, viz., our sensations, are private to each of
us, and exist only so long as we have them. Very
few philosophers have denied that there are entities
answering to the first three conditions, but a great
many have denied that there are any answering both
MATTER AND ITS APPEARANCES 233
to these and to the fourth condition. Such philosophers
are held by themselves and by common-sense to have
denied the existence of Matter. Now we shall have
plenty of opportunity for seeing that there is a real
difficulty in holding that the entities which have shapes,
sizes, and positions are neutral and independent, and
that those which are neutral and independent have
shapes, sizes, and positions.
Before we consider these points in detail at all we
must mention an additional complication which, though
partly verbal, is sure to puzzle us if we do not resolutely
drag it into the light. No doubt it is part of what we
mean by a bit of Matter that it shall, in some sense, have
shape, size, and position. But in how literal a sense
must this be true? We have already seen that, in some
sense, an extension or a duration is composed of points
or of instants respectively. But this sense is highly
complicated and sophisticated, or, to use a happy
phrase of Dr G. E. Moore's, "Pickwickian." Now
we shall doubtless be able to find Pickwickian senses
in which there are entities that are at once public and
extended. The question is : How Pickwickian may
the terms in our statement become before it ceases to
be useful, and becomes merely misleading, to say that
we accept the existence of matter? Our theological
friends have much the same difficulties in their inter-
pretations of the terms that are used in the Creeds. It
could obviously only be true in a highly Pickwickian
sense that the Second Person of the Trinity is the son
of the First. No one supposes it to be true in the
literal sense in which George V is the son of Edward
VII ; and the only substantial point at issue is whether
the sense in which it might be true (assuming, for the
sake of argument, that the Persons exist) is not so
extremely Pickwickian that the statement is more likely
to mislead than to enlighten. Fortunately for us the
terminology of our problem is not surrounded with the
same emotional fringe as surrounds the terms used in
Q
234 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
Theology. It is no part of our duty to pay compliments
to Matter, and so long as we state clearly what we do
mean, it is of little importance whether our terms be
used in a literal or in a highly Pickwickian sense. It
will be a question of taste whether it shall be said that
the theory that we finally adopt amounts to the accept-
ance or the denial of Matter. If we should be accused
of saying that " Matter is not Matter," we shall at least
be better off than *Dr F. R. Tennant, who labours under
the dreadful imputation of teaching that "Sin is not
Sin."
The Notion of Sensible Appearance. — I have now tried to
point out what is the irreducible minimum of properties
which ordinary people consider must be possessed by
anything if it is to count as a piece of Matter. I have
also pointed out, by anticipation, that the history of
philosophy shows there to be a great difficulty in
holding that there are any entities which fulfil all these
conditions in a literal sense. Lastly, we have noticed
that the question of the reality or unreality of Matter,
thus defined, is not perfectly clear-cut, because of the
practical certainty that many of our terms will have to be
interpreted in a more or less Pickwickian manner, and
the doubt whether it is worth while to go on using
familiar phrases after their literal meaning has been
departed from beyond a certain point. We must now
consider what facts make it hard to believe that anything
obeys all four conditions in at all a literal sense.
The difficulty arises because of the group of facts
which we sum up by saying that it is necessary to
distinguish between things as they are and things as
they seem to us, or between physical reality and sensible
appearance. Difficulties always arise when two sets of
properties apparently belong to the same object, and
yet are apparently incompatible with each other. Now
the difficulty here is to reconcile the supposed neutrality,
persistence, and independence of a physical object with
* See his Origin of Sin.
MATTER AND ITS APPEARANCES 235
the obvious differences between its various sensible
appearances to different observers at the same moment,
and to the same observer at different moments between
which it is held not to have undergone any physical
change. We know, e.g., that when we lay a penny
down on a table and view it from different positions it
generally looks more or less elliptical in shape. The
eccentricity of these various appearances varies as we
move about, and so does the direction of their major
axes. Now we hold that the penny, at which we say
that we were looking all the time, has not changed ;
and that it is round, and not elliptical, in shape. This
is, of course, only one example out of millions. It would
be easy to offer much wilder ones ; but it is simple and
obvious, and involves no complications about a trans-
mitting medium ; so we will start with it as a typical
case to discuss.
Now there is nothing in the mere ellipticity or the
mere variation, taken by itself, to worry us. The
difficulty arises because of the incompatibility between
the apparent shapes and the supposed real shape, and
between the change in the appearances and the supposed
constancy of the physical object. We need not at
present ask why we believe that there is a single
physical object with these characteristics, which appears
to us in all these different ways. It is a fact that
we do believe it. It is an equally certain fact that
the penny does look different as we move about.
The difficulty is to reconcile the different appearances
with the supposed constancy of the penny, and the
ellipticity of most of the appearances with the supposed
roundness of the penny. It is probable that at first
sight the reader will not see much difficulty in this.
He will be inclined to say that we can explain these
various visual appearances by the laws of perspective,
and so on. This is not a relevant answer. It is quite
true that we can predict what particular appearance an
object will present to an observer, when we know the
236 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
shape of the object and its position with respect to
the observer. But this is not the question that is
troubling' us at present. Our question is as to the
compatibility of these changing elliptical appearances,
however they may be correlated with other facts in
the world, with the supposed constancy and roundness
of the physical object.
Now what I call Sensible Appearance is just a general
name for such facts as I have been describing. It is
important, here as always, to state the facts in a form
to which everyone will agree, before attempting any
particular analysis of them, with which it is certain
that many people will violently disagree. The funda-
mental fact is that we constantly make such judgments
as: " This seems to me elliptical, or red, or hot," as the
case may be, and that about the truth of these judgments
we do not feel the least doubt. We may, however, at
the same time doubt or positively disbelieve that this
is elliptical, or red, or hot. I may be perfectly certain
at one and the same time that I have the peculiar
experience expressed by the judgment: "This looks
elliptical to me," and that in fact the object is not
elliptical but is round.
I do not suppose that anyone, on reflection, will
quarrel with this statement of fact. The next question
is as to the right way to analyse such facts ; and it is
most important not to confuse the facts themselves
with any particular theory as to how they ought to
be analysed. We may start with a negative remark,
which seems to me to be true, and is certainly of the
utmost importance if it be true. Appearance is not
merely mistaken judgment about physical objects. When
I judge that a penny looks elliptical I am not mistakenly
ascribing elliptical shape to what is in fact round.
Sensible appearances may lead me to make a mistaken
judgment about physical objects, but they need not, and,
so far as we know, commonly do not. My certainty
that the penny looks elliptical exists comfortably along-
MATTER AND ITS APPEARANCES 237
side of my conviction that it is round. But a mistaken
judgment that the penny is elliptical would not continue
to exist after I knew that the penny was really round.
The plain fact is then that "looking elliptical to me"
stands for a peculiar expedience, which, whatever the -*
right analysis of it may be, is not just a mistaken
judgment about the shape of the penny.
Appearance then cannot be described as mistaken
judgment about the properties of some physical object.
How are we to describe it, and can we analyse it? Two
different types of theory seem to be possible, which I
will call respectively the Multiple Relation Theory, and
the Object Theory of sensible appearance. The Multiple
Relation Theory takes the view that " appearing to be
so and so" is a unique kind of relation between an
object, a mind, and a characteristic. (This is a rough
statement, but it will suffice for the present.) On this
type of theory to say that the penny looks elliptical to
me is to say that a unique and not further analysable
relation of "appearing" holds between the penny, my
mind, and the general characteristic of ellipticity. The
essential point for us to notice at present about theories
of this kind is that they do not imply that we are aware
of anything that really is elliptical when we have the
experience which we express by saying that the penny
looks elliptical to us. Theories of this type have been
suggested lately by Professor Dawes Hicks and by
Dr G. E. Moore. So far, they have not been worked
out in any great detail, but they undoubtedly deserve
careful attention.
Theories of the Object type are quite different.
They do not involve a unique and unanalysable
multiple relation of " appean;/^"," but a peculiar kind
of object — an "appear«/z^." Such objects, it is held,
actually do have the characteristics which the physical
object seems to have. Thus the Object Theory analyses
the statement that the penny looks to me elliptical into
a statement which involves the actual existence of an
238 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
elliptical object, which stands in a certain cognitive
relation to me on the one hand, and in another relation,
yet to be determined, to the round penny. This type
of theory, though it has been much mixed up with
irrelevant matter, and has never been clearly stated and
worked out till our own day, is of respectable antiquity.
The doctrine of "representative ideas" is the tradi-
tional and highly muddled form of it. It lies at the
basis of such works as Russell's Lowell Lectures on the
External World. In this book I shall deliberately con-
fine myself to this type of theory, and shall try to state
it clearly, and work it out in detail.
The following" additional works may be consulted
with advantage :
G. E. Moork, Philosophical Studies, V. and VII.
G. D. HlCKS, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 1913, 1916.
G. F. Stout, Manual of Psychology, Bk. III., Part II. Cap. I.
,, „ Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 19 13.
CHAPTER VIII
" Jack. — That, my dear Algy, is the whole truth, pure and
simple.
" Algernon. — The truth is rarely pure and never simple.
Modern life would be very tedious if it were either, and modern
literature a complete impossibility."
(Wilde, Importance of being Earnest.)
The Theory of Sensa, and the Critical
Scientific Theory
I propose now to state more fully the theory that
appearances are a peculiar kind of objects, and to con-
sider what sort of objects they must be. The reader
will bear in mind throughout the whole of the long
story which follows that there is a totally different view
of sensible appearance, viz., the Multiple Relation
Theory, and that this may quite possibly be true.
In this book I shall leave it wholly aside. On the
theory that we are now going to discuss, whenever
a penny looks to me elliptical, what really happens
is that I am aware of an object which is, in fact
elliptical. This object is connected in some specially
intimate way with the round physical penny, and for
this reason is called an appearance of the penny. It
really is elliptical, and for this reason the penny is said
to look elliptical. We may generalise this theory of
sensible appearance as follows : Whenever I truly
judge that x appears to me to have the sensible quality
q, what happens is that I am directly aware of a certain
object y, which (a) really does have the quality q, and
(a) stands in some peculiarly intimate relation, yet to
be determined, to x. (At the present stage, for all that
we know, y might sometimes be identical with x, or
239
240 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
might be literally a part of x.) Such objects as y I
am going to call Sensa. Thus, when I look at a penny
from the side, what happens, on the present theory,
is at least this : I have a sensation, whose object is an
elliptical, brown sensum ; and this sensum is related
in some specially intimate way to a certain round
physical object, viz., the penny.
Now 1 think it must at least be admitted that the
sensum theory is highly plausible. When I look at a
penny from the side I am certainly aware of something ;
and it is certainly plausible to hold that this something
is elliptical in the same plain sense in which a suitably
bent piece of wire, looked_at from straight above, is
elliptical. If, in fact, nothing elliptical is before my
mind, it is very hard to understand why the penny
should seem elliptical rather than of any other shape.
I do not now regard this argument as absolutely con-
clusive, because I am inclined to think that the Multiple
Relation theory can explain these facts also. But it is
at least a good enough argument to make the sensum
theory well worth further consideration.
Assuming that when I look at a penny from the side I
am directly aware of something which is in fact elliptical,
it is clear that this something cannot be identified with
the penny, if the latter really has the characteristics that
it is commonly supposed to have. The penny is sup-
posed to be round, whilst the sensum is elliptical. Again,
the penny is supposed to keep the same shape and size
as we move about, whilst the sensa alter in shape and
size. Now one and the same thing cannot, at the same
time and in the same sense, be round and elliptical. Nor
can one and the same thing at once change its shape
and keep its shape unaltered, if "shape" be used in the
same sense in both statements. Thus it is certain that,
if there be sensa, they cannot in general be identified
with the physical objects of which they are the appear-
ances, if these literally have the properties commonly
assigned to them. On the other hand, all that I ever
THEORY OF SENSA 241
come to know about physical objects and their qualities
seems to be based upon the qualities of the sensa that
I become aware of in sense-perception. If the visual
sensa were not elliptical and did not vary in certain
ways as I move about, I should not judge that I was
seeing a round penny. t
The distinction between sensum and physical object
can perhaps be made still clearer by taking some wilder
examples. Consider, e.g., the case of looking at a stick
which is half in water and half in air. We say that it
looks bent. And we certainly do not mean by this that
we mistakenly judge it to be bent; we generally make
no such mistake. We are aware of an object which is
very much like what we should be aware of if we were
looking at a stick with a physical kink in it, immersed
wholly in air. The most obvious analysis of the facts
is that, when we judge that a straight stick looks bent,
we are aware of an object which really is bent, and
which is related in a peculiarly intimate way to the
physically straight stick. The relation cannot be that
of identity ; since the same thing cannot at once be bent
and straight, in the same sense of these words. If there
be nothing with a kink in it before our minds at the
moment, why should we think then of kinks at all, as
we do when we say that the stick looks bent? No doubt
we can quite well mistakenly believe a property to be
present which is really absent, when we are dealing
with something that is only known to us indirectly, like
Julius Cagsar or the North Pole. But in our example
we are dealing with a concrete visible object, which is
bodily present to our senses ; and it is very hard to
understand how we could seem to ourselves to see the
property of bentness exhibited in a concrete instance,
if in fact nothing was present to our minds that possessed
that property.
As I want to make the grounds for the sensum theory
as clear as possible, I will take one more example.
Scientists often assert that physical objects are not
242 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
" reallv " red or hot. We are not at present concerned
with the truth or falsehood of this strange opinion, but
only with its application to our present problem. Let
us suppose then, for the sake of argument, that it is
true. When a scientist looks at a penny stamp or
burns his mouth with a potato he has exactly the same
sort of experience as men of baser clay, who know
nothing of the scientific theories of light and heat.
The visual experience seems to be adequately described
by saying that each of them is aware of a red patch
of approximately square shape. If such patches be
not in fact red, and if people be not in fact aware of
such patches, where could the notion of red or of any
other colour have come from ? The scientific theory
of colour would have nothing to explain, unless people
really are aware of patches under various circumstances
which really do have different colours. The scientists
would be in the position of Mr Munro's duchess, who
congratulated herself that unbelief had become impos-
sible, as the Liberal Theologians had left us nothing
to disbelieve in. Thus we seem forced to the view
that there are at least hot and coloured sensa ; and, if
we accept the scientific view that physical objects are
neither hot nor coloured, it will follow that sensa cannot
be identified with physical objects.
The reader may be inclined to say, " After all, these
sensa are not real ; they are mere appearances, so why
trouble about them ? " The answer is that you do not
get rid of anything by labelling it "appearance."
Appearances are as real in their, own way as anything
else. If an appearance were nothing at all, nothing
would appear, and if nothing appeared, there would be
nothing for scientific theories to account for. To put
the matter in another way: Words like real and reality
are ambiguous. A round penny and an elliptical visual
sensum are not real in precisely the same sense. But
both are real in the most general sense that a complete
inventory of the universe must mention the one as
THEORY OF SENSA 243
much as the other. No doubt the kind of reality which
is to be ascribed to appearances will vary with the
particular type of theory as to the nature of sensible
appearance that we adopt. On the present theory an
appearance is a sensum, and a sensum is a particular
existent, though it may be a short-lived one. On the
Multiple Relation theory appearances have a very
different type of reality. But all possible theories have
to admit the reality, in some sense, of appearances ; and
therefore it is no objection to any particular theory
that it ascribes a sort of reality to appearances.
I hope that I have now made fairly clear the grounds
on which the sensum theory of sensible appearance
has been put forward. Closely connected with it is a
theory about the perception of physical objects, and
we may sum up the whole view under discussion as
follows : Under certain conditions I have states of
mind called sensations. These sensations have objects,
which are always concrete particular existents, like
coloured or hot patches, noises, smells, etc. Such
objects are called sensa. Sensa have properties, such
as shape, size, hardness, colour, loudness, coldness,
and so on. The existence of such sensa, and their
presence to our minds in sensation, lead us to judge
that a physical object exists and is present to our
senses. To this physical object we ascribe various
properties. These properties are not in general identical
with those of the sensum which is before our minds
at the moment. For instance, the elliptical sensum
makes us believe in the existence of a round physical
penny. Nevertheless, all the properties that we do
ascribe to physical objects are based upon and correlated
with the properties that actually characterise our sensa.
The sensa that are connected with a physical object
1 in a certain specially intimate way are called the
appearances of that object to those observers who sense
these sensa. The properties which x is said to appear
to have are the properties which those sensa that are
244 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
.vs appearances really do have. Of course, the two
properties may happen to be the same, e.g., when I look
straight down on a penny, both the physical object and
the visual appearance are round. Generally, however,
there is only a correlation between the two.
It follows from this theory that sensa cannot appear
to have properties which they do not really have, though
there is no reason why they should not have more
properties than we do or can notice in them. This point
perhaps needs a little more elaboration, since a good
deal of nonsense has been talked by opponents of the
sensum theory in this connexion. We must distinguish
between failing to notice what is present in an object
and " noticing " what is not present in an object. The
former presents no special difficulty. There may well
be in any object much which is too minute and obscure
for us to recognise distinctly. Again, it is obvious
that we may sense an object without necessarily being
aware of all its relations even to another object that
we sense at the same time. Still more certain is it
that we may sense an object without being aware of
all its relations to some other object which we are not
sensing at the time. Consequently, there is no difficulty
whatever in supposing that sensa may be much more
differentiated than we think them to be, and that two
sensa may really differ in quality when we think that
they are exactly alike. Arguments such as Stumpfs
render it practically certain that the latter possibility
is in fact realised.
The real difficulty is when we seem to be directly
aware of some property in an object, and this property
is not really present and is perhaps incompatible with
others which are present. This is the kind of difficulty
that the sensum theory is put forward to meet. We
seem to recognise elliptical shape in the penny, when
the penny really has the incompatible quality of round-
ness. The solution which the sensum theory offers is to
" change the subject." Something, it admits, is elliptical,
THEORY OF SENSA 245
and something is round ; but they are not the same
something. What is round is the penny, what is ellip-
tical is the sensum. Now clearly, this would be no
solution, if the same sort of difficulty were to break
out in sensa themselves. In that case we should need
to postulate appearances of appearances, and so on
indefinitely.
We must hold, as regards positive sensible qualities
which characterise a sensum as a whole and do not
involve relations to other sensa, that a sensum is at
least all that it appears to be. Now, so far as I know,
there is no evidence to the contrary. Some people have
thought that arguments like Stumpf's raised this diffi-
culty ; but that is simply a mistake. Stumpf's argu-
ment deals merely with the relation of qualitative
likeness and difference between different sensa, and
shows that we may think that two of them are exactly
alike when there is really a slight qualitative or quanti-
tative difference between them. This has no tendency to
prove that we ever find a positive non-relational quality
in a sensum, which is not really there.
Next, we must remember that attributes which in-
volve a negative factor often have positive names. A
man might quite well think, on inspecting one of his
sensa, that it was exactly round and uniformly red.
And he might well be mistaken. But then, "exactly
round" means "with no variation of curvature," and
"uniformly red" means "with no variation of shade
from one part to another." Now universal negative
judgments like these can never be guaranteed by mere-
inspection ; and so, in such cases, the man is not "see-
ing properties that are not there " in the sense in which
he would be doing so if a round sensum appeared to
him to be elliptical. To sum up, it is no objection to
the sensum theory that a sensum may seem to be less
differentiated than it is ; it would be a fatal objection
if a sensum ever seemed more differentiated than it is ;
but we have no evidence that the latter ever happens.
246 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
Before going further we must remove a baseless
prejudice which is sometimes felt against the sensum
theory. It is often objected that we are not aware of
sensa and their properties, as a rule, unless we specially
look for them. It is a fact that it often needs a good
deal of persuasion to make a man believe that, when
he looks at a penny from the side, it seems elliptical
to him. And I am afraid that very often, when he is
persuaded, it is not by his own direct inspection (which
is the only relevant evidence in such a matter), but by
some absurd and irrelevant argument that the area of
his retina affected by the light from the penny, is an
oblique projection of a circle, and is therefore an ellipse.
Accordingly, it is argued that we have no right to
believe that such a man is directly sensing an object
which is, in fact, elliptical. To this objection a partial
answer has already been given, by implication. It is
only when we are looking at a penny almost normally
that any doubt is felt of the ellipticity of the sensum ;
and, in that case, the sensum is, in fact, very nearly
round. Now we have seen that it is no objection to
our theory that a sensum which is not quite round
should be thought to be exactly round, though it would
be an objection if an exactly round sensum seemed to
be elliptical. The reason, of course, is that an ellipse,
with its variable curvature, is a more differentiated figure
than a circle, with its uniform curvature. There is no
difficulty in the fact that we overlook minute differentia-
tions that are really present in our sensa ; difficulties
would only arise if we seemed to notice distinctions that
are not really present.
Apart, however, from this special answer, a more
general reply can be made to the type of objection under
discussion. The whole argument rests on a misunder-
standing of the view about perception which the sensum
theory holds. If the theory were that, in perceiving a
penny, a man first becomes aware of a sensum, then
notices that it is elliptical, and then infers from this
THEORY OF SENSA 247
fact and the laws of perspective that he is looking at
a round physical object, the argument would be fatal
to the theory. But this is quite obviously not what
happens. Perceptual judgments are indeed based upon
sensa and their properties to this extent, that if we were
not aware of a sensum we should not now judge that
any physical object is present to our senses, and that
if this sensum had different properties we should ascribe
different properties to the physical object. But the
relation between the sensum and its properties, on the
one hand, and the perceptual judgment about the physical
object, on the other, is not that of inference. The best
analogy that we can offer to the relation between our
sensing of a sensum and our perceiving a physical
object, is to be found in the case of reading a book in
a familiar language. What interests us as a rule is the
meaning of the printed words, and not the peculiarities
of the print. We do not explicitly notice the latter,
unless there be something markedly wrong with it,
such as a letter upside down. Nevertheless, if there
were no print we should cognise no meaning, and if the
print were different in certain specific ways we should
cognise a different meaning. We can attend to the
print itself if we choose, as in proof-reading. In exactly
the same way, we are not as a rule interested in sensa,
as such, but only in what we think they can tell us
about physical objects, which alone can help or hurt
us. Sensa themselves "cut no ice." We therefore
pass automatically from the sensum and its properties
to judgments about the physical object and its properties.
If it should happen that the sensum is queer, as when
we see double, we notice the sensum, as we notice an
inverted letter. And, even in normal cases, we generally
can detect the properties of sensa, and contrast them
with those which they are leading us to ascribe to the
physical object, provided that we make a special effort
of attention.
From what has just been said, it will not appear
248 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
strange that, even though there be sensa, they should
have been overlooked by most plain men and by many
philosophers. Of course, everyone is constantly sensing
them, and, in specially abnormal cases, has noted the
difference between them and physical objects. But
sensa have never been objects of special interest, and
therefore have never been given a name in common
speech. A result of this is that all words like "seeing,"
" hearing," etc., are ambiguous. They stand sometimes
for acts of sensing, whose objects are of course sensa,
and sometimes for acts of perceiving, whose objects are
supposed to be bits of matter and their sensible qualities.
This is especially clear about hearing. We talk of
"hearing a noise" and of "hearing a bell." In the
first case we mean that we are sensing an auditory
sensum, with certain attributes of pitch, loudness,
quality, etc. In the second case we mean that, in
consequence of sensing such a sensum, we judge that
a certain physical object exists and is present to our
senses. Here the word "hearing" stands for an act
of perceiving. Exactly the same remarks apply to
sight. In one sense we see a penny ; in a somewhat
stricter sense we see only one side of the penny ; in
another sense we see only a brown elliptical sensum.
The first two uses refer to acts of perceiving, the last
to an act of sensing. It is best on the whole to confine
words like "seeing" and "hearing" to acts of per-
ceiving. This is, of course, their ordinary use. I shall
therefore talk of seeing a penny, but not of seeing a
brown elliptical sensum. I shall speak of the latter
kind of cognition as "visually sensing," or merely as
"sensing," when no misunderstanding is to be feared
by dropping the adjective. This distinction will be
found important when we come to deal with illusory
perceptions.
I have now tried to clear up certain ambiguities in
the sensum theory, and to remove certain mistaken
objections which many folk feel against it. If it be
THEORY OF SENSA 249
admitted that there may be such things as sensa, and
that the sensum theory at least provides a possible and
even plausible way of analysing sensible appearance,
we can pass to the question of the nature of sensa and
their status in the universe. This splits into two
questions, viz., (i) the relation of sensa to minds ; and
(ii) their relation to physical objects. Neither of these
can be completely answered at the present stage, but
we can say a good deal here that is relevant, and will be
useful, about them.
(i) Are Sensa in any way Mental ? — Sensa have been
supposed by many philosophers to be in some way
mental. This opinion is based partly on sheer verbal
confusions, and partly on genuine facts. The verbal
confusion is that the word "sensation" has often been
used ambiguously, and that, in one of its meanings, it
does undoubtedly stand for something that is mental.
When a man talks of a "sensation of red," he is some-
times referring to a red patch which he senses, some-
times to his act of sensing the patch, and sometimes to
the whole complex state of affairs which, on the sensum
theory, is analysable into (act of sensing) — directed on
to — (red patch). In the second meaning, "sensation"
is obviously mental ; in the third it is undoubtedly a
complex whole which involves a mental factor. In the
first meaning it is by no means obvious or even plausible
to say that a sensation is mental. I shall always use
"sensation" in the third meaning. Now, as the same
name is thus often used, both for the patch and for
something which undoubtedly is mental, or is a complex,
involving a mental factor, it is not surprising that some
people should have been inclined to think that the red
patch is itself mental. For is it not a "sensation"?
And is not a sensation a mental state? This is, of
course, mere verbal confusion, and need not trouble
us further. But philosophers who have not fallen into
this confusion between sensum, sensation, and act of
R
250 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
sensing, have yet held that sensa are mental. The most
important living holder of this view is Professor Stout
(at any rate he held it at the time when he wrote the
last edition of his Manual of Psychology.
Before we can profitably carry the discussion of this
point further, we must clear up the various meanings
which can be attached to the statement " x is mental."
(i) The first distinction that we must draw is between
being " a state of mind " and being " mind-dependent."
It is commonly held (and I do not here propose to
question it) that whatever is a state of mind is mind-
dependent, i.e., that it could not exist except as a con-
stituent of a mind, and, in fact, that it could only exist
as a constituent of that particular mind, whose state it
is said to be. An example would be my belief that
2 + 2 = 4 or mv desire for my tea. But it seems perfectly
possible that a term might be mind-dependent without
being a state of anyone's mind. What would this
mean? I think it would mean that such a term can
only exist as a constituent of a state of mind, but that
it is not itself a constituent of a mind. Take some
admitted state of mind, such as my perception of my
table. There is clearly an important sense which we
can all recognise, even though none of us can define it,
in which it is true to say that this perception is a
constituent of my mind, whilst the table is not. I
should say that there was also an important (though
<very different) sense in which it is true to say that the
table is a constituent of my perception of it, so long as
that perception lasts. It is thus quite common for a
term to be a constituent of one of my states of mind
without being a constituent (and therefore without being
a state) of my mind. Now, if chairs are anything like
what they are commonly supposed to be, they do not
only exist as constituents of states of mind, since it is
commonly believed that such things go on existing
with little or no change of quality when we cease to
perceive them. But, just as states of mind can only
THEORY OF SENSA 251
exist as constituents of minds, so there might be terms
which can only exist as constituents of states of mind.
Such terms would be mind-dependent without being
states of mind. If Berkeley's famous saying that "the
essence of a sensible object is to be perceived " be taken
quite literally, it implies that such objects are mind-
dependent, whilst it does not imply (though it is, of
course, consistent with) the view that they are states
of mind.
(2) Even when this distinction has been drawn, there
is a possibility of confusion. We must distinguish a
more and a less radical sense of "mind-dependence."
The sense just discussed is the more radical, and may
be termed "existential mind-dependence." A term that
is existentially mind-dependent, though not a state of
mind, can only exist as a constituent of a certain state
of mind. But a term which was not existentially mind-
dependent, might be to a certain extent "qualitatively
mind-dependent." By this I mean that, although it
can exist and have qualities when it is not a constituent
of any state of mind, it might acquire some new qualities
or alter some of its old qualities on becoming a con-
stituent of a state of mind. It is certain that everything
that at some period in its history becomes a constituent
of any state of mind thereby acquires at least one new
quality, viz., that it is now cognised, or desired, or
shunned, or so on, by that mind. And I do not see
any reason in principle why these changes of relation
should not produce changes in the non-relational
qualities of the object. If wax melts when brought
into the relation of proximity to a fire, I know no reason
why some qualities of an object should not be added
or modified when it comes into the relation of being
sensed by a mind.
(3) Some psychologists, of whom Stout is one, draw
a fundamental distinction between two sorts of states of
mind. They divide them into acts and non-acts. And a
state of mind which is not an act they call a presentation.
252 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
1 propose to state this distinction in a different way,
for reasons which I will now explain. A little while
ago I took my perception of my table as an undoubted
example of a state of mind. And I said that there was
no doubt that the table is a constituent of it. That is,
I took the whole complex situation (my perceiving) — of
—(table) as a state of mind. What Stout calls an
"act" is " my perceiving." He calls this a "state of
mind," 1 call it a "constituent of a state of mind."
The table is not a constituent of the state of mind, in
Stout's sense of the word, whilst it is a constituent
of the state of mind, in my sense of the word. In
my terminology the act may be described as the non-
objective constituent in a state of mind whose other
constituent is its object. An act is something which
cannot exist by itself, but can only exist as a constituent
in a complex, whose other constituent is its object.
And it is, of course, the characteristically mental factor
in such a complex, since the other constituent may
(though it need not) be non-mental. My reason for
calling the whole complex fact, and not the act itself,
a state of mind, is the following : Practically everyone
agrees that there are such things as states of mind.
And practically everyone agrees that the phrase "my
perception of the table " describes something real.
But people differ greatly as to the right analysis of
this fact, and the notion of "act" is connected with
one special mode of analysis which would not be
accepted by everyone. It therefore seems better to give
the name "state of mind" to the fact which everyone
admits to exist, and not to a supposed constituent,
which some people deny to be present in it.
It is quite easy to restate the distinction which Stout
has in mind in terms of my phraseology. Some mental
states can be analysed into an act directed on an object.
These are non-presentational states of mind. Others
cannot be analysed into act and object. These are pre-
sentations. A non-presentational state may contain a
THEORY OF SENSA 253
presentation as object. For instance, a feeling of tooth-
ache would be a presentation on Stout's view. For,
according to him, it is mental and is not analysable into
an act of sensing and a " toothachy " object ; it is just
a "toothachy" state of mind. Now, if I were to intro-
spect my toothache, in order to describe it to my
dentist, my introspection would be a non-presentational
mental state whose object is a presentation ; for it is a
complex containing an act of introspecting directed on
to a toothachy feeling. The perception of a chair would
be an example of a non-presentational mental state,
whose object is not a presentation, because not mental.
We are now in a better position to deal with the
question: " Are sensa mental? " This might mean (1)
Are they acts? (2) Are they states of mind analysable
into act and object? (3) Are they presentations? (4) Are
they existentially mind-dependent, though not states of
mind? (5) Are they to some extent qualitatively mind-
dependent, though not existentially mind-dependent?
No one has ever suggested that sensa are acts or
that they are states of mind analysable into act and
object. A red patch sensed by me when I look at a
pillar-box is an example of a sensum. It is plausible
to hold that the whole fact known as " mv sensation of
the red patch " is a state of mind, analysable into act of
sensing and red patch sensed. But there would be no
plausibility in holding that the red patch itself was an
act, or that it was itself divisible into act and object.
Thus, if sensa be states of mind at all, they must be
presentations. Now, there are two very different views
included under the statement that sensa are presenta-
tions. The first would deny the analysis of " my
sensation of red patch " into act of sensing and red
sensum. It would treat the whole thing- as an un-
analysable state of mind, and therefore as a presentation.
This view would hold that there is no real distinction
between sensa and sensations. It would say that
"sensation of red patch " = " red patch sensed," and
254 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
is a presentation.* The second view would admit that
in mv sensation of red we can distinguish my act of
sensing and the red patch sensed ; but it would hold
that the red patch is itself a state of mind, and, being
indivisible into act and object, .is a presentation. I do
not think that most philosophers have very clearly
distinguished these two varieties of the presentational
theory of sensa. Moreover, those philosophers who
have accepted the analysis of sensations into acts of
sensing and sensa, and have asserted that sensa are
mental, have seldom clearly distinguished the alterna-
tives that sensa are presentations and that sensa are
mind-dependent without being states of mind. And
lastly, the distinction between existential and qualitative
mind-dependence has not always been clearly seen. So ,\
that there is a very pretty mess for us to wipe up as
well as we can. •
(i) Are Sensations analy sable into Act of Sensing and
Sensum ? The most plausible argument against this
analysis would seem 'to be the following: If we
consider the various experiences called "sensations,"
we seem to be able to arrange them in an order,
starting with those of sight, passing through those of
taste and smell, and ending with bodily sensations, like
headache. Now, as regards the top members of the
series, the analysis into act of sensing and object sensed
seems pretty clear. A sensation of red seems clearly to
mean a state of mind with a red object, and not to mean
a red state of mind.
If we now pass to the other end of the series the
opposite seems to be true. It is by no means obvious
that a sensation of headache involves an act of sensing
and a "headachy" object; on the contrary, it seems
on the whole more plausible to describe the whole
experience as a "headachy" state of mind. In fact
the distinction of act and object seems here to have
* This seems to be Stout's view in the Manual of Psychology, but I may
be misinterpreting him.
THEORY OF SENSA 255
vanished ; and, as there is clearly something mental in
feeling a headache, just as there is in sensing" a red
patch, it seems plausible to hold that a sensation of
headache is an unanalysable mental fact, within which
no distinction of act and object can be found.
Now this contrast between the top and the bottom
members of the series would not greatly matter, were
it not for the fact that the two kinds of sensation seem
to melt insensibly into each other at the middle of the
series. It is about equally plausible to analyse a
sensation of a sweet taste into an act of sensing and a
sweet sensum, or to treat it as an unanalysable mental
fact, having no object, but possessing the property of
sweetness. Common speech recognises these distinc-
tions. We talk of a sensation of red, but never of a
feeling of red or of a red feeling. On the other hand,
we talk indifferently of a sensation'of headache, a feeling
of headache, a headachy sensation, and a headachy
feeling. The English talk of a sensation of smell,
whereas the Scots more usually speak of "feeling" a
smell. Now sensations of smell are just on the border-
line between the two kinds of sensation. The rule is
that, when a sensuous experience seems clearly to
involve act and object, it is called a sensation and never
a feeling ; when it is doubtful whether any such analysis
can be applied, it is called indifferently a feeling or a
sensation.
Now the fact that all these experiences are classed
together as sensations, and that the two kinds melt into
each other at the middle of the series, naturally tempts
men to treat them all alike. If we do this, we must
hold either (a) that it is a mistake to think that a
sensation of red can be analysed into an act of sensing
and a red sensum ; or (f3) that it is a mistake to think
that a sensation of headache cannot be analysed into an
act of sensing and a headachy sensum. The former
alternative makes sensation and sensum fall together
into a single peculiar state, even in the case of sight ;
256 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
and, since the experience as a whole certainly is mental,
we have to say that a sensation of red = a red sensum =
a feeling or presentation which is red. The second
alternative is that which is taken by Realists, like
Professors Laird and Alexander.
Now it is evident that, if you insist on treating all
experiences which are called "sensations" in the same
way, it is antecedently as reasonable to take the Laird-
Alexander alternative as the Presentationist alternative.
You might argue : " It is obvious that a sensation of
red involves an act of sensing and a red sensum, so a
sensation of headache must involve an act of sensing
and a headachy sensum." Thus the mere fact that
sensations can be arranged in a series, such as I have
described, does not specially favour the presentationist
view ; since exactly the same type of argument, starting
from the other end of the series, would lead to exactly
the opposite conclusion. There are just two remarks that
seem to me worth making at this point.
(a) I do not find either the realist or the presentationist
view very satisfactory as a complete account of all the
experiences which are called "sensations." But, if I
were forced to take one alternative or the other, I should
prefer the former. It seems to me much more certain
that, in a sensation of red, I can distinguish the red
patch and the act of sensing it, than that, in a sensation
of headache, I cannot distinguish a headachy object and
an act of sensing it. {b) I think, however, that there is
no need to insist on the realist analysis of bodily feelings
in order to deal with the question whether sensations
be analysable into act of sensing and sensum. It seems
to me that the simplest and least doubtful way of treating
the whole question raised by the series of sensations is
the following: The word "sensation," as commonly
used, is defined, not by direct inspection, but by causa-
tion. We say that we are having a sensation, if our
state of mind is the immediate response to the stimula-
tion of a nerve. Now, since sensations are not defined
THEORY OF SENSA 257
psychologically through their intrinsic properties, but
physiologically through their bodily antecedents, it is
surely very likely that they may include two very
different kinds of experience, one of which can and the
other cannot be analysed into act of sensing and sensum.
These might be called respectively "true sensations"
and "bodily feelings." The mere fact that both are
often called "sensations" is surely a very poor reason
for insisting that thestructure of both must be the same.^j,
It is true indeed that there are marginal cases of which
it is very difficult to say into which class they fall. But
this ought not to make us slur over the plain intro-
spective difference between the top and the bottom
members of the series. The top ones at least do seem
quite clearly to involve acts of sensing and sensa on
which these acts are directed. It does seem clear that,
when I have a sensation of a red triangular patch, some
things are true of the patch itself {e.g., that it is red and
triangular) which it is very difficult to believe to be true
of my sensation of the red patch. If so, it seems neces-
sary to hold that the sensation and the sensum are not
identical ; that the sensum is an objective constituent
of the sensation ; and that there is another constituent
which is not objective and may be called "the act of
sensing." Into the question whether this latter factor
is capable of further analysis, and, if so, what the right
analysis of it may be, it is fortunately not necessary to
go for our present purposes.
I conclude, then, that some sensations at least are
analysable into act of sensing and sensum, and there-
fore that we cannot argue that sensum = sensation =
a presentation.
(2) Are Sensa, though distinct from Sensations, them-
selves Presentations ? Though sensations are not pre-
sentations but contain objects, which are sensa, it is
perfectly possible that these objects might themselves
be presentations. To prove that sensa are presentations,
it would be necessary to prove that they are states of
258 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
mind. And this involves proving (a) that they are
existentially mind-dependent, and (/>) that they are
constituents of minds and not merely of certain states
of mind. Obviously it might be possible to prove the
first, even if it were not possible to prove the second, of
these propositions. I do not know of any reasonably
plausible argument to prove that sensa are not merely
mind-dependent, but are also states of mind, once you
accept the view that sensa must be distinguished from
sensations. Indeed, the assertion would be open to
the same kind of objection which we made to the view
that sensa and sensations can be identified. On either
view something is said to be a state of mind, though it
possesses properties which it is very difficult to ascribe
to states of mind. If a sensum be a state of mind, then
there are states of mind which are literally red or round
or hot or loud or triangular, and so on. I have no
difficulty in believing that many states of mind contain
such terms as objects, but I do find it very difficult to
believe that any state of mind actually is a term of this
sort. Yet the latter is implied by the statement that
sensa are presentations, just as much as by the state-
ment that sensations are presentations. In fact, the
reasons which forced us to distinguish sensations from
sensa, and to regard the latter as objects contained in
the former, equally forbid us to treat sensa themselves
as states of mind. This objection may, of course, be a
mere prejudice ; but it is worth while to point out that
the view that sensa are presentations does logically
imply the very paradoxical propositions that some states
of mind are literally hot or red or round, for most
philosophers who have held the view under discussion
have successfully concealed this consequence from them-
selves and their readers. I shall therefore reject the
view that sensa are states of mind, until someone pro-
duces much better reasons than anyone has yet done
for believing such an extremely par^oxical proposition.
There are, however, quite plausible arguments to
THEORY OF SENSA 259
prove that sensa are existentially mind-dependent, though
not states of mind. That is to say, that, although sensa-
tions are analysable into act and sensum, and the sensum
must therefore be distinguished both from the sensation
and from the act of sensing, which is the other factor in
the sensation, yet these two factors are not capable of
existing separately from each other. No act of sensing
without some sensum on which it is directed, and no
sensum without an act of sensing directed upon it. The
arguments for this view are three : (a) The privacy and
variability of sensa ; {b) the analogy between sensa and
bodily feelings ; and (c) the analogy between sensa and
so-called "mental images."
(a) We notice at once that sensa have some of the
characteristics of physical objects and some of those of
mental states. On the one hand, they are extended, and
have shapes, sizes, colours, temperatures, etc. On the
other hand, they do seem to be private to each observer ;
and this, it will be remembered, is one of the chief marks
of the mental as distinct from the physical. It is at
least doubtful whether two people, who say that they are
perceiving the same object, are ever sensing the same
sensum or even two precisely similar sensa. This does
suggest that sensa are mental — at any rate in the sense
of being mind-dependent.
If, however, we look more closely, we see that this
conclusion does not necessarily follow. The facts are
on the whole much better explained by supposing that
the sensa which a man senses are partly dependent on
the position, internal states, and structure of his body.
Since no two men's bodies can be in precisely the same
place at precisely the same time, it is not surprising that
the sensa of the two men should differ. And, since the
internal states and the minute structure of no two living
bodies are exactly alike, it is still less surprising. Now
this explanation not only accounts as well for most of
the facts as the view that sensa are mind-dependent ; it
accounts a great deal better for some of the most striking
260 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
of the facts. The orderly variation in the shapes of
visual sensa, as we move about, is intelligible if we
suppose that the sensa which we sense are partly con-
ditioned by the positions of our bodies. The assumption
that they depend on our minds gives no explanation
whatever of such facts.
There is, however, a better form of this argument,
which has, I think, been somewhat neglected by people
who want to hold that sensa are never mind-dependent
to any degree. It does seem to me undeniable that in
certain cases, and to a certain extent, our past experi-
ences and our present expectations affect the actual
properties of the sensa that we sense, and do not merely
affect the judgments about physical objects which we
base upon sensa. We shall go into this point in some
detail in a later chapter; at present I will just illustrate
my meaning by two examples.
When I look at the "staircase figure," which is
given in most psychology text-books as an instance of
ambiguous figures, it seems to me that it actually looks
sensibly different from time to time. Its sensible
appearance changes " with a click," as I look at it, from
that of a staircase to that of an overhanging cornice.
This change tends to take place as I concentrate my mind
on the idea of the one or on that of the other. Now,
on the present analysis of sensible appearance, such
a change as this involves an actual qualitative change
in the sensum. So far is it from being a mere change
in the judgments which I happen to base on one and
the same sensum, that the direction of my thoughts
changes first and is the condition of the change in the
sensible appearance.
Again, when I turn my head, the visual sensa are not
as a rule affected with any sensible movement. If,
however, I put my glasses a little out of focus or look-
through a window made of irregularly thick glass,
and then turn my head, the sensa do sensibly move.
Whether they move or keep still seems to depend on
THEORY OF SENSA 261
my past experiences and my present expectations about
physical objects. The whole psychology of vision is
full of such cases, some of them of a highly complex
kind.
Now, of course, these examples do not suggest for a
moment that sensa are existentially mind - dependent,
but they do strongly suggest that they are to some
extent qualitatively mind-dependent. And it cannot be
said here, as in the previous examples, that reference
to the mind gives no help in explaining the facts. Here
the boot is rather on the other foot. No doubt the facts
just mentioned could in theory be accounted for by
referring to the past history of the body, in addition
to its present state and position. I.e., we could talk
learnedly about the traces left on our brains and nervous
systems by the past experiences, and could say that
they are among the conditions of our sensa. But this
would not help us to explain any concrete characteristic
of our sensa in any particular case. For the plain fact
is, that we do often know what relevant experiences we
or others have had, whilst we know nothing whatever
in detail about traces in the brain and nervous system.
So here a reference to mental conditions really does
explain concrete facts, whilst a reference to bodily con-
ditions does not. We shall have to return to this point
at a much later stage.
(b) We have already noticed the arrangement of
"sensations" in a scale from sensations of colour and
sound to bodily feelings. We saw that this might be
used as an argument to prove that even sensations of
colour and sound are presentations, or equally as an
argument to prove that even sensations of headache
are divisible into act and object. Suppose we take the
latter alternative, which, as I have .said, seems to me
to be the more plausible of the two, though I do not
think that the facts compel us to adopt either. It is
then possible to produce a fairly plausible argument for
the view that sensa are existentially mind-dependent.
262 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
The arerument would run as follows: "Granted that
a sensation of headache can be analysed into act of
sensing and headachy sensum, it is surely obvious that
the latter, from its very nature, could not exist without
the former. An unfelt headache is surely a mere Uniting.
Now, if this be true of headachy sensa, does not the
very continuity of the series of sensations on which you
have been insisting make it likely to be true of red
sensa, and indeed of all sensa? If so, sensa will be
from their very nature existentially mind -dependent
and incapable of existing save as objective constituents
of sensations."
1 think that this is quite a plausible argument, but
I do not think it conclusive. Two questions could be
asked about it. (a) Supposing it to be true that an
unfelt headache is inconceivable, does the continuity of
the series of experiences called " sensations," justify us
in extending this conclusion to all sensa, and, in par-
ticular, to those of sight and hearing? Secondly (/3),
is it really true that an unfelt headache is inconceivable?
(a) To the first question I answer that, as a matter of
fact, I do not find the slightest intrinsic difficulty in
conceiving the existence of unsensed red patches or
unsensed noises, whilst I do find a considerable difficulty
in conceiving the existence of unfelt headaches. I do
not think that it is safe to reject this plain difference on
the grounds of a mere argument from continuity.
(/3) Moreover, I think I can see why it seems so
difficult to conceive of the existence of unfelt headaches,
and can see that this difficulty is not really conclusive.
Our main interest in bodily feelings is that they are
pleasant or painful ; sensations of sight are, as a rule,
intrinsically neutral, or nearly so. Now I am quite
prepared to believe that an object has to be cognised
by us in order to be pleasant or painful to us. For it
seems to me that the pleasantness or painfulness of
anything is (or, at any rate, depends upon) my recog-
nising it and taking up a certain attitude of liking or
THEORY OF SENSA 263
disliking to it. It might, therefore, be perfectly true
that an unfelt headache would not be a pain, just as an
unmarried woman is not a wife. Since we are mainly
interested in headaches as pains, we are inclined to
think that an unfelt headache would be nothing, when
the truth merely is that it would not be a. pain. This
would be comparable to the mistake which a fanatical
admirer of matrimony would make if he ignored the
existence of all spinsters because they were not wives.
I, therefore, am not convinced that, if a feeling of head-
ache be a genuine sensation and not a mere presentation,
the headachy sensum which it contains could not exist
unsensed. Still less could I extend this view to sight
and sound sensa.
(c) The third argument for thinking that sensa are
incapable of existing unsensed is founded on their
resemblance to "mental images," whose very name
implies that they are commonly supposed to be existen-
tially mind-dependent, if not actually states of mind.
The resemblances must be admitted, though in favourable
cases there seems to be some intrinsic difference which
it is easy to recognise but hard to describe. But it
seems to me doubtful whether images are existentially
mind-dependent. I do not see any very obvious reason
why there should not be " unimaged " images. It is,
of course, perfectly true that images are to a much
greater extent qualitatively mind-dependent than are
sensa. Most, if not all, of them depend on our past
experiences ; and many of them depend in part on our
present volitions. Voluntary images do, no doubt,
depend on our minds, in the sense that they would not
be imaged here and now, if we did not will them. But
exactly the same is true of many things, which no one
would think of calling existentially mind-dependent.
Most chemical reactions that take place in a laboratory
would never have happened if someone had not deliber-
ately mixed the reagents in a flask and heated the
latter over a flame. No one supposes that this renders
264 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
such reactions in any important sense mind-dependent.
Thus the fact that some images are voluntary seems
irrelevant to the present subject.
The other point, that all images that we can now
image are in part determined in their characteristics by
our past experiences, is more important. It must be
counted along with the fact, already admitted, that many
sensa are to some extent qualitatively mind-dependent.
Here, as before, we can, if we like, substitute a reference
to traces in our brains and nervous systems. But here,
too, the doubt remains whether this kind of explanation
is ultimately of much philosophic importance, in view
of the fact that we often know directly what our relevant
past experiences are, whilst the traces, etc., of the
physiologist are purely hypothetical bodily correlates
of these. Further treatment of this subject must be
deferred till we face the problem of the part played
by our own bodies in sensation and imagination.
I will now try to sum up the results of this rather
long and complex discussion on the relation of sensa
to minds and their states. The sensum theory is
bound up with a special view as to the right analysis
of the kind of fact which is described by such phrases
as u my sensation of .r." It holds that this is complex,
and that within it there can be distinguished two factors
— x itself, which is the sensum and is an object, and
a subjective factor, which is called the "act of sensing."
The latter may, of course, be capable of further analysis,
such, e.g., as Russell attempts in his Analysis of Mind ;
or it may be (or contain) a peculiar unanalysable
relation. Now, there is also a theory which refuses to
analyse "my sensation of x" in this way. It holds
that the whole thing is unanalysable into act and object.
On such a view the distinction between sensum and
sensation vanishes ; and the experience, which may be
called indifferently by either name, is a mental state of
the kind called presentations. This view is supported
by reference to bodily feelings, and by an argument
THEORY OF SENSA 265
from the continuity between them and the higher
sensations. As against this we pointed out (a) that
there is just as good reason to use the argument from
continuity in the opposite direction ; and (b) that very
possibly, in spite of the continuity, there is a real
difference in nature between genuine sensations and
bodily feelings. In favour of the view that genuine
sensations are analysable into act and object, we pointed
out that there seems to be a plain difference between a
red patch sensed by me and the total fact described as
" my sensation of a red patch." And we suggested that
those who refuse to make this analysis are forced to
the very paradoxical conclusion that there are states of
mind which are literally red, round, hot, loud, etc.
The next point was this. Assuming that sensations
are analysable into act of sensing and sensum, we
raised the question whether sensa are states of mind,
or, if not, whether they are existentially mind-dependent.
We agreed that, if they are states of mind at all, they
must be presentations. But we found no positive reason
for thinking that they are states of mind, and much the
same reasons against that view as led us to hold that
sensations are analysable into act and sensum.
We then discussed three more or less plausible
arguments to show that sensa are existentially mind-
dependent, i.e., that they cannot exist except as objective
constituents of sensations. We saw no intrinsic reason
why coloured patches or noises should not be capable
of existing unsensed. And we refused to be moved
from this view by an argument from continuity with
bodily feelings. For we were far from sure whether
bodily feelings really are analysable into act of sensing
and sensum ; and we suggested that, even if they be,
it is by no means certain that their sensa could not
exist unsensed. We tried to show why this was thought
to be obvious, and to show that it is not really so.
The two remaining arguments seemed to us to show
that sensa are partly dependent on the position, etc.,
s
266 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
of the />0(/v, but they did not have any tendency to show
that they are existentialist dependent on the wind. Still,
some of the facts adduced did rather strongly suggest
that sensa and, a fortiori, images, are to some extent
qualitatively mind-dependent. We thought that this
reference to the mind might be removed by extending
the bodily conditions, so as to include physiological
traces and dispositions. But, in view of the wholly
hypothetical character of these, we were not prepared
at this stage to deny that sensa and images might be
to some extent qualitatively mind-dependent. And
there we leave the matter, till we deal more fully with
the part played by the human body in sense-perception.
We have seen that the whole question is highly
complex, and that the arguments for the view that sensa
are mental are by no means lacking in plausibility. We
shall not therefore be tempted to think that everyone
who has been persuaded by them must be either a
knave or a fool. Some of those who call themselves
New Realists have been too much inclined to take this
attitude ; and, on one reader at least, they have produced
the impression of being rather offensively "at ease in
Zion."
(ii) How are Sensa related to Physical Objects ? —
We can now turn to the second question which we
raised about sensa. The plain man does not clearly
distinguish between physical objects and sensa, and
therefore feels no particular difficulty about their mutual
relations. We first come to recognise sensa as distinct
from physical objects by reflecting on the fact of
sensible appearance, and the contrast between it and
the supposed properties of physical reality. But once
the existence of sensa has been clearly recognised, the
problem of their relation to the physical world becomes
pressing. We all believe in a world of physical objects,
and profess to have a great deal of detailed knowledge
about it. Now this world of physical objects makes
THEORY OF SENSA 267
its existence and its detailed nature known to us by
the sensible appearances which it presents to us. And,
on the sensum theory, these appearances are sensa.
Sensa are therefore in some way the ratio cognoscendi
of the physical world, whilst the physical world is in
some way the ratio essendi of sensa. Our problem
therefore divides into an epistemological and an onto-
logical one. The two problems are not ultimately
independent, but it is useful to state them separately.
(1) How far is it true that our beliefs about the
physical world depend on our sensa? Before we can
answer this, we must draw some distinctions among
our beliefs. First, there is our belief that there is a
physical world of some kind. This, as we have seen,
involves at least the belief that there are things which
are relatively permanent, which combine many qualities,
and which persist and interact at times when they are
not appearing to our senses. These we may call
constitutive properties of the physical world, since they
are part of what we mean by "physical." Then there
is the belief that these objects have spatial or quasi-
spatial characteristics. This may almost be called
constitutive, but it is a shade less fundamental than
the first set of properties. Lastly, there are what might
be called empirical beliefs about the physical world.
These are beliefs about points of detail, e.g., that some
things are red, and that there is now a red fluted lamp-
shade in my rooms.
Now I have already asserted that it is false psycho-
logically to say that we, in fact, reach our perceptual
judgments about the existence and properties of physical
objects by a process of inference from our sensa and
their properties. Further, it is false logically to suppose
that the existence of a physical world in general could
be inferred from the existence of our sensa, or from
anything that we know about their intrinsic properties
or their mutual relations. I suppose that the existence
of sensa is a necessary condition, but it is certainly not
4
268 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
a sufficient condition, of my belief in the existence of
the physical world. If there were no sensible appear-
ances to me, I suppose that I should not judge there to
be any physical reality. But, on the other hand, there
is nothing in my sensa to force me logically to the
conclusion that there must be something beyond them,
having the constitutive properties of physical objects.
The belief that our sensa are appearances of something
more permanent and complex than themselves seems
to be primitive, and to arise inevitably in us with the
sensing of the sensa. It is not reached by inference,
and could not logically be justified by inference. On
the other hand, there is no possibility of either refuting
it logically, or of getting rid of it, or — so far as I can
see — of co-ordinating the facts without it.
There are groupings among my own sensa and
correlations between my sensa and those of others
which fit in extremely well with the belief in a physical
world of which all the sensa are so many appearances.
It might be held that this at least forms the basis of
a logical argument in inverse probability, to show that
the belief in the physical world is highly probable.
But the snag here is that all such arguments only
serve to multiply the antecedent probability of a pro-
position, and, unless we have reason to suppose that
this probability starts with a finite magnitude, they lead
us nowhere. Now, although I do not know of any
reason antecedently against the existence of a physical
world, I also know of no antecedent reason for it. So
its antecedent probability seems quite indeterminate,
unless we are prepared to hold that the fact that
everybody does in practice believe it, is a ground for
ascribing a finite antecedent probability to it. It seems
to me that the belief that there is a physical world is
logically in much the same position as those assump-
tions about the constitution of the existent on which all
inductive proofs of special laws of nature rest. If these
assumptions start with a finite antecedent probability,
THEORY OF SENSA 269
their success justifies us in ascribing a high final prob-
ability to them. But do they have a finite antecedent
probability? We can say of them, as of the belief in a
physical world, that we all do believe them in practice,
that there is no positive reason against them, and that
we cannot get on without assuming them. But, having
said so much, we shall do wisely to change the subject
and talk about the weather.
We shall not then attempt to prove the existence of
a world of entities having the constitutive properties of
physical objects ; for, if this can be done, I at any rate
do not know how to do it. But we shall point out those
facts about our sensa and their groupings which specially
fit in with the view that sensa are various partial and
fleeting appearances of relatively permanent and inde-
pendent things. That is, we shall try to indicate those
facts about our sensa which would give a high final
probability to the belief in a physical world, provided it
had a finite antecedent probability. This will be our
main task in the next two chapters, which deal with
the spatial and temporal characteristics of sensa and of
physical objects and events. The first of these chapters
will be concerned with the facts about our sensa which
fit in with the view that they are appearances of objects
which combine many properties, and which can be per-
ceived by many different observers at the same time.
The second will be concerned with the facts about our
sensa which fit in with the view that they are relatively
fleeting appearances of more permanent things and
processes.
Now, assuming that there is a world of enduring
and independent things, there is still room for wide
differences of opinion as to the kind of whole that it
forms, the way in which it is divided into parts, and the
various empirical qualities which these parts possess.
Common-sense and science are agreed that it is in some
sense a spatial whole, whose parts have various shapes,
sizes and positions, and are capable of moving about
270 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
within the whole. This alleged spatial character of the
physical world may be called "semi-constitutive"; for,
as 1 have said, we hardly admit that a world of non-
spatial entities would deserve to be called "physical,"
even though it were persistent, independent of us, and
many-qualitied. Now, it is clear that all the spatial
characteristics which we ascribe to the physical world
are based, both in general outline and in detail, on the
spatial characteristics of our sensa. Moreover, I think
it can be rendered highly probable that, if there be a
physical world at all, and our sensa be appearances of it,
then that world is quasi-spatial. The importance and
complexity of this subject seem to justify the length
of the next chapter, in which I have treated it to the
best of my ability.
When we come to the purely empirical qualities of
the physical world there is a sharp difference of opinion
between science and common-sense. The latter ascribes
qualities, like colour, temperature, etc., to physical
objects, whilst the former refuses to do so. In dis-
cussing this matter the partial dependence of sensa on
what goes on inside the body of the observer becomes
of great importance, and the concluding chapter has
been devoted to this problem.
(2) This last question leads in the most natural way
to the ontological problem as to the status of sensa in
the existent world. There is a world of physical objects
and a world of sensa. In some way the latter seems to
be dependent on the former. But both are parts of the
whole of existent reality. How are the two related?
This is a problem which common-sense ignores, because
it does not definitely distinguish between sensa and
physical objects. Science also ignores it, because,
although in theory it makes an equivalent distinction,
it uses it simply as an excuse for ignoring sensa and
concentrating on physical objects and processes. This
is a perfectly legitimate procedure for the special
purpose which natural science has in view, but it is not
THEORY OF SENSA 271
permissible to the philosopher. His whole business is
to drag such skeletons from the cupboards in which it
has been found convenient to shelve them, and to give
them their right place in the whole scheme of things.
Now the epistemological and the ontological problems
about sensa and their relations to physical objects are
connected in the following way. Our primitive belief
in the existence of a world of relatively permanent,
independent things is extremely vague. It is little
more than a general scheme, in terms of which the actual
groupings which we find among our sensa are stated.
Even when we go a step further, and say that the spatial
character and the special groupings of sensa practically
force us to think of the physical world as a quasi-spatial
whole, containing parts with fairly definite shapes, sizes,
and positions, we still have only a very general, though
much more definite scheme. Within this general quasi-
spatial scheme all kinds of alternative specifications are
possible. We are not tied down to any special view
as to the number of its dimensions. Again, we are not
tied down to any special view as to the " geometry" of
it, when the number of its dimensions is settled. Lastly,
we might put forward dozens of different theories as to
the nature of physical objects, all compatible with the
general scheme and with the special facts about our
sensa and their groupings. It is this extreme variety
of alternative theories, left open to us by the general
concept of a physical world and the special facts about
our sensa, which gives a legitimate hope for indefinite
progress with the problem under discussion, provided
the scientists and the patriots between them do not
destroy civilisation, and with it all disinterested thinking.
With traditional views about the nature of Space, Time,
and Matter, it is extremely difficult to fit the world of
sensa and the world of physical objects together into
a coherent whole. But, once the immense number of
possible alternatives within the scheme is grasped, the
devising of theories of the physical object which shall
272 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
give sensa a locus standi in the physical world will be a
winter evening's pastime for symbolic logicians. This
task we shall leave to those better fitted than ourselves
to accomplish it ; we shall be concerned rather with
those facts about our sensa with which any theory of
physical objects must deal.
The Critical Scientific Theory. — 1 propose now to
try to state clearly, in terms of the Sensum theory,
what appears to be involved in the common scientific
view of physical objects and their sensible appearances.
As scientists never state their own position on this
point clearly, it is necessary for us to do so for them.
We can then see how far the view can be accepted,
and how far its plausibility has depended on its modest
obscurity.
Let us take the old example of a boy looking at a
penny. He believes that it is quite literally round and
just as literally brown. He believes that the brown
(and, as he thinks, round) patch which he is sensing
is quite literally a part (viz., the upper side) of the
penny. And he believes that this, which he now sees,
is the same as what he can feel if he puts out his
hand. As he grows up he is probably told, on the
authority of "science," that the penny is not "really"
brown, though it is "really" round. The sort of
reason which he is given for this startling statement
is (so far as I can remember) that things appear to
have different colours in different lights. If he should
study heat and light, he will be told that the colour
which he sees depends on vibrations which strike his
eye, and that the temperature that he feels depends on
molecular movements which are going on in the penny.
He still thinks of the penny as literally round, and
thinks now of all sorts of movements going on within
its contour, and sending disturbances to his eye and
his hand. But he no longer thinks of the penny as
literally brown or cold. The brownness and coldness
THEORY OF SENSA 273
are thought to be effects which the processes in the
penny produce by transmission. The round shape is
"in" the penny; the brownness and coldness are not.
They are effects which the penny produces "in" his
eye or his hand or his brain or his mind. He still
thinks that he literally senses the same round upper
side of the penny, both with his eyes and with his
hand, but he no longer thinks that there is a brown
colour or a cold temperature literally spread over this
round surface.
This, I think, is a fair account of what the average
person with a scientific training believes on these
matters ; so far as anything so incoherent can be said
to be believed by anyone. It is perfectly obvious
that such a view as this cannot stand criticism. It is
an inconsistent mixture of two utterly different theories
of perception. As regards spatial attributes, it keeps
to the naively realistic view of unsophisticated common-
sense. According to it, the seen and felt shape is not
an effect produced in us by something else. It is out
there, whether we see it or feel it or not. Processes in
it simply make us see it or feel it under suitable cir-
cumstances. But, as regards colour and temperature,
the scientific theory takes quite a different view. It is
a causal theory. The processes in the penny do not
make us see a colour or feel a temperature which is
already there to be seen or felt. They produce the
colour or temperature " in us," to use a discretely
vague phrase, which may cover our minds, our brains,
and our special sense-organs.
Now this muddled mixture of theories is not con-
sistent with itself or with the facts. It is inconsistent
with itself for the following reason. When I look at
a penny, the brown colour that I see is seen spread out
over the round contour. Similarly with the cold tem-
perature that I feel. We are asked to believe that
there is brownness without shape "in me," and round
shape without colour out there where the penny is.
274 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
and yet that in some mysterious way, the shapeless
brownness "in me" is projected into the round con-
tour of the penny "out there." If this be not nonsense
I do not know what nonsense is. We can all sav this
kind of thing, but can we attach any clear meaning
to what we are saying?
Moreover, as Berkeley long ago pointed out, the
theory only takes account of half the facts. Certainly
colours vary with the illumination, the state of our
eyes, and so on. But it only needs a little careful in-
spection to see that visible shapes also vary with changes
in the medium, and with the position of the observer.
If the former fact proves that colours and temperatures
are not "in the object" but "in us," the latter should
t prove the same thing for visible shapes. It is impos-
sible to reconcile the view that the penny is round, in
the literal straightforward sense, with the view that,
when we look at it, we literally sense visually the upper
surface of it. For we sense all sorts of elliptical patches
from various positions. It is clear that none of these
can be identical with the round upper surface of the
penny, and it is equally clear that they are not parts
of it in the literal sense in which the King's head is a
part of it.
If we want to be consistent then, we must treat visual
shape in the same way as colour and temperature.
What we sense visually is a sensum, and the shape
and the brownness both belong to it. If anything be
produced "in us" by an external object when we look
at it, it is not just the colour, but is the whole patch
with its colour and its shape. And, as we have seen,
this patch cannot be regarded as being the upper
surface of the external object, or as being literally a
part of that surface. Nor can we any longer hold that
what we sense by touch is literally identical with what
we sense by sight, and that sight and touch merely
reveal two different qualities of this one object. For
what we sense tactually is round and of constant size.
THEORY OF SENSA 275
What we sense visually is not round, except when we
are in that very special set of positions from which
we are said to be "looking straight down on" the
penny. And, even if we confine ourselves to this series
of positions, the sizes of the various round patches
which we sense are not the same for different positions
in the series. It is therefore clear that the scientific
view needs to be completely restated in terms of the
sensum theory. And this is not easy, because the
scientific theory assumed that we really were sensing the
contour of the actual physical object out in space, and
that our sensations were due to what was going on
within that contour.
As we move about and continue, as we say, to " look
at the same object," we are aware of a series of sensa,
each having shape and colour, and all very much alike
in these respects. But there are certain variations
which we commonly overlook. These strike us in
exaggerated cases, and can be noticed by careful
inspection in all cases. Moreover, they are as a rule
reversed when we retrace our steps. If we are going
to attempt a causal theory of perception we must try
to explain this conjunction of predominant agreement
throughout the series with slight, regular, and reversible
variations between its different members. The explana-
tion that naturally strikes us is that the series of sensa
depends on two sets of conditions. One of these is
relatively permanent, and accounts for the predominant
agreement of the members of the series. The other is
variable, and accounts for their minor variations.
Again, if we feel an object, such as a penny, and
meanwhile look at it from various points of view, the
series of predominantly similar, but slightly variant,
visual sensa is correlated with an invariant tactual sensum.
The shape of the latter is very much, but not exactly,
like those of most of the former. It is exactly like that
of the visual sensa which are sensed from a certain
series of positions. As regards other qualities, there
276 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
is complete difference between the visual and the tactual
sensa. The former have colour, but no temperature or
hardness ; the latter have coldness and hardness, but no
colour. Now we have to explain this predominant
agreement, combined with minor differences, between
the shapes of the many visual sensa and the shape of
the one tactual sensum. And we have to remember
that, as regards other sensible qualities, the difference is
complete. Here, again, it seems natural to suppose that
there is something common and relatively permanent,
which accounts for the predominant agreement in shape
between the visual and the tactual sensa, and something
variable that accounts for their minor differences in
shape. This other factor seems clearly to be connected
with the position of the sense-organ. As the eye moves
about, the shape of the visual sensa varies. The shape
of the tactual sensum does not change : but then we
cannot move the hand to a distance and continue to sense
the tactual sensum at all, as we can change the place
of the eye and still continue to see. We may further
suppose that different factors are needed to determine
such very different sensible qualities as colour and tem-
perature ; but it is reasonable to suppose that, whatever
these factors may be, they are subject to some common
condition which determines the very similar shape of
both visual and tactual sensa.
Lastly, when we compare notes with other people who
say that they are looking at the same thing as we are,
we find again a predominant agreement between their
sensa and ours, combined with minor variations. It seems
reasonable to suppose that there is a set of conditions,
common to their sensa and ours, which accounts for the
predominant agreement between the two. In addition,
there must be variable factors, one specially connected
with one observer and another with another observer.
These are responsible for the minor variations. It
seems, then, that we have good grounds for supposing
that there are physical objects in the sense of conditions
THEORY OF SENSA 277
which (a) are common to us and to others ; (#) are
relatively permanent, and, at any rate, do not ipso facto
change when we move about ; and (c) determine in
some way the attributes of our sensa, in conjunction
with other conditions which do vary from person to
person at the same time and for the same person at
different times.
It might be asked at this point by a sceptical reader,
"Why go outside the series of correlated sensa at all?
Why not be content to take them as a fact? Why
make them all depend on conditions outside the series
of sensa itself?" As I have said, this is a step which
everyone does take, but which no one can be logically
compelled to take. At present we may say that what
induces us to do this is the fact that we have reason
to think that physical objects change and act on each
other when we do not happen to be sensing any sensa
from them. We can drop such series of sensa as I
have been describing (e.g., by turning our heads or
going out of the room), and then by making suitable
movements we can pick it up again either where we left
it, or in a form that is obviously a later development of a
course of change whose earlier stages we noticed before
we turned away. It is facts of this kind which (rightly
or wrongly) make us look beyond such series of correlated
sensa to relatively permanent conditions, which lie out-
side the series and can develop on their own account
when the series is interrupted.
Now these common and relatively permanent con-
ditions might, for all that we have seen up to the
present, be so utterly unlike the sensa that they
condition that it would be misleading to call them
physical objects. The question therefore at once arises :
"Can we determine anything further about their
properties, either with certainty or with reasonably
high probability?" I do not think that we could
determine anything further with certainty, but I do
think that we might determine something further with
278 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
high probability. It is, of course, perfectly true that a
set of conditions — and, moreover, a set which is only
one part of the total conditions — of a sensum, must not
be assumed to resemble in its properties the sensum
which it partially determines. On the other hand, it
were equally unreasonable to assume that the two cannot
resemble each other. There can be no inner contra-
diction in the qualities of shape and size, since sensa,
at least, certainly have shape and size and certainly
exist. If such qualities involved any kind of internal
contradiction, no existent whatever could possess them.
Hence it is perfectly legitimate to postulate hypothetic-
ally any amount of resemblance that we choose between
sensa and the permanent part of their total conditions.
If now we find that, by postulating certain qualities in
these permanent conditions, we can account for the
most striking facts about our sensa, and that without
making this hypothesis we cannot do so, the hypo-
thesis in question may reach a very high degree of
probability.
Now we find that the visual sensa of a group which
we ascribe to a single physical object are related pro-
jectively to each other and to the tactual sensum which
we ascribe to the same object. If we regard their
common permanent condition as having something
analogous to shape, we can explain the shapes of the
various sensa in the group as projections of the shape
of their common permanent condition. If we refuse
to attribute anything like shape to the permanent
conditions, we cannot explain the variations in shape
of the visual sensa as the observer moves into different
positions. This does not, of course, prove that the
common and relatively permanent conditions of a
group of sensa do have shape, but it does render the
hypothesis highly plausible. We have already seen
that it is a legitimate one, that there is no reason why
these common conditions should not have shape ; we
now see that it is also a plausible one, since with it we
THEORY OF SENSA 279
can, and without it we cannot, account for the variations
in the shapes of the sensa of the group.
What about the so-called "secondary qualities,"
like colour and temperature? We know that Descartes,
Locke, and the orthodox natural scientists, hold that we
have no right to ascribe them literally to physical
objects, whilst Berkeley and many other philosophers
have argued that primaries and secondaries must stand
or fall (and that they, in fact, fall) together. What is
the truth about this matter? The first need is to state
the doctrine of primary and secondary qualities in a
clear and intelligible form. Unquestionably, colour
and temperature belong to our sensa, at any rate, in
the same literal way in which shape and size belong
to them. What I am immediately aware of when I
look at a penny stamp is as indubitably red as it is
indubitably more or less square. Similarly, when I
hold a round piece of ice in my hand, what I am aware
of is as certainly cold as it is certainly round. Thus,
to say that colours and temperatures are "unreal," or
"do not really exist," is patently false, if this means
that there is nothing in the Universe of which it is true
to say: "This is literally red," or "This is literally
cold." Such statements are true of many sensa, at
any rate, and sensa are parts of the existing Universe. -"'
The only substantial question is : " Do colours and
temperatures ever literally belong to physical objects,
or do they belong literally only to sensa?" What the
scientist is trying in an extremely muddled way to
do is to assert the physical reality of shapes and sizes,
and to deny the physical reality of colours, temperatures,
noises, etc. Now this view, when clearly stated, comes
to the following : " Shapes and sizes belong to physical
objects in the same literal way in which they belong
to sensa, and from the shapes and sizes of sensa we can
generally infer with reasonable certainty those of that
physical object of which these sensa are appearances.
Colours, temperatures, etc., belong literally to sensa,
y
28o SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
but they belong to physical objects only in a derivative
and Pickwickian sense. There must, of course, be some-
thing in the permanent conditions of a group of sensa
which wholly or partly determines the colour or tem-
perature of the latter. But this something is not colour
or temperature." We have seen what sort of ground
there is for the positive part of this view : is there any
good reason to believe the negative part of it?
It is sometimes thought that the physical theories
of light and heat positively disprove the common-sense
view that physical objects are literally coloured or hot.
This is a sheer logical blunder. The physical theory
of light, e.g., asserts that, whenever we sense a red
sensum, vibrations of a certain period are striking our
retina. This does not prove that bodies which emit
vibrations of that period are not literally red, for it
might well be that only bodies which are literally red
can emit just these vibrations. The vibrations might
simply be the means of stimulating us to sense the
red colour, which is literally in the body, whether we
happen to sense it or not. (I am quite certain that
this simple-minded theory cannot be made to fit the
extremely complicated facts ; but it is compatible with
the fact that we only become aware of colours when
vibrations of a certain kind affect our eyes ; and there-
fore this fact does not, as is often supposed, refute the
common-sense view that bodies are literally coloured
and that we actually sense the colours which are on
their surfaces.)
I think that the negative part of the scientific view
does express an important fact, but that it needs to be
stated in a much more guarded way. (i) It is certain
that, if physical objects possess shape and size at all,
they must have some other quality, related to shape and
size in the same general kind of way in which colour
and temperature are related to the shape and size of
sensa. You cannot have extension et praterea nihil ;
you must have something that can be spread out and
THEORY OF SENSA 281
cover an area or fill a volume. (2) There is no reason
why these "extensible" qualities, which must be
present in physical objects, if they be extended at all,
should not actually be colour and temperature. Since
sensa certainly exist, and are certainly coloured, there
can be no internal contradiction in the notion of an
existent colour. (3) On the other hand, of course, the
extensible qualities of physical objects need not be
colour or temperature. So long as they are qualities
that can cover areas and fill volumes, as colour and
temperature do, they might differ from any quality
that is ever present in our sensa. (4) Whilst we found
that the assumption that the permanent conditions of
groups of sensa have shape, and that they and our
bodies have position, does help us to predict the shapes
of various sensa in the group, we do not find that the
ascription of colours or temperatures to these permanent
conditions helps us to predict the colours or tempera-
tures of the sensa in the group. It is found more
profitable to correlate the colours and temperatures of
sensa with the hypothetical movements of hypothetical
parts of their permanent conditions. This does not
prove, as has often been thought, that physical objects
cannot literally have colours or temperatures. Of course,
if the sensa that we sense cannot literally be parts of
the surfaces of physical objects, it follows that the
colours and temperatures of these sensa cannot literally
be identical with the colours and temperatures of
physical objects, even if the latter have such qualities.
The facts under discussion do show that the hypothesis
that physical objects literally have colours and tempera-
tures, though legitimate enough, is not capable of
empirical verification, and therefore cannot be asserted
with any high probability.
The view which I have been trying to state may
be called the Critical Scientific Theory. It is simply an
attempt to formulate clearly, in terms of the Sensum
Theory of sensible appearance, the view about the ex-
T
282 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
ternal world which has been at the back of the scientific
mind since the time of Descartes and Locke. In its
original form this view was a mass of inconsistencies, since
it was naively realistic for our perception of shape, size,
and position, and held a causal theory for our perception
of colour, temperature, etc. This combination of theories
proved to be inconsistent with the inextricable entangle-
ment of the two kinds of qualities, which we actually find.
Moreover, the naively realistic part of it proved unten-
able in face of the variations of visual shape and size,
which are obvious when we view what is regarded as a
single unchanged physical object from various positions.
Thus the only hope for the scientific view was to
restate it in a completely causal form. A serious diffi-
culty at once arose. The causal part of the old view
presupposed the naively realistic part. When we were
told that motions within a circular contour at a certain
place in space caused sensations of colour and tempera-
ture "in us," we understood this, because we thought
that we literally saw and felt this contour in this place.
But, as soon as the theory is made completely causal,
both spatial and non-spatial attributes belong primarily
to the effect produced "in us" by something else. It
then becomes difficult to see that we have any better
right to regard this cause as literally endowed with
shape, size, and position, than as literally endowed with
colour and temperature. Yet the scientific theories
about the causation of our sensations of colour, tem-
perature, etc., are stated in terms which seem to lose all
meaning unless the causes of these sensations literally
have shapes, sizes, and positions. The Critical Scientific
Theory, as stated by us, has been an attempt to meet
these difficulties, to reformulate the distinction between
primary and secondary qualities, and to estimate the
amount of value which this distinction can justly claim.
I think that the Critical Scientific Theory is internally
consistent, so far as it goes ; but I certainly do not
believe that it is ultimately satisfactory. In the first
THEORY OF SENSA 283
place, it continues to use a number of phrases whose
meanings are no longer obvious when we have given
up the notion that we literally sense parts of the surfaces
of physical objects. It still talks of pennies being
" round," of a number of different people at " the same
time" and the same person at "different times" all
perceiving " the same penny " from "different places."
We must reinterpret all these phrases in terms of our
sensa and their relations before we can hope to get a
consistent theory. I shall try my hand at this very
difficult job in the next three chapters.
Secondly, our theory uses the phrase that processes
in external physical objects and our bodies "jointly
produce in us" the sensa by which we become aware
of them. The phrase in inverted commas covers a
multitude of problems. Do physical processes create
sensa out of nothing? Or do they just cause us to sense
now one and now another selection out of a mass of
already existing sensa? And, on either alternative,
what is the status of sensa once they have come into
existence? Do they just exist alongside of physical
objects? Do they ever interact with each other or pro-
duce effects on the physical world ? Or are they, in some
Pickwickian sense, parts of physical objects? With some
of these problems I shall try to deal in my last chapter.
The following additional works may be consulted
with advantage :
B. A. \V. Russell, Lectures on the External World, Lects.
III. and IV.
M ,, A nalysis of Mind, Lects. V. and VII.
G. F. Stout, Manual of Psychology, Bk. III. Part II. Cap.
I., and Bk. II. Cap. I.
,, ,, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 191 3.
J. Laird, Problems of the Self,. Cap. III.
S. Alexander, Space, Time, and Deity, Vol. II. p. 124,
et seq. ; p. 170, et seq.
G. E. Moore, Philosophical Studies.
Berkeley, Principles of Human Knowledge.
Descartes, Meditations.
r
CHAPTER IX
" Nam si colorcs et soni in ipso Objecto csscnt, separari ab
illis non posscnt. Separantur autcm, ut manifestum in reflexioni-
bus visibilium per specula, et audibilium per loca montana.
Scimus autem corpus quod videmus in uno tantum loco esse,
sed apparentias in plurimis."
(Hobbes, Leviathan, Part I. Cap. I.)
The Positions and Shapes of Sensa and of
Physical Objects
We have now to dig beneath the assumptions that are
tacitly made by the Critical Scientific Theory, and to
discover their precise meaning and value. In expound-
ing it we talked of a number of people all " looking at
the same penny." We assumed that there is a certain
place "seen" by all the observers, and that in this
place there is a round physical object. We have now
to ask what is meant by a common place ; what is
meant by a physical object occupying that place ; and
what is meant by calling that object round. We shall
find that all these questions, which seem so childishly
simple, present great difficulties, and can only be
answered in highly Pickwickian senses. They seem
easy, because we habitually confine ourselves to cases,
which are indeed of frequent occurrence, and are of
practical interest, but which really owe their simplicity
to the existence of specially simple conditions. These
conditions are not always fulfilled, and then difficulties
arise. This happens, for instance, with mirror images
which turn up in places where nothing relevant is
going on. As a rule, we simply ignore these "wild"
isensa ; but we shall find that the only way to deal fairly
Nwjth all the facts is to base our theory on them, and to
284
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 285
regard "tame" sensa as owing their tameness to the
fulfilment of certain special simplifying conditions.
In dealing with our present problem we shall not
only be learning something more about the concept of
Matter and its appearances ; we shall also be carrying
the theory of Space a step further. In Chapter I we
simply took the common-sense notion of a single all-
containing Space for granted ; we have now to consider
the exact cash value of that conception.
If we want to discover the meaning of the statement
that we all see a certain physical object in a certain
place, we must start from the spatial characteristics of
our visual sensa. Unfortunately, there is a good deal
of disagreement as to what these actually are. Thus
we are often told that we do not "see" distance or
solidity ; and this is undoubtedly meant to mean that
distance and solidity are not characteristics of visual
sensa, as shape and size are. This seems to me to be
a mistake, and the whole matter has become so much
confused that our first duty is to try to clear it up.
This will be rather a long process.
Spatial Characteristics of the Visual Field. — When-
ever I open my eyes I am aware of a coloured field of
view, which I will call a "visual field." It is admitted
that this is spread out and internally differentiated into
patches of various shapes and colours. These are at
once joined and separated by a background, which also
has colour. The middle part of this field is the most
distinct. If I turn my head a little, the field changes
slightly. What is now in the middle and most distinct
differs from what was in the middle of my former field.
But it is extremely like something that was slightly to
one side of the former field and was slightly indistinct.
Conversely, what is slightly to one side of the present
field is very much like what was in the middle of the
former field and had there maximum distinctness. The
process of turning one's head is, of course, associated
jS() scientific thought
with certain kinesthetic sensations, which last longer
and ijTow more intense the more the head is turned.
(d) Usual Motion. — So much, I suppose, is admitted
by everyone. I now want to call attention to certain
facts that have an important bearing on our present
problem, and are not so commonly noticed. As a rule,
we see objects through a practically homogeneous
medium, viz., air, in which they and we are immersed.
Under these conditions the slight turning of the head
only produces those changes in centrality and distinct-
ness that we have noticed, combined, of course, with the
loss of certain features which were on the extreme edge
of the first field and the gain of others on the opposite
extreme edge of the second. So long as the medium
is homogeneous, the turning of the head does not affect
the visual sensa with sensible movement. If, on the
other hand, we are looking through a bad bit of window
glass, or through any optical instrument imperfectly
focused, the sensa in the field do visibly move as we
turn our heads. What I call "sensible movement" is
as distinct and irreducible a character of certain sensa
at certain times as colour or shape. We notice then
that, under normal conditions of sight, the sensa in our
visual field may be unaffected with sensible movement,
though we turn our heads ; but, as soon as the condi-
tions become unusual, a turn of the head affects all the
sensa of the field with sensible movement.
Again, some of the sensa in a field may be affected
with sensible movement though I keep my head still.
As I write, I am sitting at an open window in Trinity,
and looking out at the opposite side of Nevile's Court.
All the points that I have mentioned are illustrated in
my present visual field. I can turn my head without
the visual appearances of the opposite windows being
affected with sensible movement. If I look through the
shut window, which is at the side of my open one, and
is made of rather irregular glass, I find that I cannot
turn my head without the visual appearance of the
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 287
opposite side of the Court jumping about. Lastly, there
are certain features in the field, viz. , the visual appearances
of bedmakers and washerwomen — for it is a Saturday —
which sensibly move, even though I keep my head still.
To these cases we must add one more, which is the
least common in ordinary experience. Sometimes we
find the whole field affected with sensible movement,
though we keep our heads still. This happens if my
open window swings to in the breeze.
The position, then, is this: There is no doubt that
sensible motion and rest are genuine unanalysable
properties of visual sensa. I am aware of them as
v-
directly as I am aware of the redness of a red patch,
and I could no more describe them to anyone who had
never sensed them than I could describe the colour of
a pillar-box to a man born blind. Now, there are three
entirely distinct, but constantly confused, questions that
can be asked about a quality of a sensum. (1) Do sensa
really have this quality? (2) What conditions must be
fulfilled in order that sensa with this quality may occur?
and (3) What right have I to base on this quality of
my sensa those judgments about physical objects and
their properties which I do in fact base on it? The first
question is absolutely independent of the other two.
The only way to find out whether a sensum does or
does not have a certain quality is to inspect the sensum
itself as carefully as possible. The second question
belongs partly to physics, partly to physiology, and
partly perhaps to psychology (if sensa be to any extent
mind-dependent). The third is a question for Critical
Philosophy. Naturally, the answer to it will determine
the interpretation which we put on the answers given
by scientists to (2). Conversely, the answer to (3) will
have to be such as to allow for any well-established facts
that the scientists have discovered in answering (2).
Now it is a very common mistake to suppose that if
(2) has to be answered in a certain way it follows that
sensa cannot have the quality in question. This fallacy
288 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
seems to me to have been committed by those persons
who deny that visual sensa have sensible solidity and
position. They argue that those qualities could only
have been acquired through certain past experiences,
and conclude from this that the qualities in question
cannot now belong to visual sensa. This is, of course,
a sheer fallacy ; but before discussing it in detail for
position and solidity, I propose to deal with the case of
sensible motion. For exactly similar arguments could
be used to prove that visual sensa do not have sensible
motion ; and it must surely be obvious, even to the most
advanced thinker, that some visual sensa do have this
quality.
When I look through a homogeneous medium and
turn my head, the stimulus of light from various objects
moves over my retina ; nevertheless, my sensa are not
affected with sensible motion. When I look through
a non-homogeneous medium, and turn my head, the
stimulus moves across my retina ; and this time my
sensa are affected with sensible motion. Thus the
movement of the stimulus over the retina may be a
necessary, but is certainly not a sufficient, condition
of the sensible movement of my visual sensa. When
I believe that the object that I am looking at is the sort
of object that will not move {e.g., the opposite side of
the Court), and when I am seeing it under normal
conditions {i.e., through a homogeneous medium) the
sensa keep still, in spite of the movement of the stimulus,
provided this movement is caused by the voluntary
turning of my head. Thus it seems to me to be clear
that one condition which partly determines the present
motion or rest of my visual sensa is my beliefs as to the
motion and rest of the objects of which these sensa are
appearances. These beliefs must be due to past experi-
ences, not wholly visual, in connexion with similar
sensa. They are presumably present in the - form
of traces. Under normal circumstances these traces
neutralise the sensible movement which the motion of
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 289
the stimulus over the retina would itself produce. But,
as soon as the conditions become abnormal, this neutral-
isation (which is merely associative and instinctive, not
deliberate and rational) fails to fit the unusual conditions,
and the sensa visibly move.
If the above theory be true, the present motion or
rest of a sensum is not entirely determined by anything
in the nature of the present stimulus. The traces left
by past experiences, some of which were not wholly
visual, also co-operate ; and we have what Mr Russell
calls a case of " mnemic causation." Yet it is clear
that this makes no difference to the fact that here and
now visual motion and rest are properties of visual sensa,
which are "seen," as truly as shapes and colours, and
which would be inexplicable to a blind man.
These facts are typical of visual perception, and
render the situation with which we have to deal highly
complex and confusing. On the one hand, we now
pass from the visible motion or rest of our sensa to
perceptual judgments about the behaviour of our bodies,
of the medium, and of the object at which we say
that we are looking. We could not get so much out
of so little if it were not that many past experiences
of ourselves and others co-operate with the present
visual sensum to form the basis of our perceptual judg-
ments. But they do not only co-operate to form judg-
ments. The actual present qualities and movements of . /
ourfsensalare modified by the traces left by these past [ji.»s
experiences. We have thus to deal with a double
process. The experiences of many people (conveyed
to us from our earliest years by speech and corporate
action) and many past experiences of our own, have
helped to produce our present beliefs in the places,
shapes, movements, etc., of physical objects, and have
helped to produce our present classification of these
into medium, observer's body, object looked at, etc.
Pari passu with this, the traces left by these past experi-
ences (which express themselves in consciousness, if
2Q0 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
they do so at all, as expectations and beliefs about
physical objects) co-operate with present stimuli, and
modify the qualities of our sensa. And our present
judgments about physical objects are, of course, based
on our sensa as thus modified.
(/>) Visual Solidity. — Let us now apply these general
principles to the debated case of visual solidity and
distance ; and let us begin with solidity. It seems to
me perfectly clear that, whatever may have been true
of my infancy or of my remote ancestors, solidity is now
as genuine a quality of some of my visual sensa as flat
shape or red colour. A sphere does look different
from a circle, just as a circle looks different from an
ellipse. That this is due to past experiences of touch
and past kinesthetic sensations may very well be
true in one sense, though I think that it is certainly
false in another. We must distinguish between a
general quality, capable of various specific modifications,
and the particular form of it possessed by a certain
particular sensum. Thus visual solidity, on my view,
is a general quality of visual sensa, whilst sphericity is
a particular form of it, which belongs to some sensa and
not to others. Now I can quite well believe that the
particular form of solidity possessed by a certain sensum
may be in part due to traces of past experiences of
touch and movement. I can believe, for instance, that
the particular distribution of light and shade over my
present sensum resembles that of a past sensum which
was associated with the experience of passing my hand
over a spherical surface. And I can believe that the
resemblance of the stimulus excites the traces left by
that experience,, and that these co-operate with the
present stimulus on my retina to produce a sensum
which is visibly spherical. But I find it very hard to
believe that experiences of touch or movement could
create a third dimension in visual sensa which originally
had only two.
Now it does seem to me clear that visual solidity is in
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 291
itself as purely visual as visual shape and size. It does
not consist of visual flatness, together with judgments
about past or future tactual sensations. Nor does it
consist of visual flatness, together with associated
images of past or future tactual sensa. It is a matter
of plain inspection that the experience of visual solidity
is as unitary an experience as that of visual shape in
two dimensions, and that it is impossible to distinguish
it into a visual and a tactual part. We are therefore
forced to suppose, either that the experiences of one
sense can create an additional dimension in the sensa
of another sense, or that visual sensa are of their own
nature three dimensional. I should not be prepared
to accept the former alternative unless very strong
arguments could be produced against the second. We
shall see in a moment that the arguments are feeble
in the extreme. I shall therefore suppose that visual
solidity is a primitive characteristic of visual sensa, and
that the traces left by past visual and tactual experiences
merely help to determine what particular form of visual
solidity a particular sensum shall have.
If this be the genuine result of careful inspection,
no argument from the physical and physiological con-
ditions of visual sensation can possibly have anything
to say against it. On the contrary, it will be one of
the facts with which any theory as to the conditions of
visual sensation will have to reckon. All arguments
which attempt to prove that solidity is not a primitive
property of visual sensa are of the following type.
Whenever we see an object, a certain area of the retina
is stimulated by the light from this object. This area
is a projection of the object on to the surface of the
retina, and such an area could equally well be the
projection of a solid or of a plane figure of suitable
shape. Consequently, it is argued, there is nothing
in the retinal stimulus to distinguish between light from
a solid and light from a plane figure of suitable contour.
Therefore sight cannot give us an awareness of solidity.
292 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
This may be illustrated in the following way : Take
a sphere, and suppose that we are looking at it with
one eye. The light from it affects a circle on the retina,
of diameter, era'.
If we were to cut away all the sphere in front of SS' and
all the sphere behind it, leaving merely the circular
disc of diameter SS', the area of the retina affected by
the light from this disc would be exactly the same as
that affected by the light from the whole sphere, viz.,
the circular area of diameter ar<r' . Hence, it is argued,
the visual sensum must be the same in both cases. No
doubt there will be a difference in light and shade in
the sensum connected with the sphere, but this is the
only difference. And this effect could be reproduced
by using a suitably shaded fiat disc instead of an
uniformly illuminated one, as is in fact done when
painters want to represent spheres on flat canvases.
Conversely, arrangements of lines which are really in
one plane may "look solid." It is concluded (a) that
solidity is not a primitive property of visual sensa ;
and (d) that, even now, "to look solid," means simply
to evoke certain images, memories, or expectations of
tactual and kinesthetic experiences.
This argument, which must be mistaken if it is a
fact that visual solidity is a unitary and unanalysable
property of sensa, does rest on tacit assumptions ; and,
when these are laid bare, it loses its plausibility. It
assumes (a) that, because the retinal stimulus for visual
sensation is two-dimensional, therefore, the corre-
sponding visual sensum cannot have more than two
dimensions. It is this assumption that makes it so
plausible to hold that the visual sensum must itself be
a mere surface, and therefore that visual solidity needs
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 293
to be explained. But there is not the least reason to
accept the assumption. There is no reason, whatever,
why a sensum should not have a greater number of
dimensions than the physiological stimulus on which
it depends. Hence, even if it be true that the necessary
and sufficient condition of a visual sensation is an
excited area on the retina, this is no reason why some*
or all visual sensa should not be voluminous, {b) The
argument in question does make the further assumption
that the complete conditions of a visual sensum must
be present in the retinal stimulus with which it is
connected. If anything else, such as the trace of a
past tactual or kinesthetic experience, co-operates, it
is assumed that it can only produce associated tactual
images and not modifications of visual sensa. This
again is a sheer assumption, and one that is not even
antecedently probable. In any case, the visual sensation
does not arise till the stimulus has passed from the
retina, through the optic nerve, to the brain. It is the
wildest dogmatism to assert that what happens in the
brain corresponds point for point to what happened
on the retina, and that no additional factors come into
operation there, which may be constant when the
retinal stimuli vary, or variable when the retinal stimuli
are the same. Now if every visual sensation is partly
dependent on what happens in the brain as well as on
what has happened on the retina, it is surely mere
pedantry to assert that the solid shape of a certain visual
sensum cannot be a genuine property of it, because one
of its conditions was a trace left on the brain by a past
tactual experience. We must judge sensa, like O.B.E.'s,
by their present properties and not by their ancestry.
The truth seems to me to be as follows : (1) Visual
sensa, as such, are capable of being solid. There is
such a quality as visual solidity, and it belongs to some
sensa as much as the shape of a flat sensum belongs to
it. (2) The complete conditions of any visual sensum
include (a) a stimulated area of the retina (or what
204 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
corresponds point to point with this in the brain by
transmission through the optic nerve); and (/>) certain
conditions in the brain which are independent of the
present stimulus on the retina. (3) Among these
independent conditions are traces left on the brain by
past experiences of sight, touch, and movement. These
do not generally show themselves in consciousness at
all. If they happen to do so, they express themselves
as memories and expectations about physical objects.
(4) Generally these traces merely co-operate with the
brain states which are due to the retinal stimulus, to
produce a visual sensation whose sensum is of such and
such a kind. It is, therefore, reasonable to expect that
the visual solidity of two sensa may be different, though
the stimulated retinal area is the same. Let us illustrate
this by the case of the disc and the sphere. In both
cases the same circular area of the retina is stimulated
and the disturbance is transmitted from it to a correlated
part of the brain. In neither case is this sufficient to
determine completely the nature of the visual sensum
which shall be sensed at the moment. The other
necessary conditions include factors in the brain which
are independent of the present stimulus and existed
before it took place. Among these are traces left by
past experiences. Now the distribution of the light in
the case of the sphere excites certain traces, ts, whilst
the different distribution of the light in the case of the
uniformly illuminated disc excites certain other traces, td.
Calling <ra and a-d the visual appearances of sphere and
disc respectively, and r the common area of the retina
stimulated, we have
<r, = 4>(r,t,) and o-a=<f>(r,td);
and the sensible shape of the two sensa takes different
forms, viz., the solid spherical form and the flat round
form. Conversely, suppose we are looking at a per-
spective drawing of a cube on a flat bit of paper. If
we happen to be thinking mainly of solids, as we
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 295
generally are, a trace, 4, left by past experiences of
touching cubes, will tend to be excited ; if we are think-
ing mainly of the flat bit of paper a different trace,
tp will tend to be excited. The two visual sensa,
Sc = <t>{r,tc) and s = <f>(r,t/),
will then differ in the specific form that their sensible
shape takes.
(c) Visual Distance. — We can now pass to the question
of visual distance, which is more important for our
present purpose, and about which almost exactly the
same controversy has arisen. We have been told
ad nauseam since the days of Berkeley that we do not
see objects at a distance from ourselves, but that the
perception of distance by sight is simply associated
images of tactual and kinesthetic sensations. I take
this to mean that distance is not an intrinsic property
of our visual fields, as colour, size, and shape are.
Now it is perfectly obvious to me that I do sense
different patches of colour at different visual distances.
When it is said that we do not see distances out from
the body, the only sense in which it is true is that, in
monocular vision, there is nothing in the retinal stimulus
which is uniquely correlated with the distance of the
source of light from my eye. In binocular vision
there is, I suppose, parallax between the two retinal
impressions. To make the case that I am arguing
against as strong as possible, I will confine myself to
monocular vision.
It is true that, if I fix a stick 6 inches long at 6 feet
from my eye, its projection on my retina is the same
as that of a stick 1 foot long held at 12 feet from my
eye and parallel to the first. The one factor of length
in the retinal impression has to represent the two factors
of length and distance in the physical object. This is,
of course, still clearer if we keep one end of the stick
fixed and move the other end about in various directions
in Space. The various projections on the retina are
296 scientific thought
of many different lengths ; but all these various pro-
jections could equally have been produced by sticks of
suitable lengths, with their directions all confined to
the plane parallel to the observer's body. Hence there
is nothing in the retinal impression to distinguish
between a number of sticks of various lengths put in
various directions in a plane parallel to the body, and
a single stick with one end at a fixed distance and the
other turned in various directions in Space. The con-
clusion drawn is that distance out from the body is
not an attribute of visual sensa as such, like length
and breadth; the distance that is apparently "seen"
consists of associated images of kinesthetic and tactual
experiences that have been enjoyed in the past.
We must make much the same criticisms on this
argument as we have already made on the argument
to prove that there is no such quality as visual solidity,
(i) Whatever may be the history of the process, it is
now a fact that one visual sensum is visibly remoter
than another, and that a stick 6 inches long and 6 feet
away looks different from a parallel stick i foot long
and 12 feet away. (2) This sensible distance is not
now analysable into a sensum of a certain size and
no distance, together with revived images of past kin-
esthetic and tactual sensations. Visual distance is as
simple and unitary a quality in itself (whatever may
be true of its conditions) as visual length or breadth.
(3) It is extremely difficult to believe that visual sensa
started with no such quality as distance, and then
acquired an extra quality, perfectly interchangeable
with their former qualities of length and breadth,
through association with experiences of another sense.
(4) The fact that there is nothing in the retinal stimulus
which is uniquely correlated with distance in no way
proves that visual sensa do not, from the very first,
have some form of visual distance. It is equally true
that there is nothing in the retinal stimulus that
uniquely corresponds to the length or breadth of the
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 297
object at which we are looking ; yet the present theory
does not hesitate to hold that length and breadth are
genuine qualities of visual sensa. In fact, nothing
but prejudice can make us suppose that, because a
physiological stimulus has only n dimensions, the
sensum which is correlated with it cannot have more
than n dimensions. It is, therefore, perfectly open to
us to hold that all visual sensa have, of their very
nature, some visual distance or other. The only problem
is to account for the fact that here and now one visual
sensum has one sensible distance and another visual
sensum has another. (5) To account for this we have
to remember that, on any view, it is not the retinal
stimulus itself, but a process in the brain, which is the
last link in the train of events which ends with a visual
sensation. This being so, it is not unreasonable to
suppose that the total physiological conditions of any
visual sensation include (a) a set of brain-states which
correspond by transmission to the events in an excited
area of the retina; and (b) certain brain-states which are
independent of the present retinal stimulus. Among the
latter are traces left by past experiences of sight, touch,
movement, etc. ; and these play an important part in
determining the particular visual distance that a given
visual sensum shall have. It is thus perfectly intelligible
that the sensible length and distance of two sensa should
differ when the retinal stimulus is of the same size
and shape, and conversely. This is simply another
instance of the same general principle which we have
already seen at work in the case of sensible motion and
rest and in that of visual solidity.
A special difficulty with which we must now deal,
has been felt about ascribing distance to visual sensa.
It is argued that distance is essentially a relation between
two terms, and that a relation cannot literally be sensed
unless both its terms are also sensed. Thus we do not
visually sense a given line, unless we visually sense
both ends of it. Now we certainly do not visually sense
u
298 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
our own retina, and therefore it is impossible that we
should visually sense the distance of visual sensa from
them. This is a perfectly sound argument, and to meet
it we must draw certain distinctions.
(i) The first thing to recognise is that the awareness
of visual distance is primarily an awareness of the
distance between two visual sensa, and is not an aware-
ness of the distance of either of them from our retina.
It is perfectly true that the distance of sensa from our
retina is not sensed by sight. Indeed, it is only possible
to srive a meaning to the notion of distance between a
visual sensum and something, like the retina, which is
not a sensum at all, in a highly Pickwickian sense. All
I am asserting is that, when I open my eyes, I am aware
of a visual field in which different parts have different
depths. What I sense as visual distance is the difference
of depth between two sensa in this field.
(2) We must therefore distinguish between visual
depth and visual distance. Depth is a sensible quality,
not a sensible relation. Visual distance is a sensible
relation between two visual sensa, founded upon the
difference of their respective visual depths. When we
sense two sensa with different visual depths we ipso
facto sense the relation of visual distance between them.
If we only sense a single visual sensum (say a luminous
flash on a perfectly dark night) we do not sense distance,
but we do sense depth. It is, of course, quite true that
it is extremely difficult to estimate depth accurately
apart from distance. But there is nothing odd in this.
It is extremely difficult to estimate length accurately
except by comparing an object with some other. Never-
theless, objects do have lengths of their own, and the
relations between them which we notice when we com-
pare and measure, are founded on the lengths of each
of them.
(3) Sensa are at no distance from our retina, not in
the sense that they are at zero distance from it, as the
points of contact of two billiard balls are from each other
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 299
when they hit, but in the sense that the concept of
visual distance does not apply at all to anything but
pairs of visual sensa. They are at no distance apart
in the kind of way in which it is true that my belief
that 2x2 = 4 is at no distance from my desire for my
tea. A Pickwickian sense of distance can be defined
in which it is true generally to say that visual sensa of
less depth are nearer to my eye than visual sensa of
greater depth. But this Pickwickian sense involves a
reference to movement and other things which we have
yet to consider. The interpretation of the depth of a
single visual sensum in terms of distance between it
and the eye is, of course, greatly helped by the fact that,
when two sensa of different depth are both sensed, the
correlated relation of visual distance between them is
also immediately cognised.
I have spoken at some length about visual motion
and rest, solidity, and distance, for three reasons : (i)
They illustrate the extreme complexity of the relations
between sensa (if there be such things, as we are assuming
throughout this book) and physical objects and processes,
and show that the past history and present expectations
of the percipient must be supposed to be partial con-
ditions of some of the qualities and relations of sensa.
This cuts out at once any of those cheap and easy forms'
of naive realism which are produced in mass and ex- •
ported in bulk from the other side of the Atlantic, (ii)
The problem of the perception of distance and solidity
by sight is an intrinsically interesting and very complex
one, and we have at least shown that many venerable
arguments on these subjects rest on assumptions which
are not convincing when clearly stated, (iii) The con-
clusions which we have reached about visual distance
and solidity are of the utmost importance for our
immediate purpose, viz., a discussion of the concepts of
position and shape, as applied to sensa on the one hand
and to physical objects on the other.
My view is that nearly all the general concepts that we
300 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
use in dealing with Space, e.g., distance, direction, place,
shape, etc., come from sight, whilst the notion of one
Space and the particular quantitative values which these
general concepts assume in special cases are due mainly
to touch and to movement. Series of kinesthetic sensa-
tions are not, as such, experiences of distance, direction,
etc.; and I do not see how they could ever be interpreted
in such terms unless the necessary concepts had already
been supplied by sight. Before going further, I will
sum up our conclusions and sketch the general outline
of the view that I take.
(a) The physical world is conceived as comprising
at any moment a number of co-existing objects of
various shapes and sizes in various spatial relations to
each other, (b) The concepts, in terms of which this
view is stated, come mainly from sight, and could
hardly have arisen apart from it. Sight supplies each
of us at each moment with an extended visual field in
which there are outstanding coloured patches of various
shapes and sizes. These co-exist ; are in many cases
sensibly solid ; and have various spatial relations to
each other in three dimensions, which relations are
directly sensed, (e) These visual experiences, however,
need much supplementation before they can give rise
to the traditional concept of physical Space. In the
first place, visual shape, size, distance, etc., are not
quantitatively very definite. Again, Space is not
thought of as either momentary or private. It, and
the objects in it, are thought of as public property
which all observers can perceive. And it is thought
of as the permanent container in which physical objects
exist, persist, change, and move. Thus it is necessary
to connect up with each other (i) the successive visual
fields of the same observer, and (ii) the contemporary
visual fields of different observers. This fact may well
make us anticipate that the traditional separation of
Space and Time is not an ultimate fact, but is a con-
venient fiction, which works as well as it does because
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 301
of certain simplifying conditions which are generally
fulfilled in everyday life. (d) The connecting link
between various visual fields I believe to be mainly
experiences of bodily movement and of touch. These
also enable us to give quantitative definiteness to the
mainly qualitative concepts which we derive from sight.
(e) These series of movement-sensations are not them-
selves sensations of spatial relations. They are series
in Time, whereas spatial relations are conceived to
link contemporary terms. They are interpreted spatially,
in terms of the concepts which sight alone can supply,
through their association with visual experience. (/)
The accurate quantitative detail, and the unity of
physical Space, as conceived by us, are thus due to
the intimate association of sight with touch and move-
ment-sensations. But the traces of the latter do not
work simply by calling up judgments or images of
past or possible movements and touch experiences.
They also continually modify the actual properties of
our visual sensa ; so that the sensa connected with a
given retinal disturbance may come to acquire different
visual shape, size, and depth, from that which they
at first had. {g) I do not, of course, mean that the
spatial attributes of visual sensa can be indefinitely
modified by association with other experiences, or that
such association does not often express itself by mere
judgment, without modification of the qualities of the
sensa. For instance, it is true that if I look at what
I believe to be a round object in a considerably oblique
direction, the visual sensum is not rendered round by
the traces of past experiences, but remains visibly ellip-
tical. What the traces do here is not to modify the
sensum, but merely to produce the judgment that I
am in fact dealing with a round physical object. The
meaning of roundness is mainly based on visual ex-
periences ; the fact that I apply the concept of roundness
and not that of ellipticity to the perceived object is
mainly due to the associated traces of past tactual and
302 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
motor experiences ; but the latter only modify my judg-
ment about a physical object in this case, and do not
actually render the visual sensum round. This may
be contrasted with the case of looking through a
homogeneous medium at an object which is believed to
be still, and turning my head. Here the traces left by
tactual and kinesthetic experiences, which I have had
in the past in connexion with similar retinal stimuli,
do prevent the sensum from having any sensible move-
ment. If the medium be not in fact homogeneous,
these traces will automatically supply an "over-correc-
tion," and the sensa will visibly move. (//) On the
whole, we may say that traces of past experiences do
tend to modify the qualities of visual sensa in such a
direction that they approximate more closely to those
which we believe the object at which we are looking
possesses. Often the approximation is very imperfect;
but, as a rule, this makes little difference to the judg-
ments that we make about physical objects on the basis
of our sensa. (/) In any case, the spatial attributes
that we ascribe to a physical object, on the basis of a
present stimulus and the traces of past experiences,
gain their whole meaning from sensa and their proper-
ties, and in the main from the properties of visual sensa.
I may judge that I am looking at a round penny
because I am sensing an elliptical sensum ; but what
I mean by calling it "round," is that it has the same
sort of shape as certain visual sensa that I have sensed
in the past {e.g. when I look straight down on pennies).
U) We must further remember that, in ninety-nine cases
out of a hundred, the result of association, whether
it modifies the present sensum or not, is not to produce
an explicit judgment about a physical object and its
properties, but to guide us to appropriate actions.
When we say that an elliptical sensum, together with
traces of past experiences, leads us to judge that we
are looking at a round physical object, this is generally
an over-intellectual statement of the facts. The peculiar
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 303
experience of judging or believing may not arise in our
minds at all, and probably will not, if we are at the
time more interested in action than in reflection — as the
present state of the world proves most people to be
at most times. What really happens is that we act as
we might reasonably have been expected to act if we
had made such and such a judgment.
The Concept of Place : (a) Sensible Place. — Let us now
deal in detail with the concept of place, as applied to
sensa and to physical objects. We will start with
visual sensa. The fundamental meaning of "place
for visual sensa is their place in the visual field of the
observer who senses them. This I shall call Sensible
Visual Place. We shall also find it convenient to say
that such and such a coloured patch is sensibly present at
a certain place in a visual field. Sensible presence is
(a) directly experienced by sight ; (b) is literal and un-
analysable, not Pickwickian ; and (c) is private to a
single observer, in the sense that it only applies to the
sensa of his field. It is a relation between a sensum,
which is part of a field, and the rest of the field. Two
different men have different visual fields, and the same
man has different fields at different times. A given
field may be said to last as long as the specious present
of the observer whose field it is. We shall have to go
fully into this matter when we deal with the concepts
of date and duration, as applied to sensa and to physical
objects. In the present chapter I shall make the
simplifying assumption that our successive fields are
literally momentary. This is certainly not true, for a
momentary field is something that can only be defined
by Extensive Abstraction ; but it is best to deal with
one difficulty at a time.
I have already said that it seems to me that the
visual field, with its various coloured patches standing
out at different depths and in different directions against
a more neutral background, is the sensible basis which
4
.
304 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
alone gives meaning to the concept of Space. The
concept of Space is that of a perfectly unique kind of
whole of co-existing parts, and, if we had never been
sensibly acquainted with a concrete individual instance
of such a whole, we could never have formed the con-
cept. The visual field seems to me to be an instance,
and the only instance, of a space-like whole with which
we are directly acquainted. Now, of course, once a
concept has been acquired through sensible acquaintance
with a particular instance of it, it can be applied by
thought to wholes which are never sensed as such,
but are only conceived by reflection on experiences
which come to us piecemeal. In order to apply the
concept to such wholes, many modifications in detail
may be necessary, and these will be suggested by the
characteristics of the various experiences which we are
synthesising under the concept of a quasi-spatial whole.
For example, if you ask a scientist what he under-
stands by the statement that an atom consists of a number
of electrons arranged in a characteristic pattern in
Space, he will not be able to answer you by defining
his meaning in terms of other concepts. But he will be
able to answer you by exemplifying what he means. He
can ask you to look up at the sky on a clear night. He
can then say that he thinks of the electrons as analogous
to the little twinkling dots in your visual field, and that
he thinks of them as forming a pattern in Space, in the
sense in which those little dots form a pattern in your
visual field. In fact, a bit of matter is to physical Space
as a visual sensum is to a visual field. This is the
fundamental, non-Pickwickian sense in which things are
conceived to occupy places in Space. What we have
now to consider is the facts about our sensa and the other
experiences which encourage us to extend the applica-
tion of this concept beyond the visual field and its
sensa. *\
(b) Compresence\of Visual Sensa from different Fields. —
If I look at a penny, and either stand still or walk
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 305
about, I sense a successive series of visual fields. In
each of these there is a sensum which is an appearance
of the penny. Again, if a number of observers look
at the penny together, there are as many different visual
fields at any moment as there are observers. Each
contains a sensum which is an appearance of the penny.
We say that the appearances in the successive fields of
each observer, and the appearances in the contemporary
fields of the various observers, are in a certain sense all
"in the same place," and we say that this is the
"place where the penny is." It is evident that facts
such as I have just been describing are the sensible
basis of such statements as that I " go on seeing the
same penny," and that other people and myself " see the
same penny together." If there were no such correla-
tions between the successive fields of myself and between
the contemporary fields of several observers, there would
be no ground for making assertions of this kind.
Now it is quite clear that when I say that a number
of sensa from different fields are in the same place, I
cannot be talking of "sensible place," as described
above, for that concept refers essentially to the relation
between a sensum and its own field. We must, there-
fore, try to find the exact cash-value, in terms of sensible
experience, of the statements {a) that the various visual
sensa are in the same place ; and {b) that this is the place
where the physical penny is. By considering abnormal
cases, like mirror images, we shall see that sometimes
the first is true when the second is false. But we will
begin with more ordinary cases.
Very often the successive visual fields of an observer
are largely similar. In particular, there may be a series of
sensa s1 sn in his successive fields/^ fm
which are very much alike. Let us take the case of a
man who would be said to be looking directly at some rest-
ing luminous object through a homogeneous medium.
What sort of visual sensa will he sense? To start with,
a certain sensum s0 in the field f0 may attract his atten-
306 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
tion. This may be somewhere to the side of the field.
Suppose he turns his head so that, as we say, he is now
looking at the object of which this sensum is an appear-
ance. What happens is that he turns his head until he
is aware of a field/1? in the middle of which is a sensum
sv which in colour, shape, etc., very much resembles
the sensum s0, which originally attracted his attention.
This will have a certain sensible depth. Suppose that
he now begins to walk, " following his nose." He will
sense a series of visual fields, of which the following
propositions will generally be true, (i) In any one of
these fr there will be a sensum sr in the middle, closely
resembling s1 in shape and colour, (ii) The sensible
depths of the successive sensa ^ sn will steadily
diminish, whilst their brightness, distinctness, and size
will increase, (iii) This increase in distinctness and size
will go on up to a maximum, say in the sensum sn of
the field fn. (iv) If he now goes further, various new
and startling things will begin to happen. He will
often find that, if he stretches out his hand in front of
him, he will sense tactual sensa, correlated in shape
with the visual sensum. He may also burn his fingers
badly. He will generally find that his path is blocked.
(v) If he manages to get past the obstacle he will find
that his field fa+x contains no sensum sn+v like those of
the series sx sn. (vi) Very often he will be able
to sense a field _/"',l+1, which does contain a sensum s'n+1 of
the right kind, provided that he turns right round. The
essence of the process, then, is a succession of visual
fields, each containing at its centre one of a series of
qualitatively similar sensa of steadily diminishing depth
and increasing brightness and clearness, followed by a
great discontinuity and the beginning of new, though
often correlated, sensations.
Next, let us suppose that on another occasion the
man does not try to turn his head so as to sense a visual
field with a sensum like s0 in the middle of it. Let him,
instead, walk in some other direction, and let him stop
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 307
at some point in this course. Call his visual field at
that time <£„. 4>n may or may not contain a sensum like
s0. If it does, the sensum will certainly not be in the
middle of the field, and will probably be a very distorted
projection of s0. But, on either alternative, he will
generally be able, by suitably turning his head, to sense
a field f'v in the middle of which there is a sensum s'v
which is a good deal like s0, though not as a rule so
much like it as the sensa of the series j^ sn are
like each other. (As we say, he is seeing a different
side of the object.) If he now follows his nose, he will
in general sense a series of visual fields f\ f'„,
in the middle of each of which is a sensum of a series
s\ /„. This series will have the same sort
of internal relations as the series sx s„, and
will end up in the same catastrophic way. Now our
solitary observer will often find that, wherever he
starts, he can, by suitable head-turning, sense such
a series of sensa. He thus comes to recognise a central
region of discontinuity, to which he can walk from any
position, and to which he passes through series of
similar visual sensa of decreasing depth and increasing
brightness.
Now he will find this notion of a central volume rein-
forced by some of his other senses. The two other
senses that act at a distance are hearing and the feeling
of radiant heat. They have interesting differences from
each other and from sight, which will be worth mention-
ing. Let us begin with sound. There is an auditory
continuum from which particular noises stand out, as
particular coloured patches stand out from the sight
continuum. But, whilst patches of colour have definite
shapes and sizes, noises do not. It is extremely hard
to state the vague spatial characteristics of a field of
sound. Differences of direction in it can certainly be
sensed, but each sound seems to fill the whole sound-
field, though one is more intensely present in one part
of it and another in another part. Coloured patches
3o8 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
in the same visual field do not interpenetrate. Two
different colours cannot be sensibly present in the same
place in the same visual field. A colour is either
sensibly present in a place or it is not. There is no
question of degree. But each sound seems to be present
everywhere in the auditory field, though it is "more"
present in some parts than in others. This difference
between the sensible presence of sounds and of colours
leads to a difference in the way in which common-sense
supposes them to be present in physical Space.
Common-sense says that the colours that it sees are
spread out over the surfaces which it can touch. It
refuses to say that they are present in the medium
between this and the observer's body. But common-
sense does not hold that the noise of a bell is spread out
over the surface of the bell, or even that it is confined
to the volume of the bell. I think it would prefer to
say that the noise is present throughout the whole
surrounding air, and that there is merely " more of it
per unit volume " as we approach the bell.
Apart from this very important difference, to which
we shall have to return, there are striking likenesses
between sight and hearing. If we sense a sound s0 {e.g.
the auditory appearance of a tolling bell) we can turn
our heads in such a way that a similar sensum s1
" occupies the middle of the auditory field." If we then
follow our noses we shall, as a rule, sense a succession
of auditory fields fx fn, each of which contains
at its centre one member of a series of auditory sensa
st s„. These are qualitatively alike and of in-
creasing loudness, though I do not think we can say
that there is anything corresponding to the continual
decrease in sensible depth which we should find in a
series of visual sensa. After you have reached a certain
stage in this series you will generally find that, on
stretching out your hands in front of you, you get
tactual sensa, and that, as you do so, the sound ceases
or is modified. Exactly parallel results to those
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 309
described in the case of sight are found, when we
approach from different starting-points, or pass the
obstacle in which such series generally end. Thus
auditory sensa equally lead us to the notion of "centres."
Now in very many cases, whether you move under the
guidance of your visual sensa or under that of your
auditory sensa, you will end up with similar tactual
sensations after a similar series of kinesthetic sensations.
This happens, e.g. if we first look at a sounding bell
with our ears stopped, and then unstop our ears and
shut our eyes. Thus we come to think of centres of
discontinuity which can be approached from all sides,
and which are not merely centres for colour or for
sound, but are centres for both.
If we now ask ourselves why colours are held to be
on the bounding surfaces of such central volumes, and
not anywhere else, whilst sounds are held to be both
in and all round the sounding centre, the answer is
plain. Visual sensa have sensible depth ; this steadily
diminishes in the successive sensa that we sense as we
approach a centre, but never vanishes altogether till we
are too near the centre to sense any sensum of the series
at all. On the other hand, noises have no fixed
boundaries ; they do not exclude each other from the
same sensible place ; and they do not, I think, have
sensible "depth." We have thus no ground for saying
that we approach the sound when we approach the sound-
ing centre. A part of the sound is held to be wherever
we are when we hear it ; it merely is present in greater
density at places nearer the sounding centre.
Let us next say a word or two about our sensation
of radiant heat. We have here series of sensa of the
same kind as we have with sound. They lead us again
to the notion of centres of discontinuity, and in general
to centres which are common to radiant heat, sound,
and sight. But there is one interesting and important
peculiarity in the case of heat. If we start at a distance
from a centre we feel a heat sensum ; and, as we
310 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
approach, our successive heat sensa are more and more
intense, in the usual way. Now, as usual, when we
get to a certain point in the series we can sense tactual
sensa, if we stretch out our hands in front of us. These
sensa will usually be intensely and painfully hot. The
interesting point is that, in this case, heat is felt both in
the surrounding space and on the surface of the central
volume. There is no sensible depth in the field of heat
sensa, so that, as with sound, we do not localise the
successive sensa on the central volume. On the other
hand, when we do feel the central volume, the tactual
sensa are themselves hot. So the heat is regarded as
both filling the surrounding space and residing in or on
the central volume. Now common-sense regards what
can be felt as the physical object par excellence, and the
place to which one has to move in order to sense the
tactual sensa as the place of the object. Owing to the
fact of visual depth, and its gradual decrease as such
central volumes are approached, common-sense regards
all the successive visual sensa as localised on this
volume. It therefore says that the central volume is
coloured, not that it causes colour. In the case of the bell
it does not say that this is endowed with sound, but that
it is the cause of the surrounding space being filled with
sound. In the case of heat it thinks of the central
volume as both being hot and causing the surrounding
space to be filled with heat. The discrete side of the
common-sense view of the physical world is based on
the peculiarities of the visual field, and on the fact that
long intervals of free movement often come between
tactual sensations. The continuous side of the common-
sense view of the physical world is based on the
peculiarities of the fields of radiant heat and sound.
Heat sensations in some way form a connecting link
between the two aspects of nature, since they are felt
both on and between the centres of discontinuity.
It is obvious that these two sides of the common-sense
view correspond to real facts in nature. But we may
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 311
reasonably suspect that the separation between them
has been made too sharp, as all separations that are
made primarily in the interests of practice tend to
be. As a matter of fact, the common-sense view has
been based mainly on experiences of touch, sight, and
movement. Pervasive media, like air and ether, have
only been recognised in historical times. Thus the
continuous and transmissive side of nature has had to
be fitted into a prehistoric metaphysic of the external
world, made up mainly to deal with our experiences of
visible and tangible volumes with sharp outlines.
Atomic theories are so much more comfortable to most
of us than hydrodynamic theories, because they fit in
so much better with the scheme that we have inherited
from the practical philosophers of the Stone Age. We
learn, as time goes on, that light itself travels through
a medium with a velocity, that colours seen depend on
events in central volumes, just as do sounds heard, and
that these colours may turn up in places where no
correlated tactual sensa can be felt. All this will have
to be dealt with later, more especially when we come
to treat of date and duration. But, in the meanwhile,
we may offer the suggestion that a good deal of our
difficulty with the philosophy of the external world is
due to the fact that we are trying to fit new data into a
scheme based on experiences which did not include
them, and which ignored or minimised the sensible
facts, such as images, shadows, echoes, etc., to deal
with which new concepts are needed. In just the same
way we insist on forcing the facts of modern society into
the ethical and political framework of a simpler age,
without even the excuse that this "works well in
practice."
So far, we have confined ourselves to the case of a
solitary observer, immersed in a homogeneous medium,
such as air, and dealing with resting objects. These
are, of course, very common and practically important
conditions, and the corresponding experiences are there-
312 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
fore common, and have left their traces deeply on every-
one. I have tried to show that such an observer will
soon reach the notion of "centres of discontinuity,"
dotted about in various places which he can reach by
movement ; and that his successive visual sensa fall
into series which we will localise on the surfaces of these
central volumes. Further, we have seen that the senses
of hearing and of feeling heat will reinforce this notion,
and will lead him to recognise these centres as common
to the sensa of different senses. In particular, heat and
sound will combine to give him the notion of centres
surrounded with "physical fields." Sight, for reasons
mentioned above, does not give to unsophisticated people
the notion of a physical field ; and when the advance of
science makes it necessary to introduce this, consider-
able difficulties are felt in reconciling the omnipresence
and the finite velocity of the light field with the strict
localisation of colours on central volumes remote from
the observer. We may say, if we like, that colour
belongs physically to the continuous side of nature, but
that it has so far belonged epistemologically to the discrete
side of nature.
We can now pass to the case of a number of observers ;
and thence to the more complex cases of non-homo-
geneous media, which considerably "stain the white
radiance " of our original view about sight and the
localisation of its objects. Even with the solitary
observer in the homogeneous medium we have passed
to a new meaning of "place" for visual sensa. The
first and most primitive meaning was the place of a single
visual sensum in its own visual field. We have passed
beyond this to a group of visual sensa, each selected
out of different sensible fields of the same observer.
The members of such a group are said to be in the
same place, through their correlation with each other
and with the movements of the observer. The "place"
referred to here is clearly not a place in any visual field,
but is a place in the continuum of possible positions of
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 313
the observer's body. And the presence of a visual
sensum at such a place is not an ultimate unanalysable
relation, like its sensible presence at a place in its own
visual field. On the contrary, we have just been
analysing the meaning of the statement that a visual
sensum is present at a certain place in the movement
continuum, and have found that it means that the
sensum in question is one of a set of sensa belonging
to successive visual fields and connected with each
other and with the observer's movements in the ways
indicated above.
When a set of visual sensa from successive fields of a
single observer have the sort of relations that we have
been describing, we will say that they are optically
compresent with respect to that observer. Each member
of the set may be said to be optically present at the
place in the continuum of possible positions of the
observer's body which he reaches when the character
of the set begins to change abruptly. Looking at the
matter from the point of view of this place in the move-
ment-continuum, we may say that it is optically occupied
by sensa of such and such a kind from such and such
a direction. When we have a number of such sets,
which all converge on a central volume wherever the
observer may start, we will say that this place is
" optically fillecV with sensa of a certain kind. We shall
see later that a place may be optically occupied without
being optically filled. We have seen that, as a rule,
when a place in the movement-continuum is optically
filled, correlated tactual sensa are present at that place.
(We have not as yet considered what is meant by
saying that tactual sensa are present at a place in the
movement-continuum, but we will for the moment take
this notion for granted. We have also not as yet ade-
quately discussed the notion of place in the movement-
continuum. To these points we shall return later.)
Now, under normal conditions, we can not only
find groups of optically compresent sensa in the sue-
314 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
cessive visual fields of a single observer. We can also
find something of the same kind in the fields of different
observers. Let us consider what is meant by saying
that the sensa sA and s,., belonging to visual fields /ii and
fn of the observers A and B respectively, are in the same
place. We will suppose that A and B have turned their
heads in such directions that st is in the middle of/, and
sB in the middle o(fn. If they change places and repeat
the process, A's new sensum will, as a rule, resemble
B's old one in shape, and conversely. Suppose that,
when they have both turned their heads so as to sense
fields with these correlated sensa at their respective
centres, they start to walk, following their noses. Let
A do this till he senses the sensum .?,", which is the
most distinct of the series. Let him then stop, and let
B now start to follow his nose. B's body will, in general,
get nearer and nearer to A's, and by the time that B
senses his most distinct sensum s ;;, they will be nearly
in contact. If they now follow up their respective
courses they will certainly run into each other. If they
both stretch out their hands they will, in general, both
sense tactual sensa correlated in shape with their visual
sensa. Thus the notion of a common centre in the
movement-continuum, at which a number of visual
sensa are optically compresent, is extended to include
series of optically compresent sensa belonging to the
fields of different observers as well as to those of a
single observer.
Now it will be noticed that the place which a group
of optically compresent sensa are said to occupy is
defined by bodily movement. I have called the con-
tinuum of possible positions of an observer's body "the
movement-continuum." I think that "place," in the
physical sense, refers primarily to places in this con-
tinuum. Before we can deal with the more complicated
cases of visual sensa sensed by an observer who is not
surrounded by a homogeneous medium, we must get
clearer about the notion of place in the movement-
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 315
continuum. The experiences of turning one's head so
much and then walking so far in a straight line are not
in themselves spatial experiences. They are simply
series of kinesthetic and muscular sensations, different
stages of which fall into different specious presents.
They last for sensibly different times, and tire us to
sensibly different degrees. How do they come to lead
to the notion of a continuum of physical places, which
are common property to all the observers and are co-
existent? We cannot fully deal with this question till
we have dealt with the dates and durations of sensa
and of physical objects ; but we can at least say this
much : These series of successive kinesthetic sensa-
tions would not lead to the notion of a continuum of
contemporary places if it were not for their correlation
with experiences of sight. All the fundamental con-
cepts needed for dealing with Space have their origin,
and their only literal exemplification, in the visual field.
Space is thought of as a whole of contemporary parts,
spread out at various distances and in various directions.
A whole of this kind is sensed, if I am right, at each
moment by sight, and in no other way. Turnings of
the head are interpreted in terms of direction because
(a) different sensa do have different visible directions
in the same visual field ; and (b) because with every
turn of the head is correlated a change in the sensible
position of some sensum within the field of view. Or,
to put it more accurately, when we turn our heads a
field y^, with a sensum sx at a certain sensible place in it,
can be replaced by a field f2, with a similar sensum s2
in a different place in it, e.g. in the middle. Again,
a series of kinesthetic sensations is interpreted as the
traversing of a physical line of a certain length by the
observer, because the sensible depths of the similar
sensa sx sn in the middle of the successive
fields f\ fn continually diminish as the series
lasts longer. Sight and movement are thus under
reciprocal obligations. Were it not for sight, with its
J
16 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
extended fields of contemporary parts with different
sensible depths and in different sensible directions, we
should lack the very concepts needed for interpreting
the movement-continuum spatially. On the other hand,
were it not for the existence of groups of visual sensa,
correlated with each other and with movements, in the
way described, we should never have reached the notion
of the optical compresence in the same place of visual
sensa from different fields.
But, although the facts about visual sensa which
lead to the recognition of "centres" in which groups
of visual sensa are optically compresent, are necessary
in order that the movement-continuum may be inter-
preted spatially, we must not suppose that all places
in the movement-continuum are optically full or even
optically occupied at all. The vast majority of them
are not. Moreover, some which are optically occupied
from several directions are yet not centres at which
correlated tactual sensa are present. Let me illustrate
the first point. If I direct my movements by a certain
series of optically compresent sensa in the way described,
but stop before I reach the end of the series, I have
reached a place in the movement-continuum. But I
have not arrived at the place in which the sensa of
this series are optically compresent, and when I stretch
out my hands I may feel nothing at all. And the place
in the movement-continuum at which I have stopped
may quite well not be occupied by any visual sensa
of any series. What do we say under such circum-
stances? We say that we have indeed reached a
physical place, for we have walked so far, and in such
and such a direction. But we add that this place is
neither optically nor tactually occupied. If no places
had been optically or tactually occupied, we should
almost certainly not have interpreted the movement-
continuum spatially, or have arrived at anything like
our present conception of the external world. As it is,
a large number, though a minority, of places in the
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 317
movement-continuum are optically occupied ; many are
optically filled ; and most of these are also centres for
sound and heat, and are also tactually occupied. This
fact gives us the contrast between the filled and the
empty parts of the movement-continuum, and helps us
to conceive it as a Space dotted about with physical
objects in definite places and with definite boundaries.
We are now in a position to deal with the less
usual forms of optical presence. These arise when, as
the physicist would say, we are surrounded by a non-
homogeneous medium. Our present task, however, is
to describe as accurately as possible the actual facts
about our visual sensa, and not to offer causal explana-
tions of them in terms of their correlations with physical
events. To begin with a very simple case, let us
suppose that I am looking at the image of a luminous
point in a plane mirror. I can, as before, turn my
head in such a way that I sense a visual field fx with
a sensum sx in the middle of it, similar to the sensum
s0 that originally attracted my attention. Having done
this, I can, as before, follow my nose. Up to a point
my experiences will be exactly like those which we
have already described. There will be the same kind
of series of sensa sx sn, qualitatively much alike,
each in the middle of its field, of steadily decreasing
visual depth, and so on. But at a certain stage in the
series I shall suddenly sense certain tactual sensa, quite
uncorrelated with the visual sensa of the series {i.e. I
shall "bump into the mirror"). This is illustrated by
the figure below :
If I, or anyone else, were to start from B instead
of from A, the same sort of experiences would be
318 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
enjoyed. Tliis, however, is by no means all. A and
B might both have experiences of this kind if they
were both looking directly at some source of light
through a thin sheet of transparent glass. The differ-
ence is the following: In the former case, if A or B
break through or get round the mirror and try to
continue their course, there will be nothing in their
visual fields corresponding to the visual sensa that led
them up to the mirror. (That is to say, their visual
experiences, as they move along the dotted part of the
line AI or BI, are quite different from those which they
had when they traversed the undotted parts of these
lines.) If there were merely a thin sheet of transparent
glass at M, and A and B were viewing through it a
source of light at I, the series of visual sensa would
go on steadily after they had broken through or got
round the obstacle.
The next point to notice is that the courses of A,
B, C, etc., who start from the same side of the mirror,
really do converge on a common place in the movement-
continuum. If they pursued them through the mirror
or the glass they really would meet at I. The difference
in the two cases would be this : If they were looking
at something directly through a thin piece of glass, the
series of visual sensa of each of them would end at about
the time when their bodies came in contact with each
other, and correlated tactual sensa could be sensed by
each if he stretched his hand forward. If they are look-
ing at a mirror-image the series of visual sensa which
leads them up to the mirror not only ceases abruptly as
soon as they get through or past it ; they also find
that, when they meet, they either sense no tactual sensa
at all, or, if they sense any, these are quite uncorrelated
with the visual sensa that originally guided them on
their respective ways. If they want to sense correlated
tactual sensa, they will have to go to quite a different
place in the movement-continuum, and one that is not
on their course of movement at all, viz., the place O
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 319
in the figure. Now this place O, which is on A's and
B's side of the mirror, is also a place in which visual
sensa, much like those that guided A and B up to the
mirror, are optically compresent. But, as we have
remarked, it is in quite a different direction from those
followed by A and B ; and people who walked up to
it would sense tactual sensa correlated with the visual
sensa that led them to it, and therefore also correlated
with the visual sensa that led A and B away from it
towards I.
There is one further point to notice about I as
compared with O. Not only are there no tactual
sensa at I correlated with the visual sensa that guide
observers from the other side of the mirror on their
paths towards I ; there is also a purely optical
peculiarity about I. The place O is optically filled
with visual sensa of the kind in question. That is,
any observer, no matter in what direction he may
approach O, will sooner or later begin to sense a series
of visual sensa of this kind, which are optically com-
present at O. This is far from being true of I. I is
not a centre which is occupied by visual sensa of the
kind in question for all observers, or even for the latter
parts of the course of any observer. People at the back
of the mirror, who look directly at the place I, either
see nothing there or else they sense sensa which have no
resemblance to those which A and B sense on the earlier
part of their courses. Again, A and B, during the latter
part of their courses, sense no such sensa as they did
when they were on the reflecting side of the mirror. We
must say, then, that I is occupied by the sort of sensa that
constitute the mirror-image, from certain places, but
by no means from all ; whilst it may be filled with
visual sensa of quite a different kind. On the other
hand, O is not merely occupied, but is filled, with such
visual sensa as constitute the mirror-image. (For the
moment I neglect the inversion of the image, which of
course makes a characteristic difference between the
320 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
sensa that till O and the otherwise similar sensa that
optically occupy 1 from places on the reflecting side of
the mirror.)
We may sum up the peculiarities of mirror-images
with respect to place, as follows: (i) The usual correla-
tion between visual and tactual sensa breaks down.
Usually, when visual sensa are optically com present
at a certain place, correlated tactual sensa can be sensed
by an observer who walks up to that place. If, however,
you want to sense tactual sensa correlated with the
visual sensa that constitute a mirror-image, you must
go to quite a different place from that at which these
visual sensa are optically compresent. This is, of course,
puzzling, because unusual ; but there is no theoretical
difficulty in the fact that two sorts of sensa, which are
generally compresent, should sometimes not be so.
People whom we meet are generally compresent with
their trousers, but this rule is liable to break down in
swimming-baths. (ii) The optical places of mirror-
images are never optically filled with the sensa that
constitute the image, but are only occupied by such
sensa from certain directions and from the remoter
places on these directions. On the other hand, they
may be at the same time optically filled with visual
sensa that are not in the least like the mirror-image,
but are correlated with tactual sensa which can be
sensed by people who walk to these places.
We can now ask : What is it precisely that the
laws of geometrical optics tell us about mirror-images?
The answer is simple. They tell us where sources
would have to be placed, and what tangible shapes
they would need to have, in order that an observer
who stands in a given position shall continue to sense
the same visual sensum when the heterogeneous medium,
with which he is in fact surrounded, is replaced by air.
If we like to use the convenient language of the general
Theory of Relativity, we can say that the introduction
of suitable sources in suitable places in a homo-
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 321
geneous medium will always "transform away" {i.e.
be equivalent to) the effects of any heterogeneous
medium for any one visual sensum of any one observer
in any one position. In favourable cases the trans-
formation may apply to many sensa of many observers
in many positions. But no arrangement of sources in
a homogeneous medium will be equivalent to the
effects of a heterogeneous medium for all observers
in all positions. For instance, if we remove the mirror
M and put a luminous point of the right colour at I,
A's and B's visual sensa will be unchanged ; but very
different sensa will now be introduced into the fields
of observers at the back of the mirror. The laws of
geometrical optics are then simply the rules according
to which we can calculate the tactual shapes and the
positions of such hypothetical sources as would trans-
form away the effects of a heterogeneous medium for
a given sensum of a given observer in a given place
in the movement-continuum.
(c) The Relation of Optical Occupation. — I think that
we are now in a position to go a step further in our
analysis of the optical places of visual sensa. We
notice that three types of case can arise, ranging from
the completely normal, through the mildly abnormal,
to the wildly abnormal, (i) There is the case of seeing
things by direct vision in a homogeneous medium.
Here all observers in all directions (provided they be
not too far off) can sense very similar sensa, and can
bring them into the middles of their respective fields
of view ; and the paths of all these observers converge
to a common place in the movement-continuum, at which
all the sensa of all these series are optically compresent.
The proviso that the observers are not to be too far off
is added in order to allow for the possible interposition
of opaque obstacles between the place where the observer
is and the centre of optical compresence. If a luminous
point be inside a room, it is true that the place where it
is said to be is optically occupied by sensa of similar
322 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
quality from all directions; it is not true, however, that
it is occupied by such sensa from all places on any one
of these directions. It is not so occupied from places
that are outside the room. What we can say is that
there is some finite distance r, such that the place in
question is optically occupied by such sensa from all
places within a sphere of radius r drawn with this place
as centre. The figure below illustrates this restriction.
The dotted parts of the lines are
the positions from which P is not
----* optically occupied by sensa of the
sort with which it is optically filled,
(ii) In the case of seeing a
* mirror-image there is a certain
place behind the mirror which (a) is occupied by
similar visual sensa from many, but not from all,
directions which converge on the point, (b) It is only
occupied by visual sensa of this kind from certain places
on any one of these directions, and no series of such
places extends up to the place where the image is said
to be. On the contrary, these series always end abruptly
at a finite distance from the place, (c) The place of the
mirror-image may, though it need not, be also a place
of complete optical compresence from all directions.
But, if so, the sensa with which it is optically filled
will be quite unlike those which optically occupy it
from places on the reflecting side of the mirror. In
the figure below, M is a mirror, N an opaque obstacle,
and I the place of a mirror-image. The full thick part
of a line represents the places on it from which I is
optically occupied by the sensa which constitute the
mirror-image. The full thin part represents the places
from which it is optically occupied by sensa of the sort
with which it is optically filled. The dotted parts
represent places from which it is occupied by neither
kind of sensa.
(iii) Lastly, with distorted mirrors or other kinds of
more heterogeneous media, any observer may find that
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 323
he has continually to turn his head at each step, if he
wants to sense a series of visual fields with at all similar
sensa at their centres. In such cases the observers will
also generally find that their sensa are affected with
sensible movement as they turn their heads.
We thus have a series of cases, ranging from the
complete tameness of (i) to the extreme wildness of (iii).
Now it seems to me that the psychological and the
logical order are here opposite to each other. Psycho-
logically our concept of Space, and of the places of
things in it, is built on (i), i.e., on the commonest and
most practically important cases. If these had been less
common and less practically important, it is doubtful
whether we should have reached anything like our
present view of the external world. But, logically
considered, it is the wild cases, of type (iii), that are of
fundamental importance. It seems pretty clear that the
normal cases can only arise when certain special simpli-
fying conditions are fulfilled, viz., those which we sum
up by saying that the medium is homogeneous. These
special conditions mask the real complexity of the
relations involved ; whereas the wilder cases exhibit
these relations in their most general form. There is
some hope that, if we treat the wild cases as funda-
324 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
mental, we may be able to deal with the normal ones
as specially simplified instances of a more general
relation ; as, e.g,y a circle may be regarded as a specially
simplified case of an ellipse. But there is very little
hope that, if we take the relations involved in the normal
cases as fundamental, we shall be able to interpret the
abnormal cases in terms of them. And, as Critical
Philosophers, it is our business to try to deal with all
the facts, and not to hush up the existence of abnormal
sensa, as though they were the peccadillos of a Cabinet
Minister.
We can now say something about the logical
characteristics of the relation of optical occupation, (i)
It is a relation between a visual sensum on the one
hand and a place in the movement-continuum on the
other. (2) It is a many-one relation. This means that
a given sensum s can only occupy optically one place
in the movement-continuum, but one place in the
movement -continuum can be optically occupied at
the same time by many sensa. (3) I think we must
also hold that the relation of optical occupation is
irreducibly triadic. This means that any complete
statement, which asserts this relation to hold, involves
three terms, viz., the sensum, the place that it optically
occupies, and a third term. My reason for saying this
is the following: The statement that the place p is
optically occupied by the sensum s seems to be incom-
plete ; the full statement would seem to be that p is
optically occupied by s from q, where q is the place in
the movement-continuum occupied by the observer's
body. We see this more clearly if we state exactly
what we mean when we say that s optically occupies p.
s will be a sensum which is sensibly present in a certain
observer's visual field at the time. This observer will,
in fact, be in a certain place q. To define the direction
of p, the place optically occupied by s, we have to
suppose that the observer turns till he senses a visual
field with a sensum s', similar to s, in its centre. The
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 325
direction of p is then the direction in which he would
start to walk if he followed his nose. The distance of p
is determined by the sensible depth of/ in the observer's
visual field. It is the distance that he would have to
walk to reach a source if, in fact, the medium were homo-
geneous and s' were due to the transmission of light
directly from this source to his eye. It seems therefore
that the full meaning of the statement that s is optically
present atp cannot be understood without a reference to
the place q occupied by the observer in whose visual field
s is sensibly present. If so, the relation of optical occupa-
tion is triadic, and the minimum complete statement is
that s occupies/ from q.
Of course, in a great many cases, if the observer
were to walk to a place />, thus determined, he would
not find any centre of discontinuity there which could
be taken as the source of his original sensum s. And, in
many cases, he would not find that a series of sensa like
s were sensibly present in the middle of his successive
visual fields as he moved in the line from q to /. This,
however, does not prove that our definition of optical
occupation is wrong. It merely shows that the fact that
a sensum s occupies/ optically from q is no guarantee that
p is physically occupied by anything closely connected
with s. This we already knew from our experiences
with mirrors and other types of non-homogeneous
medium.
We must not be frightened of triadic relations, for
there are plenty of other examples of them in daily life.
The relation of giving is an example, since it essentially
involves a giver, a gift, and a recipient. The minimum
intelligible statement which asserts the relation of giving
is of the form " x gives y to z." It is true that we some-
times use apparently simpler phrases, like " Smith gives
to the Additional Curates' Fund " ; but these are clearly
elliptical, and, when fully stated, appear in the form
"Smith gives something to the Additional Curates'
Fund." Of course, whenever x, y, and z stand in a
326 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
»
triadic relation, this involves certain dyadic relations
between them by pairs; but the assertion of the triadic
relation is not analysable into the conjoint assertion of
these dyadic relations. The latter are derived from the
former, and the former is not built up out of the latter.
Contrast the relation of " uncle " with that of " giving."
Both involve three terms. For to say that x is uncle of
.; means that x is brother of some third person j, who is
a parent of s. This does not make the avuncular
relation triadic ; for it is completely analysable into the
conjoint assertion of these two dyadic relations, and
they are not merely derived from it.
Now we are very liable to ignore the fact that a
relation is polyadic and to treat it as dyadic. This
happens if two of the terms mainly interest us and the
rest are uninteresting or generally constant. When
this condition ceases to be fulfilled we are liable to find
apparent contradictions, which can only be avoided by
recognising the polyadicity of the relation. When we
say that A is to the right of B, we often ignore the fact
that we are really asserting a triadic relation between
A, B, and our own hands. Eventually we meet some-
one as sane as ourselves, who insists that A is to the
left of B. This is a contradiction, until we take into
account the neglected third term, which is different in
the two cases, and see that both parties may be right
when their full meanings are made explicit.
If we accept the view that the relation of optical
occupation between visual sensa and places in the move-
ment-continuum is triadic, there is no difficulty in the
fact that a place may be at once optically filled with
sensa of a certain kind and optically occupied from
many places with sensa of quite a different kind, which
have no connexion with the physical filling of this place.
P is optically filled with sensa of the kind k if there is a
closed surface in the movement-continuum such that it
contains P, and such that P is optically occupied by
sensa of the kind k from all places between the outside
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 327
of P and the inside of this surface. This is quite com-
patible with the fact that there are other places in the
movement-continuum from which P is not occupied by
sensa at all. It is also quite compatible with P being
optically occupied from many other places with sensa
of a different kind k '. This is what happens in the case
of mirror-images. With a plane mirror the situation is
as follows : There is a set of places from each of which
a sensum of the kind k' is optically present at P.
These places are on lines of approach which converge
on P. But (a) all the lines on which such places are
situated are confined within a certain solid angle with P
as vertex ; and (/;) even for lines within this region the
series of places from which sensa of the kind k' are
optically present at P does not reach P, but stops short
at a finite distance from it.
The question might now perhaps be raised: " Is it
enough to suppose that the relation between a visual
sensum and a place which it occupies in the movement-
continuum is triadic?" Ought we not, in the case of
the mirror-image, for instance, to bring in the positions
of the source and the mirror as well as that of the
observer, and thus make the relation at least pentadic?
This is a plausible question, but I think that it rests on
a confusion. Undoubtedly, if we want to predict in what
place a sensum of a certain kind will be optically present
from the place of a certain observer we need to know
the positions of the source and the mirror. But these
are not involved in the meaning of the statement that
such and such a sensum is optically present in such and
such a place. We saw that a reference to the place
of the observer is an essential part of the meaning
of this statement. But the parts played by the source
and the mirror are merely causal and not constitutive.
This is clear from the fact that we have been able to
give a satisfactory definition of optical occupation with-
out mentioning the positions of the source or the mirror.
The way in which these do become relevant is the
328 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
following : The positions of the source and of the mirror
do determine causally, according to the physical laws
of light, the sensible place of the sensum s in o's visual
field. And the place p in the movement-continuum,
which is optically occupied by s from where the observer
is, depends (by definition) on the sensible place of s in o's
visual field. But it is one thing to say that the positions
of the source and the mirror are factors which causally
determine the nature of the sensum which optically
occupies a particular place / from another place q, and
quite another thing to say that the positions of source
and mirror have to be stated before the proposition that
s optically occupies/ from q can be understood. If the
latter were true, the relation between a sensum and its
optical place would be at least pentadic, for the minimum
intelligible statement about optical occupation would be
of the form " s optically occupies / from q with respect
to the medium m and the source o-." But this does not
seem to be true, and therefore I see no reason at present
to hold that the relation of optical occupation is more
than triadic.
(d) Physical Place. — Having dealt with the puzzling,
but most illuminating, case of abnormal optical occupa-
tion, we can now treat the places of physical objects.
Before the notion of physical place can be profitably
discussed, we must form a clearer idea of what we mean
by a physical object. For a physical place is the sort
of place that can be occupied by a physical object. So
far we have simply contrasted physical objects with the
sensa which are their appearances. But it may well be
that " physical object," in this sense, is a somewhat loose
term, and covers several different kinds of entity. We
must even be prepared for the possibility that what
common-sense calls a physical object may be really a
number of correlated objects of fundamentally different
kinds.
That this is so will be plain, I think, if we compare
the following four entities : a particular visual appear-
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 329
ance of a certain penny ; an image of the penny in a
plane mirror ; what common-sense understands by the
penny; and the atoms, electrons, etc., which science
asserts to be the ultimate physical constituents of the
penny. The first, no one would think of calling a
physical object. The second would not indeed be
called a physical object ; but it is much more than a
mere sensum. It can be "seen" by a number of
different observers from different places in exactly the
same sense in which the penny itself can be seen. And
it has a certain persistence and independence. It is, in
fact, a group of closely correlated visual sensa, and a
certain place in the movement-continuum is optically
occupied by members of this group from a great many
places, although it is not filled by them. We refuse to
call it a physical object, because of the lack of complete
optical filling, and because of the absence of correlated
tactual sensa when we come to the place which is opti-
cally occupied by sensa of such a group. I will call
such a thing as a mirror-image a Partial Optical Object: —
optical, because it consists wholly of visual sensa;
partial, because it does not optically fill the place which
it optically occupies.
Now what common-sense understands by a physical
object, such as a penny, is something more than this
in two ways at least. (1) It involves a Complete Optical
Object, for the place where the penny is said to be is
optically filled with correlated brown elliptical and round
sensa. (2) It involves something more, which is not
optical at all. The place in the movement-continuum
which is marked out for us by being filled with the
complete optical object very often resists our efforts to
move into it. It is often a centre for sound and radiant-
heat sensa. And, as a rule, we sense tactual sensa of
characteristic shape and of some temperature or other
when we come to this place. It is very exceptional for
condition (1) to be fulfilled without condition (2); though
I suppose we may say that condition (2) is evanescent
Y
SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
in the case of clouds and wisps of coloured vapour.
Lei us call the penny, as common-sense understands
it, a Perceptual Object. Now the important thing to
notice is that a perceptual object is really not one single
homogeneous object, present in a place in the movement-
continuum in one single sense of "presence." It is
a number of interconnected objects of different types,
and the different kinds of object included in it are present
in different senses in the place where the perceptual
object is said to be. I will call the various correlated
objects which together constitute a perceptual object
constituents of the perceptual object. It would be mis-
leading to call them parts of it, because this would
suggest that they literally fit together to fill up the
place in which the perceptual object is said to be. This
could not be true, because they are of radically different
kinds, and are in this place in radically different senses.
Take, for example, the perceptual object which is what
common-sense means by a penny. One constituent of
this is a complete optical object. This consists of visual
sensa. Each of these is literally present only at a place
in its own visual field. The optical object is only
present at the place in the movement-continuum in the
sense that this place is optically filled by the visual
sensa which together make up the complete optical
object. Another constituent of the perceptual penny
is a group of tactual sensa. Each of these is literally
present only in its own tactual sense-field. The whole
group is present at the place where the penny is said
to be, in some Pickwickian sense which we have not
yet defined, but which, from the nature of the case,
cannot be identified either with sensible presence or
with optical presence. It is because the perceptual
object is not one homogeneous thing, but a complex
of correlated constituent objects of various types, that
science finds it necessary to pass beyond the perceptual
objects of common-sense. This does not mean, as we are
liable to think, that the latter are "unreal." It only means
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 331
that they are unsuitable units for scientific purposes,
though admirably convenient units for the purposes of
everyday life. This leads us to the last meaning of
"physical object," viz., what Whitehead calls Scientific
Objects. (Though I use this convenient expression of
Whitehead's, and mean it to apply to much the same
things as he applies it to, it does not necessarily follow
that he would agree with the account that I am going
to give of the concept of such objects.)
Science tells us that a penny "consists of" large
numbers of colourless particles, moving about with great
velocities in characteristic ways. This is understood
both by science and common-sense to mean that the
colourless particles are parts of the perceptible brown
penny in the same literal sense in which a visual
appearance of the King's head is a part of the visual
appearance of the penny. It would be difficult to
accept this interpretation, even on a naively realistic
view of pennies and our perception of them. It is not
easy to believe that the brown continuous surface of the
penny, which, on that view, we sense, can literally be
composed of colourless particles. Anyhow, this simple-
minded interpretation of the scientific statement becomes
impossible when we remember that the perceptual
penny is not one homogeneous object, but is a complex
of connected constituent objects of different types,
which all occupy a place in the movement-continuum in
different Pickwickian senses. It is clear that nothing
could be a part of all the constituents of a perceptual
object in any one sense of the word "part," whether
literal or Pickwickian. If it be literally part of one of
the constituents, it can only be a part of the others in as
many different Pickwickian senses as there are different
types of constituent. Moreover, some at least of the
constituents are such that nothing could literally be a
part of them. One constituent, e.g., of a perceptual
object is a complete optical object. Nothing could
claim to be a literal part of this except one of the visual
332 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
appearances of the perceptual object. And even these
are not literally parts of the complete optical object. A
visual appearance of a penny is a "part" of the complete
optical object only in the sense that the latter is a group
of optically compresent sensa of which this appearance
is one member. But the various members do not literally
fit together to make up a surface, and therefore they
are not literally parts of the complete optical object.
We can now return to the statement that perceptual
objects, like pennies, are "composed of" scientific
objects, like electrons. From what we have just said,
this cannot mean more than that the scientific objects are
literally parts of one of the constituents of a perceptual
object. It is further quite clear that they are not literally
parts, or even members, of the optical constituent of the
perceptual object. This, I take it, is why there is no
objection to the view that a brown penny is composed
of colourless electrons. The brownness belongs to the
optical constituent ; and the electrons are not literally
parts of this, but at most of some other constituent of
the perceptual object.
Now I think that by a scientific object we mean
something that literally occupies a place in the move-
ment-continuum. And by this I mean that it occupies
it in the same indefinable way in which a sensum
occupies its sensible place in its own field. If this be
right, the relation between the place of the perceptual
object and its component scientific objects may be stated
as follows : The perceptual object marks out a certain
region in the movement-continuum by the presence in
this region of its various constituents. These con-
stituents are all present in this place in different ways,
and these ways are all definable and Pickwickian. We
have attempted to define the way in which the optical
constituent is present, because this is the most difficult
and important case. Science conceives that the regions
in the movement-continuum, thus marked out, are liter-
ally occupied by certain objects which have an important
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 333
causal bearing on the nature of the sensa which occupy
such regions in their various Pickwickian ways. These
supposed objects, defined as the literal occupants of
places in the movement-continuum, are what we mean
by scientific objects. And a perceptual object is com-
posed of certain scientific objects, in the sense that the
latter literally occupy that region of the movement-
continuum which the constituents of the former occupy
in Pickwickian senses.
(e) Summary of Conclusions about Place. — There is one
and only one literal sense of " being in a place." This
is not definable, but it is exemplified in our sense-
experience most clearly in the presence of a visual
sensum at a certain sensible place in its visual field.
The concept of being in a place is based on our sensible
acquaintance with such instances as this. It can then
be applied in thought to types of object and of con-
tinuum which we cannot sense as simultaneous wholes.
Again, there is one and only one kind of place which
we deal with when once we leave individual sensa and
their fields and pass to physical objects in the widest
sense of the term. This is a place in the continuum
of possible positions of our bodies as we move. This
continuum is not sensed as a simultaneous whole ; but
our successive experiences of motion are synthesised
under the concept of a spatial whole, through analogy
with visual fields which we can sense simultaneously.
Now, although there is only one literal sense of being
in a place ; and although by " place " we always mean
"place in the movement- continuum, spatially con-
ceived," so soon as we leave the individual sense-field ;
still there are many derivative, definable, and Pick-
wickian senses of " being in a place." Whenever we
talk of any sensum occupying a place in the movement-
continuum, we are using terms in a Pickwickian manner,
and are bound to define them. And for different kinds
of sensa different Pickwickian kinds of occupation will
have to be defined.
334 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
Now there are certain correlations between the sensa
of successive fields sensed by the same observer, between
contemporary sensa of different observers, and between
sensa of different kinds, which constantly occur in real
life, and make these definitions possible and useful.
But we are liable to overlook cases where these correla-
tions break down in whole or in part, and thus to
produce an illusory simplification. This mistake is
avoided by considering- such facts as mirror-images.
We found that the perceptual objects of everyday life
are not homogeneous, but are really composed of a
number of correlated constituent objects, all occupying,
in various Pickwickian senses, the same region of the
movement-continuum. A mirror-image bears a close
resemblance to the complete optical object which is one
of the constituents of an ordinary perceptual object. It
differs from a perceptual object in three ways: (i) It
is not a complete optical object, but only a partial one.
(2) The place which it optically occupies is not also
occupied by correlated tactual and other types of object.
(3) There is good reason to think that the place of a
perceptual object is literally occupied by certain scientific
objects, which are intimately connected causally with the
sensa which occupy this place in Pickwickian ways. In
the case of a mirror-image, the place which is optically
occupied by the sensa which make up the image may
or may not also be literally occupied by scientific objects.
But, on either alternative, the nature of the sensa is not
causally determined by the scientific objects which occupy
this place, and is causally determined by the scientific
objects which occupy certain other places, viz., the places
where the source and the mirror are perceptually present.
Finally, just as a place in the movement-continuum may
be optically occupied without containing any relevant
scientific objects, so there may be many places in the
movement-continuum which contain important scientific
objects without beingeitheropticallyortactually occupied.
If there had been no perceptual objects, or if the relevant
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 335
scientific objects had not as a rule occupied the region
marked out for us by the perceptual objects to which
they are most relevant, we should hardly have reached
the notion of scientific objects at all. But, once having
reached this notion from reflecting on perceptual objects,
there is no reason why we should not apply it to regions
which are not occupied by perceptual objects at all.
Nevertheless, this is a late development of human
thought, which has happened well within historical
times, whereas the recognition of perceptual objects is,
of course, prehistoric and almost certainly pre-human.
The Concept of Shape.— It remains to consider what
is meant by " shape," and what is the exact cash value
of common statements about shape, such as "This
penny is round." The notion of shape is one of the
many points where the traditional separation between
Space and Time wears very thin. This is readily seen
if we ask: " What is the shape of a cloud of coloured
vapour?" As the outlines of a cloud are continually
shifting, there is nothing that can strictly be called the
shape of it. We can, however, divide up the history
of the cloud into shorter and shorter successive sections,
and talk of the shape of each of these. Shape only
becomes a perfectly definite concept when it refers to
a momentary extended object ; it can therefore only be
defined strictly by the use of Extensive Abstraction.
It is true, however, that there are many objects,
such as pennies, for which the shapes of successive
momentary sections are practically identical over a
long slice of history. In such cases we can talk of
the shape of the object. We can say that a penny has
a definite shape, and that this is circular. We have
now to consider the precise meaning of such statements.
(a) Sensible Shape. — Just as there is one and only
one non-Pickwickian sense of being in a place, so there
is only one literal sense of having a shape. We cannot
define "shape" in its literal sense, any more than we
336 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
can define "being in a place " in its literal sense.
But we can and do become acquainted with concrete
instances of shape in our sense-fields. The literal
meaning of shape is best illustrated by a visual sensum
which persists unchanged throughout the whole of
the short duration of a single sense-field. It will be
remembered that, in the present chapter, we are making
the simplifying assumption that sense-fields and the
sensa which they contain are literally momentary.
This assumption will be corrected in the next chapter.
But in the meanwhile we may say that Sensible Shape
is the sort of shape possessed by visual and other
sensa, and that this is the fundamental meaning of
shape.
{U) Optical Shape. — We talk of a number of different
observers "seeing the same object from different places."
We have already discussed the cash value of this state-
ment with sufficient accuracy for the purpose of defining
optical occupation. For the present purpose we must
go a little further and draw a distinction which we
have hitherto ignored for the sake of simplicity. When
several people are said to "see the same object," this
sometimes means that they all "see the same part of
the object," and it sometimes means that they "see
different parts of the same object." Moreover, when
they are seeing different parts of the same object, it
would be held that sometimes the parts which they
see are entirely separate, and that sometimes they
partially overlap each other. The following examples
will illustrate these distinctions: (i) If a penny be
laid on the table and a number of people stand round
and look at it, we should say that they all "see the
whole of the upper surface of the penny." (2) If I
am in my rooms with the door shut, and I look at
the door from inside the room whilst you look at it
from outside in the passage, we should be said to be
"seeing wholly separate parts of the same object."
(3) If a cricket-ball be put on the table and a number
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 337
of people stand round and look at it, we should say
that they all "see partially different parts of it, but
that the parts seen by adjacent observers partially over-
lap." It is quite evident that these three different
types of statement express three genuinely different
situations, all of which often arise in real life. On the
naive view, that we literally sense parts of the surfaces
of physical objects when we look at them, the meanings
of such statements are tolerably obvious. But we have
long ago deserted that view ; and indeed one of the
reasons which made us do so was the differences in
sensible shape of the sensa of various observers who
were all "seeing the whole of the upper surface of a
penny." It is therefore necessary for us to define Pick-
wickian senses in which such statements are true.
A and B may be said to see the same part of a
perceptual object when the visual sensa sA and sB, which
are the appearances of this object to A and B respectively,
are optically present in precisely the same region of the
movement-continuum. It might be said: "How is
this possible, when sA may be circular and sB elliptical ;
or, again, both may be circular, but sA much bigger
than j^?" This objection rests on a confusion between
optical and literal occupation. There is nothing in the
definition of optical occupation to prevent precisely the
same region of the movement-continuum being optically
occupied from different places with sensa of various
sensible shapes and sizes. What would be impossible
is that either (a) the same place in a sense-field should
be sensibly occupied by two sensa of different shape or
size ; or (d) that the same region of the movement-con-
tinuum should be physically occupied by scientific
objects of different shape or size. It is now easy to deal
with the other two cases. We see wholly different parts
of a perceptual object if the visual sensa, which are the
appearances of this object to us, are optically present in
wholly separate regions of the movement-continuum.
Lastly, A and B see partially overlapping parts of a
338 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
perceptual object if (n) the sensa .v., and s„ are optically
present in different regions of the movement-continuum ;
(/>) these regions partly overlap ; and (c) the overlapping
part is optically occupied by a part of sA and by a
part of .<• . What we must clearly understand is that
literally it is nonsense to suggest that the various
sensa which constitute a complete optical object them-
selves overlap and together make up a single surface.
It is hardly worth while to take great trouble to
define the optical shape of a perceptual object. This
would involve defining some Pickwickian sense in which
we could talk of the shape of the complete optical object
which is a constituent of the given perceptual object.
Now common-sense would admit that no one can literally
see the whole of any perceptual object from any one
position. And it would admit that the visual shape and
size of any part depend on the position of the observer.
In fact we only use visual shape and size as indications
(trustworthy enough under normal conditions, if suit-
ably corrected) of the shape of the perceptual object.
And by the shape of the perceptual object common-
sense understands its felt shape. It is possible, and
perhaps useful, to define the optical shape and size of a
part of a perceptual object from a given direction. This
might be done as follows : If we look at the place where
a perceptual object is, bring the visual appearance of
the object into the middle of our visual field, and then
follow our noses, we do sense a series of visual fields, each
containing an appearance of the object. These sensa,
as we have already seen, do increase to a maximum
of size and brightness as we approach the place which
they optically occupy. We might, perhaps, take the
size and shape of the largest and clearest sensum of
such a series as what is meant by the optical size and
shape from a given direction of a certain part of the
perceptual object. But I do not think that it would be
possible to generalise this definition, so as to give a mean-
ing to the size and shape of a complete optical object.
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 339
(c) Physical Shape. — We have said that common-
sense identifies the " real " shape of a perceptual object
with its felt shape. This statement requires a good
deal of analysis. The first thing to notice is that we
are much more inclined to believe that we feel literal
parts of the surfaces of physical objects than that we
see them. Mirror-images, and the variations of visual
shape and size with the position of the observer, make
it fairly evident, even to common-sense, that visual sensa
are not literally parts of the surfaces of perceptual
objects, though, of course, common-sense does not under-
stand what radical changes a consistent application of
this conclusion involves. But we are convinced that
what we touch is literally a part of the surface of a
physical object. I believe that, with suitable explana-
tions and qualifications, some such view can be held ;
but we must gradually work up to it, and make the
necessary distinctions as we go along.
(1) There are tactual fields, just as there are visual
fields. And within them there are sometimes out-
standing tactual sensa, with recognisable sensible shape
and position within the field. Tactual sensa stand out
from the rest of the tactual field, if they be markedly
different in temperature or in "feel" from the rest.
These remarks would be illustrated by laying one's
hand on a table with a small bit of ice lying on it or
with a nail sticking up from it. In each case we should
sense a tactual field with a certain outstanding tactual
sensum at a certain sensible place within it. In the
first case the sensum would stand out by its coldness
from the background, and it would have a sensible
shape. In the second a sensum would stand out from
the background by its peculiar "prickly feel." But, in
the ordinary man, the tactual field is much less clearly
differentiated than the visual field, and sensible tactual
position and shape are far vaguer than the sensible
shapes and positions of visual sensa. Very possibly
this is not true of blind men. The tactual field, such
340 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
as we have just been describing, is connected with what
psychologists call " passive touch " ; audit is generally
admitted that passive touch by itself gives very vague
information about shape and size.
(2) Just as visual sensa are literally present only in
their own fields, so tactual sensa are literally present
only in tactual fields. When we say that there is a cold
round tactual sensum at a certain place in the movement-
continuum, we are necessarily speaking in a Pickwickian
sense, as much as when we say that there is an elliptical
brown visual sensum there. This Pickwickian sense
is fairly obvious. A certain tactual sensum may be said
to occupy that place in the movement-continuum to
which I have to move my hand before I can sense
this sensum. The total region in which a certain
perceptual object is present may, in this sense, be
occupied in different parts by a great number of different
tactual sensa from contemporary fields of different
observers and from successive fields of a single observer.
The whole of such a group of tactual sensa would be
the Tangible Constituent, which, along with the complete
optical object and perhaps other constituents, makes up
the perceptual object.
(3) It would generally be admitted that it is by
" active touch," i.e., by passing our fingers over surfaces
that we learn about the "real shapes" of objects like
pennies. Now active touch is partly a movement-
experience and partly a tactual experience. The purely
tactual side of it is illustrated in isolation in passive
touch, and we have seen how very little it has to tell
the normal man about shape and size. But active
touch is movement of very much the same kind as we
experience when we walk about, accompanied by sensa-
tions of temperature, pressure, "sharpness," " blunt-
ness," etc. We find that there are certain regions of
the movement-continuum into which we cannot enter or
push our hands. Our previously free course is stopped.
This stoppage is accompanied and emphasised by
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 341
tactual sensations of various kinds. It is always
accompanied by pressure-sensations, which grow in
intensity the more we try to penetrate the region in
question. When we actively feel a body we are trying
to penetrate a certain region of the movement-continuum
from various directions, and are failing to do so. And
our failure is marked bv characteristic tactual sensations.
The points on its surface are the points at which
attempted courses of further movement are stopped.
Thus, it seems to me that what we feel when we are said
to be actively exploring a certain perceptual object is
a closed surface in the movement-continuum. The felt
boundaries are the boundaries of a volume which is in
the movement-continuum in the same literal sense in
which a tactual sensum is in its tactual field or a visual
sensum in its visual field. The optical constituent and
the tangible constituent of the perceptual object are on
the surface of this felt region in their respective Pick-
wickian ways, whilst relevant scientific objects are
within this region in a perfectly literal sense.
There is one important point to remember here.
The experience of being stopped when we try to pene-
trate a certain region of the movement-continuum from
various directions is not one simultaneous experience,
but is a series of successive attempts and failures, accom-
panied by characteristic tactual sensations. On the
other hand, the region which we are said to feel is con-
ceived as a network of contemporary points. If we had
not got the concepts of shape and volume from our
visual, and in a much smaller degree, our tactual fields,
we should never have been able to interpret these
successive stoppages as a network of contemporary
points in a kind of space. This is simply a further
illustration of the general fact, already noted, that apart
from the characteristic peculiarities of visual fields
and their correlations with our bodily movements we
should never have interpreted the movement-continuum
spatially at all.
342 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
(//) Summary of Conclusions about Shape. — Shape
has a perfectly definite meaning only as applied to
extensive wholes of co-existent parts. It is therefore
impossible to deal with it adequately apart from time.
Strictly speaking, only momentary extended events
have shape, and we can only talk of the shape of a
persistent object on the assumption that successive
momentary sections of its history are extended events
with the same shape. Leaving these temporal compli-
cations aside till the next chapter, we may say that we
reach the concept of shape by acquaintance with
particular instances of it in the form of visual and (to
a much less degree) tactual sensa. Having reached
the concept in this way, we can, as usual, proceed to
apply it to other cases which we cannot sense.
The notion of the shape of a perceptual object has
the same kind of confusion as the perceptual object
itself. For the latter is a compositum of constituent
objects of various types. Each of these constituent
objects will have a shape only in a Pickwickian sense,
if at all. And the Pickwickian sense will be different
for each different type of constituent object. It proved
to be unprofitable, and perhaps impossible, to define
a meaning for the shape of the optical constituent or
the tangible constituent. In fact, what is meant by the
shape of a perceptual object seems not to be the shape
of any of its constituent objects. It is rather the shape
of a certain region of discontinuity within the move-
ment-continuum. This is the region on whose surface
the optical and tangible components of the perceptual
object are present in the Pickwickian senses of
"presence" appropriate to each. And within this
volume are supposed to reside those scientific objects
which are mainly relevant in determining the optical
and tangible filling of the region.
The boundaries of such regions of the movement-
continuum are learnt by active exploration. Attempts
at further movement are here stopped, and the stoppage
POSITIONS AND SHAPES OF SENSA 343
is emphasised by the accompanying tactual sensations.
The interpretation of these successive stoppages as a
network of contemporary points within the movement-
continuum involves the application of concepts derived
mainly from the visual field, and the same is true of
the spatial interpretation of the movement-continuum
itself. The shapes of visual sensa are taken as indica-
tions of the shape of this region in the movement-
continuum, but are admitted by common-sense to need
correction, a correction which we apply automatically
and properly in familiar cases.
This is as far as we can profitably go without con-
sidering the temporal characteristics of sensa, physical
objects, and physical events. With these we shall deal
in the next chapter.
The following additional works may be consulted
with advantage :
G. F. STOUT, Manual of Psychology, Book III. Part II., Caps.
III. and IV.
W. James, Principles of Psychology, Chapter on Space.
Berkeley, Theory of Vision.
CHAPTER X
" She is settling fast," said the First Lieutenant as he returned
from shaving.
" Fast, Mr Spoker ? " asked the Captain. " The expression
is a strange one, for Time (if you will think of it) is only
relative."
(R. L. Stevenson, The Sinking Ship.)
The Dates and Durations of Sensa and of
Physical Objects and Events
We have now to raise the same kind of questions about
date and duration as we have just been raising about
place and shape. As in the last chapter we were
learning something fresh, not only about Matter, but
also about Space, so here we are going to dig beneath
the traditional concepts of Time and Change which
were treated in Chapter II. We shall also be correcting
certain simplifying assumptions which were made in
the last chapter, such, e.g., as the assumption that our
successive sensible fields are literally momentary.
Comparison of Spatial and Temporal Characteristics
of Sensa. — Let us begin with the temporal characteristics
which belong to sensa in the same direct and literal
way in which sensible place in their own fields belongs
to them. There are three ways in which temporal
characteristics are more pervasive than spatial ones,
(i) Only objects have places and shapes in a literal or
even a Pickwickian sense. Mental acts, like believing,
wishing, etc., neither have sensible places, such as
sensa have in their own fields, nor are they commonly
held to be in physical Space, even in a Pickwickian
sense. This is denied by Alexander, but I am quite
344
DATE AND DURATION 345
unconvinced by his arguments. It is no doubt possible
to give a Pickwickian meaning to the statement that our
mental acts are in our heads, but we make so little
scientific use of such statements that it is hardly worth
troubling to do so. On the other hand, it seems to me
that mental acts have dates in the same literal sense as
sensa and other objects, which are not acts. When I
say that I began to think of my dinner at the moment
when I heard a noise, I am asserting that a certain act
of thought and a certain sensation of sound were con-
temporary ; and this is an expression of an immediate
experience, and has nothing Pickwickian about it.
(ii) The spatial characteristics of the sensa of one sense
do not literally extend to those of another sense, even
in the case of a single observer. My visual sensa have
places in my visual field, and my tactual sensa have
places in my tactual field ; there is no place in which
both are literally present. We do, indeed, come to say
that certain visual sensa are compresent with certain
tactual ones ; but, as we have seen, this only means
that both are present, in different Pickwickian senses, in
a region of the movement-continuum. This is not the
kind of fact that can be directly sensed. On the other
hand, it does seem to me that temporal relations do
literally connect sensa belonging to different senses of
the same observer. I can often judge quite immediately
that a certain noise that I sense is contemporary with
a certain flash that I sense, and is later than a certain
twinge of toothache which I remember. Here I seem
to be using the names of these temporal relations quite
literally, and in no Pickwickian sense. On the other
hand, temporal relations do not literally stretch across
from one observer to another. You and I may judge
that two visual sensa, one of which was sensed by you
and the other by me, were contemporary ; and you may
judge that your visual sensum was contemporary with
a twinge of toothache that you felt. But my flash and
yours are not contemporary, in the same literal sense
346 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
in which your flash and your toothache are con-
temporary. Temporal relations between the sensa
or the mental acts of two different observers have to
be defined in terms of a good manv other facts beside
the two which they are said to relate, just as we found
with spatial relations between the sensa of different
observers, (iii) Spatial relations do not literally extend
from the sensa of one field of a certain observer to the
sensa of a later field of the same sense of the same
observer. It is only in a Pickwickian sense that we
can say that a certain visual sensum of mine is corn-
present with another visual sensum of mine, which
belongs to a later field. On the other hand, direct
memory seems often to bridge the gap between two
of our sensa of different dates, and to enable us to
judge directly that one is literally later than the other.
Sensible Duration : (a) Sensa and Sense-objects. — We
assumed temporarily, and for the sake of simplicity,
in the last chapter that our successive sensible fields
are literally momentary, and that a sensum in one field
is ipso facto different from any sensum in another held.
We must now get behind these simplifying assumptions.
The second of them is partly a matter of definition.
It is obvious that what is now past cannot be precisely
and numerically the same as what is now present, even
though the sensible qualities and shapes of both should
be exactly the same, and though they should occupy
precisely similar sensible places in their respective
sensible fields. I am therefore justified in using the
term "sensum " in such a way that they shall be called
different sensa. This is, of course, without prejudice
to the fact that the resemblances and the continuity
between the members of a series of different sensa in
successive fields may be such that it is possible and
useful to speak of a single persistent sense-object, of
whose history the sensa of the series are different and
successive slices. When there is a series of sensa
DATE AND DURATION 347
sr s„ in a set of successive fields of an observer
O, and when there is enough qualitative likeness between
adjacent sensa of the series, we can say that a sense-
object S exists and persists, and that these sensa are
successive parts of its history. If all the sensa of the
series be indistinguishable in their qualities, we can
say that the sense-object S has persisted unchanged
throughout a certain duration. If the successive sensa
have different places in their respective fields, and if
certain further conditions be fulfilled, we can say that
the sense-object S has moved. The sort of continuity
that is required of the sensa s1 s„ in order that
they shall all count as parts of the history of a single
sense-object S, is that the nearer together two sensa
are in the series the more alike are their sensible places
in their respective fields. If this condition be fulfilled,
we say that there is a single sense-object, and if the
successive sensible places are different, we say that it
has moved. We can, of course, remember the place of
a sensum sr in its field fr, and compare it with that of
sr+1 in its field fr+1. This is not generally an act of
deliberate memory and comparison, but we automatically
notice if sr+1's position in/,.+1 is greatly different from s^s
position in fr. If the fields which come after a certain
field/,, do not contain sensa with the right sort of resem-
blance and continuity with the previous s's, we say that
the sense-object S has ceased to exist. As we have
already explained, nothing that has ever existed really
ceases to exist. The parts of its history that have be-
come, merely recede into the more and more distant
past ; and nothing that henceforward becomes, is of
such a nature that it adds on to these past events to
make a continuation of that particular sense-object. It
were therefore less misleading to say that the sense-
object in question ceases to persist. The past, like
the unhappy Theseus, " Sedet, ceternumque sedebit"
(/>) Duration of Sense-fields and of Sensa. — On the
assumption that sensible: fields are literally momentary,
348 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
it follows that sensa are also literally momentary. But
this assumption must now be dropped, and we must
come closer to the actual facts of sensible experience.
A sensible event has a finite duration, which may
roughly be defined as the time during which it is sensed,
as distinct from being remembered. The two kinds
of act are markedly different when a long gap of time
separates the act of remembering from the object re-
membered. As the time-lapse between act and object
decreases, the distinction between sensing and remember-
ing grows fainter, and no absolutely sharp line can be
drawn where one ends and the other begins. Still,
it is certain that what can be sensed at any moment
stretches a little way back behind that moment. This
is the phenomenon to which we have already referred
as the Specious Present. I do not find the accounts
of the Specious Present given by psychologists very
clear, and I shall therefore try to illustrate the matter
in my own way, which will lead us to definitions of
momentary fields and momentary acts of sensing. It
is obvious that, if we are to hold that all object-events
are really of finite duration, and that momentary objects
are to be defined by Extensive Abstraction, we ought
to take up the same attitude towards acts. I shall
begin by assuming literally momentary acts of sensing,
and shall then correct this abstraction.
Let us represent the history of O's acts by a directed
line OO. Let us represent the history of his sensible
fields by a parallel line ce. Let Ox, on the upper line,
represent a momentary act of sensing done by O at
a moment t\. I take it to be a fact that this act grasps
an event of finite duration which stretches back from
the moment t\ to a moment tlf which is earlier by an
amount t. This duration t is the length of O's Specious
Present. I call this event exe'v and I represent the act
of sensing which grasps it as a whole by the right-
angled triangle ^O^, with exe\ as base and 01 as
vertex.
DATE AND DURATION
349
Let us now suppose that, at a slightly later date
(separated by less than the length of the Specious
Present), O performs another act of sensing. We will
represent this by the dotted triangle e20./.2, which is
similar to exOxe\. This grasps an
event of duration t, stretching
back from the moment when the
act happens. The event is repre-
sented by e2e2. Now it is evident
that there is a part e2e\, which is
common to the two events e1e'1
and e2e2. This part is sensed
by both the acts Ox and 0.2. On
the other hand, there is a part exe2 of the first event
which is not sensed by the second act, and a part
e\e'2 of the second event which is not sensed by the
first act. It will be noticed that the duration of e2e\,
the event which is sensed by both Ox and 02, is such
that, when added to the time that elapses between the
two acts, it makes up the duration of O's Specious
Present. If we finally take an act On, separated from
Ox by the length of the Specious Present, the event ene'n
which it grasps has nothing in common with exe\, except
the single point which is labelled both e\ and eH. Thus,
if two acts of sensing by O be separated by the length
of O's Specious Present, the only " event " that is sensed
in both of them is a " momentary event." In general,
we notice that the shorter the time-lapse between two
of O's acts of sensing, the longer is the event which is
sensed in both of them ; and that, as the lapse tends
to nothing, the duration of the event tends to t.
(c) Momentary Fields and Momentary Acts of Sensing. —
We are now able to remove the supposition of literally
momentary acts, and to define by Extensive Abstraction
both momentary acts and momentary fields. If the
reader will look back at the diagram he will see that
the event e2e'v which is common to the two acts of
sensing Ox and 02, is a fortiori common to Ox and any
350 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
act that happens between Oj and 0.2. For it will be a
proper part of the longer event which is common to
this pair of more closely adjacent acts. If we imagine
a continuous series of momentary acts between Oa and
(X we can regard them as momentary sections of an
act or process of finite duration, and can say that the
finite event eie\ is present throughout the whole of this
process of sensing. The parts exe2 and c\e\ form a kind of
penumbra ; the latter was not present at the beginning,
and the former is not present at the end, of this finite
process of sensing ; but the part c./\ is present all
through. A momentary sensible field may thus be
roughly defined as the limit which the event that is
present throughout the whole of a process of sensing
approaches, as the duration of the process of sensing
approaches to the length of the observer's Specious
Present. The reference to limits can then be got rid
of in the usual way by Extensive Abstraction. The
momentary field e\ might finally be defined as follows :
It is a class of events such that each member of it is
present throughout the whole of some process of sensing
which begins at t\ and does not last longer than O's
Specious Present.
In the same kind of way we can define a momentary
act of sensing. The longer an event the shorter is the
process of sensing throughout the whole of which it is
present. As the length of the sensed event approaches
that of the Specious Present, the duration of the process
of sensing throughout the whole of which the event is
present approaches to nothing. We could, therefore,
roughly define a momentary act of sensing as the limit
which a process of sensing approaches as the duration
of the event which is present throughout the whole of
this process approaches to that of the observer's Specious
Present. The reference to limits can then be got rid of
in the usual way. The momentary act Ox might ulti-
mately be defined as follows : It is a class of acts such
that throughout each member of it there is present some
DATE AND DURATION 351
event which ends at t\ and does not last longer than the
duration of O's Specious Present.
In real life we may assume that our acts of sensing
are not momentary, but are processes that last for a
finite time. What we choose to count as one process
of sensing, of course, depends on many factors, of which
the most important is probably unity of interest. If our
account of the Specious Present be right, the funda-
mental fact is that a process of sensing which lasts for
a finite time (provided it be shorter than the duration
of the Specious Present) will actually sense a certain
event of finite duration throughout the whole time that
the process lasts. Since, however, we have succeeded
in defining momentary acts and momentary sensible
fields in terms of processes of sensing and sensible
fields of finite duration, we are henceforth at liberty
to use the momentary conceptions whenever we find it
convenient to do so.
(d) Sensible Change. — We are now in a position to deal
with sensible change and movement. We have already
defined what is meant by the statement that a sense-
object has changed or moved. We saw that it depended
on a comparison between the sensible positions and
other qualities of sensa in successive fields. But it is
a notorious fact that we do not merely notice that some-
thing has moved or otherwise changed ; we also often
see something moving or changing. This happens if we
look at the second-hand of a watch or look at a flickering
flame. These are experiences of a quite unique kind ;
we could no more describe what we sense in them to a
man who had never had such experiences than we could
describe a red colour to a man born blind. It is also
clear that to see a second-hand moving is a quite different
thing from "seeing" that an hour-hand has moved.
In the one case we are concerned with something that
happens within a single sensible field ; in the other we
are concerned with a comparison between the contents
of two different sensible fields. Now we have just seen
352 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
that, in the total event which is sensed by a process
that lasts for less time than the duration of the Specious
Present, there is a finite part which is sensibly present
throughout the whole process of sensing-. Even if a
certain process of sensing goes on for longer than a
Specious Present, there will be parts of it that are
shorter than the duration of a Specious Present, and
some event of finite duration will be sensed throughout
any one of these shorter parts of the total process. Let
us consider any such finite event, which is sensed
throughout the whole of a finite process of sensing.
It will constitute a sensible field, and it lasts for a
finite time. It can therefore be divided into successive
fields of shorter duration, which together make it up.
If anything in one of its earlier sections be qualitatively
different from anything in any of its later sections there
will be change within the original finite field. But the
whole of this field is sensed throughout a finite process
of sensing. Thus the qualitative differences between
its earlier and its later sections will be sensed together ;
i.e. the observer will actually sense the changing and
will not merely notice that something has changed.
We can now easily see why a change must surpass a
certain minimum speed if it is to be sensed as such.
If a change takes place slowly, this means that closely
adjacent events are qualitatively very little different
from each other. It may therefore happen that two
events are not qualitatively distinguishable by us unless
they are separated by more than the duration of a
Specious Present. If this be so, these two qualitatively
distinguishable sections of a single long event are too
far separated to be sensed together even by a momentary
act. A fortiori they could not be sensed throughout the
whole of any process of sensing which lasts for a finite
time, as all real acts of sensing do. Thus we may be
able in such a case to judge by memory and comparison
that something has changed, but we shall not be able
to sense its changing.
DATE AND DURATION 353
The fact that, in favourable cases, changes can
actually be sensed, is of great importance in developing
the concept of change in general. A sufficiently short
act of sensing senses a field of finite duration. This
field is divisible into earlier and later parts, which to-
gether make it up. Now, since I sense this finite field
as a whole, I actually sense the way in which its earlier
half joins up with its later half to make up the whole.
By analogy with this, I am able to conceive how two
successive adjacent fields, which no act, however short,
can sense together, are joined up with each other in
nature to form a single long event. I thus interpret
those qualitative differences, which I can notice only
between successively sensed fields, in terms of the
changes which I can actually sense within a field that
is short enough to be sensed as a whole by an act of
finite duration. If there were no sensible change, it
would still be true that a sufficiently short act of sensing
senses a field of finite duration ; but it would be ex-
tremely difficult for us to recognise that this was divisible
into successive shorter sections which join up with each
other to make the finite field. For there would be no
recognisable qualitative difference between the earlier
and the later sections. In this case, it would be ex-
tremely difficult for us to conceive the way in which a
finite field, which is now sensed, joins on to an earlier
finite field, which is now only remembered. It would
be proportionately difficult for us to interpret any
qualitative differences that we might find between two
such fields in terms of slow continuous change.
(e) Conclusions about Sensible Duration. — We have now,
I think, got all the facts that are needed to deal with
the concept of the duration of sensa. A sensible field
is the total event that is sensed throughout the whole
of any process of sensing. No process which lasts for
longer than the duration of a Specious Present senses
a single sensible field, and no sensible field can last
longer than the duration of a Specious Present. But,
354 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
on the other hand, every process of sensing that lasts
for a shorter time than a Specious Present senses
throughout the whole of it a sensible field of finite
duration. Since we can always divide up a process
of sensing into successive bits, each of which is shorter
than a Specious Present, we can always divide up the
total event that an observer has sensed in the course of
a long process of sensing into successive sensible fields,
each of a finite duration less than that of the Specious
Present. There is thus a maximum possible duration
for a sensible field, but any sensible field is divisible
into shorter fields which join together at their ends to
make up the whole. This divisibility is made obvious
to us by the fact of sensible change, and the mode of
junction of successive adjacent fields is conceived to be
analogous to that which is actually sensed in the case
of the earlier and the later half of a single sensible field.
Now we have already seen that even a momentary
sensible field (especially, for example, a visual one) is
spatially extended. We have now seen that any real
sensible field has a certain duration, which cannot
exceed that of the observer's Specious Present. It is
thus also temporally "extended." It may thus be
regarded as a four-dimensional spatio-temporal whole.
I define a sensum as a part of a sensible field. Now,
if we consider an ordinary three-dimensional volume,
like a cube, and neglect the question of duration
altogether, wre see that anything that is literally a part
of it must be a three-dimensional volume too. For it
is only such things that could literally fit together to
make up the cube. Plane sections of the cube are not
parts of it in this literal sense, though it is perfectly
easy to define by Extensive Abstraction Pickwickian
senses in which planes, lines, and points can be truly
and usefully said to be "parts" of volumes. In the
same way, it is clear that the only sort of thing that
can literally be a part of a spatio-temporal whole, like
a sensible field, must be something that is extended in
DATE AND DURATION 355
time as well as in space. Any actual sensum is there-
fore extended both spatially and temporally. Granted
that no sensum is to be held to last longer than the
sensible field of which it is a part, we have still to ask
what is meant by the statement that one sensum persists
through the whole of a certain sensible field and that
another sensum does not. The following cases can
arise: (i) A certain place in a sensible field may be
occupied by a sense-quality {e.g., a colour of a certain
definite shade, brightness, and saturation) throughout
the whole duration of the sensible field. We should
then say that a sensum of this colour has persisted and
rested in one sensible place throughout the whole
duration of the field. Of such a sensum we can only
say that it cannot last longer than the sensible field of
which it is a part (and therefore not longer than the dura-
tion of a Specious Present), though, of course, it may
be continued by qualitatively indistinguishable sensa,
occupying similar sensible places in successive sensible
fields, (ii) A certain place might be sensibly occupied
by a continuously changing sense-quality throughout
the whole duration of the sensible field. This means
roughly that, if we divide up the history of this place
throughout the duration of the field into successive
thinner sections, any two sections will be occupied by
a different sense-quality, but the thinner we make the
sections the more nearly alike will be the sense-qualities
that occupy this place throughout adjacent sections.
In this case we should actually "sense the change of
quality." The sensible identity of place, and the
continuity of the sense-quality, would generally be
regarded as sufficient to justify us in saying that a
single sensum has persisted throughout the sensible
field and has rested in one sensible place, but that it
sensibly and continuously changes in qualityv (iii)
It might be possible to divide the history of a certain
sensible place in a sensible field into three successive
sections, of which the first is occupied by a quality qv
356 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
the second by a markedly different quality q.,, and the
third by a markedly different quality q:i. We should
then say that there were three successive sensa, each of
which persisted for so long, and then was succeeded by
another. If the middle one of these sections should
be excessively short, we could say that we had sensed
a " sense-flash of quality q., at this sensible place." (iv)
It might happen that, as we divide up the sensible field
into successive thinner sections, we find that in each
section there is a sensible place occupied by the same
sense-quality. Moreover, the shapes of these sensible
places might be indistinguishable. But the sensible
places occupied by this quality in successive sections
of the sensible field might differ. And it might be
found that the thinner we made the sections the more
nearly alike were the sensible places occupied by
this quality in adjacent sections. On the grounds of
this continuity of place and identity of shape and
sensible quality, we should be justified in saying that
we were dealing with a single sensum, which persists
throughout the whole of the sensible field. But we
should actually sense its movement ; and should there-
fore say that a moving sensum of such and such shape
and sensible quality persisted throughout the whole of
this sensible field. In real life it is unlikely that the
shapes of the successive places would be exactly alike,
or that precisely the same sense-quality would occupy
each of them. But, provided that the change of shape
and of sense-quality was continuous in the sense defined
above, we should still say that we were dealing with a
single sensum ; but should add that it changes sensibly
in shape and quality as it sensibly moves. Of course
a moving or qualitatively changing sensum need not
persist throughout the whole of a sensible field, any
more than a resting or qualitatively fixed one need do
so. The change may begin after the beginning and
end before the end of the sensible field in question.
I think that we have now said all that is necessary
DATE AND DURATION 357
about the duration of sensa. As in all questions of
duration, the answer depends in part on mere matters of
definition. When we ask how long so and so lasts, we
have first to lay down our criterion of identity for so
and so. If anything lasts at all, the successive parts
of its history are necessarily numerically different, or
they could not be successive. Our criterion of identity
must, therefore, depend on identity of quality, in a wide
sense of that word, which includes shape and place.
Thus the question is: "How much qualitative differ-
ence can we allow between successive slices of a long
event before it ceases to be appropriate to call the whole
event the history of so and so?" Obviously, this is a
question which admits of various answers; but no one
holds that complete qualitative identity of successive
events is necessary if they are all to be regarded as
parts of the history of one persistent object. I have
defined the word sensum in such a way that nothing
which cannot be sensed throughout the whole of some
process of sensing is to be called one sensum, no matter
how great the qualitative resemblance and the con-
tinuity between successive slices of this long event may
be. Such a long event may count as the history of a
single sense-object ; because the kind of identity needed
for the persistence of a sense-object, as defined by me,
is different from that required for the persistence of a
sensum. Within these limits, however, I have not
considered that complete identity of place, shape, or
sense-quality is essential to the identity of a sensum.
I therefore recognise the existence of sensibly moving
and sensibly changing sensa. Since the experiences
of sensible change and movement are peculiar and
important, and since they occur within fields that are
sensed as wholes by processes of sensing of finite
duration, this seems to be the most reasonable course
to take. Anyone who disapproves of it has merely to
make appropriate modifications in his definition of the
word sensum ; he will still have to recognise and deal as
358 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
best he ran with all the facts which we have been
passing under review.
Dating of Sensa. — We can now turn to the subject
of date. The notion of date only becomes perfectly-
definite when we deal with momentary events ; and no
actual events are momentary. It therefore has to be
defined by Extensive Abstraction. We will first con-
sider the dating of sensa which are sensed by a single
observer, and we will then pass to the concept of
temporal relations between sensa of different observers.
When a meaning can be assigned to the statement that
a sensum sv which is sensed by 01} is contemporary
with sv which is sensed by O,, and later than s3, which
was sensed by 03, it will be possible to see what is
meant by the notion of a date which is neutral as
between various observers. But I must just say a
word about the dates of acts of sensing.
(a) Temporal Relation between Act of Sensing and
Sensum. — If the reader will refer back to the diagram,
by wrhich we illustrated the facts of the Specious Present,
he will see that we there tacitly assumed that a
momentary act of sensing would be contemporary with
the end-point of the finite event which it senses. This
is implied by making lines, like 01c\ in the diagram,
normal to the line of objects sensed. I suppose that it
is possible that an act of sensing might be later by a
finite amount than the whole of the event that it senses.
It could not, of course, on our view of the future, be
earlier than any part of what it senses. For, when the
act is present, there is nothing later than it ; and to
sense what has not yet become, would be literally to
sense nothing. Our assumption seems to be the most
reasonable one to make. On the one hand, there is,
so far as I know, nothing conclusive against it. On
the other hand, the distinguishing mark of an act of
memory is that it is separated by a finite time-lapse from
the latest part of the event which it remembers. Hence,
DATE AND DURATION 359
any other assumption than that which we made, would
render it difficult to distinguish, even in theory, between
an act of sensing and an act of remembering. The
practical difficulty which there sometimes is in drawing
this distinction can easily be accounted for on our view.
We can well suppose that, as the gap between an act
of remembering and the end of the event remembered
gets shorter and shorter, it will be more and more
difficult to distinguish the act of remembering from an
act of sensing, in which, if we are right, the gap
vanishes altogether. I shall therefore take it that the
assumption tacitly made in the diagram is justified. In
general, then, we may say that the beginning of a pro-
cess of sensing, throughout the whole of which an
event of finite duration is sensed, is contemporary with
the end of the event in question. Thus, in the diagram,
Ox, the beginning of the act C^O.,, is contemporary
with e'v the end of the event e.-,e'v which is sensed
throughout the whole of this process. This will suffice
as to the connexion between the dates of an act of
sensing and of an event sensed by it ; a question to
which nothing comparable arises when we deal with
Space, since mental acts do not have places, as they
have dates.
(d) Temporal Relations within a Sense-field. — Having
cleared this point out of the way, let us consider
the dating of sensa that are sensed during the life-
history of a single observer. This inquiry falls into
two parts. We have first to consider the dating of
sensa that fall within a single sensible field of the
observer, and then to consider the extension of this to
sensa that do not fall into the same sensible field but into
successive ones. I must first clear up a slight ambiguity
in the term sensible field. In the last chapter we counted
the fields of two different senses, e.g., an auditory and a
visual field of the same observer, as different sensible
fields which do not form parts of a single larger whole.
This is true as regards spatial characteristics, which we
36o SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
were then considering- ; since sensible spatial relations
do not connect the sensa of one sense with those of
another. But, as regards temporal characteristics, the
distinction between the sensible fields of different senses
ceases to be of importance. A noise that I sense
auditorily may be sensibly and literally contemporary
with a flash of colour that I sense visually. We can
therefore say that the special sensible fields of the various
senses form parts of a single general sensible field, so far
as temporal characteristics are concerned. When I
speak of a sensible field in the sequel, I shall mean a
o-eneral sensible field, unless the context makes it plain
that I am referring to some special one, such as that of
sight or that of hearing-.
Let us then take a certain sensible field of a certain
observer. As we have explained, this is of finite
duration and its parts of finite duration are sensa. Some
of these endure throughout the whole of it, others do
not. Of two sensa, neither of which endures through-
out the whole of this field, one may be completely
separated from the other, i.e., one may cease and some
third sensum may intervene before the other begins.
On the other hand, the end of one may exactly coincide
with the beginning of the other. Or, finally, the two
may partially or totally overlap. These various temporal
relations between sensa of finite duration that fall into
the same sensible field can be and are directly sensed,
just as the spatial relations between two coloured patches
in the same visual field can be. Two sensa would be
said to be sensibly simultaneous if each completely overlaps
the other. If one sensum only partially overlaps another,
there is a shorter part of one which completely over-
laps and is completely overlapped by a certain shorter
part of the other. Thus these two parts will be sensibly
simultaneous, though the wholes are not. It will be
seen that sensa which are sensibly simultaneous both
persist through the same slice of the sensible field. As
this slice is made thinner and thinner, the sensa that
DATE AND DURATION 361
persist through it are made shorter and shorter. Pro-
ceeding to the limit, we get the notion of exact simul-
taneity between momentary events. The reference to
limits can then be removed by Extensive Abstraction.
The details of the process will be found in Whitehead.
{b) Temporal Relations within a Sense-history. — We
can see roughly how, in this way, the sensa that fall
within a single sensible field can be arranged in a
temporal order and dated. We have now merely to
extend this to successive fields of the same observer.
Any sensum in a later field is later than any sensum
in an earlier field. A field is later than another if it
was sensed when the other could only be remembered.
(This is not the meaning of being later, as we have
seen, but it is a criterion of it that we can and do use
in practice.) Now we have seen that earlier and later
sections of any one sensible field can be distinguished
and dated. Successive fields of the same observer are
conceived as joining on to each other in the same way
in which successive sections of the same field are actually
sensed to join up with each other and to constitute that
field. Thus we conceive of the total event, that is
gradually and piecemeal sensed by an observer in the
course of his life, as being completely analogous in its
temporal characteristics to those short sections of it
which can be sensed as wholes throughout the whole of
a single process of sensing.
The particular duration of an observer's Specious
Present may fairly be regarded as a peculiarity of
himself or of his species. It is known that this duration
is much the same for all men under normal conditions.
It is known that it is short as compared with the dura-
tion of most events that are practically interesting to us,
but long as compared with that of many events — such as
a single vibration of an electron — which are of great
scientific importance. (These statements can, of course,
only receive a perfectly definite meaning at a later stage,
when the temporal characteristics of physical objects and
2 A
362 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
events have been discussed.) In the meanwhile it is a
fact that we can easily conceive of Specious Presents
which are longer than our own. In particular, we can
imagine ourselves replaced by an observer who differs
in no respect from us except that his Specious Present
covers the whole of his history. Such a man would still
distinguish the present from the past and the future,
and the less from the more remote past. But, whilst the
distinction between present or past and future would be
as important for him as for us, since it is the distinction
between something and nothing, the difference between
present and past would be much less important for him
than for us. With us the sinking of an event into the
past is accompanied by a change in our mode of
cognising it. We have to cognise it by memory or
inference, if at all ; and the further it sinks into the past
the vaguer is our knowledge of it likely to become.
But the hypothetical observer would sense the whole of
his past history at every moment, and therefore would
have the same full knowledge of its earliest parts as of
those that have only just become. This conception of
an observer with an indefinitely long Specious Present
is useful, because we conceive the whole content of our
history to be such as this observer would sense it to be.
(c) Neutral Temporal Relations. — We have now to
deal with the temporal relations between sensa of
different observers. Let us call the whole series of
sensible fields which an observer O senses in the course
of his life, O's sense-history. We have seen that, within
any sense-history, momentary sections can be defined
and dated by Extensive Abstraction. We have now
to take into account the existence of a number of ob-
servers, each with his own sense-history. Our task is
to treat the temporal relations between a certain event
in one sense-history and a certain event in another.
Let us start with the fundamental relation of simul-
taneity. This is illustrated in its most literal sense by
sensa in the same field ; the question is, how far it can
DATE AND DURATION 363
be extended to a pair of sensa, one from the field of
one observer and the other from the field of another
observer.
We will begin by pointing out a complication which
did not arise over spatial relations. When we dis-
cussed in the last chapter the meaning of the statement
that visual sensa from several different fields are "in
the same place," it was clear that we were giving a
definition and not a mere test. This is perfectly evident
from the following consideration : Two different visual
appearances of a penny are at once sensibly present
in different places and optically present in the same
place. This would be a sheer contradiction if optical
and sensible presence had the same meaning. Thus,
when we say that, under such and such conditions,
two visual sensa are optically compresent, the con-
ditions are part of the definition of what is meant by
"optical compresence." It is impossible to hold that
optical presence really means the same thing as sensible
presence, and that the conditions mentioned are simply
tests, by which we can establish that this relation holds
in cases where the evidence of direct sense-awareness
fails us.
Now, when we deal with temporal relations, and try
to state the conditions under which two sensa in different
sense-histories are said to be contemporary, it is by
no means obvious whether we are defining a new sense
of simultaneity, or merely giving a test by which the fact
of simultaneity, in the old sense of the word, can be estab-
lished in cases where it cannot be directly sensed. I
think that failure to distinguish clearly these two possi-
bilities has caused much confusion in the writers and
readers of books on the Theory of Relativity. It is
very much more plausible to hold that "simultaneity"
always means the same in all its applications, than to
hold that "compresence" means the same always and
everywhere. For it is admitted that sensa belonging
to different senses of the same observer can be con-
364 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
temporary with each other, in precisely the same way
in which two visual or two tactual sensa of the same
observer can be contemporary. It is therefore not
glaringly absurd to suggest that sensa belonging to
different sense-histories may be contemporary in the
same way in which sensa in the same sense-history can
be so. In that case the conditions under which two
sensa belonging to different sense-histories are said
to be simultaneous do not define a new meaning of
u simultaneity," but merely give a test for simultaneity,
in the old meaning of the word, which we use in those
unfavourable cases where the relation cannot be directly
sensed.
The only way of deciding between the two alter-
natives would be the following : The relation of sensible
simultaneity has certain logical characteristics. For
instance, it is transitive, i.e., if A has it to B, and B has
it to C, then A necessarily has it to C. If we found that
" simultaneity," as tested by the conditions commonly
laid down, did not have all these logical characteristics,
we could conclude that we were dealing with a new
meaning of " simultaneity." This would not, of course,
preclude the possibility that sensa from different sense-
histories have also in fact the relation of simultaneity, in
the original sense. But it would show that the conditions
laid down were not a test for that relation. And it
might turn out that no conditions that we could think
of would be a test for that relation between sensa belong-
ing to different histories. In that case, it would be a
mere personal idiosyncrasy to hold that simultaneity, in
the original sense, ever holds between sensa in different
histories ; and it would be better to regard the conditions
laid down as defining a new sense of " simultaneity."
For the present we must confine ourselves to the question
of fact: "Under what conditions do people hold that
sensa from different sense-histories are contemporary?"
We may later on raise the question whether these condi-
tions are simply a test for simultaneity, in the original
DATE AND DURATION 365
sense of the word, or whether they define a new meaning
of " simultaneity." I will use the vague word determine,
to cover both " being a test for " and " being a condition
of" so and so.
Under what conditions do two observers in fact
judge that they sense two contemporary sensa? Often
two men assert that they both "see the same flash" or
" hear the same noise." If this means literally that the
two men sense precisely and numerically the same visual
or auditory sensum, and if their statement be true when
so interpreted, it is easy to lay down the conditions
under which sensa from their respective sense-histories
would be said to be simultaneous. If A's twinge of
toothache be sensibly contemporary with this common
sensum, and B's twinge of stomach-ache be also sensibly
contemporary with it, we might say that A's toothache
and B's stomach-ache are neutrally contemporary with
each other.
Now there is no doubt at all that it is under condi-
tions of this kind that sensa belonging to different sense-
histories are said to be "simultaneous." But it will
take us some time to find the exact meaning of these
conditions, and to make sure what are the properties of
"simultaneity" thus established. Evidently the first
question that arises is : What is meant by the common
statement that two observers " hear the same noise" or
" see the same flash "? Do they mean that they sense
a single sensum which is common to the sense-histories
of both of them ? And, whether they mean it or not,
is it ever true? As ordinary people do not explicitly
draw a distinction between sensa and physical objects,
it is difficult to say whether they mean that they sense
a common visual sensum when they assert that they see
the same flash. But, as it is quite certain that by words
like " seeing " and "hearing," people commonly mean
to refer to acts of perceiving and not to acts of sensing,
it is probable that by "the same flash" or "the same
noise" they intend to refer to a common physical eve?it
366 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
and not necessarily to a common sensum. In that case
no such simple interpretation of the statement that A's
toothache and B's stomach-ache are contemporary, as was
offered above, can be accepted. For we should need to
know how to determine whether two sensa are con-
temporary with the same physical event before we could
determine whether they are contemporary with each
other. Now, at present, all that we know is what is
meant by one sensum of an observer being simultaneous
with another sensum of //W observer. Hence to determine
neutral simultaneity between two sensa in terms of the
simultaneity of each with a common physical event tells
us nothing, since it involves simultaneity in a sense
which has not yet been determined.
Let us then ask ourselves what is the exact cash
value of the statement that A and B hear the same noise.
I would like to point out at the beginning that nothing
that has been said so far about sensa and sensible fields
precludes the possibility that one and the same sensum
should be in several sensible fields of different observers.
A sensum is defined as a part of some sensible field ;
this clearly leaves open the possibility that two or more
sensible fields, sensed by different observers, might have
a part in common. If so, there are sensa common to
several fields of several different observers. Whether
this is an actual fact remains to be seen.
It is fairly easy to show, subject to certain subtle
qualifications, that when a number of observers say that
they hear the same noise and that they see the same
flash, this cannot mean both that they all sense the same
auditory sensum and that they all sense the same visual
sensum. For, as we shall see in a moment, it is very
difficult to reconcile this view with all the facts. Let us
suppose that I fire a pistol, and that there is a number
of other observers dotted about at different places. All
the observers, including myself, will sense a short
auditory sensum and a short visual sensum. These
will be sensibly contemporary for me ; for an observer
DATE AND DURATION 367
at some distance from me they will only partially over-
lap, the visual sensum beginning before the auditory
one does so. For an observer still further off, the visual
sensum will totally precede the auditory one, though
both may be in the same sensible field. Finally, for a
very distant observer the visual sensum may fall into a
different (and earlier) field from that into which the
auditory sensum falls. Nevertheless, all the observers,
on comparing notes, will say that they heard the same
noise and saw the same flash. Now, if this literally
means that there is one single visual sensum which
they all sense, and one single auditory sensum which
they all sense, we shall have to hold that the same pair
of sensa can be both sensibly simultaneous, partially
overlapping, and completely separated in time. Now
these relations seem to be incompatible with each other,
and therefore we seem forced to conclude that, when
several observers say that they see the same flash and
hear the same noise, this cannot mean both that they all
sense one and the same visual sensum, and that they all
sense one and the same auditory sensum. Theoretically,
it would be possible to interpret one of these statements
{e.g., that they all saw the same flash) in this literal way,
provided we did not interpret the other (viz., that they
all heard the same noise) literally. But, even apart
from the additional facts which have led physicists to
ascribe a finite velocity to light as well as to sound,
such a course would hardly be reasonable. If at least
otie of the statements, that we all hear the same noise
and that we all see the same flash, must be interpreted
in some Pickwickian manner, it is hardly reasonable to
suppose that the other can be interpreted literally.
Is there any way out of the conclusion that to hear
the same sound and to see the same flash cannot mean
that a number of observers literally sense a single visual
and a single auditory sensum ? So far as I can see, there
are at least two alternative wavs in which this conclusion
could be avoided. One would be to hold that sensa can
;..S SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
be sensed at various times after they have ceased to
persist, and that the further a man is from a source of
sound, the greater is the gap between his act of sensing
and the end of the auditory sensum which it senses. I
do not think that this is a satisfactory alternative, for
reasons which I have given earlier in this chapter, when
I tried to justify the view that the beginning of a process
of sensing, throughout which a finite event is sensed,
is contemporary with the end of that event.
The second alternative is a much more important
one. It is to adopt the usual expedient, which has
already been mentioned as useful when two entities seem
to have incompatible relations to each other. This
expedient is to assume that what has been taken to be
a dyadic relation between these two entities is really
irreducibly polyadic, and involves some other term or
terms beside the two entities in question. It is un-
doubtedly true that the same pair of sensa cannot be
simultaneous, and partially overlapping, and wholly
separated, -with respect to the sense-history of a single
observer. But suppose that this pair of sensa belongs
to the sense-histories of several observers, and that the
temporal relations in question are really irreducibly
triadic. Suppose that the minimum intelligible state-
ment that can be made about the temporal relations of
two sensa in a sense-history is of the form " sx is con-
temporary with s2 (or partially overlaps it, or wholly
succeeds it, as the case may be) with respect to the
sense-history //." In that case there need be no incon-
sistency in the same pair of sensa being contemporary
with respect to one sense-history, partially overlapping
with respect to another, and completely separated with
respect to a third sense-history. We see then that our
argument from the facts of sound does not conclusively
prove that, when a number of observers say that they
all hear the same sound and see the same flash, they
cannot all be sensing precisely the same auditory
sensum and precisely the same visual sensum. It does,
DATE AND DURATION 369
however, tie us down to one of two alternatives. Either
this conclusion must be accepted, or we must give up the
common-sense notion that the temporal relations between
the sensa in the same sense-history are dyadic, and must
substitute for it the view that they are at least triadic,
and that the third term which is always involved is some
sense-history in which both the sensa are contained.
Is there any way of deciding between these two
alternatives? I think that we can at least show that
the second alternative could not stand by itself, but
would need to form part of a general Multiple Relation
theory of sensible appearances. The various observers
in my example do not really all sense auditory sensa
which are exactly alike in quality. Both the auditory
and the visual sensa which are sensed by very distant
observers are much fainter than those which are sensed
by me and by observers near me. Now, on the sensum v
theory, sensa have all the qualities that they appear to \^/
have. What really differs in quality cannot be numeri- \^
cally identical ; hence a faint sensum cannot be the same . ^^"^)
sensum as a loud one, however much alike they may
be in other respects. This argument would not be 5
conclusive on a Multiple Relation theory of sensible
appearance ; because, on such a theory, sensa need
not have the qualities that they seem to have. But I
am deliberately ignoring Multiple Relation theories
of sensible appearance in this book, in order to test
Sensum theories, as Cardinal Newman tested the
Thirty-nine Articles to see how much Catholic Truth
they could be made to contain. I am as indifferent as
he was to the possibility of the subject of my experi-
ment blowing up at the end of the process ; for negative
results are often as valuable as positive ones. Accord-
ingly, I think I may conclude that, on the Sensum
theory of sensible appearance, it cannot be true that
when a number of observers say that they see the
same flash or hear the same noise they literally sense a
single visual or auditory sensum common to all of them.
370 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
On either alternative the determination of neutral
simultaneity between A's toothache and B's stomach-
ache is going to be a much harder job than it would be
if the facts about sound (and as we shall see later, about
light) were different. If what we call the same noise be
really a group of auditory sensa, the simultaneity of A's
toothache and of B's stomach-ache with this noise only
means that the former is sensibly contemporary with a
certain auditory sensum sensed by A, and that the latter
is sensibly contemporary with a different auditory sensum
sensed by B. It is true that these two auditory sensa
are both members of a group of sensa which are so con-
nected with each other that the whole is called one noise.
But it is by no means obvious that this rather indirect
relation between A's toothache and B's stomach-ache will
have the kind of properties that we demand of simul-
taneity. The same difficulty arises if we suppose that
there is literally only one auditory sensum, which is
sensed by both A and B, and that the relation of
sensible simultaneity is triadic. The fact that A's
toothache is contemporary with a certain auditory
sensum with respect to A's sense-history, and that
B's stomach-ache is contemporary with the same
auditory sensum with respect to B's sense-history, does
indeed constitute a relation between the toothache and
the stomach-ache. But there seems no particular reason
to expect that this relation will have the kind of pro-
perties that we demand of simultaneity.
Let us begin by imagining a set of observers who
tried to determine neutral simultaneity entirely by
sound. We need, not suppose them to be blind, but
we will suppose that they have no means of producing
flashes of light either by igniting combustible things
or by opening and shutting opaque shutters. A
number of them hear what they call the same noise.
They all sense short, outstanding auditory sensa.
These are very similar in quality and are connected
with a common centre in the way described in the last
DATE AND DURATION 371
chapter. They agree that any pair of sensa belonging
to the sense-histories of different observers shall count
as neutrally simultaneous provided that one is sensibly
contemporary with one member of such a group of
auditory sensa and that the other is sensibly con-
temporary with one member of the same group of
auditory sensa. What properties will neutral simul-
taneity, so determined, possess?
In the first place, it will be necessary slightly to
extend this way of determining neutral simultaneity,
so as to deal with the various auditory sensa that
constitute a single noise. If we are going to allow
them to have any neutral temporal relations to each
other, we must suppose that they are all neutrally con-
temporary, or we shall get into difficulties. For suppose
that any two sensa, s\ and j2, belonging to different
sense-histories, were neutrally contemporary, as deter-
mined by the present method. This will mean that st
is sensibly contemporary with one auditory sensum and
that s.2 is sensibly contemporary with another auditory
sensum, and that these two auditory sensa belong to
a single noise. Now, unless we hold that the two
auditory sensa in question are neutrally contemporary
with each other, we shall have to admit that two
neutrally contemporary sensa can be respectively
sensibly simultaneous with two auditory sensa which
are neutrally successive to each other. This does not
accord with the view of neutral temporal relations as
a consistent extension of the sensible temporal relations
that hold between sensa in the same sense-history. We
must therefore determine neutral simultaneity, on the
present method, as follows: Two sensa in different
sense-histories are neutrally contemporary if (a) they
are two auditory sensa belonging to the same noise ;
or (b) they are respectively sensibly simultaneous with
two auditory sensa which belong to the same noise.
Would such a mode of determination be satisfactory?
Let A and B be two observers at a considerable
372 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
distance apart, and let there be a bell near A and
another bell near B. Let the strokes of both bells be
audible to both observers. We will call them " A's
bell "and " B's bell" respectively. Suppose that A's
bell ring's and that B hears the noise. It may happen
that B's bell rings at such a date that he hears its stroke
at the same time as he hears the stroke of A's bell. If
so, A will hear this stroke of B's bell sensibly later than
the stroke of his own bell. Call A's sensum of the
stroke of A's bell aA) A's sensum of the stroke of B's
bell ain B's sensum of the stroke of A's bell bA, and
B's sensum of the stroke of B's bell bB. Then by
definition we have :
(i) aA is neutrally contemporary with bA ;
(2) a,, is neutrally contemporary with b„ ;
and, by the terms of the experiment, we have
(3) bn is sensibly contemporary with bA.
Under these circumstances we should find that
(4) aB is sensibly later than aA.
Now, if neutral simultaneity be just an extended
application of sensible simultaneity, we should expect
that (2) and (3) would together imply that aB is neutrally
contemporary with b A. Combining this with (1), we
should expect to find that aA and aB were sensibly
simultaneous. But this contradicts the fact stated in
(4). In fact, if we determine neutral simultaneity in
this way, we shall find that two sensa in the same
sense-history can be neutrally simultaneous respectively
with two sensa in another sense-history, which are
sensibly simultaneous with each other ; and yet the
first pair of sensa are not sensibly simultaneous with
each other, but are sensibly successive. Thus neutral
simultaneity, determined by this method, cannot be a
mere extension of sensible simultaneity. This can
only be got over if we admit that, when two people
" hear the same noise," the auditory sensum of the one
who is nearer the source is neutrally earlier than that
DATE AND DURATION 373
of the one who is further away from it. But, as soon
as we admit this, the purely auditory determination of
neutral simultaneity has been given up ; for we cannot
determine in purely auditory terms the neutral temporal
relations between auditory sensa which belong to "the
same noise." We have to introduce spatial measure-
ment, and the notion of influences travelling out from
sources with a finite velocity. The intimate linkage of
Space and Time becomes evident here, as in so many
places.
So far then we see that, if observers tried to determine
neutral temporal relations by sound alone, they would
be forced to the view that what they call the same noise
is a set of auditory sensa of different neutral dates ;
these dates depending on the distance between the
observer who senses a sensum of the group and the
source of the noise. This fact was early recognised
about sound for several reasons, (i) Sound travels so
slowly that the difficulties pointed out above are quite
obvious to ordinary observers at reasonable distances
apart, and provided with no delicate apparatus, (ii)
Sounds, as we have seen, are not thought of as confined
to a central volume, but as being in all the space that
surrounds their source. Each observer is thought of
as sensing the particular part of this physical field of
sound which is "where he is at the moment." It is
thus natural enough to think of this physical field as
travelling out from the centre and reaching different
observers at different times. (iii) Again, the phen-
omenon of echoes makes the notion of the velocity of
sound pretty obvious to anyone. An echo is quali-
tatively very much like the original sound with which
it is obviously connected. But it is separated from it,
as a rule, by a distinct sensible interval. This naturally
suggests something travelling from the observer to a
wall (for instance), and then travelling back to him.
(iv) Lastly, we are not like the observers in our example.
We can produce flashes of light by various means at
374 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
will. Now, if a number of observers count two sensa
as neutrally contemporary with each other, when each
is sensibly contemporary with the same flash of light
that they all see, they will not, in ordinary life, get into
difficulties which arise for observers who try to define
neutral simultaneity by means of sound. But, of course,
if they do this, they will be obliged to recognise that«the
various auditory sensa which they sense when they say
that they all hear the same noise are not neutrally con-
temporary. It is, in fact, by a combination of ight-
signals and sound-signals that the velocity of sound is
generally measured.
The next step that naturally suggests itself is to
determine the neutral simultaneity between two sensa
in different sense-histories, as the relation which holds
between the two when each is sensibly contemporary
with some sensum of the group which constitutes a
single flash of light. If we adopt this method, we shall
have to begin by extending it slightly in the same
direction, and for the same reasons as we extended the
auditory method of determining neutral simultaneity.
That is, we shall have to assume that two visual sensa
belonging to the same flash are neutrally contemporary,
or we shall get into difficulties. We may therefore give
the following as the visual definition of neutral simul-
taneity : Two sensa, belonging to different sense-
histories, are neutrally contemporary, if (i) they are two
visual sensa of a group which constitutes a single flash ;
or (ii) are respectively sensibly simultaneous with two
visual sensa which belong to such a group.
There is, I think, no doubt that this is the way of
determining neutral simultaneity, with which we all
work in practice, except in extremely delicate scientific
investigations or in cases where distances of astronomical
order of magnitude are under discussion. Nevertheless,
we all know that no scientist would accept it as ultimately
satisfactory. He would point to the facts which are
alleged to prove that light travels with a finite velocity
DATE AND DURATION 375
as a conclusive objection to the definition. The asser-
tion that light travels with a finite velocity implies,
inter alia, that there is an extremely important sense in
which the various sensa of observers in different places
who see the same flash are not simultaneous but succes-
sive. The above definition of neutral simultaneity is
therefore unsatisfactory, because it leads us to call sensa
simultaneous, which are in some very important, but as
yet undefined sense, successive.
Let us then consider this definition and the facts that
are held to render it inappropriate. In the first place,
there are two things to be said in its favour: It is not
circular, and it does not directly conflict with our
judgments about sensible temporal relations, as the
attempted auditory definition did. It would, of course,
be circular if we could not define what we mean by " the
same flash " without introducing temporal relations
between sensa in different sense-histories. But we can
define "the same flash" without this. A number of
observers may be said to see the same flash when the
following conditions are fulfilled : (i) Each is aware of
a single outstanding visual sensum of very short dura-
tion, (ii) These sensa are all qualitatively very much
alike, (iii) They are all optically compresent at a
common centre, in the sense defined in the last chapter.
(The first condition seems to be enough to secure that
we are all dealing with a single flash, and that different
observers are not seeing similar but successive flashes.
For, if successive flashes were being sent out, some at
least of the observers would sense two or more qualita-
tively similar sensa which were sensibly successive.)
Again, there is nothing in our light-experiences to
correspond to the case that we adduced of two distant
observers hearing two bells, and one of them finding
his auditory sensa sensibly contemporary, and the other
finding the auditory sensa belonging to the two noises
sensibly successive. We can only deal with pairs of
observers separated by distances of a few miles ; and
3/0 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
for such distances there is no conflict between sensible
temporal relations and neutral temporal relations as
determined by light-signals.
It is therefore possible to determine neutral simul-
taneity visually without committing a circle and without
conflict with any judgments of sensible simultaneity
that we can make. The conflict is with the facts that
prove that light has a finite velocity. What are these
facts and what do they prove? When people say that
light travels with a finite velocity they mean that some
change moves from a distant centre to the observer and
that his visual sensum begins as soon as this change
reaches him and goes on till it ceases to reach him.
By a single flash they think of a single event at the
source (e.g., the opening of a shutter) and the change
that travels out from this. Let us consider the facts
and arguments which are supposed to prove this. We
may take three typical examples. These are Fizeau's
experiment, with a rotating cogwheel and a mirror ;
Romer's argument from the times that apparently
elapse between successive eclipses of a satellite of
Jupiter ; and Bradley's argument from the shift in the
apparent positions of the fixed stars. These three
arguments are placed in order of simplicity. The first
keeps the source and the observer relatively at rest for
the whole time, and literally consists in producing
" light-echoes," and showing that there is a time-lapse
between them and the flash of which they are the
"echoes." The second depends on the fact that an
observer and a certain source are at different distances
apart at different times of year. The last depends
on the relative velocity of source and observer, and
belongs rather to the subject of the next chapter than
to the limits within which we are at present confining
ourselves. I must state as shortly as possible the facts
on which these arguments are based, so that we may
be able to see what exactly they assume in order to
reach their conclusion.
DATE AND DURATION 377
(i) Fizeaiis Experiment. — Light is sent through a hole,
in front of which is a cogwheel. When one of the teeth
of the wheel is in front of the gap, light cannot pass ;
otherwise it can. The light travels some considerable
distance, and is then reflected back along its old course,
and the image is viewed from behind the cogwheel. If
the passage of the light between the source and the
mirror and back again be instantaneous, the image will
be visible, no matter how fast the cogwheel revolves ;
for if no time has elapsed, the cogwheel cannot have
moved any distance since the flash left it and before the
light returned to it. The gap cannot, therefore, have
become shut, in the meanwhile, by the rotation of the
cogwheel. But if any finite time elapses between the
departure and the return of the light, it must be possible
to cause the original gap to be replaced by the next
tooth by the time that the light returns, provided that
the cogwheel has moved fast enough. In that case no
image will be seen. If the speed of the wheel be now
increased enough, the image ought again to be seen,
since the wheel will have turned so far in the time taken
by the passage of the light that the next gap will be in
position to admit the reflected beam when it returns. It
is found that the image can be made to disappear by
rotating the wheel fast enough, that it can be made to
reappear by rotating the wheel faster, and that the
wheel needs to be rotated faster and faster the nearer
the mirror is to the source, in order to make the image
disappear. All these facts are what we should expect if
the reflected sensum depends on the passage of some-
thing with finite velocity from source to mirror, and from
mirror to observer, and begins when this something
reaches the observer's eye, and does not end till it ceases
to reach his eye.
It is clear that the result of the experiment does not
bear directly on the question of the neutral temporal
relations between two sensa of observers who see the
same flash. For we are actually dealing with a single
2 B
;-s SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
sensum (the reflected image) of a single observer. The
connexion, however, is this: It is argued that the result
of the experiment shows that any visual sensum begins
when something that has started from a source reaches
the observer, and that this something takes a finite
time to travel. The various visual sensa that together
constitute a single flash are simply those sensa which
begin to be sensed by various observers when something
that left a source at a certain moment reaches them. If
the observers are at different distances from the source,
their various sensa will be correlated with different stages
in this process of transmission. Hence, there is an im-
portant sense in which what is called one flash is a
group of successive sensa. It would, therefore, be incon-
venient to determine neutral simultaneity in such a way
that all the sensa in a single flash would count as
neutrally simultaneous.
Thus a single flash of light comes to be treated as
a set of successive sensa, because different sensa in the
set are held to be correlated with different stages in a
certain process of transmission from the source through
the surrounding Space.
(ii) Router's Argument. — The earth and the planet
Jupiter revolve about the sun in approximately the
same plane and approximately in circles. Jupiter has
a much larger orbit than the earth, and takes much
longer to complete it. Thus, at certain times, the two
are in the position shown below,
S/ E/ J/
and at other times they are in the position shown below.
The first is called a conjunction and the second an
opposition.
Eg S2 Je
Jupiter has satellites which revolve round it as the
moon does round the earth. When a satellite moves
DATE AND DURATION 379
into the shadow on the far side of Jupiter from the sun,
it is eclipsed, and becomes invisible to us. Now it
is found that the number of eclipses that take place
between a conjunction and the next opposition is the
same as the number that take place between an
opposition and the next conjunction. But there is
quite a marked difference (about 33 minutes) between
the total times that elapse from the first to the last of
these eclipses in the two cases.
Now the eclipse of a satellite is comparable to the
shutting of a shutter. The movement of the earth
ensures that the observer on it is at different distances
from this shutter at different times of year. He is
nearer to it at the time of conjunction than he is at the
time of opposition by the whole diameter of the earth's
orbit. If we suppose that the visual sensum ceases to
persist as soon as the shutter is closed, we can only
explain the facts by supposing a periodic change in the
time of revolution of the satellite. This would be
extremely difficult to fit in with the facts that we believe
about the laws of mechanics and the forces acting on
the satellites. If, however, we assume that the visual
sense-object persists after the shutter is closed, for a
time which increases with the distance between the
observer and the shutter, we can fully account for the
divergence of 33 minutes, without needing to suppose
that the periodic time of the satellite changes as Jupiter
progresses in its orbit. The time-lapse between an
eclipse and the cessation of the corresponding visual
sense-object, which is necessary to account for the
33 minutes' discrepancy, can easily be calculated ;
and, if the radius of the earth's orbit be known, the
velocity of light can be determined. It is found to be
approximately the same as that deduced from Fizeau's
experiment. Here there is no complication about
mirror-images ; we simply have a source and an
observer which are at different distances apart at
different times of year.
38o SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
Once again the result of the argument does not bear
directly on the question whether it is appropriate to
determine neutral simultaneity in such a way that the
various sensa which constitute a single flash of light
shall be all neutrally contemporary. We are not deal-
ing with two observers seeing a single flash ; on the
contrary, we are dealing with a single observer who sees
three different flashes (if an eclipse may by courtesy be
called a flash) at widely different dates in his history.
There is, however, an indirect connexion. The
argument is, that you must either abandon certain very
well-established laws of motion, or assume that the
occurrence of visual sensa depends on the motion of
something from the source to the observer. The visual
sense-object lasts so long as any of this something
meets the eye, no matter what may have happened
to the source in the meanwhile. On this assumption,
you can account for the facts without abandoning the
familiar laws of motion. But, as before, if you make
this assumption, you must suppose that what we
call a single flash is a group of sensa correlated with
various stages in the process of transmission of this
something. And, on that supposition, it is unsatis-
factory to determine neutral simultaneity by a method
which presupposes that the various sensa which belong
to a single flash are neutrally simultaneous.
(iii) The Aberration Argument. — It is found that, if
the fixed stars be observed night after night, their
apparent positions undergo a periodic change. Each
describes a closed curve in the course of a year. Now
the apparent position of a star is, of course, the optical
place of the visual sensum which is an appearance to
us of the star. The direction of this place will be
determined by the direction in which we have to point
our telescope in order to bring this visual sensum into
the middle of our visual field. Now, of course, we might
suppose that all the fixed stars are describing closed
curves in the time which it takes the earth to move
DATE AND DURATION
381
round the sun. But this would be a most extraordinary
state of affairs, and it is not one that we readily accept.
Now it happens that the facts can be quite easily ex-
plained on the same assumption as before about light.
Let S be a star, and let the line OO represent the
course of a moving- observer with a telescope. In the
first figure we will suppose that he is pointing his
telescope at the physical place of the star. At a certain
moment let his position be O, and let light from the
star have reached lv a point in the middle of the far
end of his telescope. At a slightly later moment let
his position be 02. The light will then have got to /2
*s
//„
°, °e
ftp/
O, q, 03 o4
/%&
in its original straight line, and will no longer be passing
down his telescope at all. It is clear then thatv if the
moving observer points his telescope at the physical
place of the star, he will see no star at all. Suppose
now that he tilts his telescope forward by an appropriate
amount in the direction of his movement. Let Ov 02,
03, 04 represent four successive positions of the tele-
scope, and /1} /.,, /3, /4, the four corresponding positions
in the course of the light which is travelling from the
star. It is clear from the figure that the light will pass
down the telescope and meet his eye, provided that he
slopes the telescope forward at an angle to his course,
whose tangent is cjv, where c is the velocity of light
and v is that of the observer. Now an observer on the
earth is moving with it in the course of a year round
a closed curve — the earth's orbit — with considerable
382 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
velocity. It is thus easy to understand that, although
the physical place of a star remains constant, the optical
places of the sensa by which the star appears to us will
vary in the course of the year, and will repeat their
variations over and over again in that period. From
the speed of the earth in its orbit and the amount of the
aberration of a star, it is easy to calculate the velocity
of light. It is once more found to be the same, within
the limits of experimental error, as that found by Romer's
argument and by Fizeau's method.
This argument is of particular interest to us, not
merely in connexion with the question of neutral dating,
but also as reinforcing the distinction that has already
been drawn on other grounds between physically and
optically occupied places. We introduced that dis-
tinction originally because of facts which are found
to arise when the medium surrounding an observer is
non-homogeneous. We now see that the optical place
of a visual appearance and the physical place of its
source may be different, even when the medium is
homogeneous, if the source and the observer be in
relative motion.
Let us now consider what these arguments have to
teach us. (i) We see that three extremely different
lines of argument tend to the conclusion that visual
sensa are connected with something that is transmitted
from a source to an observer with a finite velocity.
And they all lead to approximately the same numerical
value for this velocity. Now, in each separate case,
there is no doubt that the facts could be explained
without taking this particular view about light, provided
we made some other assumption. But, in the first place,
each of these assumptions would conflict with some law
of Nature which has been well established in other cases.
And, in the second place, these assumptions would be
quite disconnected with each other ; each would be an
independent piece of "cooking." On the other hand,
a single assumption as to the nature of light explains
DATE AND DURATION 383
all these very different facts, and reconciles them with
the established natural laws with which they would
otherwise conflict. Thus the hypothesis in question is
established about as solidly as any scientific hypothesis
can be. The simple-minded scientist may think that I
have needlessly laboured this point ; but I have deliber-
ately insisted on it, because I know that some eminent
"realist" philosophers, finding- that the finite velocity
of lierht "stains the white radiance" of their theories of
perception, are inclined in private to deny it, or at least
to "damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer."
(ii) We notice that the finite velocity of light is
never proved directly ; but always by the argument that,
unless it be true, certain observable facts will not be
reconcilable with well verified laws about the motion of
matter. The only direct way to verify the proposition
would be for two observers to stand at a distance apart,
see the same flash of light, and find that their respective
visual sensa were not contemporary. Now there is both
a practical and a theoretical difficulty about any such
experiment. The theoretical difficulty is this. The
two observers would need to be provided with some
means of marking, and thus comparing, the dates of
their respective sensa. Suppose that the means adopted
were two stop-watches. This would be useless, unless
they had reason to suppose that the two watches agreed
in their zero points and were going at the same rate.
They might, of course, set the watches in synchronism
when they are both together ; but what guarantee have
they that they will remain in synchronism when one
has been carried a long distance away? To assume
that they do, is to make an assumption which is con-
tradicted by quite gross experiences. To test their
synchronism after they have been separated, can only
be done by means of light or electrical signals ; and
there is obviously a circle in setting two watches by light-
signals and then using them to test whether two visual
sensa belonging to the same flash are contemporary or
;S., SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
successive. The only way out of this difficulty would be
if both observers could observe a certain pair of flashes,
and if one of them should find that his two visual sensa
were sensibly simultaneous, and the other should And
that his two visual sensa were sensibly successive. But,
in practice, this cannot be done, because of the great
velocity of light and the fact that the only observers
who can compare notes with each other are confined to
the earth's surface. Thus it seems clear to me that the
neutral simultaneity of visual sensa belonging to the
same flash is denied wholly and solely because it con-
flicts with another system of dating which depends on
certain alleged laws of motion.
(iii) It is evident that if we accept the view that the
various sensa belongingto the same flash are not neutrally
simultaneous, we shall have to admit either that two
sensa which seem simultaneous may not really be so, or
that two sensa which are neutrally successive may be
sensibly simultaneous. The latter alternative would
prevent neutral temporal relations from being consistent
extensions of sensible temporal relations, and we shall
therefore not take it, unless we are forced to do so. Now
there is nothing in the Sensum theory of sensible appear-
ance to force us to the second alternative. A sensum
belonging to a certain flash and a sensum belonging
to its reflected flash, seem to us to be sensibly simul-
taneous. If the physical theory of light be accepted, the
latter is neutrally a little later than the former. But the
sensible simultaneity of two sensa only means that each
exactly overlaps the other in their common sensible
field. Now the notion of exactness ahvays involves a
negative factor ; it means that no part of the one sensum
sticks out beyond the end of the other. And we saw,
when dealing with the general theory of sensa, that
there is no reason why negative judgments about sensa
should be infallible. Thus, two sensa may often seem
to be sensibly quite simultaneous, when really one begins
a little later and ends a little later than the other.
DATE AND DURATION 385
We see then that the question of a neutral dating of
events in different sense-histories leads inevitably to the
question of motion, whether it be the transmission of
those changes which are connected with sound and light,
or the motion of ordinary physical bodies through Space.
Thus the separation of Space and Time, with which we
started, which has been wearing thinner and thinner as
the argument has advanced, has now broken down
altogether. This does not mean that there is no differ-
ence between temporal and spatial relations ; but it does
mean that it is impossible to apply the concept of a
single Space to Nature without referring through Motion
to Time, and that it is equally impossible to date the
events of Nature in a single Time without referring
through Motion to Space. And this, it will be noted,
is one of the characteristic features of the Theory of
Relativity.
To sum up : If I want to determine neutral temporal
relations between an event which is in my sense-history
but not in yours, and an event which is in your sense-
history but not in mine, the only possible way seems to
be to find something which is common to the sense-
histories of both of us, and to determine the neutral
temporal relations between the two "private'" events
by means of their respective sensible relations to this
"public" event. At first sight this seems perfectly
plain sailing, since there are events, like noises and
flashes, which are admittedly "public" in a way in
which headaches and toothaches are not. If it were
really true that, when we say that we "hear the same
noise " or " see the same flash," there is a single auditory
or visual sensum in all our sense-histories, it would be
easy to determine neutral simultaneity in this way.
And, since it would have the same logical properties
as sensible simultaneity, it would be reasonable to hold
that it is really the same relation, and that the pro-
posed method of determination is simply a test and not
a definition of a new kind of relation. But, although it
;>N<> SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
is not logically impossible that a single sensum might be
in a number of different sense-histories, eloser observa-
tion of the facts makes it almost impossible to believe that
a noise or a Hash really is a single sensum. Moreover,
it seems impossible to hold that it is even a group of
contemporary sensa. Thus, such methods of determina-
tion, though practically useful for most purposes, owing
to the considerable velocity of sounds and the very great
velocity of light, are not theoretically satisfactory.
Temporal Characteristics of Physical Events. — The
further development of this subject must be left to the
next two chapters, but it is possible in the meanwhile to
say something about the durations and dates of physical
objects and events. A single flash of light or a single
noise may be called a. perceptible physical event. When a
man says that he sees a flash of light, he does not mean
either {a) merely that he senses a certain visual sensum,
or (/;) that he sees the movement, e.g., of an electron at
the source which is responsible for the flash. For (a)
he admits that other people can see the same flash,
whereas we have found reason to think that two people
who see the same flash do not sense the same visual
sensum. And (d), so far from admitting that he saw
the movement of the electron, he would say that this
is invisible, and that he only believes it to have taken
place on the authority of a scientific theory which he
does not himself understand. Thus, to see a flash means
something more than to sense a visual sensum, and
something, partly more and partly less, than to perceive
the motion of an electron. An angel might perceive the
motion of the electron and see no flash, whilst a man
sees the flash and does not perceive the motion of the
electron. Seeing the flash involves sensing the sensum
and also something more. It involves the excitement
of traces connected with similar experiences in the past.
These may or may not actually produce the explicit
perceptual judgment that other observers are sensing
DATE AND DURATION 387
similar sensa which are optically in the same place,
and that some movement has happened in that place.
But, whether these judgments actually arise or not, the
observer will tend to behave in a way in which it would
be reasonable to behave if he had explicitly made these
judgments. If such judgments be not true in a particular
case, we say that the observer is mistaken in his belief
that he has seen a flash of light, even though he has
sensed a short, bright visual sensum. Thus a man
who "sees stars," because he has hit his head against
a post, senses a bright visual sensum, but would be
deceiving himself and others if he said that he had seen
a flash of light.
A perceptible physical event, like a flash or a noise,
may therefore be defined as a certain group of sensa
having certain similarities to each other and certain
neutral spatial relations. Nearly always they will be,
in some sense, compresent at a certain place in Space.
We have seen that, as a rule, they will not all be
neutrally simultaneous, but that their neutral dates will
depend upon the positions of the various observers who
sense them. To perceive such a perceptible event
means (a) to sense a sensum belonging to such a group ;
and (b), in consequence of the traces left by similar
experiences in the past, either explicitly to judge that it
is a member of such a group, or to act as it would
be appropriate to act if one had explicitly made this
judgment.
(a) Dates of Perceptible Physical Events. — Now, since
a perceptible physical event consists of a number of
sensa of different neutral dates, it is obvious that the
question: "What is the date of a certain perceptible
physical event?" can only be answered in a more or
less Pickwickian manner. To give any answer to it
we must notice the two following facts : The neutral
dates of the sensa in such a group are none of them
earlier than the date of a certain physical movement,
such as the opening of a shutter. If we include in the
,ss SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
flash not only actual sensa but the sensa of possible
observers, the dates of the various sensa would approach
the date of this movement at the source as their lower
limit. This date might, therefore, be defined as "the
date at which the perceptible physical event begins.'''
The second point to notice is that, where a group of
sensa have later and later neutral dates as the observer
is further and further from the source, the sensa in
question are fainter and fainter. Thus the dates of the
sensa which constitute a single noise approach a limit
where we are dealing with an observer so remote that
he can only just sense a sensum of the group. This
does not give an absolutely sharp date which may be
taken as "the date at which the perceptible physical
event ends" because the question of the different acute-
ness of different observers comes in. Still it is clear
that in this way we could define approximately the
date at which such an event ends. The duration of a
perceptible physical event may then be defined as the
time that elapses between its beginning and its end.
(if) Relative Dates of Act of Perceiving and Event
Perceived. — Next we see that, although the beginning
of an act of sensing may be regarded as contemporary
with the end of the sensible field that is sensed through-
out the whole of it, there is not the same simple relation
between the date of an act of perceiving and the date of
the physical event perceived by it. This is obvious,
since there is nothing that can appropriately be called
the date of a perceptible physical event. We may
reasonably identify the date of an act of perceiving
with that of the act of sensing on which it is based.
So that, in general, all we can say is that an act of
perceiving is later than the beginning and earlier
than the end of the physical event that it perceives.
It is very common to suppose that an act of perceiving
must be contemporary with the event perceived. This
is, of course, a mere mistake, due to a confusion
between an act of sensing, whose object is a sensum,
DATE AND DURATION 389
and an act of perceiving, whose object is a physical
event.
There is one more confusion to be pointed out
before we leave this subject. It might be said : " Does
not a physical event, such as a flash of light, persist
for ever once it has started?" I answer that the move-
ment that is transmitted from the source and is corre-
lated with the various visual sensa of the group, may
very well go on for ever. But this movement, of what-
ever nature it may be, is not the flash of light. A flash
of light is a perceptible object ; the movement in the
ether is not perceptible — by us at any rate. It is merely
silly to say that a certain perceptible event lasts for ever,
because a certain imperceptible event, with which it is
closely connected, does so.
(c) Scientific Events. — This naturally brings us to
the question of the dates and durations of imperceptible
physical events. We know that perceptible physical
events, such as flashes of light, are supposed to be
intimately connected with movements of electrons and
changes in the ether which we cannot perceive. These
are much more important theoretically to the scientist
than perceptible events. The epistemological relation
between the two is the following: It is by observing
and noting the relations between perceptible events
that we infer the existence of these imperceptible events,
which, following Whitehead, I will call scientific events.
Instead of stating the laws of Nature as direct relations
between perceptible events, we analyse these relations
into the relative product of two different kinds of rela-
tions, viz., (a) those of scientific events to each other, and
(b) those of scientific events to perceptible events. This
process seems to be indispensable, if we are to deal
satisfactorily with Nature at all. The relations between
perceptible events are very complex, and few simple
and invariable laws can be stated about them. On the
other hand, the relations of imperceptible events to each
other and to perc'eptible events are reasonably simple,
390 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
and laws of very wide range can be stated about them.
We can then use these hypothetical laws to predict
what perceptible events will be perceived under assigned
perceptible conditions. In so far as the predicted
events actually take place, our hypothesis about imper-
ceptible events and their laws is strengthened. It is
very easy for a scientist, who constantly deals with
scientific events and sees their great practical and
theoretical importance, to fall into the mistake of
supposing that they alone are " real." This is a great
error. The actual position is this : The existence of
sensa is absolutely certain, and those positive sensible
properties which they seem to have they certainly do
have, if the Sensum theory be accepted at all. The
existence of some perceptible physical events is prac-
tically certain, if we are prepared to accept the existence
of other observers and to believe what they tell us
about their sensa. But, in any particular case, an
observer who thinks that he perceives a certain physical
event may be mistaken. For he may sense a sensum
of a certain kind and mistakenly suppose that it is one
of a group of connected sensa, when really it is "wild"
and isolated. Lastly, since imperceptible physical
events are only assumed in order to fill the gaps
between the various sensa of single perceptible events
and to connect different perceptible events with each
other, it is clear that our certainty that there are such
and such imperceptible events cannot logically exceed
our certainty that there are such and such percep-
tible ones.
There is a connecting link between purely percep-
tible events, like flashes of light, and purely scientific
events, like the movements of electrons and ether-waves.
This link is the unperceived parts of perceptible events.
We defined a flash as a certain group of visual sensa,
and we said that its duration was the time that elapses
between the earliest and the latest of these sensa. But,
it must be admitted that the really important point about
DATE AND DURATION 391
perceptible events is not the actual sensa in the group,
but the possible sensa. Actually only a few of the
sensa in such groups are sensed by anyone, and it may
quite well happen that only one of them is sensed. The
perceptual judgment does not assert that other sensa of
the group are sensed, but only that they would be by
any observer sufficiently like ourselves placed in any
suitable position. Thus the cash value of the statement
that perceptible events persist, even when no one happens
to sense any sensum of the group, is that whenever a
suitable observer is present at any position in a certain
spatio-temporal region, he will sense a member of the
group. We are not content with this merely hypo-
thetical assertion. We assume that if any observer at
any position of a certain spatio-temporal region will
sense a sensum of a certain group, this must be because
something independent of all observers is going on at
all positions in this region. This assumption rests
partly on our passion for spatio-temporal continuity.
When there is a close connexion between events in
different places and of different dates, we feel that the
gaps between them must be filled in somehow. And
this conviction is strongly reinforced if we find that
any observer who takes up his position at random
within the spatio-temporal region in question equally
senses a member of the group.
We must notice, moreover, that the presence of an
observer is found to be irrelevant to most chains of
physical causation. If I put a kettle on the fire and
watch both, the perceptible event of the fire burning
is followed after a certain time by the perceptible event
of the kettle boiling. If I and all other observers go
away for a time and then return, we find that the kettle
has boiled after the same lapse of time. These and
millions of other experiences show that the gaps
between the sensa belonging to a perceptible event
are filled by something that produces just the same
effects as if we were present. Thus, even at the level
392 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
of common-sense, a perceptible physical event is thought
of as a group of sensa connected by events that go on
in the absence of observers. Common-sense is very
vague as to the nature of these unperceived parts of
perceptible events. I think that it generally supposes
in a rather half-hearted way that they are of the same
nature as the parts that are actually sensed. How far
such a view can be maintained cannot be decided until
we have dealt with the physiological conditions of sensa.
But, at any rate, we can say that it seems essential to
suppose that something bridges these gaps ; and science
professes to determine more and more accurately the
nature of this something. Whether it has the properties
of sensa or not, it certainly has the properties of scientific
events, subject of course to the possibility of scientific
theories being wrong on points of detail.
In the last chapter I said that scientific objects are
conceived to have shapes and to occupy places in the
movement-continuum in the same literal way in which
visual sensa are immediately sensed to have shapes and
to occupy sensible places in their fields. In fact, the
concepts of what I will now call Scientific Space and
scientific physical objects are constructed together in
an inseparable union. They are constructed on the
analogy of sensa and their fields out of data derived
from the sense-experiences of many observers through
various senses and at various times. Exactly similar
remarks apply, mutatis mutandis, to the concepts of
what I will call Scientific Time and scientific events.
Scientific Time is conceived by analogy with a sense-
history ; scientific events are conceived to have dates in
Scientific Time as sensa have dates in the sense-history
of the observer who senses them ; scientific objects are
conceived to have duration in Scientific Time as sense-
objects have duration in a sense-history. There is one
difference, however. For reasons already stated, it is
impossible that sensa should literally occupy places in
scientific space, though it may not, of course, be im-
DATE AND DURATION 393
possible to construct a space-like whole of more than
three dimensions, in which sensa of all kinds, and
scientific objects, literally have places. If so, I suppose
that Scientific Space would be one kind of section of
such a quasi-space, and e.g., a visual field would be
another kind of section of the same quasi-space. But,
if such a construction can be made at all, I, at any rate,
am not capable of doing the trick. On the other hand,
it is not obviously impossible that sensa should literally
have dates and durations in the same Scientific Time as
scientific events ; for, as we have seen, temporal relations
are much more pervasive than spatial relations. The
scientific dates of sensa would seem to be the dates at
which certain scientific events happen in the brain of
the observer who senses these sensa. Unless there be
some positive inconsistency between the temporal rela-
tions of such scientific events and the sensible temporal
relations of the corresponding sensa, there seems no
reason to reject the naive view that the temporal re-
lations between sensa in our own sense-history, with
which we become acquainted through sensation and
memory, are literally the same as the temporal relations
between the corresponding scientific events in our brains.
Whether this view can be held, is a question which must
be reserved for a later chapter.
Duration of Physical Objects. — We have now said
all that can be said with profit about the dates and
durations of physical events before dealing with motion
and the union of Space with Time. It remains to say
something about the durations of physical objects or
" things." A thing, as we have seen, is simply a long
event, throughout the course of which there is either
qualitative similarity or continuous qualitative change,
together with a characteristic spatio-temporal unity.
A sense-object, as defined earlier in the chapter, is an
example of such a long event ; though, for reasons which
will appear in a moment, it would hardly be called a
2 c
394 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
" thing," und it is certainly not " physical." Thus the
dividing line between events and thing's cannot be
very sharply drawn in theory. Nevertheless, we can
draw a rough practical distinction, and it is useful to
do so, in order not to depart too far from common
speech.
(a) Perceptual Objects. — A flash of light would be
called a perceptual event, but not a perceptual thing or
object. This is because each person who sees the flash
senses a single short sensum, and not a series of sensa
in successive fields which join up with each other to
form a sense-object of decent duration. This is true,
although, as we have seen, the flash itself as a per-
ceptible event has considerable duration, which may
extend to thousands of years. Thus one point about a
perceptible object is that it must be capable of being
perceived for a long time by the same observer. And
this means that its appearance to him must be not
merely a sensum but a sense-object. Again, a perceptible
thing is always understood to combine a number of
connected qualities which can only be perceived by
different senses. An observer might see a mirror-
image for an hour at a time, but he would never say
that he was seeing a physical object, so long as he knew
that it was a mirror-image. For he would know that,
if he went to the place where it is optically present, he
would sense no correlated tactual sensa, and that there
would be no relevant scientific objects there.
Of course, as I have already hinted, these criteria
are not theoretically satisfactory. What we count as
a perceptible object may be moving so fast that we
sense only one short sensum in connexion with it.
Conversely, an observer who moved in the right direction
with the velocity of light would continually sense sensa
connected with a single flash, so that he would be
aware of a sense-object of considerable duration, and
might therefore be inclined to say that he was seeing a
perceptible thing and not merely a perceptible event.
DATE AND DURATION 395
Still, the criteria that we have just laid down work in a
great many cases and will do for our present purpose.
We can now improve the definition of a perceptual
object which we gave in the last chapter, where we
deliberately overlooked for the moment complications
due to time. We still cannot give a perfectly satis-
factory definition, because we have not yet dealt
properly with the movement of physical objects and
observers and the consequent displacement of visual
sensa in the movement-continuum. We will assume
for the present that we are confining ourselves to a
resting object and resting observers, and we shall not
attempt to remove this restriction until the next chapter.
Suppose that a scientific event of the kind which is
connected with a single flash of light were to happen
at a certain moment at a certain place in scientific
space. Suppose that observers were dotted about in all
directions and at all distances around this place. Then
it is true that the place in question would be optically
occupied by visual sensa from all directions for a very
long time. But it would be optically occupied only
for a moment by visual sensa from a given distance.
At any given moment the sensa which occupied the
place would occupy it from places on a certain sphere
surrounding it, and at a later moment it would be
occupied only by sensa from places on a larger sphere.
It would never be occupied at once by sensa from places
on two such spheres. If there were a persistent optical
object, instead of a mere flash, at the place, this place
would be optically occupied at a given moment from
many different distances as well as from all directions.
We might regard a persistent optical object as a con-
tinuous series of successive flashes. Each flash is
itself a series of successive sensa belonging to different
fields, and the later a sensum is in its flash the further
off is the place from which it is present at the luminous
centre. Thus there are two temporal series to be con-
sidered : (1) The series of flashes which together make
396 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
up the history of the persistent optical object ; and (2)
the series of successive sensa which together make up
a single flash. It is obvious that an early sensum
belonging to a later flash and a late sensum belonging
to an earlier flash may be simultaneous with each other.
The former will be optically present at the centre from
a near place, and the latter will be optically present at
the centre from a more remote place. Thus the centre
is optically occupied by sensa from different distances at
the same moment. Imagine for simplicity a visible
object of very small spatial dimensions, which we can
treat as a point. Suppose it lasted for a time T, and
that a time / has now elapsed since it began to exist.
Then the places from which sensa are
present at this point at the moment / are
all the points contained in the volume
between a pair of spheres with the
point as centre and ct and c (7 + T) as
radii. (Here c is the velocity of light.)
The diagram will make this plain.
At this moment sensa from the first flash in the
history of the object will be present at P from places on
the outer sphere, and sensa from the last flash in its
history will be present at P from places on the inner
sphere. Sensa of intermediate flashes will be present
at P from places in the volume contained between the
two spherical surfaces. Thus the thickness of this solid
shell of places, from which sensa are contemporaneously
present at P, is characteristic of the duration of the
optical object. From places within the smaller sphere
there are no longer any sensa present at P, and from
places outside the larger sphere there are not yet any
sensa present at P. The " shell " will continually
spread out from the centre, but it will always remain of
the same "thickness," and this thickness is character-
istic of the duration of the optical object.
So far, we have confined our attention to the places
from which sensa are present at a given place at a given
DATE AND DURATION 397
moment. But we can equally well regard the whole
situation from another point of view. We can consider
the moments at which sensa are present at a given place
from a. given place. In the case of a flash each observer
senses just one sensum, which is optically present at
the place where the flash is said to be. In the case of
a persistent optical object all the observers will be aware
in course of time, not merely of a single sensum, but
of a sense-object. And the duration of this sense-object
would commonly be identified with that of the optical
object. The sense-object in this case is a group of
successive visual sensa in a single sense-history, one
of which belongs to each of the successive flashes into
which the history of the persistent optical object can be
analysed by Extensive Abstraction. It is clear that we
must distinguish between (1) the duration of an optical
object from a place, and (2) the total duration of an optical
object. The former is simply the duration of the sensible
object which is the appearance of the optical object
to an observer at that place. But an optical object,
however short its duration from any one place, has an
enormously great duration, when you take into account
all the sensa which belong to it from all places. Its
total duration is the time that elapses between the earliest
and the latest visual sensum which belongs to it. And
this, even in the case of a momentary flash, may amount
to millions of years. A flash, in the limit, has only
duration of the second kind ; a persistent optical object
has both kinds of duration.
We can now define a persistent complete optical object,
subject to the limitations about motion which we have
already indicated. Such an object is a group of visual
sensa of various dates, correlated with each other, and
having the following properties: (1) There is a certain
closed contour in Scientific Space (the " place occupied
by the optical object"), such that every member of this
group of sensa is optically present at some part of its
surface from somewhere. (2) Every part of this contour
398 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
is optically occupied from somewhere by some member
(or members) of the group. (3) At any moment after
the optical object has started to exist, any part of this
central contour is occupied by sensa of the group from
all the places within a certain volume. This volume is
bounded by two closed surfaces, both of which contain
the place occupied by the optical object. After the
optical object has completed its history, the thickness of
this volume is a measure of the duration of the object
from any point. (4) From any point a certain part of
the central contour is occupied by a series of successive
sensa, forming a sense-object in the sense-history of an
observer who stays at this point. The duration of this
sense-object is the duration of the optical object from
this place.
To define a non-persistent complete optical object, i.e.
a complete optical event, or "flash," we leave clauses
(1) and (2) standing, and modify clauses (3) and (4) as
follows: In (3) substitute "on a certain surface" for
"within a certain volume." In (4) substitute "a single
sensum " for "a series of successive sensa," and omit
the rest of the clause. Finally, a mirror-image of a
chair or a pin would be a persistent incomplete optical
object, whilst a mirror-image of a flash would be a non-
persistent incomplete optical object.
We said in the last chapter that an ordinary per-
ceptual object, like a penny, as understood by common-
sense, is really a composition consisting of a number of
correlated constituent objects of various kinds, all
occupying a place in the movement-continuum in their
various appropriate Pickwickian ways. This place,
moreover, is conceived to be literally occupied by cor-
related scientific objects ; and the difference between
science and common-sense is largely a difference in
the amount of knowledge which the two claim to have
about these scientific objects. It is obvious that some
of the constituents of a perceptual object may cease
to persist while others remain. Again, a place where
DATE AND DURATION 399
a perceptual object has once been, may continue to be
haunted from certain places by its ghost, in the form
of its optical constituent. The compositeness of a
perceptual object infects the notion of "its" duration
with an incurable vagueness. We can make accurate
statements about the durations of its constituents, and
we can make accurate statements about the durations
of the correlated scientific objects, but the perceptual
object of common-sense is too much a mixture of non-
homogeneous constituents to be worth treating very
seriously as a whole.
We saw that an observer can very well be mistaken
in thinking that he perceives a physical event of a
certain kind, because this implies a reference beyond
the sensum which he senses to other sensa, actual and
possible, of other observers. A fortiori, we can be mis-
taken in supposing that we perceive a certain physical
thing ; and this can happen even when we are quite
right in thinking that we perceive a physical event or
a series of them. Such mistakes take various forms,
and contain various amounts of error, (i) We may
mistake a partial for a complete optical object, i.e., we
may think that a certain place is optically occupied from
all directions when really it is occupied only from one
or from a restricted range of directions. This happens
in optical illusions which really deceive us. (ii) If we
make this mistake we shall almost certainly make the
further mistake of supposing that the place in question
is also occupied by correlated tactual and other con-
stituents, that it is a centre for sound and radiant heat,
and that it is occupied literally by scientific objects
specially correlated with our visual sensa. Actually
the most relevant scientific objects will be at some
remote place, (iii) We may make very grave mistakes
about time. We practically always think that physical
things have endued and remained in the same place
longer than our visual perceptions really justify us in
believing. If an ordinary man sees a star in a certain
400 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
optical place, he assumes that it must have been there
at least up to the time when he ceases to see it. This
is of course unjustified. My visual sensa are indeed
optically present at this place at the time when I sense
them, and for as long as I go on sensing them. But,
in saying that the star is there at that time, I am assert-
ing much more than this. I am asserting that other
types of constituent object are also there, and that the
place is now occupied by correlated scientific objects
and events. This may happen to be true, but it is not
justified by my visual perception alone. The star may
have blown up or moved elsewhere since the light left
it. The first statement implies that there is now no
centre occupied by scientific objects correlated with my
present visual sensa. The second implies that there is
still a centre occupied by events of this kind, but that
it is no longer at the place where the optical object is
present. The facts of aberration show that such diver-
gences between the place of a perceptual event and
that of the thing with which it is connected, may arise
through mere movement of the observer.
{b) Scientific Objects. — It is admitted that ordinary
perceptual objects, like pennies and chairs, begin to
exist, last for so long, and then come to an end. In
the chapter on Time and Change in Part I, I tried to
explain what exactly is meant by saying of any object
that it began to exist, lasted so long, and came to an
end. Now perceptual objects are supposed to be con-
nected with scientific objects in the way described
earlier in the present chapter. And the total scientific
object specially connected with any perceptual object
is believed to be a very complex whole of related
parts. Such structures have more or less stability,
once they are formed ; but they do begin to exist and
come to an end under suitable conditions. We shall
have to distinguish between scientific objects of various
orders. The sort of scientific object which is specially
connected with a perceptual object, like a chair, may be
DATE AND DURATION 401
called a first order object. It is supposed, as we know,
to consist of a great many molecules arranged in
a pattern in space. These may be called second order
objects. Each molecule is supposed to consist of a
number of atoms, characteristically arranged in space
and moving in characteristic ways in time. These
atoms are third order objects. Finally, each atom is
supposed to be an arrangement of positive and negative
electrons, with characteristic types of motion. These
are fourth order objects ; and it is of course possible that
they are themselves complicated structures composed
of fifth order objects.
Such a hierarchy represents real facts about Nature.
The simplest way to look at it is the following : Many
agents, such as the presence of a sufficiently prosperous
profiteer on the seat, will break up a chair without
affecting the molecules of cellulose of which it is com-
posed. Other agents, such as heat, will break up the
cellulose molecules, but leave the atoms of carbon,
hydrogen, and oxygen of which they are made, un-
altered. A very few agents will, with great difficulty,
break up the atoms themselves into their constituent
electrons. So far as I know, no agent yet employed
will break up an electron, though it is possible by
heroic methods to knock pieces off the nucleus of an
atom. Thus the orders in the hierarchy of scientific
objects are the stages where certain disintegrating
agents, which have previously been effective, cease to
be so. Chairs really are permanent under a great
variety of conditions, cellulose molecules under a greater
variety, carbon atoms under a still greater range, and
electrons under all variations that have been tried.
Now, for our present purpose, the important thing
to notice is that scientific objects of different orders need
different minimal spaces and durations to live in. This
is generally recognised in regard to space, though it is
stated in a rather misleading way, e.g., that " molecules
are divisible and electrons are not." It is equally true
402 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
of time, and it is one of Whitehead's great merits to
have pointed this out clearly. I will first explain what
is meant by this statement as regards space. If you
divide up the space which is occupied by a chair into
two parts, neither of these parts will be occupied by a
chair, though one may be occupied by a leg and another
by a seat. Again, you could divide up the space occupied
by a chair into partitions, each of which was occupied by
a cellulose molecule. If you further subdivided one of
these divisions you would find that some of your sub-
divisions were occupied by a hydrogen atom, some by
a carbon atom, some by an oxygen atom, and some by
nothing at all. When a person says that a molecule is
divisible in space, whilst an electron is not, what he
means, over and above the fact that one has been experi-
mentally split up and that the other has not, is roughly
the following: If you take a space containing one and only
one molecule and nothing else, you can divide it into a
set of exhaustive and mutually exclusive partitions, such
that there is a positive difference of quality between the
contents of some of these partitions and the contents
of others. [E-g-, the contents of one may have the
"hydrogen quality," that of another the "oxygen
quality," and so on. Of course, some of your partitions
may have no contents at all.) If you take a space
containing one electron and nothing else, then either
(i) all sets of exhaustive and mutually exclusive par-
titions into which you can divide the space are occupied
by contents of the same quality, or (2) you can divide
the space into two mutually exclusive and exhaustive
partitions, one of which is empty whilst the other has
the property (1). What is called "indivisibility" is
really rather homogeneity of quality for all spatial sub-
divisions below a certain maximum. Whether in fact
an electron answers to this definition is, of course, a
matter for empirical investigation.
Now, as Whitehead has pointed out, we have the
same distinction among objects as regards division of
DATE AND DURATION 403
their history into successive slices. There are many
types of object whose characteristic qualities need a
certain minimum of duration to inhere in. E.g., memory
is one of the outstanding features of the sort of thing
that we call a "mind." It is, therefore, clear that the
very notion of a " momentary mind " is nonsense. Now
the same is true of any scientific object which is partly
characterised by some special type of motion. Suppose
that a certain kind of atom consisted of a nucleus and
an electron rotating about it at a certain characteristic
rate. Such an atom would need at least the duration
of one complete rotation to display its characteristic
properties. The history of such an atom is a " pattern "
in time, just as the momentary arrangement of electrons
and nucleus is a pattern in space. If the duration of
one complete rotation be sliced up into adjacent successive
parts, the contents of the parts will differ in quality from
the contents of the whole.
On the other hand, there may well be objects which
are temporally homogeneous. This would mean that,
however you choose to divide up their history, the
contents of all the slices are the same as each other and
as the whole in quality. Many types of scientific object
then have a characteristic minimum duration as well
as a characteristic minimum extension.
Now science regards the ultimate scientific objects
as being spatio-temporally homogeneous. And it
assumes that these ultimate scientific objects never
begin or end. Thus the ultimate scientific objects are
regarded as eternal in the sense of existing throughout
all time. The only ultimate scientific changes are the
groupings and regroupings of such objects according
to a single set of fundamental laws. Whether this
assumption be true, and whether it be self-evident, I do
not profess to know. But I believe we may assert (as
I have pointed out elsewhere, and as Mr Keynes has
independently and much more clearly shown in his
Treatise on Probability) that, without some such assump-
404 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
tion, it is impossible to justify the confidence which
we feel in the results of " well-established " inductions.
I do not propose to pursue this subject further here.
In the next chapter I shall say what I can about
Motion, and, in the next but one, I shall discuss the
concept of Space-Time, from which Scientific Space
and Scientific Time are two abstractions of different
types.
The following additional works may be consulted
with advantage :
B. A. W. Russell, Lectures on the External World, Lectures
III. and IV.
A. N. Whitehead, Principles of Natural Knowledge, Part IV.
S. Alexander, Space, Time and Deity, Book I.
A. A. ROBB, Absolute Relations of Time and Space.
CHAPTER XI
" Oh, how glorious and resplendent,
Fragile Body, shalt thou be ! "
(Hymns Ancient and Modern.)
Sensible and Physical Motion
In the last chapter I touched incidentally on the
sensible motion of sensa within their own fields. Both
in it and in the chapter before I talked of the motion of
our bodies, and said that the concept of physical Space
is based on such motions, interpreted spatially by
analogy with our visual fields. I propose now to go
considerably more into detail about these matters ; to
consider exactly how the concepts of physical Space
and Motion are connected, on the one hand with our
bodily movements, and on the other with the positions
and movements of our sensa in their fields ; and finally
to work up to the concept of physical Space-Time.
We shall find that the consideration of our own bodies
and of the bodies of other observers who can communi-
cate with us about their experiences fills a gap in our
concept of physical objects, and is an essential factor
in the development of the concept of physical Space.
General Remarks about Change and Motion. —
When we say that something changes, or, more
particularly, that it moves, we imply a certain identity
and a certain difference. There must be enough
identity for us to be able to say that we are dealing
with the same object, in spite of the movement or other
change. And there must be some difference between
one part of the history of the object and others, or we
4o6 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
should not say that it had changed or moved. Change
is a more general concept than movement, since move-
ment is simply change of position in space. We will,
therefore, begin with change in general.
In ordinary life we distinguish between an object
and its history, and we are inclined to think that the
former is logically prior to the latter. We say, e.g.,
that there is a certain object, such as a penny, and that
it may either rest or move, keep bright or tarnish,
and so on. These events, we say, "happen to" the
object, and its history is just all the events that happen
to it. You might, we think, have an object without a
history, but you could not have a history without an
object. I believe this to be a profound mistake, which
arises from taking "history" in too narrow a sense.
An object, separated from its history, is clearly not the
kind of thing that could possibly exist. Every object
that is not merely momentary has a history of some
kind, and no merely momentary object could really
exist. " Object," apart from "history," is therefore as
much an abstraction as " history," apart from " object."
Of course some histories are very tame, e.g., that of a
penny which keeps in one place and never varies in its
other qualities. Others are more exciting, e.g., that of
a penny which moves about, gets bent and defaced,
and is finally dropped into the collection-plate. Now
we are inclined to identify history with exciting, i.e.,
variable, history. We then identify the object with
the tame tracts of its history ; and forget that these are
history at all, because they are so uniform. But really
all that literally exists is strands of history, some tamer
and some more exciting.
Now it is conceivable that there might have been
succession but no history. If so, there would have
been neither an object nor a plurality of objects. Let
us consider a fragment of the whole course of Nature,
lasting for an hour. Let us imagine it cut up into
successive slices, each lasting for a second. Theoreti-
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 407
cally there are three possibilities, (i) We might find
that the contents of any adjacent pair of seconds had no
particular resemblance either in whole or in part. And
we might still find the same result if we took shorter
and shorter divisions. In that case we could hardly
talk of history at all ; there would merely be a perfectly
chaotic hail of events, (ii) We might find that there
was considerable qualitative resemblance between the
whole contents of any adjacent pair of seconds, and that
this resemblance increased as we took shorter and
shorter sub-divisions. But we might have to compare
the contents of each second en bloc. We mio-ht not be
able to divide it into clearly distinguishable co-existing
parts. In that case we should say that there is a history
(of the world as a whole), but that there is not a
number of distinct strands of history. We could then
talk of an object, which endures and perhaps changes,
viz., the universe; but not of a number of distinct
objects, (iii) We might find, as we actually do, that
the content of each second is distinguishable into
different co-existing parts, and that a certain part of
the content of one is hooked on to a certain part of the
content of the next by close qualitative resemblance.
Under this head I include resemblance of shape and
position, as well as resemblance of colour, temperature,
etc. We should then say, not only that there is a
history of the world as a whole, but also that there are
various distinct strands of history. Each strand would
be called the history of such and such an object, but
this does not mean that there is another existent, viz.,
"the object," beside the strand itself. It is only
because there are such strands that we can talk of a
plurality of objects. The world as a whole would have
a history, partly because it is composed of such strands
of history. But its history is more than the sum total
of a number of distinct strands lying side by side. If
there be causal and other regularities which hold
throughout the whole period under discussion, there
408 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
will be characteristic relations between the strands,
and the history of the world as a whole would have
more unity and complexity than is implied by the
simple statement that it is composed of such and such
parallel strands.
Whenever we talk then of "objects," the funda-
mental fact is the existence of distinct strands of history.
A given object is a certain strand, pervaded by a certain
special unity and continuity, which characterise it and
mark it out from strands of other kinds. To say that a
certain object has not changed in any respect is to say
that all the successive slices of a certain strand are
qualitatively indistinguishable from each other. An
unchanging object is thus a completely uniform strand of
history. To say that a certain object has moved, but
has not otherwise changed, is to say that the positional
qualities of successive slices of a certain strand are
progressively different. A moving object is therefore a
positionally non-uniform strand.
Now it happens, of course, that there are many distinct
strands which are so much alike in the characters of
their slices, and in the type of unity that pervades them,
that they are called histories of objects of the same kind.
Yet some of these strands may be positionally uniform,
whilst others are positionally non-uniform. An example
would be given by a resting and a moving penny.
Again, a strand which has enough unity and continuity
throughout to count as the history of a single object
may yet for some part of its length be positionally
uniform and for others be positionally non-uniform.
An example would be a penny which sometimes keeps
still and sometimes moves. I think that it is partly in
consequence of such facts that we tend to separate
objects from their histories, and to treat their histories
as something more or less external, which may or may
not "happen to" them. A given penny really is a
certain definite strand of history, positionally uniform
if it be a resting penny, positionally non-uniform if it
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 409
be a moving penny, and so on. But you can always
find plenty of other strands of history sufficiently like
this one in their non-positional qualities to be called
histories of pennies, and yet uniform where this history
is positionally non-uniform. You tend to identify the
first penny with a uniform history, such as the second
penny, and to regard the non-uniform part of the first
pennyas something that "happened to" it, but was not
a part of it. The real fact, however, is that the first
penny is the first strand and nothing else, and the
second penny is the second strand and nothing else.
Of course the general characteristic of " being a penny "
is common to both, since it is the general type of
qualitative character which pervades all such strands ;
but this is a universal, not a particular existent ; and
when people talk of "objects," and say that they rest
or move, they are certainly not primarily talking about
universal characteristics but about particular existents.
It is evident then that every object has a time-
dimension as well as any space-dimensions that it
may have. There is nothing mysterious about this ; it
means no more than that every existing object, whether
at rest or in motion, is a strand of history with some
duration. The question whether it is a changing or
an unchanging object is simply the question whether
successive slices of the strand, normal to the time-
dimension, are exactly alike or progressively different
in quality. The notion of an object with nothing but
spatial dimensions is an abstraction. You can divide
up the object into thinner and thinner slices normal to
its time-dimension, and these slices will approximate,
as you make them thinner and thinner, to purely spatial
figures. In the limit each will be a purely spatial
figure, in general of three dimensions. But these are
not the object, nor are they literally even parts of it.
The object is the whole four-dimensional strand of
history. And these momentary spatial figures are
"parts" of the object only in the Pickwickian sense in
2 D
4io SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
which plane sections of an ordinary solid are "parts"
of the solid. A person who refuses to identify an object
with its whole history must either identify it with a
momentary section of that history or with a uniform slice
of it. If he does the former, the object is a mere abstrac-
tion, incapable of existence. If he does the latter, his
restriction to the uniform part of the whole strand of
history is clearly arbitrary.
If it should happen that all the successive momentary
sections of an object have the same shape, you can call
this the shape of the object. But, if they have different
shapes, there is nothing that can be called the shape of
the object. A penny and a mist are both objects ; but,
whilst you can talk of the shape of the former, you
cannot talk of the shape of the latter.
Motion and Rest in Visual Fields and Sense-histories.
— After these general remarks about the nature of objects
and their motion or rest, we can consider the various
types of motion and rest which happen within our visual
fields and sense-histories.
(a) Motion and Rest of Visual Sensa. — A single sense-
field lasts for a finite, though short, time. Spatially it
is of three dimensions. It is therefore a four-dimensional
spatio-temporal whole. In sensing it, we thus sense
directly a four-dimensional whole with three spatial
dimensions and one temporal. A sensum is an outstand-
ing part of the total content of a sense-field. It has some
duration, which cannot be greater than that of the sense-
field, and it has spatial extension. It is therefore in
general a four-dimensional object. Now, as we have
seen, a visual sensum may shift its position in its own
field or not. If it does, it is affected with sensible motion,
otherwise it is sensibly at rest. Thus all visual sensa
are four-dimensional objects, and those that are affected
with sensible motion are positionally non-uniform objects.
Just as we cannot see at once an object of more than a
certain size, so we cannot sense by one act an object
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 411
that exceeds the duration of a Specious Present, whether
it be uniform or non-uniform. In sensing a resting
sensum we are aware in one act of a positionally uniform
four-dimensional object of short duration ; in sensing a
moving sensum we are aware in one act of a positionally
non-uniform four-dimensional object of short duration.
Thus, sensible motion is the way in which the positional
non-uniformity of a four-dimensional object presents
itself to us when this non-uniformity is "sharp" enough
to be noticeable within the duration of a single sense-
field.
(b) Motion and Rest of Visual Sense-objects. — Our
successive visual fields join up with each other to
form a single sense-history, as already described. This
is simply a four-dimensional whole, of the same general
nature as a single visual field, but of greater duration.
It cannot, of course, be sensed as a whole, though some
of its earlier slices may be remembered while its latest
slice is being sensed. Now, when a certain resting
sensum has occupied a certain position throughout the
whole of one field, similar sensa may occupy exactly
similar positions in a series of successive fields. Just
as the fields join up to give one sense-history, of which
they are successive slices, so these resting sensa join
up to give a single sense-object, of which they are
successive slices. This will be a positionally uniform
sense-object, and may be described as a sense-object
which rests in the space of the observer s sense- history.
Now it may happen that there is a series of more
or less similar sensa in a series of successive fields, but
that they occupy progressively dissimilar positions in
their respective fields. And it may be that the thinner
two fields are and the nearer they are together, the less
is the dissimilarity between the positions of the sensa
of this set which belong to these fields. On these con-
ditions the sensa of the set still join up to form a sense-
object of which they are successive slices. But this
sense-object is positionally non-uniform, and may be
412 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
described as a sense-object which moves in the space of the
observers sense-history. Often there is no sensible non-
uniformity in the individual sensa of such a group,
although they join up to form a positionally non-uniform
sense-object. On the other hand, it often happens that
each of the component sensa of a moving sense-object
is itself affected with sensible motion in its own field.
It is reasonable to suppose that, even in the former case,
the component sensa are really not quite positionally
uniform objects, but that their departure from uniformity
is not "sharp" enough to be sensed as movement within
the sense-field.
Now, it is very important to notice that the move-
ment of sensa in their fields and of sense-objects in the
spaces of their sense-histories is the ultimate empirical
basis of the concept of absolute motion. The sensible
motion of a sensum in its field really is something
absolute ; it does not simply consist in the fact that
this sensum alters its spatial relations to other sensa
in the field, though, of course, it involves this as a
necessary consequence. This is quite clear, from the
following example: Suppose I am looking at the sky,
and a shooting star darts across. I am aware of a
field ; and within this are sensa which are the appear-
ances of the other stars, and a sensum which is the
appearance of the shooting star. The latter is affected
with sensible motion, whilst the former are not. Now,
if the sensible motion simply consisted in a change of
relative position within the field, it would be perfectly
symmetrical, and it would be impossible to say that
the shooting star sensum sensibly moves and that the
other sensa do not. But it is quite clear that in fact
we do sense an intrinsic peculiarity of the shooting
star sensum which is not present in the others. Thus,
sensible motion and rest are something absolute and
intrinsic, not merely relational ; and I take it that this
fact is at the basis of the concepts of absolute motion
and rest. It does not, of course, follow that the
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 413
concept thus formed really is applicable beyond sense-
fields and sense-histories. It may well be that the
absolute motion or rest of a sense-object in the space
of my sense-history is connected with merely relative
motion between my body and other physical objects.
This does not alter the fact that the motion of the
sense-object in the space of my sense-history is itself
absolute, and not a mere change of relation to other
contents of the history. We shall consider this question
at a later stage in the chapter.
Correlations between the Motions of Visual Objects
and the Kinesthetic Sensations of an Observer. — The
best way to approach this complicated subject seems
to be by taking special cases as illustrations. Taking
a single observer and a single physical object, we
can begin by distinguishing four cases which con-
stantly happen : (A) The observer stands still, and
(i) watches a resting physical object, or (ii) watches
a moving physical object. (B) The observer moves
bodily, and (i) watches a resting physical object, or
(ii) watches a moving physical object. These four
cases must be distinguished from each other by certain
differences in our sensible experiences, and I shall begin
by pointing out the peculiarities of each in turn.
(A) There are two kinds of kinesthetic sensation,
one connected with walking, and the other with turning
the head. I will call them respectively translational and
rotational kinassthetic sensations. The A-cases are all
alike in the fact that the observer feels no translational
kinesthetic sensations.
(i) When a resting observer watches a resting
physical object he finds that, once having turned his
head so as to sense a field with a visual appearance of
this object in the middle of it, he must henceforth keep
his head still if he wants to go on sensing fields with
similar sensa at their centres. That is, in order that
the physical object may appear in his sense-history as a
414 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
resting sense-object, he must henceforth keep free from
rotational kinesthetic sensations. If at any moment
he chooses to start turning his head, the physical object
will still continue for a time to appear in his visual
sense-history. But the visual sensa by which it appears
will occupy progressively dissimilar places in his suc-
cessive fields. Moreover, they may be affected with
sensible motion within their fields. Thus, in this case,
the physical object still appears, for a time at least, as
a visual sense-object in the observer's sense-history.
But its appearance is now a positionally non-uniform,
i.e.., a moving, sense-object.
There are also certain points to be noticed about the
shapes, etc., of the successive sensa in this sense-object.
While the observer keeps his head still, the successive
sensa will be indistinguishable in shape, unless, of
course, physical changes are going on in the object.
But when he moves his head, the successive appear-
ances will differ in shape ; they will be more and more
distorted as he turns his head more, and as they occupy
more eccentric positions in his successive fields. Thus,
when he turns his head, the sense-object by which the
physical object appears in his sense-history is not only
positionally non-uniform ; it is also non-uniform as
regards shape. There is another difference between the
successive sensa, which I will just mention here and deal
with more fully later. They do not differ merely in
the fact that each is a distortion of the original central
sensum. Very often there is something in the later
sensa to which nothing corresponded in the earlier
ones, and conversely. This is the sensible basis of
the fact which we express by saying that, as we turn
our heads, "fresh parts of the object come into view,
whilst others which were formerly visible cease to
be so."
A final and very important point to notice is that,
in the present case, by exactly reversing the series of
rotational kinesthetic sensations I exactly reverse the
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 415
series of sensa, and end up with a field like that from
which I started, with a sensum like the original one
in its centre. I can do this as often as I like, and
always with the same result. Again, I can move my
head from its initial position in a great variety of
ways, which are distinguished for me by characteristic
differences in my rotational kinesthetic sensations.
Each such way will involve a non-uniform sense-object
of the kind described ; and each, on reversal, will
bring: me back to a field like that with which I started.
But there are characteristic differences of detail between
the various non-uniform sense-objects which correspond
to the various series of rotational kinesthetic sensations,
(ii) When I stand still and watch a moving physical
object, I find that I must keep turning my head if I want
to keep the successive appearances of the physical
object in the centres of my successive fields. And I
must do this in a perfectly definite way. Moreover,
there is a difference between the sense-object which I
sense in this case and in the last. In the last case, if
I keep my head still, I sense a completely uniform sense-
object. In the present, the sense-object never is com-
pletely uniform ; it is not even completely uniform in
position. What we should find would be this : There
would be a steady increase, a steady decrease, or the
one followed by the other, in the sizes and depths of
the sensa. There will be distortion in their shapes.
There will be variations in brightness. And, finally,
the later sensa will have parts to which nothing corre-
sponds in the earlier, and conversely.
Suppose now that, at a certain moment, I stop
moving my head. From that moment the successive
appearances of the physical object will begin to occupy
dissimilar positions in my successive fields. Very
probably each will have sensible motion in its own
field. And the distortion of later sensa, and the
addition of new and dropping of old features, will be
greatly accelerated. In fact, the physical object will
416 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
henceforth appear as an extremely non-uniform sense-
object, both positionally and in other respects. Very
soon it will cease to appear at all in my sense-history,
i.e., the later parts of the sense-history will be fields
containing no sensa connected with this physical object.
When this is so, I could, as a rule, start again at will
to sense a field with an appearance of this physical
object at its centre. In order to do this, I shall have
to turn my head to a definite extent, independent of
my choice. And, when I do at length sense another
field with a sensum of the required kind in the middle
of it, I shall find that this sensum differs in shape,
brightness, depth, etc., from the one that was in the
middle of the last field which I sensed before I stopped
turning my head.
(B) The B-cases resemble each other, and differ
from the A-cases, in that the observer experiences
translatory as well as rotational kinesthetic sensations,
(i) If a man walks, and wants to keep his eye on a
resting physical object, he will find that he must
continually turn his head as he walks. And the amount
of rotational kinesthetic sensation needed is correlated
with the amount of translational kinesthetic sensation
experienced. Provided he turns his head properly, the
physical object will appear in his sense-history as a
partly, but only partly, uniform sense-object. It will
not be uniform in depth or brightness. There will
also be distortion and revelation of new parts. But
the sensa will be at the centres of his successive fields.
If he walks, and keeps his head and eyes fixed, the
physical object will appear in his sense-history as a
moving sense-object, and possibly the constituent sensa
may have sensible motion in their respective fields.
The non-uniformity in respect of shape will be very
much greater than when he keeps his eye on the
physical object, and soon this will cease to appear at
all in his sense-history. After it has disappeared he
can again sense a field with a sensum of the group
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 417
at its centre, provided he turns his head properly. The
amount of rotational kinesthetic sensation needed for
this purpose will be completely determined by the
nature and amount of translational kinesthetic sensation
which he has experienced since he ceased turning his
head. Lastly, the sensum which will occupy the middle
of his present field will never be exactly like that which
occupied the middle of the field which he was sensing
when he stopped turning his head. There will be
differences in shape, depth, brightness, etc. ; and there
will be parts to which nothing corresponded in the
last sensum, and conversely.
It is obvious that, on the visual side, there is a
close analogy between B (i) and A (ii), i.e., between
the visual experiences of a moving observer watching
a resting object and those of a resting observer watching
a moving object. There is also a partial resemblance
between the rotational kinesthetic sensations, since both
of them are obliged to keep moving their heads in a
certain way in order to keep the appearances of the
physical object in the centres of their successive fields.
The difference is that in A (ii) the rotational kin-
esthetic sensation needed is absolutely independent of
the observer's volition, whilst in B (i) it is indirectly
dependent on his volition. It is primarily dependent
only on the amount and kind of his translational kin-
esthetic sensations ; but these in turn are dependent on
his will, since he can walk as he chooses. This gap,
however, is bridged by the case of observers whose
bodies are carried about in trains, motor cars, etc.
Their movements do not involve translational kinesthetic
sensations, and here the analogy between B (i) and A
(ii) becomes practically complete. Such facts as this
analogy lie at the basis of the concept of the relativity
of physical motion.
(ii) When an observer moves about and keeps his
eye on a moving physical object he will find that the
nature and amount of kinesthetic sensation needed are
418 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
determined partly, but only partly, by his translational
kinesthetic sensations. He will sometimes have to turn
his head more quickly, and sometimes less quickly than
if he were walking in the same way and keeping his eye
on a resting physical object. If he were to retrace his
steps, and then walk over his old course again, it would
be useless to repeat the same head-movements which he
made on the previous occasion. If he did this, it is very
likely that the physical object would no longer appear
in his sense-history at all ; and, even if it did so, it
would certainly not appear in the form of a sense-object
whose successive sensa occupied the centres of his
successive fields.
There is a very important point to notice about these
B-cases. In them the observer has both translational
and rotational kinesthetic sensations. Now these fall
into pairs of correlated series in the following way : The
successive appearances of a physical object can be kept
at the centres of one's successive fields in an infinite
variety of different ways, all of which involve different
combinations of translational and rotational kinesthetic
sensations. Take first a resting physical object, (a)
Its successive visual appearances can be kept in the
centres of one's successive visual fields by suitably
turning the head and henceforth moving neither the
head nor the body. (/3) A similar result (though not an
identical one) can be produced by walking in innumer-
able different ways, and at the same time continually
turning the head in correlated ways. Lastly, (y) there
is one and only one way of walking without turning the
head which will produce similar results, though, of course,
this one way may be pursued at different rates. This is
what we call "walking straight up to the object." (a)
and (y) are two extreme cases of the huge group included
under (/3). It must be noticed that the various combina-
tions of correlated rotational and translational kinesthetic
sensations are not absolutely equivalent in their results
on the sense -object by which the physical object
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 419
appears in the observer's sense-history. The (a)-method
gives a completely uniform sense-object. Each of the
(/3)-methods gives a somewhat different sense - object.
All these sense-objects are non-uniform in shape and
depth ; for different component sensa will have different
depths in their respective fields. Moreover, there is
always that difference between successive sensa which
we describe by saying that we " see fresh parts and lose
sight of some which we saw before." Lastly, the
(y)-method gives a sense-object which is uniform, in the
sense that there is no distortion between the successive
sensa which constitute it. But each of these sensa has
a larger size and a smaller depth than the one before,
whilst there will be a progressive increase in brightness.
In spite of this, there may be the difference which we
should express by saying that the earlier sensa " reveal
parts of the physical object which cease to be revealed
by the later ones."
Somewhat similar remarks apply to the correlation
between rotational and translational kinesthetic sensa-
tions in watching a moving physical object. But there
are certain differences, (a) Its successive appearances
cannot be kept in the centres of our successive fields if
we neither walk nor turn our heads. (/3) If we choose
to do both, there are innumerable combinations of the
two which will produce the required kind of sense-
object. But the rotational kinesthetic sensations which
have to be combined with a given set of translational
sensations for this purpose are not the same as they
would be if we were looking at a resting object. In fact,
no general rule of correlation can be laid down without
bringing in an additional factor, viz., the motion of the
physical object itself, (y) There is one and only one
way of keeping the successive appearances of a moving
physical object in the centres of our successive fields with-
out continually turning our heads, and that is, of course,
by walking parallel to its line of motion at a suitable
pace. The particular series of kinesthetic sensations
420 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
needed for this purpose varies, of course, with the motion
of the particular physical object which is being watched.
By the (y)-method, and by it alone, does a moving
physical object appear to us as a completely uniform
sense-object.
There is thus a close resemblance between the cases
A (i) and B (ii) (y). So far as the visual object is con-
cerned, they are precisely alike. The difference is that in
A (i) a completely uniform sense-object requires complete
absence of both kinds of kinesthetic sensation, whilst
in B (ii) (y) it requires a characteristic series of trans-
lational kinesthetic sensations. The gap here is to
some extent bridged, as in the analogy between A (ii)
and B (i), by the fact that an observer's body may be
carried parallel to another physical object without effort
of his own. This happens, e.g., when an observer in
a moving train keeps his eye on a certain window of a
carriage, moving at the same rate and in the same
direction on a parallel line. Here we have another
sensible fact which lies at the basis of the concept of
the relativity of physical motion.
(b) Summary of Facts elicited in the last Sub-section.
We have been discussing the sensible experiences,
both visual and kinesthetic, which make an observer
say sometimes that he stands still and watches a resting
body, sometimes that he stands still and watches a
moving body, sometimes that he moves and watches a
resting body, and sometimes that he moves and watches
a moving body. The most important general conclusion
that emerges is that there is a mixture of arbitrariness
and compulsion in all such cases, and that it is the
particular character of the mixture which causes us
to make now one and now another of these four types
of statement.
(i) I can always, if I choose, sense a series of visual
fields, each of which contains an appearance of an
assigned physical object at its centre, (ii) I can always,
if I choose, sense a series of fields in which successive
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 421
appearances of the assigned physical object occupy
progressively more dissimilar sensible positions. But
(iii), once I have decided which kind of sense-object I
want to sense, conditions are imposed on my kinesthetic
sensations, which I must simply accept. And these
imposed conditions vary from case to case. Sometimes
I must keep my head and body still if I want to sense
a completely uniform sense-object ; sometimes I must
move bodily to secure this result. If the latter, I
cannot move just as I like ; only one way of moving
will secure the result in a given case, and the right way
will vary from occasion to occasion. Then (iv) there
are various mixtures of rotational and translational
kinesthetic sensations which will cause the physical
object to appear as a. partially uniform sense-object with
its successive sensa at the centres of my successive
fields. But (v) the sense-object will not be uniform
in depth, shape, brightness, etc. And (vi) not every
mixture of translational and rotational kinassthetic sensa-
tions will secure even this result. If I arbitrarily choose
to experience a certain series of translational kinesthetic
sensations, the amount and speed of the rotational
kinesthetic sensations needed will always be partly
and sometimes wholly determined by the former series.
Similar remarks apply, mutatis mutandis if we arbitrarily
choose a certain series of rotational kinesthetic sensa-
tions, (vii) Sometimes when we deliberately confine
ourselves to rotational kinesthetic sensations, i.e., when
we deliberately stand still and merely turn our heads,
we find that as often as we completely reverse the series
a qualitatively unchanged appearance of the given
physical object occupies the centre of our final visual
field. On other occasions we find that, if we have once
turned our heads and thus ceased to sense an appearance
of a certain physical object at the centre of our field,
mere reversal of the original series of rotational kin-
esthetic sensations will not suffice to restore a similar
field. In such cases the amount and kind of rotational
422 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
kinesthetic sensation needed for the purpose are
independent of our choice, and vary from one object
to another, (viii) When, in spite of our best endeavours,
the physical object fails to appear in our visual sense-
history as a completely uniform sense-object, the kind
of non-uniformity in depth, shape, brightness, etc.,
which it displays is independent of our choice. It is
determined partly by the particular mixture of trans-
lational and kinesthetic sensations which we have
chosen out of the whole set which will keep the
successive appearances in the centres of the successive
fields. As a rule, it is not wholly determined by this,
but is partly determined by another factor which is
quite independent of us. This other factor is what
we come to know as "the physical motion of the body
at which we are looking."
It is this mixture of arbitrary choice and subsequent
external compulsion which is at the basis of our dis-
tinction between "objective physical motion and rest,"
and "subjective sensible motion and rest." I shall
now go into this important matter a little more fully,
taking some important special cases which we have
so far touched on only incidentally.
(c) Successive Sensible Appearances of Co-existing Physical
Objects. — We have already seen that, when a physical
object moves away from us while we stand still and
keep our eyes on it, it never appears in our sense-
history as a completely uniform sense-object, although
its successive appearances are in the centres of our
successive fields. I am not at present concerned with
the non- uniformity of the sense -object in respect to
depth or brightness. Nor am I now concerned with that
kind of non-uniformity which may be described as "dis-
tortion" of the successive appearances as compared with
the appearance in some standard field of the sense-
history, i.e., with the kind of variation which takes place
in the successive appearances of the upper surface of
a penny as it moves away from us while we keep our
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 423
eyes on it. What I want to discuss is that kind of
change which we describe by saying that, as time goes
on, we see parts of the object which we could not see
before, and cease to be able to see parts of it which
we could see before.
As far as our visual sensa are concerned, there is
no particular difficulty in describing such experiences.
We sense a series of sensa which have enough con-
tinuity with each other to count as successive slices of
a single sense-object. But, although closely adjacent
sensa of the series are barely distinguishable in quality,
those at some distance apart differ in the following
way : The earlier has some parts to which nothing
corresponds in the later, and the later has some parts
to which nothing corresponds in the earlier. The real
problem is this: These sensa are successive; when the
last is present the first is past. But we suppose that
the part of the first to which nothing corresponds in
the second, and the part of the second to which nothing
corresponds in the first, are appearances of co-existing
parts of the physical object. Why do we assert physical
co-existence on a basis of sensible succession? Since
the spatial parts of physical objects are themselves
physical objects, and the spatial parts of sensa are
themselves sensa, we may generalise the problem as
follows : Under what conditions do two successive sensa
justify us in asserting the existence of two contemporary
physical objects?
This question is, of course, roughly equivalent to
a very famous one discussed by Kant in the Analytic
of Principles of his Critique of Pure Reason. I think
that Kant hit on one very important part of the answer,
but that other important factors are involved beside the
one which he stresses. Moreover, the Sage of Konigs-
berg did not number clearness of exposition among his
many merits, so that it will be well worth while to
discuss the whole question afresh. Let us take a very
simple concrete example. From where I am sitting,
424 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
if I look straight in front of me, the middle of my
visual field is occupied by an appearance of a certain
picture. The rest of the field consists almost wholly
of a cream-coloured background, which is an appear-
ance of the wall. In this field there is nowhere an
appearance of a door. If I turn my head enough to
the left I sense a field whose general background is
much as before. But, in the middle of it, is an appear-
ance of a door, and nowhere in it is there an appearance
of the picture. From where I sit it is impossible for
these two physical objects to be represented by simul-
taneous visual appearances in a single field. Neverthe-
less, I judge them to co-exist, although their appearances
are always successive.
Now, first of all, what does my judgment of co-
existence really profess to assert? It does not, I think,
mean that the part of the history of the picture which
appears to me when I look in one direction, and the
part of the history of the door which appears to me
when I look in the other direction, are contemporary.
If physical objects exist and endure, they must be strands
of history, just as sense-objects are, i.e., they must be
extended in time. And a sensum is presumably an
appearance of a short slice of the history of a physical
object. Now, apart from complications about the velocity
of light, it is reasonable to suppose that successive sensa
are appearances of successive slices of physical history ;
and I think we always do assume this in the absence
of special reasons to the contrary. Thus the judgment
that the picture and the door co-exist, although their
appearances are successive, does not mean that the
successive appearances reveal contemporary slices of
their histories. What it means is this : The history
of the picture has gone on while I turned to the door ;
and, when the door appears to me, there is a slice
of picture-history contemporary with the slice of door-
history which now appears to me, and practically indis-
tinguishable in quality from the slice of picture-history
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 425
which appeared to me when I last looked toward the
picture. Conversely, the door-history extends back-
wards from the slice which is now appearing to me ;
and there is a slice of it which is contemporary with
the slice of picture-history which appeared to me when
I formerly looked at the picture. So what we are really
asserting is that the picture-history extends forward for
some time with practically no qualitative variation after
the last slice that has appeared to me, and that the
door-history extends backwards for some time with prac-
tically no qualitative variation before the first slice that
appeared to me.
Now, I have already said that I do not profess to be
able to prove that such assumptions are ever true. If
anyone says that the existence of long strands of physical
history of almost uniform character does not follow logic-
ally from the mere existence at certain times of picture-
sensa and at other times of door-sensa, I heartily agree.
I can only answer that we all do, in fact, assume that
sensa are appearances of short slices of things which
last longer than themselves, and that we can neither
refute this assumption, get rid of it in practice, nor
stir a step without it. What we can do, however, is to
state the special conditions under which we hold that
successive sensa are appearances of co-existing physical
objects (in the sense defined above), and show that,
subject to the general assumption just mentioned, these
conditions are reasonable.
I find that over a long period of time I sense a practi-
cally uniform picture-sense-object, whenever I look in
a certain direction. Moreover, I can look away and then
look back again after all kinds of different intervals, and
I still find a similar sense-object. Exactly similar remarks
apply, mutatis mutandis, to the sense-object by which the
door appears to me. Now, theoretically, there are four
possibilities : (i) My looking in a certain direction is a
sufficient as well as a necessary condition for producing
a field with a picture-sensum in the middle of it. (ii)
2 E
426 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
The occurrence, at a certain moment, of a field with a
picture-sensum at the middle of it, is a necessary and
sufficient condition of my turning my head at that
moment in a certain direction, (iii) There is a certain
event which (a) causes me to turn in the given direction
whenever it occurs, and (/3) produces the picture-sensum
at the same time, (iv) The head-turning, and the pro-
duction of the sensum when I have turned, are the
results of two causally independent series.
We will first give familiar examples of these various
possibilities. Suppose that on a certain day I pass a
certain building several times at various intervals, and
that on each occasion a brick falls on my head as I pass.
It might be (i) that my passing shakes down a loose
brick, which would not otherwise have fallen. Or (ii)
that whenever I see that a brick is about to fall, I am
so much interested that I rush to the spot, and that
nothing else ever takes me there. Or (iii) that I go to
the place when and only when a workman who is working
there calls me, and that he throws down a brick when
and only when I get there, because he is a "class-
conscious proletarian " and regards me as a " lackey of
the bourgeoisie." Or (iv) it might be that my journeys
to the place and the falling of the bricks belong to
causally independent series. Now I might be able to
cut out the first three alternatives by reflecting on the
facts. I might know that I am not heavy enough to
shake bricks down by passing underneath. I might
know that I had not gone to the place because I saw
that a brick was going to fall, and I might know that
no workman had called me or thrown the bricks at me.
I might be able to explain why I had passed there on
each occasion without needing to refer to anything going
on at the place whatever.
Supposing that this is so, only one explanation of
the facts would be reasonable, viz., that a fairly steady
stream of bricks has probably been falling for most of
the day. It is almost incredible that each of my visits
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 427
to the place should happen to coincide with the fall of
a brick, granted that the causes of the visits and of the
falls are quite independent, unless many more bricks
fall than the few that I happen to "stop." Now let us
apply this argument to the sensible appearance of the
picture and of the door. It is certain that merely to
look in a given direction is not sufficient to produce one
particular sensum in the middle of my visual field ; for
at other times I can look in the same direction and sense
no such sensum (e.g., if someone has moved the picture).
It is also certain that the occurrence of the sensum does
not make me turn my head in that direction ; on the
contrary, I often turn my head simply in order to see
whether I shall again sense the same kind of sensum
as before. And, in general, I know why I turn my
head on each occasion, and can see that my act is com-
pletely determined by causes which have no discover-
able connexion with the causes which produce the
sensum in the middle of my field when I do turn. I am
therefore forced to conclude, either that there is a pretty
continuous strand of very similar picture-sensa, of which
I sense the particular one which happens to be occur-
ring when I turn my head, or at least that there must
be a pretty steady stream of similar physical events,
each of which is sufficient to produce a sensum of the
required kind whenever my eye is turned in the right
direction. Which of these two alternatives is to be
accepted does not much matter for the present purpose,
and the question must be left to the next chapter. On
either alternative we are justified in concluding that
there is a persistent and practically uniform "picture-
object," slices of which fill up the gaps between my
successive picture sensa. On the same grounds I am
justified in supposing that there is a persistent and
practically uniform "door-object," slices of which fill
up the gaps between my successive door-sensa.
Now let us suppose that I start by looking at the
picture, and then turn my eyes several times between
428 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
the picture and the door, ending up finally with the
picture. We will suppose that I do this at different
rates on different occasions, also that I sometimes dwell
for a time on one of the objects without moving". Let
us represent picture-sensa by little crosses, door-sensa
by little circles, and the lapse of time by a direction from
left to right. Then my sensible experience may be re-
presented by the diagram below.
X a X
Now let us represent the physical events which appear
as picture-sensa by dots, and those which appear as
door-sensa by little lines. Then the argument from
causal independence, applied to both objects, justifies
me in filling out my sensible experience as indicated
below.
o o o o _>o cr
A slightly more dangerous argument would justify me
in extrapolating to some extent, i.e., in assuming that
the history of the door and that of the picture extend
backwards for some distance before my earliest door-
and picture-sensa. It would also justify me in supposing
that the history of the door extends forward for some
distance after my last door-sensum. For, unless there
be sorne special reason to think otherwise, it is highly
improbable that I should happen to have looked first
in the door- or the picture-direction just when there first
began to be door or picture events. And it is highly
improbable that door events ceased to happen just when
I happened to turn my head in the picture-direction for
the last time. Like all extrapolations, this argument
is weaker than an intrapolation, and its probability is
quickly diminished as it is extended further before the
first sensum of one series or after the last sensum of
the other series.
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 429
The argument for co-existence is now quite straight,
forward. There is a slice of picture-history between
my first and last picture-sensum. And there is a slice
of door-history between my first and last door-sensum.
But my first door-sensum is after my first picture-sensum
and my last door-sensum is before my last picture-
sensum. Hence the interpolated picture-history com-
pletely overlaps the interpolated door-history, as the
second diagram shows. I believe this to be the truth
underlying Kant's rather confused argument in the
Analytic of Principles ; but that is a purely historical
question in which I take no particular interest.
There are, however, at least two other criteria of
physical co-existence in face of sensible succession.
One of these can be dealt with only when we have
considered our knowledge of our own bodies. The
other may be mentioned at once. I am not obliged to
stay in one place. While I sit in my chair at the table
it is true that the picture and the door can only appear
successively in my sense-history. But, if I move back-
wards to the other side of the room, I can sense a single
field with a picture-sensum at the middle, and a door-
sensum to the left. These sensa co-exist, and they are
extremely like the corresponding sensa in my successive
fields when I was nearer the wall. They are smaller,
and have greater depth ; otherwise there is very little
difference. As I approach the wall on which the picture
is hanging, keeping my eye on it, I first sense a series
of fields with both the door and the picture-sensa in each
of them. As I go on, the door-sensum is more and
more to the extreme left of its field, and more and more
distorted. At last there comes a point where the field
does not contain any appearance of the door. The two
kinds of sensa can now only be sensed successively.
Now the co-existent sensa were presumably appearances
of contemporary slices of two overlapping strands of
physical history. And the subsequent successive sensa
are so much like the former simultaneous ones, that it
430 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
is reasonable to suppose that the same pair of strands
of physical history continue, and continue to overlap in
time, although contemporary slices can no longer appear
in my sense-history.
Similar remarks apply to looking at a physical object
and gradually feeling its surface. It is true that the
tactual sensa are successive, and yet that I take them as
informing me about the shape of the physical object at
some one moment. But we find that we can make the
tactual sensa follow each other in various series at will,
provided we initiate suitable series of kinesthetic sensa-
tions. And we can repeat any of these series as often
as we like. Meanwhile, the visual appearances keep
constant, and we sense a completely uniform visual
sense-object. In whatever order we sense our tactual
sensa, they are connected with a part of the visual
appearance at the time. It is difficult to resist the con-
viction that we are dealing with a uniform strand of
physical history, and that each of our tactual sensa
reveals a bit of some slice of it. True, the slices revealed
by successive tactual sensa are presumably successive ;
but then the uniformity of the visual sensa-object
suggests that they are all alike in their spatial character-
istics. Hence, what we learn by touch about different
parts of successive slices may be put together to tell us
about the whole of any one slice. Here, again, there are
certain facts about our experiences of our own bodies
which reinforce this interpretation.
(d) Single Observer Watching two Physical Objects in
Relative Motion. — In the last sub-section we were really
dealing with the case of one observer who watches two
physical objects which are at rest relatively to each
other and to his body, but which cannot both be seen
at once. Let us now consider the case of an observer
who watches two physical objects, which are in motion
relatively to each other. As we have already seen,
the observer will always be able to make one of these
physical objects appear as a uniform sense-object,
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 431
whose successive sensa are at the centres of his successive
fields, provided he moves suitably. We can therefore
simplify matters by supposing that one of the bodies
appears in the observer's sense-history as a completely
uniform sense-object. Let this body be A. It may be
that at first he will sense a series of fields in which
both A and the other body B appear as sense-objects.
If so, he will notice that B does not appear in the form
of a uniform sense-object. Each sensum of the sense-
object by which B appears, will very likely have sensible
motion in its own field. Again, successive B-sensa will
occupy more and more eccentric positions in their
respective fields and will be more and more distorted.
Thus A and B appear at first as two sense-objects which
overlap in time, i.e., as two overlapping strands in the
observer's sense-history. But, if we take successive
pairs of contemporary slices of the two strands, we shall
find a progressive variation in their respective sensible
distances apart. Sensum a,, and sensum br in the field fr
have a certain sensible distance dr. This is slightly greater
than dr_x, the sensible distance between ar_x and br__x in
the field fr_x. And it is slightly less than dr+l, the
sensible distance between ar+1 and br+l in the field fr+l.
In fact, if you take the two sense-objects together as
forming a kind of composite sense-object of a higher
order in the observer's sense-history, it has the peculiar
kind of non-uniformity which I have just been describing.
And this kind of non-uniformity is characteristic of the
relative motion of sense-objects.
Now as time goes on the sensa of the B-sense-object
will occupy more and more eccentric positions in their
respective fields, till at length no more sensa of the
B-kind appear in the observer's sense-history. After this,
he will still be able to sense appearances of A and of B,
provided he turns his head ; but he will no longer be
able to sense them in a single field : they must be sensed
successively or not at all. Let us now compare and
contrast this with the cases discussed in the last sub-
432 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
section, (i) Obviously the later stages of this case bear
a certain resemblance to the last; t'.e., in both, the
observer can only sense appearances of the two physical
objects successively. One important difference is that
this situation has developed out of one in which he could
sense appearances of both objects together. And it has
developed independently of the observer ; it is not due to
any changes of bodily position that he has made. In
the previous case, if he started by being able to sense
appearances of the two objects in the same field, he went
on being able to do so, unless he deliberately moved
nearer to the two objects. (2) It is true that, in the
present case, if the observer chooses to walk backwards
quickly enough, he can again sense fields in which both
A and B appear. But, whereas in the former case he
could continue to sense the two appearances together by
merely walking a certain distance backwards and stopping
there, he will now find that he must keep on walking
backwards if he wants to keep on sensing fields in which
both the objects appear. It is thus clear that in this
case there is a lack of reversibility, due to the operation
of some external condition, which is not present in
the former cases. The externally imposed condition is
evidently something of the nature of a continuous process,
with a rate and direction of its own, which, if it is to be
compensated for at all, must be compensated for by
another appropriate continuous process in the observer's
body. The interpretation of this process as movement is
rendered almost inevitable by the fact that, so long as A
and B are appearing under the form of two sense-objects
with contemporary slices in each of the successive fields
of a sense-history, there is sensible relative motion
between these sense-objects, as described above. (3)
Finally, the irreversibility of the present, as compared
with the reversibility of the last case, shows itself in
another way. When I dealt with two resting physical
objects which I could see only successively, I could
always pass from the field containing an appearance of
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 433
A at its centre to the field containing an appearance of B
at its centre, and back again, by a mere reversal of my
rotational kinesthetic sensations. And the amount of
turning needed was quite independent of the rate at
which I turned, or the time for which I dwelt on one
of them before turning to the other. With the relatively
moving physical objects this complete reversibility breaks
down. The position here is as follows : If I turn from
A to B on one occasion, a reversal of the process will
indeed bring me back to A. But, if I now repeat the
process, the amount of turning will always be greater
than before, and it will be greater the longer I have
dwelt on A. Again : If I turn too slowly, I shall not be
able to pick up an appearance of B at all ; and, if I turn
quickly enough to do this, then the quicker I turn
the less amount of turning will be needed. Lastly, the
minimum quickness needed will be correlated with the
swiftness of the relative motion between the sense-objects
of A and B, when both these co-exist in my sense-
history.
(e) Rotation. — For the sake of completeness I must
say something about rotation, and for the sake of brevity
I shall say but little. It will be fairly easy for the
reader to work out the details for himself by analogy
with what has already been said. I have so far assumed
that we were looking at objects which either rested
altogether or moved with a purely translatory motion in
space. Let us now consider the experiences of an
observer who stands still and watches a rotating physical
object which is translationally at rest. He will be able
to keep its successive appearances in the centres of his
successive fields without needing to have either transla-
tional or rotational kinesthetic sensations. But the
sense-object, which is the appearance of the rotating
physical object in his sense-history, will be far from
uniform. In the first place, each of the sensa may have
sensible rotation (a quite peculiar and characteristic
sense-quality) in its own field. Then, although closely
434 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
successive appearances will be very much alike, there
will always be a part of the later to which nothing
corresponds in the earlier, and conversely. In this
respect the sense-object which is the appearance of a
rotating body bears some resemblance to the sense-
object by which a moving, but non-rotating, body
appears in the sense-history of an observer who follows
the body with his eye by turning his head.
There is, however, an important difference. After
a time the series of sensa will begin to repeat itself in
the same order, and it will do this again and again.
We may say, then, that a rotating body, which keeps in
the same place and is looked at by a resting observer,
appears in his sense-history as a positionally uniform,
hut periodic, sense-object. Now it is possible for a non-
rotating body to appear as a periodic sense-object, and
for a rotating body to appear as a non-periodic sense-
object. But in each case the observer will have to
"walk round" the body; and, as he does so, suitably
turn his head at each moment. "Walking round" a
body appears in the sense-experience of the observer as
a peculiar series of kinsesthetic sensations. If he wants
a rotating physical object to appear in the form of a
completely uniform sense-object, he must walk round at
a perfectly definite rate, which depends on circumstances
over which he has no control. Thus, again, we are
forced to the conclusion that there are external pro-
cesses of change, connected with changes in our visual
sense-histories ; and that certain definite series of kin-
aesthetic sensations are the signs of processes of change
in our own bodies which are "equivalent to" these, in
the sense that they compensate for them and give a
uniform sense-object.
(/) Summary of Results of the present Section. — The
upshot of our discussion on the correlations between
visual motion and rest and the kinesthetic sensations
of a single observer seems to be as follows: (i) In
dealing with a single physical object we can generally
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 435
arrange at will whether it shall appear in the form of
a positionally uniform or a positionally non-uniform
(i.e., moving) sense-object. But (2) in order to do this,
we must sometimes initiate series of kinaesthetic sensa-
tions, and must sometimes refrain from doing so.
Sometimes a physical object will appear in my sense-
history as a uniform sense-object, if and only if I
refrain from starting a series of kinesthetic sensations.
If so, it will appear as a non-uniform sense-object when
I do initiate any such series. And the nature of the
non-uniformity will depend wholly on the nature of the
series which I choose to carry on. (3) Sometimes a
physical object will appear in my sense-history as a
uniform sense-object if and only if I initiate a certain
series of kinesthetic sensations. If so, the appropriate
series is fixed for me. If I do not carry out one of the
group of appropriate series, the physical object will
appear as a non-uniform sense-object, whose particular
non-uniformity depends partly, and only partly, on me
and my kinesthetic sensations. Having made up my
mind whether I want a physical object to appear as
a uniform or a non-uniform sense-object, I have to
conform to conditions which are imposed on me. And
these conditions vary from one case to another. (4) Now
a series of kinesthetic sensations in me is presumably
an appearance of a certain process of change in my
body. I know that this process is one condition which
produces non-uniformity of sense-objects in my sense-
history ; for in many cases I do sense a uniform
sense -object so long as I refrain from having kin-
esthetic sensations, and it becomes non-uniform so soon
as I start to have such sensations. Conversely, I know
that in many other cases sense-objects have the same
kind of non-uniformity when I have no kinesthetic sensa-
tions, and that this non-uniformity can be eliminated
if I start a suitable series of kinesthetic sensations. It
therefore seems reasonable to suppose that the other
set of conditions, to which I have to conform, is another
436 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
process of the same general character as that in my
own body which is revealed to me by my kinesthetic
sensations. In fact, it seems probable that the positional
uniformity or non -uniformity of the sense-object by
which a certain physical object appears to me, depends
in general on the co-operation of two sets of physical
processes, one in my body and the other in the physical
object ; and that the latter process is of the same general
character as the former, which is revealed to me by
my kinesthetic sensations. (5) Of course it remains a
question whether these processes should be regarded as
mot ions, and, if so, in what Space and what Time they
happen. For the present all that we can do is to
make the following tentative suggestion : Two different
physical objects often appear as two temporally over-
lapping sense-objects throughout a long tract of my
sense-history. One may be positionally uniforrh and
the other not ; if so, one of the sense-objects will be
in sensible relative motion to the other. Let A be the
physical object which appears as a uniform sense-
object a ; and let B, the other physical object, appear
in my sense-history as the non-uniform sense-object /3.
From what has gone before, I conclude that the uni-
formity of a depends on certain processes (or, in the
limiting case, on the absence of such processes) in my
body and in A. Similarly, the positional non-uniformity
of /3 depends jointly on certain processes in my own
body and B. Since the process in my body is common
to both, it seems certain that there must be a difference
between the A-process and the B-process ; for otherwise
there is no apparent reason why a should be uniform
and /3 non-uniform. Thus a difference between the
processes in A and B is correlated with sensible relative
motion between a and /?, the two sense-objects by which
A and B appear in this tract of my sense -history.
Conversely, if A and B had both appeared as uniform
sense-objects, a similar argument would show that there
is no reason to assume that there is any difference
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 437
between the relevant physical processes in A and B.
Thus sensible relative rest between a and ,8, the sense-
objects by which A and B appear in this tract of my
sense-history, is correlated with identity of the processes
in A and B.
This, I think, is about as far as we can go without
entering into further detail about the human body as
a physical object, and our knowledge about it. When
we have done this, we shall find that the general con-
clusion (4), and the more special conclusion that the
physical processes on which the uniformity or non-uni-
formity of visual sense-objects depends are of the nature
of motions, are greatly strengthened. We will, there-
fore, make this the subject of our next section.
The Human Body as a Physical Object. — Human
bodies may be, as we are told that they are, "temples
of the Holy Ghost" ; in which case it must be admitted
that the Third Person in the Trinity sometimes displays
a strange taste in temples. But, whatever else they
may be, they certainly are physical objects as much as
chairs or tables. Nevertheless, they do occupy a peculiar
position among physical objects. In the first place,
each is connected in a perfectly unique way with an
observing mind, which looks out at the rest of the world
from its body. Secondly, each of these minds has a
peculiar knowledge of its own body, which it does not
have of any other body in the universe. A given mind
perceives every other body except its own in exactly the
same way as it perceives a chair or a potato. It per-
ceives its own body, partly in this way, and partly in a
quite different way, viz., by organic sensations. Lastly,
the minds connected with various human bodies can
and do constantly communicate with each other, so that
observer A learns that observer B perceives B's body in
the same way in which A perceives his own body. A
also learns that B can no more perceive A's body in
this way than he himself can perceive B's body in this
438 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
way. 1 believe that these peculiarities of human bodies
and of our knowledge about them are essential factors
in founding- the common-sense and scientific notions of
physical objects, and in developing the concepts of
physical Space, Time, and Motion.
(<i) A Solitary Observer s Perception of his ow)i Body. — (i)
I do not know very much about my own body directly
by sight, but I do know something. I cannot see my
own head at all, though by means of a mirror I can see
an incomplete optical object in a different place, and I
now conclude on various grounds that it is very much
like the optical constituent of my head. I can see the
front of my trunk from a little below the chin ; can see
my hands and feet often quite distinctly ; and can see
less distinctly the upper parts of my arms. The greater
part of the visual appearance of that fraction of my body
which does appear in the visual field is very vague and
distorted.
There are two important points to notice about the
visual appearances of my trunk, (i) Although they are
so fragmentary, they are almost invariably present in
my visual sense-history. To sense a visual field with
no such sensa in it, I have to follow the advice given to
the " happy band of pilgrims," and " look upward to the
skies," in a most unnatural and uncomfortable way. In
fact, my own trunk appears to me as a highly uniform
and highly persistent visual sense-object. Whenever I
carry on a series of translatory kinesthetic sensations the
greater part of the contents of my later fields bears no
resemblance to that of my earlier fields. But the visual
appearances of my body are present with little variation
throughout. (ii) The other peculiarity is that all the
visual appearances of my trunk have a very small visual
depth in all the fields. They are at the extreme " front "
of each field, and the visual appearances of all other
physical objects are "behind" them at various greater
depths in the field.
Now, with other objects that appear in my visual
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 439
sense-history, I have to initiate a certain series of trans-
latory kinesthetic sensations before I can sense any corre-
lated tactual sensa. As this series goes on, the visual
depths of the successive sensa, which together make up
the sense-object, steadily decrease in each successive
field. But, as I have said, the visual appearances of
my own body have a practically constant minimal depth
in all my successive visual fields. Thus, when I walk
up to a resting physical object, there are two sense-
objects which co-exist throughout this tract of my sense-
history. One is the sense-object by which the distant
physical object, to which I am walking, appears. This
is positionally non-uniform, in so far as the successive
sensa that belong to it have progressively diminishing
depths in their respective fields. There are also corre-
lated variations in size, brightness, etc. The other is
the sense-object by which my own body appears in my
sense-history. This is practically uniform, since all its
successive sensa have minimal visual depth. Thus,
successive pairs of contemporary sensa, one from one
sense-object and the other from the other, have progres-
sively smaller visual distances apart. So the series of
translatory kinesthetic sensations, experienced in walk-
ing up to an external physical object, is associated with
sensible relative motion between the sense-object which
represents the external body and the sense-object which
is the appearance of my own body in my visual sense-
history.
(2) My tactual sensations of my own body are
peculiar, (i) As I have said, most physical objects
which appear in my visual sense-history can only be
touched after an appropriate series of translatory kin-
aesthetic sensations. If this series be reversed, we soon
cease to be able to sense any tactual sensa correlated
with our visual sensa. But we do not need to walk in
order to touch our own bodies ; and, having once
touched them, we do not cease to be able to do so by
walking away. In fact, all other tactual sense-objects
440 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
are rigidly bound up with series of translatory kin-
a\sthetic sensations; but the tactual sense-object which
represents my body is indifferent to all such series.
This must be correlated with the fact that translatory
kinesthetic sensations make no difference to the depths
of successive visual appearances of our own bodies,
whereas they do make a difference to the depths of the
successive visual appearances of nearly all other physical
objects. My trunk is the only physical object which
appears throughout the whole of my visual sense-history
as a positionally uniform sense-object ; and it is the
only physical object which I can touch whenever I like,
i.e., which I need not walk up to and cannot walk
away from.
(ii) The tactual sensa which I sense when I touch
my own body are characteristically different from those
which I sense when I touch any foreign body. Suppose
that in each of two successive visual fields of my history
there is an appearance of my hand. In the first, let this
be in visual contact with an appearance of my table,
and in the second let it be in visual contact with an
appearance of my leg. Apart from minor qualitative
differences there will be the fundamental difference that,
in the second case, I "feel my leg being touched" as
well as "feel my leg with my finger." This peculiar
experience of " double contact," as it is called, helps me
to distinguish the surface of my own body from those of
all other physical objects. It also helps the solitary
observer to fill out the very fragmentary knowledge of
his own body which he would have if he were confined
to visual appearances alone. He can feel a closed
surface, marked out by the characteristic of double
contact ; and can gradually explore its contours. Only
a very small part of these tactual sensa will be correlated
with his visual sensa. But I can start with a visual
appearance of my hand visibly in contact with a visual
appearance of some part of my trunk, and can gradually
move my hand so that its successive appearances in
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 441
successive fields are nearer and nearer to the extreme
edge of the appearance of my trunk. At length I shall
no longer be able to see my hand ; but the character-
istic tactual sensa will still be sensed, and they will be
continuous with those earlier ones which were correlated
with the visual appearance of my hand visibly in contact
with the visual appearance of part of my trunk.
Finally, as I go on moving my hand, it may become
visible again ; and its visual appearance will again be
in visible contact with the extreme edge of a visual
appearance of part of my trunk. My own body is thus
known to me by tactual exploration as a closed surface
which resists my efforts to penetrate it, like any other
physical object. But it is marked out from the other
closed surfaces that I feel by the qualitative peculiarity
of the tactual sensa, and by the fact that I do not have
to walk up to it and cannot walk away from it.
(3) We come finally to a most important peculiarity
of our sense-experience of our own bodies. I am
constantly getting mild tactual sensations from the
whole surface of my body without actively exploring it
with my hand. These come from the contact of my
clothes, from air-currents, and so on. In each Specious
Present they form a mass which is the largest part of
what I will call the somatic field. These somatic fields
are, in the main, extremely alike over long periods of
time ; they thus join up with each other to form an
extremely uniform somatic sense-object. Within each
somatic field certain characteristic sensa stand out ; e.g.,
at one time I may itch in one place, and at another time
I may feel a burn at another place, and so on. Now
literally " inside " the somatic fields there are from time
to time outstanding bodily feelings, like headaches and
toothaches and stomach-aches, which enliven my somatic
history and prevent it from being perfectly tame and
uniform. Again, my kinesthetic sensations are sensible
events with places in my somatic fields. Thus a
peculiarity of my body is that I have sense-perception
2 F
442 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
of events which happen in its inside, as well as of events
on its outside. Of course, events in the inside of my
body appear to me in a very peculiar way, viz., by kin-
aesthetic sensations, bodily pains, etc. But the insides
of other bodies do not appear to me in sense-perception
in any way whatever, unless, of course, I cut them open
or "turn them inside out." And if I do this, I am not
perceiving their insides while they are inside, but am
only perceiving new outsides, which for various reasons
I take to be exactly similar to former insides.
(/;) Several Intercommunicating Observers watching each
other s Bodies. — If I were and had always been a com-
pletely solitary observer, these facts about my body
would not help me very much to form the concept of
physical objects, having insides as well as outsides,
occupying positions in physical Space, and moving
about in it as physical Time elapses. I should rather
be inclined to stress the differences between my own
body and all other objects that appear to me, and leave
the matter there. But I am not in this solitary situation.
The important fact is that there are other people like
myself, whose bodies I can see and touch, and with
whom I can exchange notes by verbal communication
and gestures. I am convinced that this fact plays a
vitally important part both in the development of the
general concept of physical objects, and in the develop-
ment of the connected concepts of physical Space, Time,
and Motion.
Any other human body is perceived by me in exactly
the same way as I perceive a stone or a chair. If I look
at it, it appears as a characteristic visual sensum in the
middle of my visual field. I can then approach it and
sense correlated tactual sensa. And there is no essential
difference in the experiences which I have in this case
and in that of an ordinary inorganic object. Similarly,
I perceive the motion or rest of another human body
in precisely the same way as I perceive those of any
other external object. But I recognise that other human
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 443
bodies are connected with minds like my own ; and,
although I can only know their bodies from the outside,
they tell me that they know them from the inside, and
that they know mine only from the outside. I under-
stand what they mean, because of my own experiences,
described in the last sub-section. I thus come to
recognise that there are plenty of other bodies beside
my own, having internal processes ; although I cannot
perceive these processes in any body except my own.
So the fact that I cannot perceive such processes else-
where ceases to be any reason for supposing that they
do not exist elsewhere. I know that they happen in my
body, although other people tell me that they cannot
perceive them ; and I am therefore ready to believe that
they happen in other mens bodies, though / cannot
perceive them ; since they tell me that they can
do so.
The logical position is therefore as follows : (i) I
know what is meant by internal processes from my own
sense-experiences of pleasures, pains, kinesthetic sensa-
tions, etc. (ii) I believe that there are other instances
of bodies with such internal processes, from communica-
tion with other minds ; though I cannot myself perceive
these processes in the other instances. (iii) I then
extend this conception that bodies have "insides," in
which all kinds of interesting events happen, from
human bodies to others, which, so far as I know, are
not connected with minds, (iv) This is reasonable,
because they appear to me in exactly the same way as
do all human bodies except my own ; and I already
know, from the instances of other human bodies, that
the non-appearance of internal processes to my senses
is quite compatible with the fact that such processes are
going on. I thus conceive that all my sense-objects are
appearances of physical objects, which have an inner
history of their own, and are seats of internal processes
in the way in which human bodies are the seats of those
processes which appear to the minds connected with
444 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
them as headaches, toothaches, (anaesthetic sensations,
etc. How far in detail the analogy is to be pressed is
of course another question, which can only be gradually
answered by empirical investigation. I propose now
to apply these general considerations, first to the general
concept of physical objects, and then to the more special
concept of physical motion and rest.
(c) The Human Body as the typical Physical Object. —
Intercommunication with other human minds, and
observation of the appearances of their bodies, fill out
the general concept of physical objects in the following
ways :
(i) Any of the sense-objects by which other physical
objects appear to us is liable to sudden interruptions.
The visual sense-object comes to an end in darkness,
or when we shut our eyes or turn our heads away.
And the tactual sense-object exists only when we are
at or near a certain place. But, in spite of these
interruptions in the sensible appearances of other men's
bodies in my sense-history, the minds connected with
these bodies tell me that their somatic history has gone
on all the time with very little change. Thus, in the
case of human bodies, I have reason to believe that
their inner history is much more permanent and
continuous than their appearances in my sense-history.
I extend this conclusion by analogy to non-human
bodies, which appear in the same kind of way in my
sense-history. This argument is strengthened by the
fact that I know that my own somatic history is going
on steadily at times when other men tell me that my
body has ceased to appear in their sense-histories.
(2) I know that I can initiate noises, bodily move-
ments, etc., and that when I do so they are preceded
by special series of events in my somatic sense-history.
Other people tell me that they hear noises, see move-
ments, and so on, at the centre which is the optical
place of the visual appearances of my body. Similarly,
when I hear noises or see movements connected with.
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 445
the place occupied by the optical constituent of another
man's body, he will tell me. that he has been " making"
the noises or movements. This means that he produced
them by initiating an appropriate series of sensible
events in his somatic history. Thus we arrive at the
general conclusion that many changes in the visual
appearances of A's body in B's visual sense-history are
connected with changes in A's somatic sense-history.
Now the latter are appearances to A of physical events
within his own body. Thus, in the case of a human
body, we reach the notion that the place which is optically
occupied by its optical constituent is physically occupied
by certain events which produce changes in this optical
object, or at any rate in parts of it. This is the crude
beginning of the notion of scientific events and their
connexion with sensible appearances. We extend this
result in the usual way to those places which are
optically occupied by complete optical objects which
are constituents of non-human bodies. That is, we
conclude that these places are physically occupied by
certain events which are responsible for the changes
that take place from time to time in the complete
optical object.
(3) The comparative constancy of my somatic sense-
history, combined with the fact that no one can "see"
the whole surface of my body at once, supports the
view that successive visual sensa often justify a belief
in co-existing- physical objects, or parts of one physical
object. No one can see my face and the back of my
head at the same time, though there may be an appear-
ance of each of these in successive visual fields of the
same observer. But I know that my somatic history
includes "face-feelings" and "head-feelings" in each
of its successive fields. Thus, although the observer's
visual sensa were successive, and presumably revealed
non-contemporary slices of my body-history, yet there
is reason to suppose that each of these slices (and all
that came between them) included a part corresponding
446 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
to the appearance of a head, and a part corresponding
to the appearance of a face.
These seem to be the main factors which our per-
ception of our own bodies and our intercommunication
with other observers supply to the concept of physical
objects in general. The human body is the physical
object par excellence ; with an "inside" which is con-
tinually, if inadequately, perceived by its own mind
through bodily feelings ; with an outside which is
perceived on and off by other observers through their
visual and tactual sensations ; and with internal pro-
cesses, which reveal themselves to its own mind as
kinesthetic and other bodily feelings, and reveal them-
selves to other minds as movements and other changes in
its visual and other appearances. Each observer reaches
the notion of human bodies as complete physical objects
by combining his own experiences of the inside of his
body with what other observers tell him about their
experiences of the outside of his body. He then extends
the general conception, thus formed, to non-human
physical objects, which cannot tell him about their own
insides.
(d) The Human Body and the Concept of Physical
Motion. — In the section on the correlations between
kinesthetic sensations of a single observer and the
motion or rest of visual sense-objects in his sense-
history, we made no special assumption as to the nature
of the physical objects which he was watching. They
might be other human bodies, or they might be
inorganic bodies, like pennies or chairs. Even so, we
reached the following results, of which I will remind
the reader : (i) That this observer might reasonably
conclude that the positional uniformity or non-uniformity
of the visual sense-object, by which a certain physical
object appears in his sense-history, depends in general
on the co-operation of two processes, one in his own
body and the other in the physical object which he is
watching. The one in his own body appears to him
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 447
in the form of a series of kinesthetic sensations in his
somatic sense-history. And it is reasonable to think
that the other is of the same general nature, (ii) That
this observer might reasonably hold that a certain
identity between such processes in two physical objects
A and B involves relative rest between them, and that
differences between the two processes involve relative
motion between A and B.
Now these conclusions, which are rendered highly
plausible by the mere correlations between a solitary
observer's kinesthetic sensations and the motion or
rest of his sense-objects, are greatly strengthened when
the physical objects which he watches are the bodies
of other observers who can communicate with him.
(1) Suppose that observer a watches B, the body of
observer ft, and that at the same time observer ft
watches A, the body of observer a. The correlations
between the kinesthetic sensations and the visual sense-
objects of each observer are of exactly the same kind
as if he were watching an inorganic body. But, in
the present case, the observer and the observed can
compare notes about their kinesthetic sensations and
their visual sense-objects. Let us first suppose that a
does not have to keep turning his head in order to keep
his eye on B, and that B appears to him as a completely
uniform visual sense-object. Then ft will tell a that
he, too, does not need to keep turning his head in order
to keep his eye on A, and that A appears in his sense-
history as a completely uniform visual sense-object. If
they now compare their translatory kinesthetic sensa-
tions, they will find either that they are absent in both,
or, if present, are of precisely the same character.
Let us next suppose that a finds that he has to keep
turning his head in order to keep his eye on B. B will
then appear in a's sense-history as a partly, but only
partly, uniform sense-object. The nature of its non-
uniformity has already been fully described. Now ft
will also find, and will tell a that he finds, that he must
448 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
keep turning his head in order to keep his eye on A,
and thai A appears in his sensedustory as a partly, but
only partly, uniform sense-object of the kind already
described. In this case o and (3 will find, on comparing
notes, that they both experience a series of rotational
kinesthetic sensations, and that there is an analogy
between them. But, on the other hand, they will
always find that there is a difference between their trans-
lators kinesthetic sensations. This will sometimes take
the form that one and only one of them has such
sensations at all (I am leaving out of account for the
sake of simplicity observers who are carried about
without effort in trains or motor-cars). There is one
other important point which they will discover on
comparing their experiences. The appearance of a's
head in /3's sense-history will be a rotating visual sense-
object, and so will be the appearance of /3's head in a's
sense-history. Thus each will discover that, of his two
kinds of kinesthetic sensation, one is correlated with a
rotationally non-uniform sense-object by which his head
appears in the sense-history of the other observer, and
the other kind is correlated with a positionally non-
uniform sense-object, by which his body appears in the
sense-history of the other observer.
(2) So far, we have confined ourselves to two observers
a and /3 respectively watching B and A, the bodies of
the other. Let us now take an observer y, who watches
the bodies A and B of the two observers a and ft, who
can communicate with him and with each other. As we
have said before, if y keeps up a suitable series of
kinesthetic sensations, he can always make A appear in
his sense-history as a completely uniform sense-object,
each of whose successive constituent sensa is at the
middle of its field. We will suppose that y does this.
He may then find either (i) that B appears as a com-
pletely uniform sense-object, or (ii) that B appears as
a positionally non-uniform sense-object. Each of the
component sensa in this may have sensible movement
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 449
in their fields. And, even if they do not, successive
pairs of contemporary A- and B-sensa will have pro-
gressively different sensible distances in their respective
common fields in y's visual sense-history.
Now, in case (i), a and /3 will tell y that, on
comparing notes with each other, they find no difference
in their translational kinesthetic sensations, which may,
of course, in the limiting case both be non-existent. In
case (ii), a and [3 will tell y that, on comparing notes,
they do find a difference in their translational kinesthetic
sensations. If one of them has no such sensations the
other will have them. Moreover, each of them will tell
y that the body of the other appears to himself as a non-
uniform sense-object. And y's body C will appear in
/3's, though not in a's, sense-history as a non-uniform
sense-object.
Now these communicated experiences (1) and (2)
leave no doubt at all that the positional uniformity or
non-uniformity of the sense-object, by which one human
body appears in the sense-history of another observer,
depends jointly on those physical processes in the two
bodies which are revealed to their respective minds in
the form of kinesthetic sensations. Moreover, they
show clearly that uniformity in the sense-object depends
on a certain identity of quality and quantity in the two
processes, whilst positional non-nniformity in the sense-
object depends on certain qualitative and quantitative
differences between the two processes. Lastly (2) shows
that relative motion of the sense-objects by which two
human bodies appear in the sense-history of a third
observer depends on a difference between these two
processes in the two human bodies, whilst relative rest
of two such sense-objects depends on an identity of
character between the two processes.
We now extend this conclusion in the usual way to
physical objects which are not connected with minds
that can communicate with us. We assume that, in all
cases, the uniformity of a sense-object in the sense-
450 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
history o\ an observer depends upon a certain identity
between that physical process in his own body which
appears to him as a series of kinesthetic sensations, and
another physical process of the same general type,
which happens in the physical object of which this
uniform sense-object is the visual appearance in the
observer's sense-history. And we assume that, in all
cases, the positional non-uniformity of a sense-object in
the sense-history of an observer depends on differences
between the physical process in his body which appears
to him as a series of kinesthetic sensations, and another
physical process of the same general type, which happens
in the physical object of which this non-uniform sense-
object is the visual appearance in this observer's sense-
history.
(e) Several Intercommunicating Observers watching the
same Physical Object. — One more very important fact
remains to be described. Suppose that two observers,
a and /?, are watching a certain physical object O, and
that a third observer y is watching their bodies, A and
B. It may happen that O appears in a's sense-history
as an uniform sense-object, and that it appears in /3's
sense-history as a positionally non-uniform sense-object.
If this be so, the observer y will always notice that the
sense-objects by which A and B appear in his sense-
history are in relative motion to each other. And, as
usual under these conditions, there will be a difference
in the translational kinassthetic sensations of a and /3.
If we generalise this from human bodies to all physical
objects we reach the following conclusion : It is possible
for any physical object to appear at once as a uniform
sense-object in the sense-history of one observer and as
a non-uniform sense-object in that of another observer.
But, if it does so, it will always be found that there is
some difference between those physical processes in the
bodies of the two observers which appear to them as
series of their kinesthetic sensations.
This result, which can actually be observed, might
SENSIBLE AND PHYSICAL MOTION 451
also have been deduced from what has gone before. If
the physical object O appears as a resting sense-object
in a's visual sense-history, this implies a certain identity
of character between the relevant physical processes in
A and in O, according to the argument of the last sub-
section. If O appears as a moving sense-object in /3's
sense-history, this implies a difference between the
relevant physical processes in B and in O, on the same
principles. It follows at once that, under these circum-
stances, there must be a difference between the relevant
physical processes in A and in B. And this should appear
to a and to j8 as a difference between their kinesthetic
sensations. That such a difference is actually found
supports the conclusions of the last sub-section, since
they are here used as hypothetical premises from which
it follows that such a difference ought to be found.
In the next chapter I propose to apply the results of
this one to the notions of sensible and physical Space-
Time, and so to end my treatment of the spatio-temporal
aspects of Nature and their sensible and perceptual basis.
The following additional works may be consulted
with advantage :
G. F. Stout, Manual of Psychology, Bk. III. Part II.
W. James, Principles of Psychology.
Kant, Critique of Pare Reason {Analytic of Principles).
Schopenhauer, World as Will and Idea, Vol. I. Bk. II.
CHAPTER XII
" And nu bit and for Godcs naman halsath selcne thara the
tlias boc raedan lyste thaet he for nine gebidde, and him ne wite
gif he hit rihtlicor ongite thonne he mihte. Forthsemthe selc
mou sccal be his ondgites masthe and be his a^mettan sprecan
thaet he sprecth and don thset thaet he deth." — King Alfred,
Preface to his Translation of Basthius.
Sensible and Physical Space-Time
We have at length reached a position where it becomes
possible to deal with the concept of physical Space-Time,
from which, as we shall see, the concepts of physical
Space and of physical Time are abstractions of two
different kinds. We shall thus finally work back, from
a wholly different starting-point, to the position which
we reached at the end of Part I.
Let us first take a backward glance over the country
that we have crossed, and see how the universe looks
from our present standpoint. We shall then be able to
see what part of our journey from crude sensation to the
refined concepts of mathematical physics remains to
be completed ; and, having done so, we can try to
complete it.
(a) Statement of the Present Position. — The situation,
so far as it has now developed, is roughly as follows :
There is a world of physical objects, some of which,
like my own body, are connected with observing minds
which can communicate with each other. Others, so
far as we know, are not connected with minds ; but in
their general character they are very much like those
which are. Correlated with each human body there is
a general sense-history, which is split up into several
special sense-histories, visual, tactual, auditory, somatic,
452
SPACE-TIME 453
and so on. We can sense temporal relations between
sensa in our different special sense-histories, just as we
can sense temporal relations between different sensa in
the same special sense-history. But we cannot sense
spatial relations between contemporary sensa in our
different special sense-histories, though we can sense
such relations between contemporary sensa of the same
special history. These spatial characteristics are much
more marked in the visual sense-history than in any of
the others.
My somatic sense-history contains sensa which are
appearances of internal states and processes of my own
body. In my other special sense-histories are various
sense-objects, some uniform for a time, others non-
uniform. There are correlations between certain sense-
objects in my different special histories which lead me
to regard them as different kinds of appearances of the
same external physical object. All these remarks about
me and my sense-histories apply equally, mutatis mutandis,
to other observers and their sense-histories ; as I learn
by intercommunication.
Between sensa in the histories of different observers
neither spatial nor temporal relations can be sensed by
either of the observers or by any third observer known
to us. But there are correlations between certain sense-
objects of different observers which lead us to say that
the same physical object is appearing to all of them.
When this is so, there is generally a certain external
place which all these sensa maybe said to "occupy"
in some Pickwickian and definable sense, such as optical
occupation. Again, there are certain methods, discussed
in the last chapter but one, by which some sensa of
different histories are grouped together as "neutrally
simultaneous," and others are grouped apart as
" neutrally successive."
Then there are the very elaborate correlations between
the uniformity or non-uniformity of sense-objects in
the visual histories of observers, and certain events
454 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
in their somatic histories called " kinesthetic sensa-
tions." We have been studying these in the last
chapter. We came to the conclusion that the positional
uniformity or non-uniformity of the sense-object by
which a certain physical object appears to an observer,
depends upon certain physical processes in the external
object and the observer's body ; and that these pro-
cesses in one's own body appear to oneself as kines-
thetic sensations. A more careful study of these corre-
lations revealed two further closely connected points.
One is that the positional uniformity of a sense-object
depends on an identity of character between these two
physical processes, and that positional non-uniformity
is correlated with certain differences between them.
The other is that relative rest between two sense-objects
in a sense-history depends on a similar kind of identity
between two such physical processes in the bodies which
appear as these two sense-objects, whilst relative motion
between two sense-objects is correlated with similar
kinds of difference between two such physical processes
in the bodies which appear as these two sense-objects.
Sensible motion and rest are absolute, but they seem to
depend on relations of identity and difference respectively
between physical processes in the body which appears
and the body of the observer to whom it appears.
(b) Statement of the Remaining Problem. — These, then,
are some of the facts which have so far been elicited,
and some of the highly probable inferences which have
been made from them. The next thing is to state
clearly the problem which still remains. The rest of
the problem is to make, if possible, a further synthesis
by analogy with what we already know. Can we treat
the world of physical objects and events as forming a
whole which is analogous to a single sense-history ?
That is : Can we regard scientific objects as analogous
to sense-objects ; can we suppose that they have spatial
relations to each other, such as we can sense only between
sensa in a single sense-field ; and can we suppose that
SPACE-TIME 455
they endure, and have temporal relations to each other,
such as we can sense only between sensa within a single
general sense-history? Lastly, can we suppose that
physical objects rest and move in this spatio-temporal
physical whole, as sensa do in their fields, and as sense-
objects do in our sense-histories? This, I think, is the
real problem about physical Space, Time, and Motion.
It is the problem of constructing a single, neutral,
public Space-Time of physical objects and events, on
the analogy of the many personal private space-times
of the various observers' sense-histories.
Now it is not, of course, a question of just making
such suppositions in the abstract. Our only possible
justification for supposing anything of the kind is that
it provides a scheme which summarises all the known
correlations between sensa, and is, at the same time,
familiar to us because of its analogy to our own sense-
histories with which we are directly acquainted. It is
theoretically possible that no such supposition would do
justice to the actual correlations among sensa. It is
still more likely that no supposition which made the
structure of physical Space-Time exactly analogous to
that of an individual sense-history would account for
the known facts. Again, if the physical world can be
consistently regarded as a spatio-temporal whole with
considerable, though not complete, analogy of structure
to an individual sense-history, it is probable that this
can be done in a number of alternative ways, all of
which will synthesise the known facts equally well.
Even if up to a certain date human beings had only
happened to think of one view of the structure of physical
Space-Time, there is no reason to doubt that, if they
thought more carefully and paid less attention to certain
traditional points of view, they would be able to devise
dozens of alternative structures for physical Space-Time
equally capable of doing justice to all the known corre-
lations among sensa. No doubt the physical world has
a certain absolute intrinsic structure ; and this structure
456 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
exhibits itself, in part at least, in the correlations between
sensa of the same and of different observers. But we
have to treat this structure piecemeal in the sciences
of geometry, ehronometry, kinematics, dynamics, and
electro-magnetics, and by making suitably correlated
modifications in the axioms of these various partial
sciences we can express the same absolute structure in
innumerable different and equally satisfactory ways. If,
so far, very few alternative schemes have been proposed,
this is due to nothing more recondite than lack of
scientific imagination and the imperfection of our techni-
cal mathematical and logical apparatus.
It is, nevertheless, an interesting and important inquiry
to see how far we can do justice to the known facts by
supposing that the structure of the physical world is
analogous to that of our sense-histories, and to see what
is the minimum difference of structure between the two
which we must postulate. For, after all, our physical
concepts have their roots in our sense-histories.
It is evident that it might be possible to regard the
physical world as forming a spatio-temporal whole
analogous in general outline to a single sense-history,
and yet that we might have to postulate differences of
detail. I do not mean by this simply that the contents
of the two might be different. It is perfectly certain
that they will be. The ultimate contents of a sense-
history are the sensa of the observer whose sense-history
it is. The ultimate contents of physical Space-Time
are scientific events. Even if it should be possible to
regard scientific events as composed of sensa (which is
far from certain), each scientific event will be composed
of sensa from the histories of many different observers,
and also presumably of many more sensa which do not
belong to the history of any observer. Thus, even on
this hypothesis, the ultimate contents of physical Space-
Time will be groups of correlated sensa. But, beside this
difference which there certainly must be between physical
Space-Time and any sense-history, there may well be
SPACE-TIME 457
a difference of structure between the two, e.g., the kind
of difference which there is between a Euclidean and
a hyperbolic space. A sense-history and the physical
world are both four-dimensional spatio-temporal wholes,
and we must therefore talk of their geo-chronometry rather
than their geometry. What I am saying then is that,
although a sense-history and the physical world may be
so far analogous in structure that we can say that both
have a geo-chronometry of some kind, yet the geo-
chronometries of the two may differ in detail.
The reader must beware of supposing that a Space-
Time is an entity which exists in its own right, side by
side with its contents. It is often convenient to talk as
if this were so, and it does no harm, provided we
recognise that it is always an abbreviated expression,
and understand clearly what it is an abbreviation for.
Having got rid of the absolute theories of Space and of
Time, we must not introduce them again for Space-
Time. Many really eminent writers on the Theory
of Relativity have expressed themselves in a most
unfortunate way, which suggests to innocent readers
that they think of Space-Time as a particular existent,
with properties of its own, which acts on matter like
a cue acts on a billiard-ball. When we talk of the
properties of physical Space-Time we are simply
enumerating certain very general structural character-
istics of that spatio-temporal whole which is the physical
world. The only existent under discussion is this
whole, which is composed of scientific events bound
together in a characteristic unity by spatio-temporal
relations.
An analogy will perhaps make this clearer than
much discussion will do. The French and British
armies are two elaborately organised hierarchies. Their
contents are different ; since the former is composed of
Frenchmen, and the latter of Englishmen and Scotsmen
and a few items from the Celtic Fringe. There is a
great analogy between the organisations of the two,
2 G
45^ SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
which renders it reasonable to call them both armies.
But there are also considerable differences in detail.
If a military writer set (Hit to describe in general terms
the structure of the French army and that of the British
army, he would be studying something akin to two
systems of geo-chronometry. He could do this without
referring to particular French and English soldiers,
such as Jacques Bonhomme and Tommy Atkins. He
could even talk intelligibly of the "effects" which these
two types of organisation "produce" on French and
English soldiers of various temperaments. But, if this
led him to suppose that the organisations whose
structure he is describing were substances that existed
side by side with the soldiers, he would be talking
nonsense ; and it would be the same kind of nonsense
as is talked by people who imagine Space-Time to be
an existent substance which pushes and pulls bits of
matter about. It must, therefore, be clearly understood
that, when we talk of the geo-chronometry of Space-
Time, we are simply describing certain very general
and abstract structural features of that whole which is
the physical world.
Since the geo-chronometry which is to be ascribed
to physical Space-Time depends entirely on the cor-
relations between our sensa, we must not be surprised
if opinions about it alter with the growth of scientific
knowledge. For one view might fit all the facts that
were known up to a certain date, and a different view
might be needed to fit both them and certain new facts
which were discovered later. This is exactly what has
happened in the change from Newtonian to Relativistic
dynamics and kinematics.
(e) The Concept of an Idealised Sense-history. — If we
want to see how closely the geo-chronometry of the
physical world can be approximated to that of a single
sense-history, we must begin by considering what is
the geo-chronometry of a sense-history. But, before
doing this, it will be well to remove in thought certain
SPACE-TIME 459
limitations, which are, in fact, present in all our sense-
histories, but which seem rather to depend on de facto
limitations of our powers of sensing and remembering
than on anything characteristic of the structure of sense-
histories as such, (i) We can think of a sense-history
as stretching back indefinitely into the past, although
in fact we can only remember a certain distance back,
and although presumably the history does not extend
backwards beyond our birth. (2) We can remove in
thought the limitation of a finite Specious Present. We
can regard the fact that only a very thin slab can ever
be sensed at once, and that the whole history is a series
of such slabs, as contingent. That is, we can regard
the whole history as a continuous four-dimensional
strand. (3) We can remove in thought those limita-
tions which our finite powers of seeing, hearing, etc.,
impose on the extension of each of our actual sense-
fields. We can, e.g., imagine the spatial limits of our
visual fields indefinitely extended ; as they would be
if we could see everything, however distant from our
bodies. (4) We can also remove the limitation which
is imposed by the fact that we cannot see all round us at
once. (5) So far we have been conceptually extending
our sense-histories by removing certain limits imposed
by sensation and memory. It now remains to proceed
in the opposite direction. We cannot sense fields of
no duration. But we can sense events of shorter and
shorter duration. We can thus conceive any slab of
a sense-history as cut into thinner and thinner slabs.
In the end we can conceive of slabs of no duration,
and can imagine the whole sense-history analysed into
an infinite series of such instantaneous slices, just as
we can conceive a cylinder as analysed into an in-
finite series of parallel plane circular sections. Such
momentary slices are not of course existents, and they
are not literally parts of the sense-history ; but they can
be defined by Extensive Abstraction, and a Pickwickian
meaning can be given to the statement that the sense-
460 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
history is composed of thorn. These momentary slices
will be purely spatial, whereas the sense-history as a
whole and any finite real part of it are spatio-temporal.
We may call each of these momentary sections a
momentary sense-space in the given sense-history. By
further applications of Extensive Abstraction within
a single momentary sense-space, we could evidently
define momentary sense-planes^ momentary sense-lines, and
;// 1 ) m e n tt i ry sense-poin ts .
It is pretty evident that, if the physical world be
analogous to a sense-history at all, it will be analogous
to an idealised visual sense-history, extended concep-
tually in the ways described. And I think there is very
little doubt that this is the original of the concept of the
physical world as a whole in Space and Time. We
must now consider more in detail the geo-chronometry
of an idealised visual history. In the section that
follows I am more than usually indebted to Whitehead,
and I shall be contented if I provide the reader with
" first aid " to the study of Whitehead's two great works
on the philosophy of Nature.
The Geo-chronometry of an Idealised Visual History. —
The idealised visual history is a four-dimensional spatio-
temporal whole, formed by the continual addition of
successive slices, which are idealised fields. Each of
these slices has duration, and the duration of the whole
history is the sum of the durations of the successive
slices up to and including the last that has become.
Now we can regard all these successive fields as normal
to a certain straight line in the history, just as successive
circular slabs of a cylinder are all normal to its axis.
This common normal to all the fields may be taken as
the time-axis of the history. By Extensive Abstraction
we then reduce the temporal thickness of the successive
slabs to zero, and we thus get a series of momentary
three-dimensional spaces, all normal to the time-axis of
the history.
Now the geo-chronometry of the history might,
SPACE-TIME
461
apart from all wilder alternatives, be either Euclidean
or elliptic or hyperbolic. According to which of these
alternatives is realised, the geometry of its momentary
spaces will be Euclidean or elliptic or hyperbolic. On
either of the two latter alternatives the successive
momentary spaces will not be parallel to each other.
In elliptic geometry (which is analogous to the geometry
of the surface of a sphere) there are no parallels, for all
co-planar straight lines intersect each other twice. In
hyperbolic geometry there are parallels and there are
non-intersecting co-planar straight lines which are not
parallel. And the common normals to a given straight
line are not parallel to each other, though they do not
intersect each other. It is only on the Euclidean alterna-
tive that the momentary spaces will be parallel. The
three alternatives may be very roughly illustrated in two
dimensions and on a Euclidean plane by the three
diagrams below.
.t'
s, sg
i)£uc/ideanCase (it) £//tpfic Cose (//;) tfypcr6o//e Case
(It must, of course, be remembered that what appears in
these diagrams as lines normal to the time-axis represent
three-dimensional spaces in the four-dimensional sense-
history. Also that the curves in diagrams (ii) and (iii)
are attempts at representing non-Euclidean straight lines
on a Euclidean plane.)
We may perhaps dismiss the elliptic alternative at
once. If the geo-chronometry of a sense-history were of
this type, its time-axis, like all other straight lines in this
geometry, would be a closed curve, like a great circle
on a sphere. Whilst I see no theoretical impossibility
in the time of Nature being of this kind, I think that
}<>_> SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
there is no evidence to support the suggestion. If it
were so, the course of Nature would continually repeat
itself in cycles. These might, of course, be of enormous
duration ; and so the fact that we have no empirical
evidence for this alternative cannot be counted as
evidence against it ; we may make a present of the
suggestion to the Dean of St Paul's and the Neo-
platonists.
We will therefore confine ourselves to the Euclidean
and the hyperbolic alternatives. On the Euclidean
alternative there would be an infinite number of equally
permissible time-axes for the sense-history, and these
would all be parallel to each other. The line t' in (i)
is an example. On the hyperbolic alternative, so far
as my very limited knowledge of four- dimensional
hyperbolic geometry may be trusted, I should say that
there could only be one time-axis for the sense-history.
It is true that there are plenty of straight lines in the
history, parallel to /. The line pp' in (iii) is an example.
But none of them will be normal to the momentary
spaces which are normal to /, and therefore none of
them could be taken as time-axes. Again, there are
plenty of lines beside t which are normal to all the
momentary spaces. The line nri in (iii) is an example.
But none of them are straight lines, and therefore none
of them can be taken as time-axes. They are, in fact,
curves called horocycles, and horocycles are to hyperbolic
straight lines much as small circles are to great circles
on the surface of a sphere. I do not think that the
uniqueness of the time-axis suffices to show that the
geo-chronometry of an idealised sense-history could not
be hyperbolic ; but we shall see later that the Space-
Time of Nature could hardly be supposed to have one
single unique time-axis, even apart from the Theory
of Relativity. Hence, we had better work out the
geo-chronometry of the idealised sense-history on the
Euclidean hypothesis, since we want it only as a basis
for the geo-chronometry of physical Space-Time.
SPACE-TIME 463
There is a more positive reason for rejecting the
hyperbolic alternative for the idealised sense-history.
In the Euclidean case, since the normals to the time-
axis are parallel to each other, and since Euclidean
parallels are everywhere equidistant from each other,
any slab of the sense-history, bounded by two such
normals, has the same thickness throughout (see Fig. (i)
above). In the hyperbolic case the normals diverge
from each other on both sides of the common time-axis.
The result is, that it is only on the Euclidean alternative
that a Specious Present would have one definite limited
duration. On the hyperbolic alternative sensa, far from
the centres of a field, could last for enormous stretches
of time, remaining in a single Specious Present. This
seems to be contrary to fact. So, on every ground,
it seems reasonable to take the geo-chronometry of the
idealised sense-field as of the Euclidean type.
We can now advance to the very important con-
ception which Whitehead would call the timeless space
of the idealised sense-history. When we talk of objects
resting or moving in a space, we clearly cannot be
thinking of a momentary space. For both rest and
motion involve lapse of time. We must, in fact, be
thinking of some kind of space which lasts for the
whole time under consideration, and does not change
as the time flows on. This is what Whitehead means
by a timeless space. We have now to define such a space
for the idealised sense-history.
Let us imagine a completely uniform sense-object
which lasts throughout the whole of the sense-history.
As we slice the history up into thinner and thinner
sections we shall, ipso facto, be slicing this sense-object
into thinner and thinner sections, all exactly alike and
all occupying precisely similar positions in these fields.
Finally, by Extensive Abstraction, we shall reach a
series of successive momentary spaces, each containing
a momentary section of the uniform sense-object. All
these momentary sections will be exactly alike, and
464 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
exactly similarly situated in their respective momentary
spaces. If, now, we imagine the spatial dimensions of
the uniform sense-object reduced more and more, so
that, finally, it is the history of a mere point, it is clear
that the object reduces to a line parallel to the time-
axis of the sense-history. Each point in this straight
line is in one of the momentary spaces of the history,
and each of the momentary spaces contains one of the
points. And these points are in corresponding- places in
their respective momentary spaces. Thus any straight
line in the sense-history which is parallel to the time-
axis, is the history of a sense-object of punctual spatial
dimensions, which rests in a single "place" through-
out the duration of the history.
We may therefore say that every straight line, parallel
to the time-axis of a sense-history, is a pomt of the time-
less space of the history. The timeless space of the
history thus consists of the whole bundle of straight
lines in the history which are parallel to its time-axis.
We have now to define the straight lines of the timeless
space. To do this, let us imagine a sense-object which
is positionally non - uniform and of punctual spatial
dimensions. It is evident that it will consist of a series
of points, one in each of the successive momentary spaces.
But these points will not occupy corresponding positions
in their respective momentary spaces, since the object is
positionally non-uniform. Thus the whole assemblage
of them will be a curve of some kind in the sense-history.
It will, in general, be a tortuous curve ; and it will, of
course, never be a straight line parallel to the time-axis,
for that would be the history of a positionally uniform
punctual object. Again, it will, of course, never be a
line in any one momentary space, for it would then not
be the history of any enduring object whatever. Now,
through each of the points of this curve, there goes one
and only one straight line parallel to the time-axis of
the history. And each of these lines, as we have seen,
is one point in the timeless space of the history. It
SPACE-TIME 465
follows that the assemblage of all these lines is the
course traced by the moving object in the timeless space.
Such an assemblage of parallel straight lines will form
a surface in the sense-history, which will not in general
be fiat. But, if the moving object happens to describe
a straight line in the timeless space of the history, this
surface will flatten out into a plane parallel to the time-
axis. The easiest way to see this is the following : It
is admitted that the points of the timeless space of a
sense-history are straight lines in the history, parallel to
its time-axis. Now a straight line is uniquely determined
by two of its points. Now the only figure in the sense-
history, which is uniquely determined by two straight
lines parallel to the time-axis, is the plane which contains
them both, and is, of course, itself parallel to this axis.
It is thus evident that a straight line in the timeless space
of a sense-history is a plane in the sense-history, parallel
to its time-axis.
It remains to define the planes of a timeless space.
A plane in the timeless space will be a figure uniquely
determined by a straight line in that space, and a point
which is in the space but not on the straight line. Now,
we have already seen that a straight line in the timeless
space is a plane in the history, parallel to its time-axis ;
and that a point in the timeless space is a straight line
in the history, parallel to its time-axis. The fact that
the point is outside the line in the timeless space is
identical with the fact that the corresponding line is
outside the corresponding plane in the sense-history.
It follows at once that a plane in the timeless space of a
sense-history is a three-dimensional region in the history,
uniquely determined by a plane, parallel to the time-
axis, and a straight line, also parallel to the axis but
not contained in this plane. This is an unlimited region,
which plays a corresponding part in a four-dimensional
manifold to a plane in an ordinary three-dimensional
space.
We have thus defined the points, straight lines and
466
SCIFXTIFIC THOUGHT
planes of the timeless space of a given idealised sense-
history in terms of certain special types of figures in the
Latter. These definitions are wholly due to Whitehead.
It will be noticed (i) that the timeless point is something
more complex than the momentary point, since it consists
of a whole series of the latter ; (2) some straight lines in
the sense-history are also momentary straight lines in
one of the momentary spaces ; but no straight line in
the history is also a straight line in the timeless space.
At best, it can only be a point in the latter ; (3) a timeless
straight line is a set of straight lines in the sense-history,
of a certain kind. Once the timeless concepts have been
defined, the geometry of the timeless space can be worked
out. It will be of the same character as the geometry
of the momentary spaces of the history. For there is a
one-to-one correspondence (though never an identity)
between the timeless points, straight lines and planes,
as defined above, and the momentary points, straight
lines and planes of any one of the momentary spaces.
As a visual sense-history is a four-dimensional
whole, it is not possible completely to illustrate all this
on paper. But we can help the reader to understand
the four-dimensional case by imagining a sense-history
which has only three dimensions, two spatial and one
temporal. The momentary spaces will then be planes
at right angles to the paper, and we can illustrate the
relations between sense-history, momentary spaces, and
timeless space in the drawing given below.
Y, Y2
Q
>t
In this picture SL and S., are two momentary sections
of such a sense-history. The dotted line pxq.2 is the
straight line in the sense-history which represents the
SPACE-TIME 467
history of a point-object, moving along a certain straight
line in the timeless space of the history with a certain
uniform velocity. The first momentary section of this
object is the momentary pointy in the momentary space
Sr The last section of it is the momentary point q2
in the momentary space S2. Intermediate sections are
momentary points in intermediate momentary spaces.
The dashed line pxp2 is the point P in the timeless
space of the sense-history. The dashed line qxq2 is the
point Q in the timeless space of the history. P would
have represented the history of the punctual sense-
object if the latter had stayed in its original position.
Q would have represented the history of this object if
the latter had always been in the position which it
finally occupies. The plane pxqxq.zp», which is deter-
mined by the two straight lines P and Q, is the timeless
straight line in the timeless space of the history which
the moving punctual object traverses. It is uniquely
correlated with the momentary straight lines pxqx in S2
and p2q2 in S2, which might be called the "instantane-
ous directions of motion of the moving object at the two
moments tx and £,." These are of course similar, in
the present case, since the object is moving all the time
in one direction in the timeless space.
The angle between the dotted line pxq2 and the dashed
line pxp2 depends on the velocity of the moving point-
object in the timeless space. The histories of all moving
points which traverse this particular line in the timeless
space will be straight lines in the plane pxqxq.±p.z, but their
directions in this plane will depend on the velocity with
which the object traverses the line. If the velocity be
non-uniform, they will, of course, no longer be straight
lines ; but they will still be plane curves in this plane.
Naturally we cannot illustrate timeless planes in our
diagram ; for we can only get them in connexion with
a four-dimensional sense-history, whose momentary
sections are not planes, as in the diagram, but three-
dimensional spaces. Also, there are no momentary
468 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
planes in our diagram, except the timeless spaces
themselves.
(</) Physical World'lines and their Mutual Relations. —
It is evident that such an idealised sense-history as we
have just been describing would be a kind of "world,"
with a time, a timeless space, and objects which move
or rest in the latter as the former Hows on. The question
now is : How far can the world of physical objects and
events be regarded as forming a spatio-temporal whole,
analogous in character to an idealised sense-history ? If
the analogy be complete, the physical world will have one
time-direction (though many parallel time-axes), and one
timeless Space, which will be of the Euclidean type.
In this Space all physical objects will rest or move as
the one physical Time Hows on.
We must be prepared to recognise at once that it is
by no means obvious that any such view of the structure
of the physical world will fit the known facts. After all,
why should the physical events and objects which are
connected with a number of different sense-histories
form a spatio-temporal whole which is exactly analogous
in structure to a single sense-history? Even if there
should be a certain analogy, we have not the slightest
right to expect it to extend to every detail ; i.e., we have
no right to be surprised if the geo-chronometry of
physical Space-Time should not be exactly like that
of the idealised sense-history. We shall see in a moment
that most of the apparent paradox of the Theory of
Relativity is due to the fact that it disappoints our simple-
minded expectation that the geo-chronometry of physical
Space-Time shall be exactly like that of a single ideal-
ised sense-history. But, on reflection, we see that this
expectation is absolutely groundless, and that it would
be rather a queer coincidence if the geo-chronometries
of two such different wholes were exactly alike.
After these general preliminaries, let us see how far
the analogy can be carried. A physical object is a
succession of scientific events, just as a sense-object is
SPACE-TIME 469
a series of successive sensa in a sense - history. A
punctual sense-object, whether positionally uniform or
non-uniform, is a line of some kind in its sense-history.
If it be positionally uniform, and therefore rests in the
timeless space of the sense-history, it is a straight line,
parallel to the time-axis ; if it moves, it is a curve of
some kind on a surface generated by lines parallel to the
time-axis, and so on. If then a punctual physical object
can be regarded as analogous to a sense-object, we
must suppose that it (or its history, if you prefer it) is a
curve of some sort in physical Space-Time. We will call
such a curve a " world-line," following Minkowski. All
other material particles must equally be regarded as
curves in physical Space-Time. We must next consider
the intrinsic characters and mutual relations of world-
lines, for the whole question of whether it is worth while
to talk of a physical Space-Time at all depends on the
nature of these.
Suppose that B, the body of observer /3, appears as
a resting sense-object in the visual sense-history of
another observer a. We know that A, the body of a,
will appear as a resting sense-object in the visual sense-
history of /3, provided that a's and /3's kinesthetic
sensations are alike. The complete symmetry between
a's experiences in connexion with B, and /3's experiences
in connexion with A, suggests that there is some great
similarity in the world-lines of A and B. (Or rather in
the world-lines which would represent their histories if
they were reduced to punctual spatial dimensions.) It
seems reasonable to suppose that, in such cases, we are
dealing with pairs of intrinsically similar and similarly
situated world-lines in physical Space-Time. We can
conceive of groups of observers whose bodies form sets of
similar and similarly situated world-lines. We will call
these sets of relatively resting physical objects. We know
that, if a certain body appears as a sense-object which
moves in the timeless space of any one member of the
set, it will appear as a sense-object which moves in the
470 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
timeless space of each member of the set. If it happens
to be the body of an observer, we know further that his
translatory kinesthetic sensations will differ from those of
all members of the set. Moreover, all the bodies of the
set will appear to this observer as sense-objects which
move absolutely, but rest relatively to each other, in
the timeless space of his sense-history. It seems reason-
able to suppose that the world-line of this observer's
body is in some way different from those of the set in
question. There might be an intrinsic difference in the
nature of the curve, or some kind of difference in its
situation or direction in physical Space-Time. A geo-
metrical illustration of the first kind of difference would
be given by a straight line and a hyperbola ; an
illustration of the second kind of difference would be
given by two non-coplanar straight lines, or by two
coplanar straight lines at an angle to each other.
We can now extend these suggestions in the usual
way from the bodies of observers to physical objects
in general. We can suppose that a set of relatively
resting particles is a set of similar and similarly situated
world-lines, and that any particle which moves relatively
to this set is a world-line which differs, either intrinsic-
ally or in its situation in physical Space-Time, from
the members of this set.
{e) Straight and Tortuous World-lines. — World-lines
might be curves of many different kinds ; some might
be intrinsically very complex (like highly tortuous
curves in ordinary space) ; others might be intrinsically
very simple (like ordinary straight lines). It will be
remembered that a punctual sense-object, which rests
in the timeless space of its sense-history, is a straight
line parallel to the time-axis of the history. Punctual
sense-objects, which move in the timeless space of the
sense-history, may be straight lines (though they need
not be) ; but they are never parallel to the time-axis.
We must see how far there is analogy to this in physical
Space-Time.
SPACE-TIME 471
If any analogy at all can be drawn between a sense-
history and the physical world, we must assume (1) that
at least some particles are straight world-lines ; (2) that
at least some of these straight world-lines are per-
missible directions for time-axes for physical Space-
Time ; and (3) that, by taking certain particles as having
the characteristics (1) and (2), and by using suitable
criteria of simultaneity, we can account for all the known
general rules of spatio-temporal correlation among
physical events. We will now see how far the analogy
can be carried on this assumption.
A straight world-line which is a permissible time-
axis for physical Space-Time will be analogous to the
time-direction of a sense-history. If the whole physical
world is to be analogous to a single sense-history, every
momentary physical event must have one and only one
straight world-line passing through it, parallel to the
given time-direction. The whole of such a bundle of
parallel world-lines may be called a physical reference
frame. From what has been said in the last section it
is clear that every line of such a bundle is a point in the
timeless space of the frame, and conversely. Each line
of the bundle is, in fact, the history of a hypothetical
particle, which rests at a certain place in the timeless
space of the frame as the time of the frame flows on.
The place of any momentary point-event in the timeless
space of the frame will be the particular line of the
bundle which passes through this point-event. The
date of this event in the frame will be its particular
position on this line.
Particles which move uniformly in straight lines in
the timeless space of this frame will be world-lines
which (1) are straight, and (2) are contained in a certain
plane parallel to the time-axis, but (3) are not themselves
parallel to it. Particles which move non-uniformly but
rectilinearly in the timeless space of the frame will be
world-lines which (1) are not straight, but (2) are
contained in some plane parallel to the time-axis. This
472 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
plane in Space-Time is, of course, the straight line in the
timeless spaee of the frame along- which the particle
moves. Particles which move non-uniformly and non-
rectilinearly in the timeless space of the frame will be
lines which (i)are not straight, (2) are not plane, but
(3) are confined to a surface generated by straight lines
parallel to the time-axis of the frame. Finally, the
momentary spaces of the given frame will be sections
of physical Space-Time, normal to the time-axis of the
frame. Momentary events in the same momentary space
will be contemporary with respect to the frame.
(/) The Point of Separation between the Traditional
View and the Special Theory of Relativity. — There is thus
a complete analogy between a physical reference frame
and an idealised sense-history, on the assumptions
which we are at present making. On these assumptions
every event in Nature has its place and date in such a
frame. But now there arises a question to which there
is nothing analogous in a sense-history. The question
is this : Are all straight world-lines permissible time-
axes for physical Space-Time, or are some of them
permissible and others not? And, if the latter be true,
what distinguishes those which are, from those which
are not permissible?
In a given sense-history there is one and only one
Ume-direetion. This is because the simultaneity or
successiveness of sensa in the same sense-history is
actually sensed, and we have therefore no choice as to
which we shall group together as simultaneous, and
which we shall group apart as successive. The succes-
sive slabs of the sense-history are given to us in the form
of sense-fields, and the only possible time-direction is
that of their common normal. The only choice allowed
to us is that we could take any straight line in the sense-
history, parallel to the time-direction, as a permissible
time-axis, assuming that the geo-chronometry of the
sense-history is Euclidean.
If there were an exact analogy between physical
SPACE-TIME 473
Space-Time and an idealised sense-history, there would
be one and only one direction in physical Space-Time
which could be taken as the time-direction. If this were
so, there would be one and only one frame of reference
in which all the events of Nature could be consistently
placed and dated. The only latitude allowed us would
be that any frame which rested in the timeless space of
the first would itself be a permissible frame. For this
would merely amount to taking another world -line,
parallel to the original one, as our new time-axis.
Now this is exactly the assumption which the
classical mathematical physics did make. It assumed
that there was one and only one fundamental frame of
reference in which all the events of Nature could be
consistently placed and dated. The timeless space of
this is the ''stagnant ether," and the one permissible
time-direction is the history of any particle of the ether
or of any particle that rests in it. No straight line which
makes an angle with the one outstanding time-direction
will be a possible time-axis ; the sections of physical
Space-Time normal to such a line will not be momentary
spaces, and the whole bundle of lines parallel to such
a line will not form the points of a timeless space.
Now there is nothing antecedently absurd in such
a view. Temporal and spatial characteristics are
different, for all observers ; and therefore it might well
be that there is one and only one outstanding direction
in Space-Time which can be taken as a time-direction.
Moreover, it is certain that the assumption is not far
wrong ; since it is the assumption of the traditional
physics, and this has proved capable of dealing with
all the more obvious spatio-temporal correlations of
physical events in a single spatio-temporal scheme.
We can, in fact, at once reject the opposite extreme
view, viz., that all straight world-lines are equally per-
missible as time-axes. For this would be inconsistent
with the admitted difference between spatial and tem-
poral characteristics for all observers, and with the
2 H
474 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
very great measure of success which has attended the
diametrically opposite assumption, that there is only
one direction in Space-Time which can be taken as a
time-axis.
(g) 7 he Hypothesis of a UmitedRange of 'lime-directions. —
The only alternative worth discussing is that all straight
world-lines whose directions lie within certain limits,
and only these, are permissible time-directions. The
traditional physics makes physical Space-Time exactly
analogous in structure to a single idealised sense-history.
The present suggestion makes it considerably different
in principle, though not necessarily very different in
practice. Nothing but the observable correlations
between physical events, as betrayed by correlations
between sensible events in various sense-histories, can
decide between these alternatives.
A little reflection shows that there is a certain
incoherence in the traditional view, as regards mechanical
phenomena. It is admitted that axes which move uni-
formly in straight lines in the timeless space of the
supposed fundamental frame will do equally well for
placing events for mechanical purposes. And such
axes will be represented by straight world-lines which
make an angle with those which represent the funda-
mental frame. If there were only mechanical phenomena
to be considered, it would be natural to suppose that
all such world-lines would do equally well as time-axes,
and that all the corresponding frames would do equally
well for placing and dating physical events. The only
reason for thinking that there must be one fundamental
frame connected with a certain unique direction in
Space-Time, was the notion that any pair of events must
be either simultaneous or successive, and that they could
never be both. It was thought that the phenomena of
light, electricity and magnetism, would show us the
one fundamental frame, which was merely concealed in
mechanical phenomena by the particular form which the
laws of motion happen to have. Thus the traditional view
SPACE-TIME 475
holds that there is only one permissible time-direction,
which can and must be used for dating all physical
phenomena. But it allows you to place mechanical
phenomena by reference to any axes which move
uniformly and rectilinearly in the timeless space of
the fundamental frame.
Now the experiments on which the Special Theory
of Relativity is based, show that this supposed difference
between mechanical and electro-magnetic phenomena
is a pure myth. Electro-magnetic phenomena fail to
reveal any unique fundamental frame. Their laws
remain of exactly the same form if you refer the events
to axes which move uniformly and rectilinearly in the
space of one fundamental frame, provided that you take
the straight world-line which represents these moving
axes as a permissible time-direction, and use it for dating
your electro-magnetic events.
The Special Theory of Relativity may, in fact,
be summed up in the following statement: There is a
whole set of different directions in Space-Time, equally
permissible as time-directions for dating physical events.
But all the permissible time-directions are confined
within certain limits. Corresponding to any one of
these will be a timeless space, whose points are the
world-lines parallel to it. Every physical event has
a unique place and date in any one such frame. Its
place in the timeless space of any frame is determined
by the line, parallel to the time-direction of the frame,
which passes through it. Its date in the frame is deter-
mined by its position on this line. The laws of all
physical phenomena have precisely the same form, no
matter which of these frames is used for placing and
dating them.
All the characteristic features of the Special Theory
of Relativity follow at once from this supposition as to
the geo-chronometry of physical Space-Time, as I will
now show in brief outline.
(i) There is nothing that can be called the timeless
47^
SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
Space of Nature. There will be as many different
timeless spaces as there are different permissible time-
directions.
(2) Two events which are contemporary in one frame
will not be contemporary in another, unless they happen
to occupy the same place in the timeless space of the first
frame. The figure below will make this clear.
M\fz
rnz
X
t,
m,
/>
^
•&.-
+*,
5fy
Call the two frames Fx and F2. Since they differ, they
will consist of two bundles of parallel world-lines,
inclined to each other. Since the two events are not to
be at the same place in the timeless space of F1( they
will be on two different world-lines of the bundle, say
lx and mv Since they are to be contemporary in F1}
they must both be in some one momentary space of Fx.
This will be a section of Space-Time, normal to the time-
direction of Fr Call this momentary space S\/x. Then
the points A and /*, in which the lines lx and mx cut S\u,
will represent our two events, which are simultaneous
in the frame Fx, but spatially separated in its timeless
space. Now let X lie on the line /2 of the frame F2, and
let p. lie on the line ;«2 of the frame F2. In this frame,
instead of being in a single momentary space S\u, they
are in the two successive momentary spaces S\ and SM.
They are therefore successive in F2, though simultaneous
in Fr Moreover, their distances apart in the two time-
less spaces are not the same. In the former, it is the
distance between lx and mx ; in the latter, it is the smaller
distance between 1.2 and ni2.
(3) Conversely, two events which are in the same
place in the timeless space of Fx will not be in the same
SPACE-TIME
477
place in the timeless space of F2, unless they happen to
be also contemporary in Fr The diagram below will
show this.
The two events are on a certain line lv parallel to tXi
since they are in the same place in the timeless space
of Fj. Since they are not to be contemporary in Fx, they
must be in different momentary spaces S\ and Sx' of Fr
The two events will be represented by the two points
X and X', in which the line lx cuts these two momentary
spaces respectively. In F2 the two events X and X' are
necessarily on two different lines, /2 and /'2, parallel to
t2, the time-direction of F2. They are therefore at
different places in the timeless space of F2. Moreover,
their temporal separation is different in the two frames.
In Fj it is represented by the line XX', in F2 by the shorter
line between the two dotted normals to %, which represent
the momentary spaces of F2, in which the two events are
respectively situated.
(4) We have still to consider some implications of
the fact that not all straight world-lines are permissible
time-axes, but only those whose directions lie within a
certain limited range in physical Space-Time. Take
any straight world-line t, which is a permissible time-
axis, and consider any other non-parallel straight world-
line/'. There will be one and only one plane in Space-
Time which is parallel to t and contains p. In this
plane take a line t' , parallel to /. Then / and t' will
cut each other at an angle. This plane will be a straight
line in the timeless space of the frame of which t is the
time-axis. The line p will represent a particle moving
478 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
along this straight line in the timeless space with a
uniform velocity. As we saw in the last section, the
greater the velocity of this particle the greater will be
the angle between/ and /'. Now we know that, if the
angle between p and t' exceed a certain size,/ will not
be a permissible time-axis. This would imply that there
is no frame in whose timeless space the particle, whose
history is the line/, rests. This would be contrary to
the complete relativity of physical rest and motion.
There is thus a certain maximum possible relative
velocity, whose magnitude is determined by the size
of the angle in Space-Time within which all permis-
sible time-directions lie. If a straight world-line make
a greater angle than this with any permissible time-
direction, it cannot be the history of an actual particle
or physical process. Such a world-line will, of course,
cut each momentary space of any one frame at a point ;
but you cannot take these successive momentary points
as sections of the history of any one object, though of
course each may be a section of the history of a different
object. Now this notion of a certain maximum relative
velocity is characteristic of the Special Theory of Rela-
tivity, which, on empirical grounds, identifies this
velocity with that of light in vacuo.
(5) We cannot, so far as I can see, determine any-
thing about the actual magnitude of the angle of the
four-dimensional cone in physical Space-Time, within
which all permissible time-directions lie. The tangent
of its half-angle will indeed be the velocity of light.
But we must beware of supposing that, because c, the
velocity of light in centimetres per second, is a very
large number, therefore the half-angle of the funda-
mental cone must be very nearly a right angle, and
therefore that there is a very wide range of possible
time-directions. For the numerical value of the velocity
of light obviously depends entirely on the units that
we choose for measuring distance and duration. The
largeness of c may simply mean that the centimetre
SPACE-TIME
479
is a very small space-unit, or that the second is a very-
large time-unit ; it tells us nothing about the size of
the ansfle of the fundamental cone.
(6) It follows at once from what has just been said
that, whilst all the points in any timeless space are
straight world-lines, there are many straight world-
lines which are not points in any timeless space. It
follows also that some pairs of momentary point-events
are intrinsically separated spatially, i.e., occupy different
positions in all timeless spaces, whilst others are not,
i.e. , they occupy the same place in some timeless space.
The diagram below will make this clear :
X X'
P
-I
■ m
e,
■**,
Let X and X' be two momentary point-events at the
same point / of the timeless space of the frame Fr
Let hi be another momentary point-event at the point m
of the same frame, and let X, X', and /u, all have different
dates in this frame. Draw the straight world-lines X/x
and XV« ^ both fall within the fundamental cone, both
are permissible time-directions. If so, X and^u will occupy
the same place in the timeless space of the frame corre-
sponding to X/x, and X' and p. will occupy the same place
in the timeless space of the frame corresponding to XV-
But it may happen that XV falls inside the cone, whilst
X/x falls outside it. If so, X/x is not parallel to a possible
time-axis, and therefore is not a point in any timeless
space. Hence the momentary point-events X and /x will
have an intrinsic spatial separation. It will be noticed
that the question whether two momentary point-events,
which occupy different places in the timeless space of a
certain frame, are intrinsically separated in space or not,
depends on whether their dates in the frame are much
or little separated. X and /x, which are intrinsically
480 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
separated in space, are much nearer together in date
than V and p, which are not spatially separated in all
timeless spaces.
(7) Almost exactly similar remarks apply, mutatis
mutandis^ to temporal separation. This is sometimes
intrinsic and sometimes not. The diagram below will
explain how this happens.
,"3 ■'"&
X
-//
■m> \ /v
S&L »,
-*-/,
X and jjL are two momentary point-events, which are
simultaneous in the frame Fx, and occupy the two points
/j and iii1 respectively in the timeless space of this
frame, v is a third point-event, which differs both in
place and in date from both X and /x in the frame Fx.
Join \y and fxv by straight world-lines. Draw the
straight world-lines n2 and n3, normal to \v and jxv
respectively. If both u2 and nz be permissible time-
directions, \v and fxv will both represent momentary
spaces, one in the frame corresponding to ;/2, and the
other in the frame corresponding to nz. If so, X and
v will be contemporary in one of these frames, and fx
and v will be contemporary in the other. Their tem-
poral separation is therefore non-intrinsic. But it may
happen that, whilst ;/2 falls inside the fundamental cone,
and is therefore a permissible time-direction, ;/3 falls
outside it, and therefore is not a permissible time-
direction. If so, Xv will be a momentary space, and
ixv will not. It will follow that fx and v are intrinsically
separated in time, i.e., that there is no frame in which
they are simultaneous. Here, again, the difference
depends on the fact that X and v are further apart in
the timeless space of Ft than are fx and v. Hence, two
point-events, which are successive in a certain frame,
SPACE-TIME 481
are intrinsically successive if they be near enough
together in the timeless space of the frame. If they
be far enough apart in the timeless space, they will
not be intrinsically successive, i.e., it will be possible
to find a frame in which they are simultaneous.
All these seven consequences of the view that more
than one, but not all, directions in physical Space-
Time are permissible time-directions, are characteristic
results of the Special Theory of Relativity ; and, as
this certainly fits the facts better than the traditional
views, we may assume that physical Space-Time has
this particular kind of structure, at least to a very high
degree of approximation. Thus the physical world as
a whole is not completely analogous to a single idealised
sense-history, since the latter has only one possible
time-direction, whilst the former has several. Instead
of being surprised at this difference, we ought rather
to be impressed by the remarkable amount of similarity
which exists between the structures of two such wholes.
(h) The Facts imderlying the above Theory of the Geo-
chronometry of Physical Space-Time. — If the above view
of the structure of physical Space-Time is to be verifi-
able, as it is to a high degree of approximation, we
must have some empirical means of (i) distinguishing
straight from tortuous world-lines, and (ii) distinguish-
ing those straight world-lines which are permissible
time-directions from those which are not. We find
that we can unify the facts by assuming that the history
of any particle which rests relatively to the fixed stars
is a straight-world line, and that the history of any
particle which moves in a straight line with respect to
the fixed stars, and with uniform velocity as judged
by clocks set by the method of light-signals described
in Part I, Chapter IV, is another straight world-line
inclined to the first. And the history of a wave of light
is the limiting kind of straight world-line which we can
take as a permissible time-direction. It is important
to notice that, although any one permissible reference-
482 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
frame for physical Space-Time is strictly analogous, on
the present theory, to an idealised sense-history, yet
we have to treat the two from rather different stand-
points. The temporal relations between events in the
sense-history are cognised directly by sense and
memory. Certain events are given simultaneously and
others are given in succession. Moreover, the sense-
history has an intrinsic unit of duration in the constant
sensible duration of all the successive Specious Presents.
In dealing with the physical world we have to set up
c?iteria for the simultaneity or succession of physical
events ; and it is not until we have done this that we
can say which physical events are to be put into the
same momentary space and which into different
momentary spaces of a given frame. Moreover, there
is no intrinsic standard of equality of physical duration,
and so we have to set up some criterion for equality
of time-lapse. Until we have done this, we cannot
decide whether the motion of a certain particle in the
timeless space of a certain frame is uniform or not.
And, until this has been decided, we cannot say whether
the history of this particle is or is not to be regarded as
a straight world-line, inclined to the time-direction of
the frame in question.
(/) The Difference between the Special and General
Tlieories of Relativity. — The traditional physics and the
special Theory of Relativity agree in making the geo-
chronometry of physical Space-Time Euclidean. Or,
to put it more accurately, the geo-chronometry of the
one permissible frame on the traditional theory is
Euclidean, and that of each of the many permissible
frames on the special Theory of Relativity is also
Euclidean. This amounts to saying that, on both
views, all straight world-lines are Euclidean straight
lines. This implies that the geometry of the one
timeless space of the traditional theory and of the
many timeless spaces of the special Theory of Relativity
is Euclidean.
SPACE-TIME 483
Now in both theories we have taken the history of
a particle which rests or moves relatively to the fixed
stars with a uniform rectilinear velocity, as judged by
properly adjusted clocks, to be a straight world-line.
Similarly, on both theories, we have taken the history
of a wave of light to be a straight world-line. But,
even on the traditional theory, it would have to be
admitted that the universality of gravitation prevents
the history of any actual particle from being an exactly
straight world-line, on this definition, if the geo-
chronometry of physical Space-Time be Euclidean.
For, however far a particle may be from the fixed stars
and from all other bodies, it is, even on traditional
views, subject to gravitational forces, though these may
be practically negligible. We have now to add to this
the newly discovered fact that light, and all other forms
of radiant energy, are themselves affected by gravita-
tional fields. Thus it turns out that, if the geo-
chronometry of physical Space-Time be Euclidean, it
must be admitted that the history of no particle or
process that we could possibly meet with is, in fact, a
straight world-line. Thus both the traditional physics
and the Special Theory of Relativity are in the odd
position of holding that the geo-chronometry of physical
Space-Time is Euclidean, and that therefore all straight
world-lines are Euclidean straight lines, and then
admitting that the history of no actual particle or
process is a Euclidean straight line. The universal
force of gravitation thus appears as a hypothesis to
account for this universal divergence. It must be
admitted that this hardly inspires confidence.
Now the Euclidean hypothesis is only one of three
possibilities ; the other two being the hyperbolic and
the elliptic, as described earlier in this chapter. These
three types of hypothesis agree in the important respect
that anv manifold which has either of these three
structures is homaloidal. This means roughly that the
structure of any finite region of the manifold will be
484 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
the same as that of any other, no matter where that
region be situated within the whole. It is only on these
three hypotheses that this is true. Obviously then, the
next step would be to suppose that the geo-chronometry
of physical Space-Time is not Euclidean, but is, never-
theless, homaloidal. We might then suppose that the
histories of actual particles and processes in gravi-
tational fields are straight world-lines, though these
are not Euclidean, but hyperbolic or elliptic, straight
lines. If this view of the structure of physical Space-
Time would account for all gravitational phenomena,
without our having to introduce gravitation ad hoc as
a special but universal force, it would obviously be
reasonable to adopt it.
Now we can deal with gravitational fields on such
a hypothesis, so long as we confine ourselves to
regions of physical Space-Time which are not occupied
by physical events. For here we are concerned with
regions for which the analogy to Laplace's equation
Wv d*v <^ = 0
dx2 d/2 ds*
holds. This analogy, as we saw in Part I, is the
vanishing of the Modified Riemann-Christoffel Tensor
throughout the region. But, when we are concerned
with regions occupied by physical events, we require
an analogy, not to Laplace's, but to Poisson's equation
d2v d'2v d2v _
where p is the density of the " filling " of the region.
Now the analogy to this is not the vanishing of the
Modified Tensor, but the equating of it to another
tensor, which expresses the " filling " of the region under
discussion. And we must remember that, under the
heading of " occupied regions" of physical Space-Time
we have to include not merely those which contain
matter in the ordinary sense of the word, but also those
SPACE-TIME 485
which contain only radiant energy of any kind, since
this also gravitates.
It is evident then, that if we want to explain gravi-
tational phenomena by reference to the spatio-temporal
structure of Nature, we cannot do this by ascribing a
homaloidal structure to physical Space-Time. We must
assign different values to the Modified Tensor for
different regions ; since some regions are physically
occupied and others are not, whilst of those which are
physically occupied, some are more densely filled than
others. The vanishing of the Unmodified Tensor, every-
where and everywhen, would imply that physical Space-
Time is homaloidal and Euclidean ; the vanishing of
the Modified Tensor only, everywhere and everywhen,
would imply that physical Space-Time is homaloidal,
though not Euclidean ; but, since it is certain that
neither of these alternatives is compatible with explain-
ing gravitational phenomena in terms of the structure
of physical Space-Time, any such theory must assume a
non-homaloidal structure for physical Space-Time. The
only property which remains common to all regions of
physical Space-Time is that the square of the spatio-
temporal separation of any pair of adjacent events is a
homogeneous quadratic function of the differences
between the values of their four corresponding co-
ordinates in any frame.
Now it does seem to me immensely important that
we should not slur over this last transition. The
passage from one to another view of the structure of
physical Space-Time, so long as this structure is assumed
still to be homaloidal, is of no particular philosophical
importance. But the jump from a homaloidal to a
non-homaloidal structure ought not to be taken lightly.
It does involve, so far as I can see, the definite abandon-
ment of a certain concept of Nature, which has so far
been universally held. This is, roughly speaking,
the concept of Space and Time as inert indifferent
"containers," distinguishable from the material which
,S.. SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
happens to occupy them. This view appears in a very
crude form in the Absolute theories of Space and Time.
But it survives, and can be restated, in the Relational
theories and in the Special Theory of Relativity. The
cash value of the distinction between physical Space-
Time and its contents is that the sum total of physical
events has a certain spatio-temporal structure which is
the same always and everywhere, and is independent
of qualitative differences between events. One region
of Space-Time is differentiated from another only by
qualitative differences in the filling of the two regions.
Now any such view vanishes altogether on the General
Theory of Relativity. It has been said that the Special
Theory broke down the distinction between Space and
Time, and that the General Theory broke down the
distinction between both and Matter. The first part of
the statement seems to me very loose, since the distinc-
tion between spatial and temporal isolation remains
for every observer. The Special Theory breaks down,
not the distinction, but the isolation of space and time.
But, in a very real sense, the general theory does break
down the distinction between Space-Time and events.
Now I do not make this an objection to the General
Theory. All theories are but ways of unifying the
observable facts under concepts ; and any theory that
succeeds in doing this is permissible. I only want the
reader to be quite clear that there is here a radically
new way of looking at Nature. I think it will always
be possible to unify the same facts by the more usual
scheme of a homaloidal Space-Time and suitable fields
of force. In so far as this fits in better with our
traditional way of looking at things, this is to be
preferred. But I should suppose that its advantages
are only temporary ; thai they will vanish as we become
more familiar with alternative concepts ; and that our
preference for homaloidal Space-Time,//^ material and
fields of force, has no greater ultimate significance than
our preference for beginning dinner with hors d'ceuvres
SPACE-TIME 487
and ending it with coffee over taking it in the opposite
order.
The following additional works may be consulted
with advantage :
A. N. Whitehead, Principles of Natural Knowledge,
Chaps. IX. to XIII.
,, Concept of Nature, Chaps. V. to IX.
,, Mathematical Concepts of the Material
World. (Proc. Roy. Soc, vol. 205.)
,, ,, The Principle of Relativity.*
H. Minkowski, Raum und Zeit.
H. Weyl, Space, Time, and Matter.
A. S. Eddington, Report on the Relativity Theory of
Gravitation.
,, ,, Space, Time, and Gravitation.
A. A. Robb, A Theory of Time and Space.
,, ,, Absolute Relations of Time and Space.
S. Alexander, Space, Time, and Deity, Bk. I.
B. Riemann, Ueber die Hypothesen welche der Geometrie zu
Grunde liegen.
D. M. Y. Sommerville, Non-Euclidean Geometry.
E. H. Neville, The Fourth Dimension.
* This most important work appeared while the present book was in the
press. Whitehead argues that Space-Time must be homaloidal ; and he
deduces the characteristic results of the General Theory of Relativity from
a modification of the traditional law of gravitation, and not from supposed
variations in the structure of different regions of Space-Time.
CHAPTER XIII
" . . . . quam scdcm Somnia vulgo
Vana tcncrc fcrunt, foliisque sub omnibus hacrent.
Multaque praeterea variarum monstra ferarum,
Centauri in foribus stabulant, Scyllaeque biformes,
Et centumgeminus Briareus, ac bellua Lernac
Horrendum stridens, flammisque armata Chimaera.
• ••■•• • *
Et ni docta comes tenues sine corpore vitas
Admonuit volitare cava sub imagine formae,
Trruat, et frustra ferro diverberet umbras."
(Virgil, Mneid, VI.)
The Physiological Conditions of Sensations, and the
Ontological Status of Sensa
At the end of Chapter VIII we said that the Critical
Scientific Theory of physical objects and our perception
of them left two main problems on hand. One was to
clear up the meanings of physical place, shape, size, date,
diiration, etc., and to establish their cash value in terms
of those corresponding characteristics of our sensa, on
which they must ultimately be founded. This task I
have performed to the best of my ability in the last
four chapters. The other problem was to elucidate the
very obscure statement that external physical objects
and our own bodies "jointly produce in us the sensa
by which these external bodies appear to us." Probably
any solution of this problem will be found to favour
(if not actually to require) some particular view as to
the nature of sensa and their ontological status in the
universe. So this book will fitly end with an attempt
to define the meaning and estimate the truth of the
above statement.
488
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 489
Almost every phrase in this statement bristles with
ambiguities. (1) The notion of "joint" production
will be found to be far from clear, and its possible
alternative meanings will have to be analysed. (2) We
shall have to raise the question whether the conditions
jointly produce sensations, or sensa, or both. (3) The
word "production" is highly ambiguous, even when
we have settled what we mean by "joint production."
It may mean a kind of creation out of nothing, or a
process of ordinary causation, or a process of selection
out of a mass of pre-existing material.
These questions are not, of course, independent of
each other. It is pretty certain that any answer that is
given to one of them will cut out certain answers to the
rest, and will favour certain other answers to them.
But we must start by treating each question separately,
and then try to view the results of our separate discus-
sions as a whole.
Without prejudice to the conclusions that we may
reach when we discuss question (2), we shall find it
best to start by saying that processes in external bodies
and in our own jointly condition sensations, rather than
that they jointly condition sensa. On our view a
sensation is a complex whole, in which an objective
factor (the sensum) and a subjective factor (the act of
sensing) can be distinguished. Whether either of these
can exist apart from the other we do not at present
either assert or deny. But this at least is certain ; all
the sensa of whose existence I am directly aware are
constituents of my sensations, and all the sensa of whose
existence other observers tell me are constituents of
their sensations. Hence any evidence that I may think
I have that certain physical and physiological processes
are necessary and sufficient to produce sensa is prima
facie evidence that they are necessary and sufficient to
produce sensations. It may be that they can only pro-
duce sensations by producing sensa, but this question
must be left aside for the present. So, to start with,
2 1
490 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
we shall talk about the production of sensations, and
shall leave it an open question whether this involves
the production of sensa.
The Notion of Joint Production. — I think that the
view of educated common-sense is that there are certain
events, very definitely localised in Time and Space,
which happen in my brain and are the necessary and
sufficient conditions of the occurrence of each of my
sensations. If I sense a practically uniform sense-object,
it is thought that there is a practically uniform process
in some part of my brain, which lasts as long as the
sensation, and is its necessary and sufficient condition.
Some, but not all, of these brain-events are supposed to
be due to external physical events, such as the striking
of bells, the lighting of matches, etc. Others are
supposed to be due to internal causes. It is held that,
even when a sensation is due to some external cause,
such as the striking of a bell, this is never a sufficient
condition. Something must be transmitted from the
external object to the sense-organ, and something must
be transmitted from the sense-organ to the brain.
Otherwise the brain-event, which is supposed to be the
necessary and sufficient condition of the occurrence of
the sensation, will not happen, and so the sensation
will not be produced. I propose first to introduce some
necessary technical terms for stating the common-sense
view ; then to clear up certain ambiguities in the
notion of necessary and sufficient conditions ; and
then to ask in what sense, if any, there is reason to
believe that certain definitely localised brain-events are
the necessary and sufficient conditions of each of my
sensations.
(a) Originative, Transmissive and Productive Conditions.
— On the ordinary view, the production of a sensation
by an external physical event requires the fulfilment of
at least three types of condition. Let us take the case
of hearing a certain stroke of a certain bell, (i) The
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 491
bell must be struck, or I shall not hear any sound
characteristic of it at the time. This may be called the
originative condition. (2) Unless there be air or some
other material medium between my body and the bell
I shall hear nothing, even though the bell be struck.
There are excellent reasons, some of which have been
mentioned in Chapter X, for holding that something
travels with a finite velocity from where the bell is,
through the medium, to my body. This may be called
an external transmissive condition for my sensation of
sound. (3) We have reason to think that, even though
the originative and the external transmissive conditions
for the occurrence of a sensation be fulfilled, no sensa-
tion will happen unless a certain nerve be intact,
leading from the sense-organ to the brain. And it is
generally held that the process in the nerve is trans-
missive in character. The evidence for this is fairly
good, (a) If the nerve be cut at any point, no sensation
of the kind will henceforth be experienced. Its integrity
is therefore a necessary condition. (/3) It is possible to
note the time when an external stimulus acts on a sense-
organ, and to get the patient to press a button as soon
as he can after getting the sensation. If this button
stops a clock, and the clock be delicate enough, there
will always be a lapse of time between the two events.
This, of course, does not conclusively prove that there is
any lapse of time between the reception of the stimulus
and the occurrence of the sensation, since the observed
lapse might simply be the time between having the
sensation and pressing the button. We have direct
experimental evidence that a process, which takes time,
travels along motor-nerves to muscles. So far as I am
aware, we have no direct experimental evidence that
a process which takes time travels up a sensory nerve
from the stimulated organ to the brain. Still, it is
reasonable to suppose that this is so, and it is in fact
always assumed. On this assumption, we may say
that there is an internal transmissive conditio)i which is
492 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
necessary if I am to have here and now a sensation of
the sound characteristic of this bell.
A transmissive condition might be defined as follows :
It is a process which is practically uniform in character,
and is immanent. This means that it is divisible into
successive slices which are qualitatively very much
alike. They differ only in date and place, and the
nearer they are together in date the nearer they are
together in place. And the character of each slice is
the necessary and sufficient condition of the character
of the next slice.
(4) Now, at a certain stage, viz., when the process
has reached a certain part of the brain, it is supposed
that a transeunt causal relation supervenes. This means
that there is a certain brain-event, which is continuous
with the immanent process, and is the necessary and
sufficient condition of an event of an entirely different
kind, belonging to a different "substance" or strand of
history. This event is a sensation, which is, of course,
an event belonging to that substance or strand of
history which we call the observer's mind. Even if
the transmissive process in the body should continue
beyond the point at which the sensation occurs (as it no
doubt does when the sensation is followed by a motor-
reaction), we should say that the sensation belonged to
an entirely different series from the later events in the
transmissive process in the body. If the internal trans-
missive process ends up in the brain, we say that a
certain slice, which ends it, is the productive condition of
the sensation. If the internal transmissive process
continues after the sensation has been produced, we
must say that the productive condition of the sensation
is a certain intermediate slice of this process.
It seems to be commonly supposed that the slice of
the internal transmissive process which is the productive
condition of the sensation must be extremely thin in time,
i.e., that it cannot stretch back from the date at which
the sensation begins for any appreciable time. We shall
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 493
see in the next sub-section that this belief is based on
tacit assumptions, which are far from self-evident and
cannot be proved.
It is held that all sensations have originative and
productive conditions, even though the sensation be
"hallucinatory." If I "see stars," this sensation is
presumably due to a certain brain-event, which is its
productive condition. If this event can be traced to
changes of blood-pressure in my eyes or to something
happening in my liver, these would count as originative
conditions. Whether all sensations have transmissive
conditions is uncertain. It is certain that most of them
have, and probably the difference between those which
obviously do, and those which apparently do not, is a
difference of degree rather than one of kind. It is
perfectly obvious that an ordinary sensation of light or
of sound has a long train of transmissive conditions,
both external and internal. It is fairly clear that a
sensation of itching in the finger, or of stomach-ache,
has internal, though not external, transmissive condi-
tions. But, if an auditory or visual experience were
started by a change of blood-pressure in a part of the
brain immediately adjacent to that in which the pro-
ductive conditions of such experiences are localised,
the transmissive process would be so short as to be
evanescent. Still, we are probably justified in saying
that the vast majority of sensations have originative,
transmissive, and productive conditions.
We must next notice (a) that some kinds of sensa-
tions have only internal originative (and therefore internal
transmissive) conditions. These are the sensations con-
nected with our somatic sense-histories, such as feelings
of headache, stomach-ache, etc., and kinesthetic sensa-
tions. It is a well-known fact that the places of somatic
sensa in their fields are not always a safe guide to the
places of their originative conditions in physical space.
A toothache occupies a certain sensible place in the
total somatic field of the moment, and it may go on
494 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
occupying similar places in successive somatic fields.
These somatic places will be correlated, through past
experience, with certain places in the movement-con-
tinuum, which are optically occupied by the visual
appearances of my tooth and physically occupied by
certain scientific events which dentists profess to know
about. As a general rule the part of my body which
thus corresponds to a given sensible place in my somatic
fields is the seat of those scientific events which originate
the somatic sensum which occupies this sensible place.
E.g. , if a feeling- of toothache be located in a certain
sensible place in my somatic field, my dentist will
generally find something wrong with the particular tooth
which I point out to him as occupying the physical place
correlated with this sensible place. Sometimes, how-
ever, he will find that nothing relevant is happening in
this tooth, but that the originative conditions of my
toothache are located in a part of physical space which
is correlated with a quite different part of my somatic
field from that in which the feeling of toothache is
located.
(/3) Another important fact is that, although experi-
ences of a certain kind may generally have external
originative (and therefore partly external transmissive)
conditions, yet experiences of the same general character
may sometimes be originated by purely internal condi-
tions. This is best illustrated by experiences of the
visual type. Generally these are originated by some
external luminous body, which starts waves that travel
to the eye and there set up a disturbance which travels
up the optic nerve to the brain. But in dreams we have
perfectly distinct visual experiences, very much like
those of waking life, although our eyes are shut and
we may be in a perfectly dark room. Again, visual
images are rather like visual sensa ; and we can
apprehend them best in the dark and with our eyes shut.
Thus it is evident that the originative conditions for
experiences of the visual type need not be external to
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 495
the body in every case. It is worth noticing that here
presumably the internal originative conditions are ex-
tremely unlike the normal external originative condi-
tions. The inside of the body is quite dark ; so that,
whatever be the internal conditions which originate the
visual experiences of dreams, they must be extremely
different from the luminous events which are the origi-
native conditions of normal visual sensations.
I think that visual experiences provide the only
perfectly clear case where very similar experiences are
originated sometimes from without and sometimes from
within, and where the two kinds of originative condition
are extremely different in character. If we take auditory
experiences, the facts are much less certain. It is quite
true that I have auditory experiences in dreams, and
that these are very much like those of waking life,
which are originated by events outside my body. It
is also true that many people can apprehend auditory
images, and that these are a good deal like auditory
sensa. So far, the facts about auditory experiences
resemble those mentioned above about visual experi-
ences. But now we have to notice two important
differences : (i) It is much harder to be sure that the
auditory experiences of dreams are not originated
externally than to be sure that the visual experiences
of dreams are not thus originated. Rooms are dark
and our eyes are shut when we are asleep. But we
cannot shut our ears, and few rooms are wholly free
from those physical events which would suffice to
originate auditory experiences in a waking man. It is
therefore uncertain whether the auditory experiences
of dreams be not originated externally.
(ii) As I have said above, our bodies are dark inside,
i.e., there are no physical events in them of a kind which
would suffice to originate normal visual sensations in a
waking man. But it cannot be said that our bodies are
silent inside. All sorts of processes are going on in them,
which would be quite capable of producing, in a mild
496 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
form, vibrations of the kind which strike a waking man's
ears when he hears an externally originated sound.
Moreover, our bones are capable of transmitting sound-
waves just as well as air or any other material medium.
Thus, even if there be auditory experiences which are
originated internally, it cannot be confidently asserted
that their originating conditions are different in kind
from those of externally originated auditory sensations.
E.g., " head-noises " may quite well be noises of perfectly
normal origin, which are heard by the sufferer and not
by others, simply because his brain is nearer to and
better connected with their originative conditions than
the brain of anyone else can be. Thus we are reduced
to the apprehension of auditory images, as the one clear
example of auditory experiences whose originative con-
ditions are almost certainly internal and almost certainly
different in character from the external originative con-
ditions of normal auditory sensations. I am indeed
prepared to believe that some of the auditory experiences
of dreams and disease probably do originate internally,
and trom events which are not like ordinary sound-
vibrations ; but I take this view, rather on the ground
of analogy with visual experiences, than on account of
any purely auditory phenomena known to me.
(y) The question might be raised whether there be
any type of sensible experience which is always originated
by external conditions. I should not care to assert
anything so sweeping ; but I think it may be said that
tactual experiences have a fair claim to this position.
Tactual experiences are far less common in dreams than
are visual or auditory experiences. Tactual images are
extremely rare. If they exist at all, I certainly do not
apprehend them myself, and I have not met anyone else
who admitted doing so. Moreover, it is quite impossible
to prove that such "hallucinatory" tactual experiences
as there are, do not originate through actual contact
between the skin and other bodies. For it is certain
that throughout the whole of our waking and sleeping
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 497
life parts of our skin are in contact with other bodies.
Again, there must always be contact between various
parts of our internal organs ; and between some of these
and the blood, undigested food, and so on. Thus, I
think it would be very difficult to show even that any
tactual experience was not originated by contact with
external objects, and impossible to show that such
experiences are ever originated except by contact of
some kind, either internal or external. This is doubtless
why most of us agree with the Apostle Thomas, who
thought that touch was the best test for distinguishing
normal from hallucinatory perceptions.
The theoretical importance of the points which we
have just been raising will be seen in a later sub-
section, where we shall consider how far we are justified
in holding that certain brain-events are sufficient con-
ditions of every sensation. Before ending the present
sub-section we must discuss one point about originative
and transmissive conditions. It is fairly obvious what
part of the whole process is to be taken as the productive
condition of a sensation. At least it is obvious where
it ends ; for it ends where the sensation begins. Exactly
how far back it stretches from this date is less de-
terminate, and will need further discussion later on.
But it is much less clear what stage in the long process,
which ends up with a certain sensation, ought to be
taken as the originative condition of that sensation. Let
us return for a moment to the example of the striking
bell. We took the stroke of the bell as the originative
condition of the auditory sensation. But it mi-ght fairly
be asked whether we should not have had just as good
reasons for taking an earlier or a later stage in the total
process as the originative condition. Whenever the
process passes from one substance to another of a
different kind, and changes sharply in character, there
is an outstanding slice of it which might plausibly be
taken as the originative condition. Now one such point
is where and when the transmissive process of sound-
4<)8 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
waves in the air ends and the transmissive process of
nervous disturbance in the auditory nerve begins. Why
should we not take a terminal slice of the external
transmissive process as the originative condition of the
sensation? Again, the process, of which one stage is
the stroke of the bell, does not begin at that stage.
Probably a man struck the bell ; a contraction in his
muscles caused the blow ; a nervous current in a motor-
nerve caused the contraction ; and so on to infinity.
Why should we not take one of the innumerable stages
which precede the stroke as the originative condition
of the sensation ?
To these questions I answer (i) that we do recognise
the last stage of the external transmissive process as
important, and do mark it out by the special name of
stimulus. For the physiologist and the physiological
psychologist this is the earliest outstanding part of the
total process which is of special importance. (2) The
importance of the stage which immediately precedes
the external transmissive process arises from its common
relation to a number of different observers. If there be
a number of observers listening to the same bell, there
are as many different external and internal transmissive
conditions, stimuli, and productive conditions, as there
are observers. But all these different processes diverge
from a common centre in Space-Time, and at this centre
is located the physical event which is taken to be the
common originative condition of all these very similar
auditory sensations. (3) We can see how closely the
notion of originative conditions is bound up with the
fact of common optical and other centres for the corre-
sponding sensa of different observers, by noting how
difficult it becomes to apply this notion where the sensa
of different observers are not correlated in this way.
For instance, when we see a mirror-image we are
doubtful what we ought to regard as the originative
conditions of our visual sensations. The mirror-image
is a partial optical object, and there is a certain place
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 499
behind the mirror which is optically occupied from
many, though not from all, directions by sensa belong-
ing to this object. A child or a cat might be inclined
to suppose that this place is physically occupied by
those events which are the common originative con-
ditions of all the sensations whose sensa together make
up the optical object. But the incompleteness of such
optical objects prevents a grown man, even if he be
ignorant of physics, from locating the originative con-
ditions of his sensation in the optical place of these
objects. We are left with the choice of events in the
mirror or events in the reflected physical object, as the
originative conditions of such sensations ; and, which-
ever choice we make, we have to admit that the place
which is optically occupied by our visual sensa and the
place which is physically occupied by the originative
conditions of our sensations are widely separated. If
we say that the events in the mirror are the originative
conditions of our sensation, we must remember that
they will not originate similar sensations in observers
in all directions, as the normal originative conditions
of visual sensa do. If we say that the events in the
reflected physical object are the originative conditions
of our sensation, we must remember that, unless men-
tion be made of the mirror as well, we cannot account
either for the peculiar optical place or for the peculiar
" inversion " of the image-sensa.
(fr) Dependently and Independently Necessary Conditions.
— As I have said, it is commonly held that certain
brain-events are the necessary and sufficient conditions
of the occurrence of all our different sensations. We
have now to clear up the notion of "necessary and
sufficient conditions," and to see in what sense, if any,
it is true that brain-events are the necessary and
sufficient conditions of all our sensations. A number
of conditions a, b, and c, are said to be severally
necessary and jointly sufficient to produce an event x,
if (1) whenever they are all present .r happens, and (2)
500 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
whenever they are not all present x does not happen.
It is obviously much easier to be sure that a, b, and care
severally necessary than that they are jointly sufficient
to produce x. If we can omit in turn a, b, and c, and
find that x does not happen, we can be sure that each of
these conditions is necessary. But it is far from safe
to assume that, because abc has always been followed
in our experience by x, therefore these conditions are
jointly sufficient to produce x. It is never really
possible to get abc in complete isolation from the rest
of the world, and there may have been some fourth
factor d, which was, in fact, present in all the cases that
fell under our notice and was necessary for the pro-
duction of x. Statements that such and such conditions
are jointly sufficient to produce a certain result should
therefore always be viewed with suspicion.
If abc be sufficient to produce x, it follows that no
other factor (unless it be simply a constituent of one of
the factors a, b, or c, or a combination of them, such as
ab), can strictly be necessary to produce x. For to say
that abc is sufficient to produce ,r, is to say that whenever
abc happens x follows. Hence both abed and abed will
be followed by x, whatever d may be.* And if x follows
in the absence of d, as it does in the case abed, d cannot
be necessary for the occurrence of x. If then a certain
brain-event be really sufficient to produce a certain
sensation (say that of the sound characteristic of a
certain bell), the existence of the bell and the air, and
the occurrence of a stroke on the bell, and so on, cannot
be strictly necessary to produce this sensation. Yet we
should commonly say that the striking of the bell, and
the other conditions which we have enumerated, are
necessary, if that particular noise is to be sensed at
that particular time. Our ground for this statement is
that we believe that no such sensation would have
happened then, if no bell had existed, and if it had not
been struck shortly before.
* Here " d" simply stands for " the absence of d."
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 501
It is clear from this that we use the word " necessary "
in two different senses. In one of them, nothing can
be necessary to produce an event unless it be contained
in the smallest set of conditions which will jointly
suffice to produce the event. In the other, many factors
which are not contained in the smallest set of conditions
which will jointly suffice to produce an event are yet
said to be necessary for its production. We must, in
fact, distinguish between independently and dependently
necessary conditions. If a certain brain-event be really
sufficient to produce the sensation of the sound of a
certain bell, then the striking of the bell, the disturbance
of the air, and so on, are only dependently necessary
to the production of this sensation. That is, they are
necessary to produce the sensation only in so far as
they are necessary to produce the whole, or some part
of, that brain-event which is sufficient to produce the
sensation. We may say in general that a is a depend-
ently necessary condition of the event jt, if a be necessary
to produce the whole, or some part of, the conditions
which are independently necessary and jointly sufficient
to produce x.
Now a very important question at once arises.
Can a certain event a be both dependently and independ-
ently necessary to produce x? I think that this would
commonly be denied ; but we shall see in a moment
that it can only be denied on the basis of certain
assumptions about causation, which have very little
plausibility when they are explicitly stated. What
would it mean to say that a is both dependently and
independently necessary to produce x? It would mean
that a, b, and c (say) were all needed to produce x, and
that they are all that is needed, but that a plays two
parts. It produces b (say). And it co-operates with b and
c to produce x. Supposing it to be possible that a should
play both parts, and supposing it to be certain that a is
dependently necessary, then it would always be impossible
to know that a is not also independently necessary to
502 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
produce x. For, if a be dependently necessary to
produce x, there is some factor b in the necessary and
sufficient conditions of x, which cannot occur unless a
has preceded. Since b never does occur without a
preceding, we cannot, possibly know whether /; does not
need the co-operation of a in order to produce x, unless
we have some positive reason for holding that a
dependently necessary condition of an event cannot
also be an independently necessary condition of it.
Let us apply this abstract logical argument to the
concrete case of the auditory sensation of the noise of a
i^rD*1 bell. If the brain-event which produces this sensation
fr'*^ could not occur unless the bell had rung a little earlier,
*k we cannot be sure that the brain-event is by itself a
sufficient condition of this sensation, unless we are sure
that a dependently necessary condition cannot also be
an independently necessary condition of the same event.
If the brain-event never happens without the bell-event
preceding, we cannot possibly know that the brain-
event, without the co-operation of the bell-event, would
suffice to produce the auditory sensation, unless we
have some a priori ground for this belief. For the only
conclusive empirical ground for such a belief would be
to get the brain-event without the bell-event, and to
find that the sensation still followed. But, ex hypothesis
we cannot get just this kind of brain-event without a
bell-event preceding, and therefore this empirical argu-
ment cannot be used. Conversely, of course, we cannot
be sure that the bell-event is independently as well
as dependently necessary for the production of the
sensation.
Now, is there any a priori argument against the
possibility of a certain condition a being at once
dependently and independently necessary to produce a
certain event x? I know of one and only one way in
which such a possibility could be refuted. If it be held
that all the independently necessary conditions of an
event must be contemporary with each other, it will
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 503
follow that the same factor cannot be both independently
and dependently necessary to produce a certain event.
For the dependently necessary condition will precede
that one of the independently necessary conditions
Which it produces. Consequently it could not itself be
an independently necessary condition, if these have all
to be simultaneous with each other.
But I cannot accept the premise of this argument.
(1) It does not seem to me to have the slightest trace
of self-evidence. I think there is something to be said
for the proposition that cause and effect must be
continuous with each other in time, and that the
complete cause must itself be a continuous process in
time. This, however, is quite compatible with a and
b being successive, and yet both of them being inde-
pendently necessary conditions of x. Suppose that the
end of b is simultaneous with the beginning of x, and
that the end of a is separated by a lapse of time from the
beginning of b. Then the principle of the temporal
continuity of causation would only show that the com-
plete cause of x consists, not merely of a and b, but also
of some process which bridges the gap between the
.wo. It has no tendency to show that b is the complete
cause of x, and that a is only dependently necessary.
(2) Apart from the lack of self-evidence in the
principle that all the independently necessary conditions
of an event must be simultaneous, there is a serious
positive objection to it. We have seen that no two
events are intrinsically simultaneous, unless they also
have no spatial separation. Events which are separated
in the timeless space of one permissible frame, and
are simultaneous with respect to that frame, will be
temporally separated with respect to any other frame
which moves in the timeless space of the first. Thus
the principle would presumably have to be stated in
the much milder form that the independently necessary
conditions of an event must not be intrinsically separated
in time, i.e., that there is at least one permissible frame
5o4 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
with respect to which they are all simultaneous. But,
when it thus loses its original sweet simplicity, it seems
to lose any trace of self-evidence which it may have
had before.
(3) Lastly, it seems to me almost certain that the
sufficient productive conditions of many sensations could
not be momentary, and, therefore, must include non-
simultaneous factors. I do not merely mean by this
that " momentary " conditions are not existent facts and
can only be defined by Extensive Abstraction. I mean
that, if you tried to apply Extensive Abstraction to the
conditions of many sensations you would find that these
do not converge to a set of contemporary momentary
states. It is practically certain, e.g., that the external
originative and transmissive conditions of sensations
of light and sound are periodic, and it is reasonable to
suppose that the subsequent internal processes in nerves
and brain are periodic too. There is a very accurate
correlation between the colour or pitch of the sensum and
the period of the external originative and transmissive
events. Now it is impossible that the characteristic
periodicity of red light, or of a certain note on the piano,
should be carried by a purely momentary brain-event.
Presumably the brain-event, which is the productive
condition of even the shortest sensation of red, must last,
at least as long as one complete vibration of red light.
Or, if we prefer to express ourselves more guardedly,
we must, at least, hold that the productive conditions of
the shortest possible sensations of (say) red and blue
must both have characteristic finite durations, and that
these durations must have to each other the same ratio
as the periods of a complete vibration of red light, and
a complete vibration of blue light. If the productive
conditions have durations, they must have non-simul-
taneous parts. And, if the whole finite event be the
least that is sufficient to produce the sensation, all its
successive parts must be independently necessary to
produce the sensation. If, further, the event in question
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 505
be transmissive in character (if, e.g., it be the passage of
some kind of disturbance through a finite tract of brain
and nerve) the earlier parts of it will also be dependently
necessary conditions of the sensation, since the later
parts will not happen unless the earlier ones happen and
produce them.
The upshot of this discussion seems to be that we
cannot prove by any direct empirical argument that any
condition which is dependently necessary to produce
a sensation is not also an independently necessary
condition of it. And we cannot prove a priori that
dependently necessary conditions cannot also be inde-
pendently necessary, except from a premise which is
not self-evident, is of very uncertain meaning when the
relativity of physical simultaneity is considered, and is
almost certainly false as applied to the productive con-
ditions of some of our most important sensations. It
follows that it is rash in the extreme to expect to be
able, even in theory, to isolate a momentary event at
a definite place in the brain, and to say : "This is the
necessary and sufficient condition of such and such a
sensation." We cannot be absolutely certain that even
such remote dependently necessary conditions as the
stroke of the bell are not also independently necessary
conditions of our sensation of the sound which is
characteristic of the bell. And we can feel fairly
confident that at least the later stages of the internal
transmissive conditions of a sensation are independ-
ently as well as dependently necessary conditions
of its occurrence. To put it shortly : The productive
conditions of a sensation almost certainly include the
later stages of its internal transmissive conditions ; and,
for all that we can certainly know, they might include
the external transmissive and the originative conditions
as independently necessary factors.
I think it is possible to produce a more or less
plausible indirect empirical argument, which renders it
probable that the independently necessary conditions of
2 K
506 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
some at least of our sensations do not extend so far
back as the external transmissive or the originative
conditions. But it is only an argument from analogy,
and, as we shall see, the analogy is none too good.
The argument would run as follows : Although the
particular sensation s would not have arisen when it
did, unless certain external originative and transmissive
conditions had been fulfilled, there are sensible experi-
ences s', very much like s, which happen {e.g., in
dreams) when there is good reason to believe that no
such external originative or transmissive processes are
operating. If so, internal conditions are sufficient to
produce /. And the analogy between s' and s may
suggest that purely internal conditions are sufficient
to produce s, though these cannot, in fact, arise unless
certain external conditions be first fulfilled. If this
be so, the external conditions are only dependently
necessary for the production of s. To take a concrete
example. Although I should not have sensed a certain
flash at a certain moment unless someone had struck
a match very shortly before in my neighbourhood, yet
I do have visual experiences very much like this sensa-
tion in dreams. The latter must have been produced
by purely internal conditions. Hence purely internal
conditions are sufficient to produce experiences very
much like this particular sensation. Therefore probably
the sufficient conditions of all visual experiences are
internal ; and the external conditions, which are necessary
for the production of many such sensations, are only
dependently necessary. That is, the striking of the
match is necessary only for producing the internal
process which is the sufficient condition for the sensation
of the flash ; it is not also necessary as a condition which
co-operates with the later stages of this process.
It is evident that such an argument could never
establish more than a probability that external events
are not independently necessary conditions of those
sensations to which they are dependently necessary.
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 507
The strength of the argument in any particular case
will depend on two factors, viz.: (1) the degree of analogy
between the experiences /, which are alleged to be
originated wholly from within the body, and the
sensations s, which are externally originated ; and (2)
the degree of certainty with which it can be asserted
that the experiences s' are originated altogether inter-
nally. When the experiences s' are apprehensions of so-
called " mental " images I should not deem the analogy
strong enough to bear any great weight of argument.
For, although visual and auditory images are a good
deal like visual and auditory sensa respectively, yet
there are such marked differences between them that
we hardly ever mistake one for the other in normal
waking life. I should be inclined to say that only the
experiences of dreams, and other forms of hallucination,
bear enough likeness to auditory and visual sensations
to support an argument such as I have outlined above.
Now, in the last sub-section we saw that it is by no
means certain that auditory experiences (other than
images) are ever originated save by external physical
events or by internal events of precisely the same
character. It is therefore doubtful whether there be
any facts about auditory experiences which the present
argument could use as premises. With tactual ex-
periences, as we saw, the position is still less favourable.
In fact, it is only with visual experiences that there is
really good evidence that something very much like
normal sensations can be originated by events which
are wholly internal and are quite unlike the external
originative conditions of the normal sensations. Thus
Ave can argue with a fairly high degree of probability
that the sufficient conditions of visual sensations are
internal, and that the external originative and trans-
missive conditions are only dependently necessary ; but,
for auditory and tactual sensations, a similar argument
leads to only a weak probability.
It must be remembered, on the other hand, that it
5o8 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
is equally impossible to prove (what the nai'ver Realists
would like to believe) that the external originative con-
ditions of our sensations are independently, as well as
dependently, necessary conditions for the occurrence of
these sensations. Thus, so far as I can see, empirical
facts and a priori principles about causation justify little
more than complete agnosticism on this subject. There
is, therefore, an almost open field for different hypotheses,
each carrying the independently necessary conditions
backwards in Time and Space by different amounts.
Each will lead to a somewhat different theory as to
what is involved in the perception of external physical
objects and events, and the hypothesis which leads to
the theory of perception which best unifies all the
known facts is the one to be preferred.
Within the body I know of no means of setting even
probable limits to the distance backwards in Space and
Time to which the independently necessary conditions
of a sensation may stretch. It may be that the events
in the brain are sufficient, and that the process in the
sensory nerve is merely transmissive. On the other
hand, it is equally likely, so far as I can see, that the
process in the nerve is an independently necessary, as
well as a transmissive condition, for the occurrence of
the sensation. The former alternative appears to be
unhesitatingly taken by physiologists, and accepted, on
their authority, by the general public. But this con-
viction rests on no stronger basis than a failure to draw
certain distinctions among " necessary conditions," and
a simple faith in certain dogmas about causation which
will not bear the light of common day.
I will end this sub-section by considering a rather
confused semi-popular argument, which tries to raise
doubts about the existence of external objects and events,
on the ground of physiological theories about the
conditions of our sensations. I will call this position
Physiological Scepticism. The argument would run some-
what as follows. " My only ground for believing in
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 509
the existence of external physical objects is the occur-
rence of certain sensations which I ascribe to them. But
physiology proves that states of my body are siifficient
conditions of all my sensations. Hence I have no right
to conclude from the occurrence of sensations to the
existence of external physical objects and processes, as
their originative conditions." To this we may answer :
(1) That, even if internal processes be sufficient condi-
tions of our sensations, we do not know and have no
reason to believe, that these internal processes would
take place unless certain external events were happening
and affecting our bodies. Thus we may still argue to
the existence of such external objects, as, at least, the
dependently necessary conditions of many of our sensa-
tions. Moreover, the resemblance between many of the
sensa which I sense and those which are sensed by
other observers, the fact that visual sensa from different
observers' sense-histories are in the same optical place,
and the somewhat similar facts about auditory sensa,
suggest strongly that there is often a remote external
physical event, which is located in this place, and is
a common dependently necessary condition of all these
correlated sensations. (2) We have seen that it is im-
possible to be sure that these dependently necessary
external conditions are not also independently necessary.
It is, therefore, quite uncertain whether internal pro-
cesses ai'e sufficient conditions of all my sensations. If
this be held at all, it can only validly be held as a
probability based on certain partial analogies. (3) It
is perhaps worth while to point out that Physiological
Scepticism cannot consistently stop at the stage of
doubting the existence of external physical objects. If
such arguments be valid at all, they must finally be
applied to one's own body and its supposed internal
structure. All that anyone knows about the physiology
and internal anatomy of his own body he has learnt by
studying and dissecting other organised bodies. Now,
for each observer, these are simply external physical
510 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
objects, of whose existence and inner structure he learns
by sensations of sight and touch. If then he is forced to
be wholly sceptical about external physical objects, he
ought, if he wants to be consistent, to be equally sceptical
about all statements which imply the existence of a per-
manent inner structure and variable states of his own
body. The conclusion of Physiological Scepticism blows
up its own premises, and the only consistent result is
complete scepticism about all physical objects and pro-
cesses, including those with which physiology professes
to deal. Physiologists with a tendency to philosophical
speculation are liable to combine Naive Realism about
the purely hypothetical states of their brains with Sub-
jective Idealism about all other physical objects, includ-
ing those which they have had to study in order to learn
about their own brains. To parody Mr Gibbon's re-
mark about the Jews : " In contradiction to every known
principle of the human mind this singular people seems
to have yielded a stronger and more ready assent to"
the hypothetical entities of their science "than to the
evidence of their own senses."
(c) Occurrent and Continuant Conditions. — In the last
sub-section I brought forward certain abstract logical
considerations to show that it is impossible to tell how
far the series of independently necessary conditions of
a sensation must be carried in Space and Time. But,
quite apart from these considerations, it is practically
certain that no event in the brain is a completely sufficient
condition for the occurrence of any sensation. Every
event depends on two kinds of conditions, which
we may call occurrent and continuant, borrowing two
useful names from Mr W. E. Johnson. We are
always very liable to notice the occurrent and to
ignore the continuant conditions, and then to think
that the former are sufficient to produce the event.
It would commonly be said that the stroke of a bell is
a necessary and sufficient condition of the occurrence
of certain vibrations in the surrounding medium. So it
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 511
is, provided that there is a material medium in contact with
the bell, and that it is capable of being set in vibration
by a disturbance of this particular period. It is evident
that the latter condition is as necessary for the setting
up of vibrations as the former. But the striking of the
bell is a short outstanding event in that long and fairly
uniform strand of history which is the bell ; whilst the
medium and its structure existed before the bell was
struck, and will exist with very little change for long
afterwards. Moreover, in our experience, bells are much
more often than not surrounded with such a medium.
The medium is thus such an unexciting and such a
usual piece of physical history that we hardly think it
worth mentioning. Now I should call the striking of
the bell an occurrent condition, and the existence of a
surrounding medium of suitable structure a continuant
condition, of the setting up of the vibrations. Both are
necessary, and neither by itself is sufficient. Together
they are sufficient. We can, if we like, call the striking
of the bell the necessary and sufficient occurrent condition of
the vibrations, but we must on no account call it the
necessary and sufficient condition without qualification.
I do not pretend that an absolutely hard and fast
line can be drawn between occurrent and continuant
conditions. An occurrent condition is a short out-
standing slice in some long strand of physical history,
which is fairly uniform up to this slice and again shows
uniformity, often of the same kind as before, after the
slice. A continuant condition is a long and practically
uniform strand, which stretches out with little varia-
tion before, during, and after the occurrent condition.
Obviously terms like "short," "outstanding," "uni-
form," etc., are relative. But, for our purpose, all
that we need to notice is that some of the conditions
of an event are always of the continuant type, and that
the more a condition is of the continuant type the more
likely it is to be overlooked.
Let us now apply these general considerations to
512 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
the necessary and sufficient conditions of our sensations.
When a stimulus, which normally produces a certain
kind of sensation, acts on a sense-organ, such as the
eye or ear, no sensation will be produced unless the
nerve be intact and the general structure of the brain
be not disintegrated beyond a certain very small degree.
Again, the structure of the sense-organ, sensory nerve,
and brain may (so far as we know) be intact, and yet
no sensation will be produced if the man be dead. If
he be alive, but asleep or in a swoon or under the
influence of a drug, the stimulus may also fail to produce
a sensation in his mind. Again, there are such pheno-
mena as " psychic" blindness, deafness, etc., which
happen spontaneously in hysteria, and can be induced
artificially by hypnosis. Here there is no reason whatever
to suppose that there is any defect in the structure of
sense-organs, nerves, or brain —indeed there is evidence
to the contrary— and yet the external stimulus is not
followed by any correlated sensation in the conscious
mind of the patient. Lastly, we have seen in an earlier
chapter that similar external stimuli will often produce
in different observers sensations whose sensa are partly
different in quality, and that these differences can be
correlated with differences in the past histories of the
observers.
It is evident then that one general continuant con-
dition for the production of sensations is that the sense-
organ and the nerve which are specially concerned,
and at least a considerable part of the brain, shall be
structurally intact. Given this condition, it is also
necessary that the body shall be "alive." This is
probably a distinct condition from the one just men-
tioned. Although the structure of the brain and nervous
system does not remain intact for very long after the
death of the body, it would be rash to say that it dis-
integrates profoundly immediately after death. Motor
nerves can certainly be kept alive for some considerable
time after the death of the body. I should suppose that
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 513
"being alive" involves at least the maintenance of a
certain moving equilibrium among bodily changes. We
might therefore call it the general somatic occurrent con-
dition of sensations. I suppose that "being awake"
or " being conscious " involves at least a certain moving
equilibrium among processes in the brain. This might
therefore be called the general cerebral occurrent condition
of sensations. Since a man can be alive without being
awake, though he cannot be awake without being alive,
there is a partial dependence and partial independence
between these two sets of conditions.
The bodily conditions on which psychic blindness or
deafness depend, if such there be, are quite unknown to
us. It seems to me theoretically possible that the
conditions of such phenomena are wholly psychic, and
have no bodily correlates at all. Whatever view we
may take on this point, we can at least say that they
are special, and not simply general conditions, such as we
have so far been describing. A patient is not, as a rule,
psychically blind to all lights or psychically deaf to all
noises. Most usually he is blind or deaf only to those
which have some special association for him, or to those
about which suitable suggestions have been made to
him by himself or by others. We may reasonably
suppose that psychic blindness or deafness, if it have a
bodily correlate at all, depends on certain disconnexions
between the particular nervous process which would
normally give rise to the sensation, and the rest of the
brain. Thus the condition that we shall not be psychi-
cally blind or deaf when a certain stimulus acts on us
may be called a special connective condition for the occur-
rence of the sensation. As it is a condition which
usually holds, unless there be special causes to disturb
it, it should presumably be counted as continuant rather
than occurrent. Lastly, when the quality of the sensum
partly depends on the past experiences of the observer,
we may say (borrowing a useful expression from Mr
Russell) that the sensation has mnemic conditions. (By
514 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
using this phrase I do not imply either the acceptance
or the rejection of that peculiar kind of causation which
Mr Russell calls " mnemic causation.") On the ordinary
view that past experiences leave traces which persist,
and that it is these which condition our present sensa-
tions, I suppose that mnemic conditions would be partly
continuant and partly occurrent. The trace, having
become part of the permanent structure of the nervous
system, would be a continuant condition. The con-
nexions between this trace and other parts of the brain,
which have been formed by association, will also be
continuant connective conditions. But the excitement
of this particular trace, when a certain part of the brain
is excited by some external stimulus, is a special
occurrent condition.
All the conditions which I have just been enumerating
must be fulfilled if a certain stimulus is to be followed
by a characteristic sensation at a given moment. The
mnemic conditions may, in a sense, be called "less
necessary " than the others, since (a) there are probably
some sensations in whose production they play little
if any part ; and (/3) even if they be necessary to produce
a certain sensation at a certain moment, it is probable
that a rather similar sensation would be produced with-
out them, provided that all the other conditions were
fulfilled. On the other hand, if any of the other con-
ditions be not fulfilled, no sensation at all will be
produced in the conscious mind * of the observer.
The question can now be raised as to which of these
conditions are only dependently necessary, and which
are also independently necessary, for the production of
a sensation. The structural integrity of a special nerve,
* I use the expression "conscious mind" here, because I think that it is
theoretically possible that sensations may be produced in connexion with a
certain brain and nervous system, which do not form parts of that mind which
normally manifests itself through this organism. Such sensations (if they
exist at all) might not form parts of anything that deserves to be called a
mind ; or again, they might form parts of a mind which seldom or never
manifests itself.
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 515
and its "being alive," are presumably dependently
necessary conditions ; since, unless they be fulfilled, no
disturbance will be produced in the brain. Whether
they be or be not also independently necessary it seems
impossible to tell, for the reasons given in the last sub-
section. But I should suppose that, on any view, the
substantial structural integrity of the brain as a whole,
in addition to that of the particular part that is imme-
diately connected with a special sensory nerve, is an
independently necessary condition for the production
of a sensation. In addition to this, I should suppose
that the general balance ot cerebral processes, which is
involved in the statement that the observer is "awake,"
is an independently necessary condition. The special
connective conditions, which are needed for the absence
of psychic blindness or deafness, are also independently
necessary. And, if the sensation has mnemic conditions,
these are independently necessary for the production of
just this sensation, though a sensation a good deal like
it might be produced in their absence.
We see now how loose it is to talk of a certain brain-
event, very definitely localised in time and place, as
the sufficient condition for the occurrence of a sensation.
Apart altogether from the fact, elicited in the last sub-
section, that we do not know how many of the dependently
necessary conditions are also independently necessary,
we see that such assertions ignore many conditions,
some occurrent and some continuant, which are inde-
pendently necessary. At the utmost we can call a
certain brain-event, fairly definitely localised in Time and
Space, the necessary and sufficient special non-mnemic
occurrent condition of a sensation. In addition to this,
every sensation needs at least the following conditions :
(1) the general continuant cerebral condition of structural
integrity of the brain as a whole ; (2) the general occur-
rent cerebral condition of "wakefulness"; and (3) a
special continuant connective condition to prevent
psychic blindness, deafness, etc. Moreover, many
516 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
sensations require further (4) mnemic conditions, which
are partly OCCiirrent and partly continuant; (5) and all
sensations require, as at least dependency necessary
conditions, that the body as a whole, and especially the
sensory nerve, shall be structurally intact (a continuant
condition), and that the body shall be "alive" (a general
occurrent condition). Beside all these, there may well
be purely psychic conditions, having no bodily correlates,
which must also be fulfilled if sensations are to arise in the
mind. I am going to assume, for the sake of simplicity,
in this book that there is such a complete parallelism
between mind and body that it is enough to mention
bodily conditions, because every psychic condition has
its bodily correlate. I am very far from believing that
this is true, and am not even sure that it has any very
definite meaning which would survive analysis ; so I
assume it here simply as an excuse for avoiding
additional complications which are hardly relevant to
our present purpose.
Sensations, Sensa and Acts of Sensing. — For reasons
given at the beginning of this chapter we have so far
spoken of physiological and physical conditions as pro-
ducing sensations. We have now to ask whether this
involves the production of sensa, or of acts of sensing,
or of both. Before we can hope to answer this, we must
try to clear up the notion of a sensation a little more
fully than we have yet had occasion to do.
(a) The General Process of Sensing. — A sensation, on
our view, is a complex in which an objective factor (the
sensum) and a subjective factor (the act of sensing) can
be distinguished. Whether either of these can exist
without the other is a matter which has so far been left
in decent obscurity. It is obviously logically possible,
and indeed quite plausible, that there might be unsensed
sensa. It is very much harder to believe that there
could be acts of sensing which did not sense anything,
because an act of sensing would seem to involve a
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 517
special relation between a sensum (which is thereby
sensed) and something else. Let us begin by asking
whether every different sensation involves a different
act of sensing.
It seems clear to me that we distinguish different
sensations by means of the different sensa which are
their objects. If two sensa be in different fields of the
same sense-history we should say that the observer had
two different sensations. If two sensa were in the same
field, and completely overlapped in time, we should say
that the observer had two sensations, provided the two
sensa were separated spatially in the field by a back-
ground which differed qualitatively from both of them.
I think it would be reasonable to say that sensa in
successive fields are sensed by different acts, which are
themselves successive. But I see no reason to postulate
different acts of sensing for different sensa in the same
field. When we remember that sensa do not exist in
isolation, but are simply outstanding features in sense-
fields, any such view seems far from plausible. It
seems more reasonable to suppose that the same act
of sensing grasps a whole sense-field. We can then
distinguish as many sensations as there are outstanding
sensa in the field ; but there seems no need whatever to
assume a special act of sensing for each of these sensa.
To say: "I have two contemporary sensations, one of
x and the other of y" would seem to mean simply : "I
sense a field /, in which x and y are two outstanding
parts, which may overlap in time but are separated in
space." Thus, although every sensation involves an
act of sensing, it does not follow that the production of
every sensation involves the production of a special act
of sensing.
So far, we have been considering sensa which are in
the same special field, e.g., in some one visual field.
But my general sense-history consists of a number of
parallel special sense-histories, e.g. , visual, tactual,
auditory, etc. My general sense-history goes on
518 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
throughout the whole of my waking life at any rate,
though there may be gaps in any one of my special
sense-histories. Now I do not see any reason to
suppose that there are as many contemporary acts of
sensing as there are contemporary special sense-fields.
The various special fields are joined up with each other
by sensible temporal relations to give a general sense-
field. If I am aware at once of a visual and a tactual
field, I see no more ground for postulating two acts of
sensing, one visual and the other tactual, than for
postulating two acts of sensing for grasping a red patch
and a blue patch in the same visual field. I would
rather say that there is a single general act of sensing,
which happens to be supplied with both a visual and a
tactual field for its objects. Certainly a tactual sensation
is very different from a visual sensation. But so, too,
is a sensation of a round red patch from a sensation of
a square blue patch. The difference in the objects
seems to be enough to account for the difference between
the sensations in both cases, and it is needlessly multi-
plying entities to postulate different acts of sensing as
well, unless there be some special positive reason for
doing so.7^
I am therefore inclined to think that at any moment
in our lives, while we are awake at any rate, there is
a general act of sensing ; and that these successive
general acts join up to give a single general process of
sensing, forming the subjective correlate to our general
sense-history which is its object. Some slices of this
general object consist of more, and some of fewer,
special sense-fields. Consequently, we have sometimes
more, and sometimes fewer, kinds of sensations.
Again, one jfield of some special sense-history may be
more differentiated into outstanding sensa than another.
Consequently", we have sometimes more, and sometimes
fewer, sensations of the same kind. But, if I am right,
this makes no difference to the number of our acts of
sensing. I do not deny for a moment that there may
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 519
be, from time to time, special mental acts directed on
to special sensa. Sometimes one sensum particularly
interests me, either because of its intrinsic character or
because of its associations. If so, I may specially
attend to it. In so far as this involves more than
merely adjusting my body, so that I sense a new field
in whose centre there is a larger and more distinct
sensum correlated with the old one that first attracted
my attention, it no doubt involves the directing of a
special mental act on to a certain sensum. But specially
to attend to a sensum is something more than merely
to sense it, and therefore the fact just admitted is quite
consistent with our earlier statement that there is no
need to assume a distinct act of sensing for each distinct
sensation.
(b) Conditions of Sensing and Conditions of Sensa. —
Let us now apply some of the conclusions which we
reached in the last section about the various conditions
which are necessary for the production of sensations.
We have just seen that not every special sensation
involves a special act of sensing, though every sensation
does involve an act of sensing. In the last section we
distinguished between the special occurrent conditions
of a sensation and certain equally and independently
necessary general conditions, some occurrent and some
continuant. Now it seems to me probable that the
general process of sensing is kept up by the continuant
and occurrent general cerebral conditions, which are
involved in being "awake" and conscious. And it
seems to me that the function of the special occurrent
conditions is, not to produce acts of sensing, but to
produce outstanding sensa in our special sense-histories,
and thus to supply the general process of sensing with
various objects. If the special occurrent conditions be
fulfilled without the general cerebral conditions, it is
conceivable that sensa may still be produced, but it is
certain that they will not be sensed. And we know,
from such facts as psychic blindness and deafness,
520 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
that, even when both sets of conditions are fulfilled, no
sensum will be consciously sensed by the observer
unless certain special continuant connective conditions
be also fulfilled. In such cases it seems still more
likely that sensa may be produced without being
sensed. But these abstract possibilities of the pro-
duction of unsensed sensa cannot be properly estimated
until we have cleared up the notion of "production,"
which we shall try to do in the next section.
Now it might be said: "If you think it possible
that the special occurrent conditions might produce
unsensed sensa in the absence of the general cerebral
conditions, do you think that the general cerebral con-
ditions might produce a general process of sensing,
with nothing to sense, in the absence of special
occurrent conditions?" To this I answer : (a) Probably
not ; because I find it difficult to know what, if anything,
would be meant by a process of sensing with no objects
to sense, and am therefore doubtful whether anything
of the kind be possible at all. I do not feel any similar
difficulty about the possibility of unsensed sensa. And
(j3) in any case the question cannot be tested empirically,
for the following reason. The cerebral conditions which
keep up the general process of sensing are themselves
dependent on more general somatic conditions. We
cannot be conscious without beings alive : though, if
there be ever completely dreamless sleep or complete
anaesthesia through drugs or disease or accident, we
may sometimes be alive without being conscious.
Thus, whenever the cerebral conditions for sensing are
fulfilled, there is a rough balance of physiological
processes in the body as a whole. These somatic
conditions supply the general process of sensing with
a continual series of internal sensa as objects. Thus,
in practice, the general process of sensing never could
lack at least a somatic sense-field to sense, for the
dependently necessary conditions of the former are the
originative conditions of the latter. Once the general
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 521
process of sensing is started and supplied with a somatic
sense-history to sense, external stimuli acting on the
organs will supply the process with sense-fields of other
kinds, such as the visual and the auditory. The one
process of sensing, which is permanently provided
with a somatic sense-history for the reasons given
above, grasps the other kinds of sense-field in its stride,
as they are supplied to it from time to time by special
occurrent conditions.
Here we might perhaps leave the matter; but there
is a further speculation on this subject which it seems
worth while to mention. I do not wish to stake too
much on it, but it does seem to me to be hopeful, and
not without plausibility. My suggestion is as follows :
We have never attempted, so far, to analyse what is
meant by an act of sensing. We have assumed that,
when a sensum is sensed, it stands in some special
relation to something else, and that it would not stand
in precisely this relation to this something if it were
not being sensed. But we have never attempted to
state what this something is, nor to describe the relation.
Now one result, which seems relevant for the present
purpose, did emerge from our discussions in Chapter
VIII on the question whether sensa are in any way
mental. We saw there that the need of distinguishing
between the sensum and the act of sensing was most
obvious in the case of visual and auditory sensations,
and that it was least evident for bodily sensations. In
fact, we suggested that it was possible that bodily
"sensations" are not true sensations at all, but are of
the nature of presentations. This would mean that
they are unitary experiences, in which there really is
no possibility of distinguishing act and object. We
have also just seen that, even if the distinction between
act and object is to be drawn for bodily "sensations,"
the general cerebral conditions of the process of sensing
cannot, in fact, arise apart from those general somatic
conditions which supply this process with somatic sensa
2 L
5- SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
as objects. If we combine the latter result with the
suggestion that bodily "sensations" are really not
distinguishable into act of sensing- and sensum, we
reach the following tentative conclusion : The general
cerebral and the general somatic conditions co-operate
to give a continuous series of unitary bodily feelings,
in which no distinction between act of sensing and
sensum can be drawn. This constitutes the somatic
sense-history ; and it is broken during life only, if at
all, in dreamless sleep and other states of complete
unconsciousness. Granted that these general condi-
tions are in operation, suitable stimuli on the special
organs of sense cause special sensa, visual, auditory,
etc., to unite with the somatic sense-history and thus
to form the general sense-history. Now I suggest, very
tentatively, that "getting sensed" may just mean
"coming- into such relations with the somatic sense-
history as to form with it a general sense-history." On
this view a sensation of a red patch would be a red
sensum, so related to a somatic field that they form
together a general field in a certain sense-history. A
contemporary auditory sensation would consist of a
noise-sensum, related in the same kind of way to the
same somatic field. The somatic field itself would
consist of feelings or presentations, which are not
objects of acts of sensing, but are unanalysable mental
states. It will thus form the subjective factor in all
true sensations. If we ask: "What is the relation
which a special sensum must have to a somatic field
in order to be sensed?" the answer seems to be that
the sensum must stand in the relation of sensible simul-
taneity to some part of the somatic field, i.e., that the
two must fall into a single Specious Present. For this
is certainly the only known relation which binds various
special sense-fields together into a single general sense-
field. Of course, it may well be that something further
than this is needed, but at any rate this seems to be the
most noticeable feature in the relation. If this sug-
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 523
gestion be right, what we have formerly called the
"general process of sensing" is just the somatic sense-
history, and what we have called "getting sensed by
the general process of sensing" is just coming into the
relation of sensible simultaneity with some part of the
somatic sense-history.
What is meant by the " Production " of Sensa. — We
have agreed that, in some meaning of the word, sensa
are "produced." The production of a sensation con-
sists in supplying the general process of sensing with
a certain sensum at a certain time as an object. And,
if the suggestion made at the end of the last section be
accepted, this means causing a certain sensum to be
sensibly simultaneous with a certain part of the somatic
sense-history. Even so, the notion of "production"
remains highly ambiguous, and we must start by clear-
ing up its various possible meanings.
(a) Selection and Generation. — Dr Johnson is reported
to have described his one meeting with Mr David
Hume in the following terms: "On the sole occasion,
Sir, on which I entered into the intimacy of a familiar
conversation with that notorious Sceptic, his contribu-
tion to the mutual conviviality was to produce a. drawing,
so unutterably gross in its conception as to merit a
murmur of disapprobation even within the walls of a
brothel ! '' Now Dr Johnson's statement leaves us in
doubt as to exactly what happened at this memorable
meeting, and the doubt is due to a characteristic ambig-
uity in the word "produce." Did Mr Hume select for
Dr Johnson's inspection one of a number of objection-
able pictures which (like too many of his countrymen)
he was carrying in his pocket? Or did he take a pencil
and pollute a previously virginal sheet of paper by
generating such a picture upon it? We may compare
Dr Johnson to the general process of sensing, Mr Hume
to the productive conditions of a sensation, and the
picture to the sensum itself. And we may raise the
524 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
question whether, when a sensation is produced, the
special occurrent conditions simply pick out a certain
sensum from a mass of already existing" sensa, and con-
nect it up with the general process of sensing- ; or
whether they have to generate the sensum which is
sensed. Of course, it may well be that sensa are
subject to both kinds of production. P'ven if the pro-
duction of a sensation only needs the selection of a
certain sensum from a mass of already existing sensa,
it is hardly likely that these sensa have existed for ever.
If they have not, they must at some time have been
generated. Conversely, if the production of a sensation
involves the generation of its sensum, it does not follow
that this is sufficient to produce the sensation. No
sensation will be produced unless the sensum which is
generated gets properly connected with a general pro-
cess of sensing ; and it is not obvious that a sensum
could not be generated without ipso facto becoming con-
nected with a general process of sensing.
We may say then, in general, that production must
be differentiated into selection and generation. Now
selection may be either positive or negative. We may
select a card from a mass of other cards, either by
picking it up and leaving the rest on the table, or by
leaving it on the table and sweeping all the others on
to the floor. I should call the first process positive, and
the second negative, selection. In general, to select x
from a group g implies the following facts: (i) All the
members of g originally stand in like relations to the
selector s. (2) A particular member, a; of the group
g is made to stand in a different relation from all the
rest to s. This result can be reached either by leaving
the rest of the group in their old relations to s and
changing the relation of .r, or by leaving x in its old
relation to s, and changing the relations of all the other
members of the group to s. The former is positive and
the latter is negative selection.
Both forms of selection imply that a mass of sensa
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 525
already exists for us to select from. It will first be
necessary to see what precisely this means. A sensum,
which I sense, is an event with a certain short duration.
If I say that it existed before I began to sense it, and
that it will exist after I cease to sense it, I cannot
literally mean that precisely and numerically the same
event as that which I sensed exists before and after my
sensing of it. What I must mean is that this sensum,
which I sense, is a short slice of a longer strand which
stretches out before the beginning and after the end of
my sensum. This strand must be qualitatively alike
in all its sections if it is to be true, even in a Pickwickian
manner, that my sensum "existed before and after I
sensed it." The strand, as a whole, is not contained
in my sense-history ; but I can understand what is
meant by such a strand, since there are plenty of sense-
objects which are contained in my sense-history. The
physiological and other conditions must be supposed to
pick out a short slice of such a strand, and to connect
it up with my general process of sensing, so that it
becomes one of my sensa. So the selective theory
would seem to imply that all sensa are short slices of
longer and practically uniform strands, even when these
strands are not, as wholes, sensed by us, and therefore
are not sense-objects in our histories.
On such a view I take it that the selective process
would have two different parts to play. (1) It would
select one or more out of a much larger number of such
strands ; and (2) out of each selected strand it would
further choose the particular slice, long or short, which
is to be connected with my general process of sensing.
Suppose, e.g. , that a certain source were to send out. a
flash of red light and a flash of ultra-violet light. On
the present view these would both be sense-objects.
The former would consist of a successive series of very
similar red sensa. The latter would consist of a succes-
sive series of sensa with a different sensible quality
from the former. The structure of our eyes, or optic
526 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
nerves, or brains, would completely prevent us from
sensing any part of the latter sense-object. This would
be an example of negative selection. Again, we should
not be able to sense more than a short slice of the
former sense-object. The position of my body and the
relevant events in my brain and nervous system pre-
sumably select this particular short slice out of the
whole red sense-object to be a sensum in my history.
Now, of course, there is no doubt that our bodies do
act selectively. If we turn in one direction, we auto-
matically cut out the appearances of objects in many
other directions. Again, it is presumably the structure
of our bodies which determines the comparatively small
range of ethereal vibrations to which sensations of
colour correspond, and so on. But the question is :
Do our bodies select sensa, and are they only selective in
their action? Or are they also generative? I take it
that the ordinary view of educated common-sense is
that they do not select sensa, and that they do generate
sensa. The ordinary view would be that our special
sense-organs and sensory nerves select vibrations of
certain wave-lengths, and transmit corresponding dis-
turbances to the brain ; magnetic vibrations, light-
waves of too high or too low frequency, and so on, are
automatically cut out, and fail to disturb the brain.
The selection, so far, is made out of a number of
physical vibrations, not out of a number of different sense-
objects. Again, it is commonly supposed that if, and
only if, a disturbance reaches the brain, a sensum is
generated.
Now I do not think that there is any direct way
of deciding between purely selective and generative
theories. All that we can do at present is to point out
the main merits and defects of theories of the selective
type. On the face of it their chief merit is that they
make the ontological status of sensa in the world easier
to understand than do generative theories. With the
latter there is a sharp distinction between scientific
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 527
objects and events, on the one hand, and the sensa,
which, under certain peculiar circumstances, they
generate, on the other. The very notion of generation
is not easy to understand, whilst that of selection is
fairly intelligible. And the status of sensa, when
generated, in a world which consists almost wholly of
scientific events and objects, is certainly most peculiar.
Finally, we are directly acquainted with many sensa,
and therefore do know that there are such things and
what kind of things they are. Now the natural com-
plement of a selective theory of the production of sensa
is a theory that physical events and objects are com-
posed of sensa, some few of which are sensed and the
great majority of which are unsensed. It might reason-
ably be said that the hypothetical entities of such a
theory are less hypothetical than those of the generative
theory, which makes physical events and objects to
differ in kind from sensa and sense-objects. On the
view of physical objects and events which corresponds
to the selective theory of the production of sensa, all
that we need to postulate is unsensed sensa and unsensed
sense-objects. That is, we only need to assume more
entities of the same kind as we meet with in our sense-
histories.
Thus we may fairly say that, if a purely selective
theory can be made to work, and if it can be accompanied
by a satisfactory theory of physical objects as composed
wholly of sensa, it will have the double merit of avoiding
the difficult notion of generation and of giving sensa
a less ambiguous status in the universe than any
generative theory is likely to do. I will now point out
certain difficulties in theories of the selective type, and
in the view of the nature and status of sensa which
generally accompanies such theories.
(1) It is difficult to work a purely selective theory
without postulating a perfectly enormous number of
unsensed sensa. I am not now alluding to the sensa
which have to be put in places where there are no
528 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
observers. After all, any theory has to put something
(e.g.) light-waves, etc.) into such places and times; so
that the selective theory is here no worse off than the
generative theory. For similar reasons I do not make
it an objection that there will have to be many kinds of
sensa {e.g., magnetic, ultra-violet, and so on) which no
one ever senses. What I am thinking of is the following
fact. At a place, where the physicist would say that
a single physical process is going on, it is possible
for all sorts of qualitatively different sensa to be sensed
by putting in different observers or by altering the
internal states of a single observer. If physiological
processes be purely selective, we shall have to postulate
as many different kinds of sensa co-existing at a given
place and time as any observer, however abnormal his
bodily condition, can sense if put there at that time.
I say co-existing, although we cannot literally have the
same observer in two different states at once, or two
different observers in the same place at once. For we
do find characteristic changes in the sensa which are
sensed from a place whenever we suitably alter the
internal state of the observer there or introduce a
suitably abnormal observer into his place. If you hold
that the internal states of the observers' bodies are
causally independent of the sensa which they sense,
and that they act merely selectively, you must conclude,
in accordance with the argument of Chapter XI, that
sensa like all those which the various observers sense
co-exist, although the sensa which are achtally sensed
are successive. {Cf. pp. 422 to 429.)
I will take one very simple example to illustrate my
meaning. An observer stands in a certain place and
senses a certain sense-object. He pushes his eye aside
with his finger, and begins to sense two similar sense-
objects which are sensibly separated. This happens
whenever he chooses to push his eye aside. If bodily
conditions be purely selective, there must have been
two separate and similar sense-objects all the time,
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 529
one of which remains unsensed except when he pushes
his eye aside. I find this very difficult to swallow ; and
a supporter of a purely selective theory will have to
swallow a large number of equally unpalatable doses.
If the sensa which an abnormal observer, or a normal
observer in a temporarily abnormal state, senses from a
certain place were absolutely unlike those which normal
observers sense from that place, a purely selective
theory would be more plausible. The difficulty is that
the abnormal sensa are a great deal like the normal
ones, and yet distinctly different. It is very difficult,
under these conditions, to resist the conviction that
both the abnormal and the normal sensa are generated
by two sets of conditions, one common to both, and
one varying from observer to observer. The former
accounts for the likeness, and the latter for the
difference, between the sensa.
The only purely selective theories that I know of are
M. Bergson's in Matter and Memory and Prof. Alexander's
in Space, Time, and Deity. M. Bergson holds, so far
as I can understand, that physiological conditions are
purely selective, and that the selection is negative.
Our minds would normally be in similar cognitive
relations to every event in Nature, and the whole
function of our bodies in perception and memory is to
shut out the vast majority of these events from our
cognisance. Unfortunately, M. Bergson does not
condescend to enter into detail, and the only possible
way to decide for or against selective theories is to
work them out in detail and to see whether they
can be made to fit the known facts. Prof. Alexander
is not open to this objection. He has made the most
heroic efforts to work out a purely selective theory, and
he accompanies it with a definite and extremely interest-
ing view as to the nature of sensa and their status in the
universe. He takes physical objects to be four-dimen-
sional strands of history ; and here he is undoubtedly
right. He then supposes sensa to be " sections " across
530 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
such strands. Sensa are thus "contained in" physical
objects, as the various sections which could be got by
slicing an ordinary cylinder in various directions are
"contained in' the cylinder. The position of the
observer's body selects the particular physical objects,
and the particular sections of each of these, which his
mind can " contemplate " there and then. The function
of the physiological processes in brain and nervous
system is to keep up that process of "enjoyment"
which is the contemplating of such sections. Such a
theory has many advantages, if it could be made to
work. It accords with common-sense in making sensa
fragmentary and dependent, as compared with physical
objects. And yet it makes all sensa, whether sensed
or not, exist as "parts" of physical objects, in a
perfectly definite and intelligible way. They exist in
physical objects, as the various possible sections of a geo-
metrical solid figure exist in it. Some are momentary,
and may be compared to the various circular sections
of a cylinder, if we compare the axis of an ordinary
cylinder to the time-direction of a strand of physical
history. Others consist of a set of momentary events
of various dates, all falling within a certain short
duration ; these might be compared to oblique sections
of an ordinary cylinder.
Unfortunately, it seems very difficult to uphold such
a theory in face of all the facts. If we never dreamed,
and if we always saw objects through a perfectly homo-
geneous medium, without mirrors, lenses, etc., and
if people and things never moved about, it would
be more plausible. I cannot, of course, attempt any
adequate criticism of it here, but I will raise one point :
When I see an image of a pin in a mirror, of what
physical object precisely are my visual sensa sections?
If they be sections of the pin's history, why are they
optically present at a place quite remote from that
which is occupied by the pin ? And how can the image-
sensa and those which 1 sense when I look directly
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 531
at the pin be sections of the same strand of physical
history? If the image-sensa be not sections of the
history of the pin, are they sections of some strand of
physical history which is located at their optical place?
Surely not ; for it is well known that no relevant
physical process is going on there. Are they then
sections of some strand of physical history located at
the surface of the mirror? If so, why is their optical
place at some distance beJiind the surface of the mirror
instead of upon it? Prof. Alexander has tried his
hardest to deal with such difficulties, and in the course
of his discussion much of value has emerged ; but he
has provided no answer which I can fully understand
or accept.
(2) If, in face of difficulties of this kind, we add the
smallest trace of generation to a purely selective theory,
the latter at once loses many of its advantages. I will
take Mr Russell's theory, as expounded in his Lowell
Lectures and his Analysis of Mind, as an example of a
predominantly selective theory with a small trace of
generation in it. He regards a physical object as a
group of connected sensa, with members in all parts
of physical Space-Time. The vast majority of these
are unsensed. If the body of a living observer be at a
certain place at a certain time, he will sense one sensum
from each such group, and one only ; though he will,
of course, be sensing sensa from many different groups
at once. So far the theory is purely selective. But I
understand Mr Russell to hold that those sensa, belong-
ing to a given physical object, which occupy regions
of physical Space-Time where there is no living
organised body, are systematically different in quality
from sensa of the same group which occupy regions
of Space-Time where such a body is present. This
would seem to suggest that the observer's body and
its internal processes are generative, as well as selective,
in their action, and that they at least modify quali-
tatively those sensa of any group which are in their
532 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
neighbourhood. Mr Russell seems generally to regard
organised bodies as analogous to distorting media, like
coloured glass. I take it that Mr Russell's theory, in
its present form, is admittedly transitional ; it is only
a first step in the direction which he wishes to follow.
This makes it a very delightful " Aunt Sally" for the
numerous philosophers who are more anxious to score
neat verbal hits than to help in unravelling the com-
plexities of Nature. I propose to state some of the main
difficulties which strike me in the theory, as presented ;
without imagining for a moment that they are fatal
objections to this type of theory, or that Mr Russell is
not quite as well aware of them as I am.
(i) A purely selective theory, if it could be worked
out, would have two advantages, one ontological, and
the other epistemological. The ontological advantage
is that sensa would be given a definite and intelligible
status, as, in some sense, " parts" of physical objects ;
whereas, in theories of the generative type, it is hard
to see how they exist side by side with the physical
events and objects which generate them. The episte-
mological advantage is that the hypothetical entities,
which every theory needs in order to fill the gaps
between our sensations, are here of the same kind as
the sensa which we sense. We are therefore only
postulating more entities of a kind which we already
know to exist.
Now it does seem to me that a theory like Russell's,
however successful it might be on the ontological side,
sacrifices most of the epistemological advantages of a
purely selective theory. If our brains and nervous
systems be a kind of "medium," they are media from
which even the "Free Man" cannot get free. And it
is admitted that they "colour" to an unknown extent
all the sensa with which we can possibly become
acquainted. We therefore do not really know that
sensa can exist at all apart from brains and nervous
systems. And, even if we decide to postulate sensa of
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 533
some kind in places and times where there are no brains
and nervous systems, we cannot have the slightest idea
what intrinsic sensible qualities such sensa will have.
We really know just as much and just as little about
them as we do about the hypothetical scientific events
and objects of the Critical Scientific Theory. To call
them sensa, under these circumstances, seems rather
misleading ; for it is liable to disguise the purely hypo-
thetical character of these events, and to suggest that
we know a good deal about their intrinsic qualities.
Really we know nothing about the events which happen
at intermediate times and places between the opening
of a shutter and our sensing of a flash, except that they
obey Maxwell's Equations.
(ii) In Chapters IX and X I pointed out that per-
ceptual physical objects are composita, made up of various
correlated constituent objects, optical, tactual, etc. Now,
Mr Russell's theory seems to have been built up wholly
by considering the optical constituents of perceptual
physical objects. It is a theory of complete optical objects,
and, so far, of nothing else. It cannot even be said
that he has yet dealt with partial optical objects, like
mirror-images, or with the still worse complications
of non-homogeneous transmitting media. When Mr
Russell tells us that he can easily deal with Nature
by regarding it as a six-dimensional spatial whole, in
which all sensa have their places, and by regarding
physical objects as groups of sensa which form three-
dimensional spatial wholes, I cannot help suspecting
that he is thinking only of visual sensa and of complete
optical objects. At least, I can understand more or
less what he means, on this interpretation, but not at
all if he expects to work all kinds of sensa and all the
various components of perceptual physical objects into
such a scheme.
(iii) Closely connected with this is the fact that
Mr Russell has not yet treated the observer's body
in terms of his general theory of physical objects. The
534 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
body is a physical object ; and, regarded as a per-
ceptual object, it has all the components which an
ordinary piece of matter has, together with a special
component, viz., the somatic history. If Mr Russell's
general theory be right, my body must consist of a
set of correlated groups, each composed of correlated
sensa of a certain kind ; and it must be this composite
set which selects and "colours " the sensa of the other
physical groups which we sense. I am not sure that
his theory does not at present owe some of its plausibility
to the fact that, while we read his exposition, we think
of our own bodies (and perhaps of other media, like
mirrors and coloured glass) as physical objects in the
non-Russellian sense, and of all other pieces of matter
as physical objects in the Russellian sense.
(iv) It might, perhaps, be objected that Russell's
theory makes sensa too substantial and self-subsistent,
whilst it makes physical objects too ghostly. Certainly
Alexander's theory is, in this respect, more in accord-
ance with common-sense. But I am not inclined to
attach much weight to this objection myself. After
all, on Russell's theory, unsensed sensa do not as a
rule exist in isolation. They are members of physical
groups, connected together by qualitative similarity and
regular rules of spatio-temporal correlation. And the
alleged substantiality of physical objects, as compared
with sensa, may well rest on nothing but our special
practical interest in those groups of sensa which happen
to be pretty stable, and our practical ignoring of isolated
sensa, or of abnormal and less permanent groups, such
as mirror-images.
The upshot of the discussion seems to be that selective
theories are at present rather in the position of demo-
cratic government. There is no positive argument for
them ; the only arguments for them are the objections
against their alternatives. And the analogy may be
carried further, in so far as there are serious positive
objections to all selective theories that have yet been
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 535
suggested. If, to avoid these, we introduce a certain
amount of generation, we may keep many of the onto-
logical advantages of selective theories, but we lose
most of their epistemological benefits and we introduce
the new and difficult conception of generation.
(b) Causation and Creation. — It remains to consider
the form of production which we have called generation.
This is itself an ambiguous term ; and generation must
be distinguished into causation and creation. We shall
see that the distinction between creative and causal
theories does not rest on an absolute difference of kind ;
still it is important, and it must be firmly grasped
before we can criticise generative theories of the pro-
duction of sensa.
When I say that the friction of two bodies ' ' generates "
heat, I am using "generation" in the causal, and not
in the creative, sense of the word. I mean that a
certain process in two pre-existing bodies {e.g., the
rubbing together of a drill and a piece of iron) is
followed by a change of quality (or rather, by a change
of intensity in an already existing quality) in both of
them. All ordinary generation is of this type. It pre-
supposes one or more already existing substances, as
continuant conditions ; and it asserts that one specific
kind of change in their qualities or relations is followed,
according to a general rule, by another specific kind
of change in their qualities or relations. Creation, on
the other hand, would mean that certain occurrent
conditions in a pre-existing substance or substances
are followed by the springing into existence of a new
substance of some specific kind. The difference may be
stated shortly, in terms of occurrent and continuant
conditions. Both causation and creation involve these
two kinds of condition. In ordinary causation, the
event which is determined by them joins up with one
or other of the continuant conditions, and becomes a
part of its history. In creation, the event which is
determined does not join up with any of its continuant
536 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
conditions to form a further stage in their history ; it
either remains isolated or is the beginning of an
altogether new strand of history.
Now, in real life, there are no examples of pure
creation. However isolated an event may be when it
is generated, it has some place and date in Nature, and
thus joins up with and continues the history of Nature
<rs a -whole, if not the history of some particular pre-
existing object in Nature. Moreover, if it be determined
bv events in pre-existing substances, its place, date,
and specific qualities will be fixed by those of its
determining conditions. So it is, at least, joined on
by causal connexions to one or more special pre-existing
parts of Nature ; although it lacks that qualitative
similarity and spatial continuity with any of these parts,
which would be needed before we could say that it
actually joins up with and continues the history of some
particular pre-existing substance. Thus, we may speak
of one generative process as being "more of the creative
type," and of another as being "more of the causal
type"; but we can hardly speak of any process as
"purely creative." In proportion as a generative
process is more of the creative type, it is less intelligible
to us ; and one difficulty about generative theories of
the production of sensa is that, at first sight at any
rate, the generation of sensa by physical and physio-
logical processes seems to be predominantly of the
creative type. Let us see how far this is true.
If processes in our own bodies be sufficient con-
ditions for generating sensa, it cannot be said, as a
rule, that the sensa which they generate join up with
and continue the history of the conditions which
generate them. If a change in my optic nerve or my
brain generates a red sensum, there is no obvious way
in which this sensum can be said to join up with and
continue the history of my brain or optic nerve. If
sensa and sense-objects differ in kind from scientific
events and objects, it is clear that there cannot be
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 537
much literal continuity of quality or position between
a sensum and its generative conditions. The only con-
tinuity is temporal and causal. Even if we suppose
that physical objects, including our brains and nerves,
are groups of sensa, some of which are sensed and
most of which are not, there is still very little con-
tinuity between most of our special sensa and their
somatic conditions. For, on such a view, my body is
presumably a large group of somatic sensa, out of
which I sense a certain small selection which forms my
somatic sense-history. The physiological conditions
which generate other sensa would therefore be some-
where in this mass of somatic sensa. Now, visual and
auditory sensa are not in the least like somatic sensa ;
they fall into different special sense-histories, and not
into the somatic sense-history. Hence, even if our
brains and nervous systems be simply groups of somatic
sensa, it cannot be said that the visual and auditory
sensa, of which they are the continuant generative con-
ditions, join up with them and continue their history
in any plain and straightforward way. (Of course, these
remarks do not apply to the generation of somatic sensa
themselves ; for they do join up with the somatic sense-
history, and the latter simply is a selection out of that
whole mass of somatic sensa which would constitute
my body on the hypothesis under discussion.) Thus
we may say that, on no view of the nature of physical
events and objects, can visual and auditory sensa be
said to join up with and continue the history of their
generative conditions, if the latter be processes in our
brains and nervous systems. Thus, if such sensa be
generated at all by physiological processes, it must be
admitted that the generation is rather of the creative
than of the causal type.
On the other hand, we must not exaggerate the
isolation of visual and auditory sensa. (1) All those
that we sense are at any rate events in our general sense-
history, and are thus related at least by sensible
2 M
5/.S SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
temporal relations to parts of our somatic sense-history.
(2) Again, it is very rare for a visual sensum to occur
apart from other visual sensa. This does happen indeed
if we sense a single flash on a dark night. But usually
a visual sensum is an outstanding part of a much larger
visual field, and this visual field is itself a slice of a
visual sense-history, which stretches out before and
after it. So, in the vast majority of cases, visual sensa
when they occur, do join up with a special pre-existing
continuant, viz., the observer's visual sense-history.
This is less frequently true of auditory sensa, though it
is often true of them too. (3) Often a visual sensum
does not merely continue the visual sense-history in
general, but continues the history of some particular
sense-object within it. This is true of most of the out-
standing sensa in our visual fields, if we look steadily
in any one direction. (4) Even when a sensum is a
quite isolated event in my general sense-history, and
not part of any sense-object in one of my special sense-
histories {e.g., when it is a single flash sensed on a dark
night), it may have specially close correlations with sensa
in the histories of other observers. It may be a member
of a group of very similar sensa, which constitutes
a complete or partial optical object and has members
in various observers' histories. And the sensum in
another observer's history, which is thus correlated with
an isolated sensum in mine, may not itself be isolated.
It may be a slice of a long sense-object. For instance,
another man may be gazing at a lighted candle, and
between it and my body there may be an opaque object
with a shutter. If this shutter be suddenly opened and
immediately afterwards closed again, I shall sense an
isolated visual sensum. But it will be correlated with
a very similar sensum in the other man's history, and
this other sensum will be a short slice of a long sense-
object. So that, indirectly, my isolated sensum will
be correlated with a certain special sense-object, although
this sense-object is not in my history.
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 539
Thus it is far from being true in general that sensa
are perfectly isolated occurrents, and that they do not
join up with the history of pre-existing continuants.
What we must say is that sometimes they seem to be
extremely isolated ; that often their connexion with pre-
existing continuants is rather remote and indirect; and
that apparently they never join up with the history of
that particular continuant (viz., the brain) which is the
seat of their most immediate special occurrent conditions.
These facts show that the generation of sensa by
physical and physiological processes must be consider-
ably different from the causation of a change in one
physical object by a change in another. But they do
not suggest that the generation of sensa, if it take place
at all, is a perfectly unintelligible process of creation.
(c) Physical Causation and Causation of Sensa. — We
have seen that there is no radical distinction between
causation and creation, but that the generation of
physical events is more of the causal type, and that of
sensa more of the creative type. We ought therefore
to be able to give a definition of generation, which shall
cover both cases, and then to point out what dis-
tinguishes the generation of sensa from that of physical
events.
In order to do this, we must enter a little more deeply
into the nature of events. An event is a particular
existent, and therefore the generation of any event is
the generation of a new particular existent. By this
I simply mean that precisely and numerically the same
event cannot possibly recur, although, of course, quali-
tatively similar events can occur at many different times
and places. Next, we must distinguish between de-
terminateness and particularity . A perfectly definite shade
of red is determinate, but is not particular. The differ-
ence between determinateness and particularity will
best be seen by an example. Let us take (1) redness
in general, (2) a perfectly definite shade of red, and
(3) a certain sensum which has this shade of red. The
540 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
relation of (3) to (2) is quite different from that of (2)
to (1), though this is often disguised by the statement
that (2) is an instance of (1) and (3) is an instance of (2).
The difference is that the sensum cannot recur, though
other sensa of exactly the same shade may occur at
other times and places. On the other hand, the definite
shade of red is still a universal ; since any number
of sensa may have precisely this shade of red. It is
therefore best to say that the definite shade of red is
a loivest determinate under the determinable of redness (to
adopt Mr W. E. Johnson's phraseology), and that the
sensum is a particular instance of this determinate. The
analogies and differences between being a determinate
under a determinable, and being an instance of a de-
terminate, are the following: (1) Determinables have
a plurality of determinates, and determinates have a
plurality of instances. But (2) the number of determi-
nates under a given determinable is a necessary conse-
quence of the nature of the determinable, whilst the
number of instances of a given determinate is purely
contingent. It is of the nature of redness that there
should be just such and such shades of red, but the
number of instances of any shade of red depends on the
make-up of the existent world. And (3) the instances
of determinates are always particulars, whilst the de-
terminates under determinables are always universals.
Now an event is fully described i.e., is marked off
from all other events, if we know (1) its place and date
in some Space-Time ; (2) its extension and duration ;
and (3) the determinates of which it is an instance.
For example, a certain visual sensum is completely
described if we know where and when it occurs in
an observer's sense-history, what shape it has, how
long it lasts, and what precise shade of what precise
colour it has. Thus, the occurrence of any event con-
sists in the "occupation" of a certain definite region
of some Space-Time by one or more determinates under
one or more determinables. Now the nature of the
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 541
" filling" of one or more regions may fix, according to
general rules, the nature of the "filling" of a certain
other region. If so, we say that the events which con-
sist in the former regions being "filled" with such and
such determinates generate the event which consists
in the latter region being "filled" with such and such
other determinates.
We can now give a definition of generation in
general. The widest form of causal law would seem
to be of the following kind : If any determinate c of the
determinable C inheres in a region r of the Space-Time
S, then a certain correlated determinate y of a certain
correlated determinable T inheres in a certain correlated
region p of a certain correlated Space-time 2. (Of
course, the antecedent may involve more than one
determinable, and more than one region ; but there is
no need to complicate matters further for our present
purpose.)
Now I take it that ordinary physical causation is
distinguished by a very great simplification of this
most general type of law. (1) All the events under
consideration are in the same Space-Time (viz., physical
Space-Time) so that S = 2. This is true, in spite of the
fact that physical Space-Time can be split up in many
different ways into time-axes and timeless spaces. (2)
Very often in physical causation we have only to deal
with a single determinable, e.g., physical motion. This
would be true if, e.g., we were considering how the motion
of one billiard-ball generates that of another. In such
cases C = F. (3) The determinables are generally such
that their determinates can be fixed by giving a particular
numerical value to some quantitative variable. If so,
c and y will be connected by a mathematical formula,
such as y = 0 (e). Lastly (4), since we are dealing here
with a single Space-Time, we may be able to assign
a single system of co-ordinates to the whole of it. The
regions r and p will then have co-ordinates in the same
frame, and the correlation between them will be expres-
542 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
sible in an equation or set of equations of the form
Now the peculiarity of the causation of sensa may be
that these special simplifying conditions are not fulfilled
here. Take, e.g., the production of a red sensum by
processes in the optic nerve and brain, supposing- that
these are sufficient occurrent conditions, (i) The brain-
events consist in the tilling of a certain region of physical
Space-Time with certain physical determinates. The
sensum consists of the filling of a region in the observer's
visual Space-Time with a determinate shade of red.
Thus two different Space-Times are involved. (2) In
-consequence of this, the correlation between r and p
will be of a much more complicated type than it would
be if r and p were just two regions in the same Space-
Time. (3) We are here concerned with two quite different
determinates, viz., physical motion (say) and redness.
Thus we cannot put C = T. (4) The determinates under
redness, i.e., the definite shades of red, cannot be ex-
pressed simply by different values of the same numerical
variable, since they differ qualitatively. Thus we cannot
put y = <p (c), where this is an ordinary algebraic equa-
tion or set of equations.
All this complication is doubtless troublesome, but
it does not really render the causation of sensa different
in kind from the causation of one physical event by
another. The scientist has simply banished nearly all
qualitative differences from his world, and has contented
himself with the residuum. But the whole mass of
sensible appearances, from the most impressive to the
most trivial, and from the most normal to the most
outlandish, forms part of the total content of the existent
world. We have no right then to feel surprised if the
structure and laws of the existent world as a whole fail
to show that sweet simplicity which distinguishes the
particular part of it to which natural scientists have
confined themselves. Science has been able to make
the great strides which it has made by deliberately
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 543
ignoring one side of reality. The end has justified the
means, for the world is so complex that it can only be
understood bit by bit. Moreover, the success of this
abstraction does show that reality as a whole has less
unity than certain departments of it. The physical part
of reality and the sensible part do not indeed form water-
tight compartments, but it does seem as if there were
characteristic forms of unity in each which do not stretch
across from one to the other. From the philosophic
point of view, the procedure of natural science has rather
resembled that of those diplomatic Conferences which
have done so much to brighten European life since the
Allies inaugurated the New Jerusalem in 191 8. The
most edifying unity has been secured on each occasion
by turning a blind eye to all the less convenient facts,
and referring them to a future Conference for further
discussion. In philosophy, as in economics, facts do not
cease to be real by being ignored ; and the philosopher
becomes the residuary legatee of all those aspects of
reality which the physicist (quite rightly, for his own
purpose) has decided to leave out of account. The
analogy only breaks down when we contrast the relative
success of the scientists and of the politicians in their
respective fields.
The difficulty which we feel about the ontological
status of sensa may be put as follows : We feel that
anything which can successfully claim to be " real,"
must be somewhere and somew/ien. And we are so
much accustomed to physical Space-Time, and to the
way in which physical events and objects occupy regions
in it, that we think that an event cannot be "real"
unless it occupies some region of physical Space-Time
in the way in which a physical event does so. Now,
it seems clear that either (1) sensible determinates (such
as some particular shade of red) do not inhere in regions
of physical Space-Time, but in regions of some other
Space-Time ; or (2) that, if they do inhere in regions
of physical Space-Time, they must inhere in the latter
544 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
in some different way from that in which physical deter-
minates (like physical motion) do so. Either there is one
sense of " inherence" and many different Space-Times,
or there is one Space-Time and many different senses
of " inherence." On either alternative the world as a
whole is less simple than we should like to believe ;
and, if we have come to think that there is only one
possible Space-Time and only one possible kind of
inherence, we shall be inclined to suppose that sensa
are nowhere and nowhen.and therefore are mere fictions.
Since this is plainly contrary to fact, unless the whole
way of treating sensible appearance which is developed
in this book be wrong, we must accept one of the two
alternatives just mentioned.
Now, it seems to me that these two alternatives are
not mutually exclusive, but are complementary. We
have long ago dropped the notion that a Space-Time is
a kind of empty warehouse, with various cellars ready
to receive different materials ; although it remains con-
venient to talk as if this were so. Our view is that a
Space-Time is a characteristic form of relational unity
which pervades a whole set of entities, and binds them
together into a peculiar kind of complex whole, whose
fundamental structure is summed up in the geo-chrono-
metry of the Space-Time in question. When we say
that a determinate " inheres in a certain rep-ion of a
certain Space-Time," we only mean that an instance
of it enters into certain relations with other instances
of the same and of other determinates, and that the
relations which it has to them are of the same type
as those which they have to each other. I think
that my view of the structure of Nature as a whole,
with its peculiar mixture of unity and disunity, can be
more clearly explained by a familiar analogy than by
a great deal of formal exposition.
Let us compare a Space-Time to a family of
brothers and sisters. Then, coming to occupy a region
of this Space-Time will be like being born into this
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 545
family. Let us take such a family, and suppose that all
its members are children of the same husband and wife.
This fundamental family Fx shall be taken as analogous
to the physical world, and the simple relation of brother
or sister within it shall be analogous to the structure of
physical Space-Time. Now we can suppose that some
of the members of Fx have children, and that others do
not. Those who do may be compared to organised
bodies, and those who do not to unorganised bodies.
I am going to take the children as analogous to sensa.
Now consider the families of two members of Fr Let
these two members be A and B, and let us call their
families respectively FA and FB. Then we notice the
following facts: (1) Each of these families forms a
group analogous to Fr This corresponds to the fact
that the sensa of each individual (provided they are of
the same sort) form a spatio-temporal whole. (2) FA
and FB do not together form one family, in the sense
defined. This corresponds to the fact that the sense-
histories of different observers form different Space-
Times. (3) Neither FA nor FB forms with F, a single
family, in the sense defined. This corresponds to the fact
that sensa are not literally in physical Space-Time, and
that physical events are not literally in any sensible
Space-Time. (4) In spite of this, there are relations
between members of FA and members of FB, viz., the
relation of cousinship. Similarly, there are relations
between members of FA or FB and those of Fx, viz.,
the relations of child-and-parent or of nephew-and-
uncle. Thus, although the whole set of individuals
of the two generations does not constitute one family,
in the sense of one set of brothers and sisters, yet it does
constitute a set of interrelated terms, which may be
called a "family" in a wider sense. In precisely the
same way, I take it, the physical world and the various
sense-histories form one interrelated whole, although
the relations which stretch across from one sense-
history to another or from a sense-history to the physical
546 SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
world arc more complex than those which interconnect
physical events or interconnect sensa in the same sense-
history. (5) Lastly, we might suppose that some of
the members of F, had married twice in succession, and
had thus had two families. Or, again, some of them
might have embraced Mormonism and a plurality of
contemporary wives. We should thus get a peculiar
relation, viz., that of half-brother, to which there is
nothing exactly analogous in the family Fx. The whole
family of M, the Mormon member of Fx, would split up
into two or more families. The relation between a
member of one of these families and a member of another
of them would be more intimate than that of cousinship
and less intimate than that of complete brotherhood.
This is analogous to the fact that the general sense-
history of an observer splits up into a number of special
sense-histories, such that sensible temporal relations do,
and sensible spatial relations do not, stretch across from
one to the other.
Now, if we had taken the original family F1 as
fundamental, and had "placed" all the members of
the second generation by stating their various relations,
such as child, nephew, etc., to various members of Fx,
this would be analogous to taking physical Space-Time
as fundamental and saying that sensible determinates
of different kinds inhere in different ways in regions
of this one Space-Time. If, on the other hand, we
take the notion of families, in the strict sense, as funda-
mental, this will be analogous to saying that there is
a plurality of different, though correlated, Space-Times,
and that sensible determinates inhere in their own
Space-Times in the same way as physical determinates
inhere in physical Space-Time. It is obvious that
these are only two different ways of treating the same
set of interrelated facts. Logically the two methods
are equivalent to each other.
I have taken this elementary example to illustrate in
rough outline how we can combine sensa and physical
CONDITIONS AND STATUS OF SENSA 547
events into one universe, in spite of their many important
differences. The exact details of this must be left to
the symbolic logician ; but the complexities which arise
even in the simple example of family relationships will
show the reader that the complication of Nature as a
whole is compatible with the ultimate relations between
its elements being comparatively few and simple. The
mistake is to try to force Nature as a whole into the
mould which fits one important part of it ; and then to
suppose that, because this attempt breaks down, Nature
as a whole has no structure at all, but falls into com-
pletely isolated and incoherent fragments. There are,
I believe, two different levels of "simplicity," and
between them there is a region of "complexity."
There is the lower kind of simplicity, which we find
when we isolate one fragment of Nature from the rest,
and ignore all the awkward facts that refuse to fit into
the scheme which applies to this fragment. There is,
or there well may be, a higher kind of simplicity, where
we have recognised the fundamental structure of Nature
as a whole, and have seen how the structure of special
regions of Nature is just a special case of these funda-
mental relations. But, in order to pass from the lower
to the higher kind of simplicity, we must traverse
an intermediate stage of confusion and complexity,
in which we confront the lower simplicity with all the
awkward facts which it has ignored. This is a task
in which we can all help, if we keep our heads clear
and refuse to be put off with cheap and easy explana-
tions. The final stage, that of finding the simple plan
on which all this complexity is constructed, can only
be accomplished by men who combine the insight of
genius with technical mathematical ability of the highest
order. To this combination of gifts few of us can lay
claim, and the present writer is certainly not one of
those who can. In our day one man, Einstein, has
shown what such a combination can accomplish within
the region of physics. We still await the man who
54$ SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT
will show us in detail how the world of physics and the
world of sensible appearance are united into the one
whole of Nature. The utmost that we can claim to have
done here is to have stated some of the facts which he
will have to take into account and to unify.
The following- additional works may be consulted
with advantage :
A. \. Whitehead, The Principles of Natural Knowledge^ Parts
II. and IV.
The Concept of Nature, Chaps. I., II.
and VII.
The Principle of Relativity, Chaps. II. and
IV.
B. A. \V. Russell, Our Knowledge of the External World,
Lects. III. and IV.
The Analysis of Mind, Lects. V. and VII.
S. Alexander, Space, Time, and Deity, Bk. III.
H. BEKGSON, Matter and Memory.
G. E. Moore, Philosophical Studies.
G. F. Stout, Mind, Vol. XXXI. No. 124.
INDEX
" How index-learning turns no student pale
Yet holds the eel of Science by the tail."
(Pope, The DunciaJ.)
Aberration, and Theory of Rela-
tivity, 124
■ and Velocity of Light, 380
Absolute Structure of Nature, 186,
194
alternative views of, 203
and gravitation, 206, etc.
Absolute Theory, of Time, 88, etc.
of Space, 92, etc.
of Motion, 96, etc.
Acts, mental, 251
of sensing, 253, 521, etc.
Alexander, Prof. S., on External
World, 14
on Bodily Feelings, 250
on Sensa, 529, etc.
etc.
on Russell's Theory, 534
Anne, Queen, her death, 79, etc.
Appearance, definition of, 234
two theories of, 237
Sensum Theory of, 240, etc.
Appearing, Multiple Relation The-
ory of, 237
Asquith, Ri. Hon. H. H., 139
" At," temporal, 89
spatial, 93
Athanasian Creed, 156, 215
Axes of Reference, 105, etc., no
Newtonian and non-New-
tonian, 173, etc.
Becoming, 67, etc.
Bergson, Prof. H., on sense-percep-
tion, 529
Berkeley, Bishop, on External
World, 14, 232
on Esse and Per dpi, 251
on Primary and Secondary
Qualities, 274, 279
on Visual Distance, 295
Brace, 135, n.
Bradley, Mr F. H., 165
Bucket Experiment, 99, etc.
Relational theory of, 101, etc.
Cantor, G., and continuity, 17
Carlisle, Very Rev. The Dean of, on
Time, 84
Causal Generation, 535, etc.
Causation, mnemic, 289
immanent and transeunt, 492
and Creation, 535, etc.
physical, 539
Centres of Discontinuity, 307
Cerebral Conditions, 513
Chamberlain, Rt. Hon. J., 29
Change, of things, 63
of events, 63, etc.
of relational properties, 65,
Body, human, as Physical Object,
437, etc., 444, etc.
and Physical Motion, 446,
etc.
etc.
from present to past, 67
from future to present,
67,
Bolingbroke, Viscount, 82, 83
sensible, 351, etc.
general remarks on, 405, etc.
Christ, J., Body and Blood of, 93
Clifford, Prof. W. A'., and non-
homaloidal Spaces, 32
Clocks, setting of, 128, etc.
Newtonian and non-New-
tonian, 175, etc.
Co-existence, physical, criteria of,
422, etc.
Colour, and Wave-Theory of Light,
280
Columbus, C, 51
Compass, gyrostatic, 103
Compresence, visual, 304, etc., 363,
etc.
" Concealed Masses," 176
Concordance with Fact, 71, etc.
Conditions, originative, transmis-
sive, and productive, 490, etc.
necessary and sufficient, 499,
etc.
549
55°
INDEX
Conditions, occurrenl and con-
tinuant, iin, etc,
mnemic, cerebral, and con-
nective, 51 3, etc
psychic, 516
of sensa and of sensing, 519,
etc.
Connective Conditions, 513
Conscious Mind, 514, ;;.
Conservation, of Momentum, etc.,
on Special Theory of Relativity,
180, etc.
Constituents of Physical Objects,
33o, 342
tangible, 340
optical, 341
Constitutive Properties of Physical
Objects, 267
Contact, double, 440
Containing Volumes, 47
Continuants, 510
Continuous and Discrete Aspects of
Nature, 310, etc.
Convergence, 46
Co-ordinates, Cartesian, 186, 191,
193
polar, 191
on surface of sphere, 192, etc.
Co- variance, of Laws of Nature, 151,
etc.
Creative Generation, 535, etc.
Critical Philosophy, 18, etc.
Critical Scientific Theory, statement
of, 272, etc.
• difficulties of, 282
final treatment of, 533, etc.
Cycloid, 51
Ballon,]., 13
Depth, visual, 298, etc.
Descartes, R., and Mechanics, 87
and Secondary Qualities, 279,
282
Determinables and determinates,
54°
Discordance with Fact, 71, etc.
Distance, on Absolute and Rela-
tional Theories, 94, etc.
direct and indirect measures
of, 144
connected with time-lapse,
147, etc.
Doyle, Sir A. Conan, and fairies, 71
Dreams, 495
Duration, and extension, 54
sensible, 353
of perceptible events, 388
of physical objects, 393,
etc.
from a place, 397
Easy, Midshipman, 38
Edward I'//, King, 233
Edward the Confessor, 78, 89
Einstein, Prof. A., and non-homa-
loidal Spaces, 32
on peculiarities of gravita-
tion, 175
his achievements, 547
Electrodynamics, and Absolute
Motion, 1 1 4, etc.
Empirical Properties of Physical
Objects, 267
Energy, Conservation of, 182
and gravitation, 485
Ether, and Absolute Space, 31, 115
stagnant, 120, 473
Ethics, and Philosophy, 23
Eucharist, 93
Euclid, 28
Euclidean Hypothesis, 483
Events, finite, 54
momentary, 56
perceptible, 386
dates of, 387
scientific, 389
Excluded Middle, Law of, and the
future, 73, etc.
Extensive Abstraction, Principle of,
applied to Space, 41, etc.
applied to Time, 55, etc.
applied to Sense-fields, 350,
etc.
applied to Space-Time, 469,
463
External World, Reality of, 14, 267,
etc.
Facts, negative, 71
Faraday, M., 13
Feelings, bodily, and sensations,
255, etc., 521, etc.
and sensa, 261
Fields, of force, 176
visual, 285, etc.
physical, 382
tactual, 339
somatic, 441
First Law of Motion, 155, etc.
Fixed Stars as frame of reference,
102, etc., 483
hypothetical annihilation of,
107, etc.
Fizean, and velocity of light, 377,
etc.
Force, descriptive theory of, 162
sensational basis of, 163
measurement of, 165
in what sense unimportant to
Mechanics, 166, etc.
one aspect of stress, 171
INDEX
551
Force, Newtonian and non-New-
tonian, 175, etc.
Foucault's Pendulum, 103
Frames of Reference, Newtonian
and non-Newtonian, 173, etc.
- — and laws of Nature, 185, etc.
and General Theory of Rela-
tivity, 196, etc.
Future, non-existence of, 66, etc.
alleged knowledge of, 78, etc.
Galileo, G., 13, 87, 96, in
Generation, 526, 541
causal and creative, 535, etc.
Geo-chronometry, 457
Geometry, applied, 49
and Mechanics, 57
elliptic and hyperbolic, 461,
etc.
George, Rt. Hon. D. LI., 139
George V, H.M. King, 233
Ghost, the Holy, and human bodies,
437
Gibbon, Mr E., on Jewish beliefs,
5io
God, his knowledge of Nature, 217
Berkelev's view of his rela-
tion to the External World, 232
Gravitation, and non-Newtonian
forces, 175, 206, etc.
peculiarities of, 177
Relativistic Theory of, 293,
etc., 482, etc.
and radiant energy, 212, 485
Gravitational Mass, 170, etc.
and radiant energy, 212, 485
Hastings, Battle of, 78, 89
Head-noises, 496
" Hearing," ambiguity of, 248
Heat, radiant, 309
" Here," 58, etc.
" Hereness," 59
Hicks, Prof. G. Dawes, his theory of
appearance, 237
History, strands of, 406
as four-dimensional, 409
Homogeneous and non-homogene-
ous objects, 402
Hume, Mr D., 523
Huyghens, C. , 37
Images, mental, and sensa, 263, 507
in mirrors, 317, etc.
tactual, 496
Induction, 403
Inertial Mass, 169, etc.
and energy, 182, 213
" Inherence," different senses of,
544, etc.
Internal Origination of Sensations,
494
Internal Processes, 443
Irrationals, 39, etc.
Isochrony, 157, etc.
Johnson, Dr S., and Mr Pope, 51
and Mr Hume, 523
Johnson, Mr W. E., on Ties, 75
on Occurrents and Continu-
ants, 510
on Determinables and Deter-
minates, 540
Joint Production, 490, etc.
Judgments, existential, character-
ising, and genetic, 68, etc.
about the future, 70, etc.
and sentences, 74
perceptual, 247
Jupiter, eclipses of its moons, 378,
etc.
Kant, I., 13
on objective simultaneity,
423, 429
Kekule, and constitution of Ben-
zene, 13
Keynes, Mr J. M., on Induction, 403
Kinesthetic Sensations, and concept
of Space, 300, 315
translational and rotational,
413, etc.
and motion, 413, etc.
Kinematics, of Special Theory of
Relativity, 136, etc.
Kinetics, of Special Theory, 179, etc.
Laird, Prof. J., on bodily feelings
256
Laplace's Equation, 210, 484
Law of Gravitation, peculiarities of,
177, etc., 206, etc.
and structure of Nature, 204,
etc.
Laws, of Logic, 83, etc.
of Motion, no, 155, etc., 177,
etc., 195, etc.
of Nature, and Theory of
Relativity, 153, etc., 185, etc
League of Nations, 186
Leibniz, G., and Mechanics, 87
Liberal Theologians, 242
Light, aberration of, 124, 380, etc.
■ ■ velocity of, 118, etc., 376,
etc., 478, etc.
rectilinear propagation of,
184, etc.
552
INDKX
Light, gravitational deflection of,
21 2, etc.
Light signals, 129
1 imits, 1 1 . etc.
Lines, definition by Extensive Ab-
stention, 48
Local Time, 125, etc., 143, etc.
Locke, Mr J., on Primary and
Secondary Qualities, 279, 282
Logic, and Philosophy, 23
and Time, 83, etc.
London, lit. Rev. The Bishop of, and
birth-control, 66
Lorentz, and the Ether, 31
Lorentz- Fitzgerald Contraction, 125,
etc.
not a physical change, 135
relational view of, 149, etc.
Mack, E., and Absolute Rotation,
197, etc.
M'Taggart, Dr J. M. E., and
Time, 79, etc.
Mass, gravitational and inertial, 169,
etc., 212, etc.
conservation of, 170, 182
and energy, 182
Matter, traditional concept of, 229,
etc.
Maxwell's Equations, 150,
co-variance of, 153
533
57
Mechanics, and geometry,
classical, Chap. V
relativistic, Chap. VI
Media, transmissive, 317, etc.
Meinong, Prof. A., on Sein
and
Sosein, 68
Memory, 403
Mercury, perihelion of, 212
Micawber, Mr and Mrs, 31
Michelson-Morlcy Experiment, 119,
etc.
physical explanations of, 123,
etc.
absolutist theory of, 125
relationist theory of,- 135,
etc.
Mind, states of, 252
involves memory, 403
Mind-dependence, definition of, 250
existential and qualitative,
251, etc.
Minkowski, and Space-Time, 469
Mirror-images, 317
Mnemic Conditions, 513
Momentum, 168
conservation of, 153, 180
• rate of change of, and force,
162, etc.
Mookerjee, Mr, 109
Moore, Dr C. E., on " Pickwickian
senses," 233
on Multiple Relation Theory
of Appearance, 237
Motion, Absolute Theory of, 97, etc.
Relational Theory of, 98, etc.
Laws of, no, etc., Chap. V,
Chap. VI
visual, 286, 410, etc.
sensible, 238, 405, etc.
of sense-objects, 411, etc.
and kinesthetic sensations,
413, etc.
and the human body, 446
absolute, sensible basis of,
412
Movement-Continuum, 314, 333,
etc., 341
Multiple Relations, and sensible
appearance, 237 to 243, 369
examples of, 325
■ and neutral simultaneity, 369
Munro, Mr (' Saki'), 242
Necessary Conditions, dependent
and independent, 499, etc.
Neoplatonists, and World-Cycles,
462
Newman, His Eminence Cardinal,
369
New Realists, offensive self-satisfac-
tion of, 266
their view of bodily feelings,
250
Newton, Sir I., 87
and Absolute Rotation, 99,
etc.
his Laws of Motion, Chap. V
Newtonian Clocks, 175
Newtonian Frames, 173
and Special Theory of Rela-
tivity, 183, etc.
and the structure of Nature,
194, etc., 482
Non-Newtonian Forces, 174, etc.
and gravitation, 175, etc.
and Third Law of Motion, 176
and General Theory of Rela-
tivity, 196, etc.
" Now," 58, etc.
Objects, sensible, 347, etc.
optical, 329, etc., 397, etc.
perceptible, 330, 389.. 393,
etc.
scientific, 331, 400, etc.
uniform and non-uniform,
402, etc.
and strands of history, 406,
etc.
INDEX
553
Object Theory of Appearance, 237
Occupation, optical, 313, 321, etc.
tactual, 340
Occurrent Conditions, 510, etc.
Ontological Argument, 69
Optical Compresence, 313
Optical Filling, 313
Optical Objects, complete and par-
tial, 329, etc.
duration of, from a place, 397
total duration of, 397
persistent, 397, 533
■ non-persistent, 398
Optical occupation, 313, 321
■ is a triadic relation, 325
Optics, geometrical, 320
Order, and Sense, 57
Oxford, University of, 139
Tutors of, 30, 154
Part and Whole, 48, etc., 55, etc.
Past, reality of, 66
Perception, and Sensation, 243
of one's own body, 438
Perceptual Objects, 330
unperceived parts of, 390,
etc.
Philosophy, alleged unprogressive-
ness of, 13, etc.
■ Critical, 18, etc.
Speculative, 20, etc.
Method of, 19
and Psychology, 21, 24,
etc.
and Logic, 23
■ and Ethics, 23
Physical World, existence of, 267
not an inference from sensa,
268
■ spatial character of, 270
" Pickwickian Sense," 233
Place, sensible, 303
■ optical, 321
physical, 328
■ of somatic sensa, 493
Plato, 13
Points, defined by Extensive
Abstraction, 48, etc.
Poisson's Equation, 484
Pope, Mr A., 51
Potentials, 197, 202, 210, etc.
Presentations, 251
Present, Specious, 348, etc., 482
Production, selective and genera-
tive, 523, etc.
Productive Conditions, 492, etc.
Psychic Conditions, 516
Psychology, and Philosophy, 22, 24,
etc.
Puck, 71
0
Qualities, Primary and Secondary,
279, etc.
Rayleigh, Lord, 135, n.
" Reality," ambiguity of, 242
Relational Theory, of Time, 88, etc.
of Space, 92, etc.
of Motion, 98, etc.
Relativity, 90
■ Special Theory of, 114, etc.,
183, 472, 475, etc.
Physical Principle of, 149,
etc.
General Theory of, 138, 171,
etc., 482, 486
Representative Ideas, Theory of,
238
Riemann- Christoffel Tensor, 194,
298, 484
Modified, 209, etc., 485
Romer, and Velocity of Light, 378
Rotation, absolute and relative, 99,
etc.
sensible and physical, 433,
etc.
Russell, Hon. B. A. W ., on logical
constructions, 51
on " publicity " of Matter,
230
513
his Lowell Lectures, 238
his analysis of sensations, 264
on mnemic causation, 289,
on physical objects, 531, etc.
St Paul's, Very Rev. The Dean of,
and World-cycles, 462
Scepticism, physiological, 508
Scientific Objects, 331
different orders of, 400, etc.
Secondary Qualities, 279
Second Law of Motion, 161, etc.
" Seeing," ambiguity of, 248
" Sein " and " Sosein," 68
Selection, positive and negative,
523, etc.
Selective Theories, advantages of,
527. 532
examples of, 529
difficulties of, 530
Sensa, defined, 240
and physical objects, 241, 266
and perception, 243
mistakes about their pro-
perties, 244
as signs of physical objects,
247
258
probably not presentations,
privacy and dependence on
the human body, 259
2 N
554
INDEX
Sensa, how fax mind-dependent, 261 ;
and mental images, 263
status of, 270, 523, ad fin.
spatial characteristics of,
Chap. IX
temporal characteristics of,
Chap. X
Sensations, 243, 249
analysis of, 249, 489, 516, etc.
and bodily feelings, 254, etc.
and presentations, 257
Sense, intrinsic, of Time-series, 57
Sense-fields, momentary, 349
duration of, 354
general and special, 360
Sense-histories, 362
and Scientific Time, 392
idealised, 458
• somatic, 521
Sense-objects, 346
— somatic, 441
Sense-spaces, 460
Sensing, Acts of, 253, etc., 521
■ momentary, 350
temporal characteristics of,
344, etc.
Sensing, general process of, 516, etc.
Series, Time, 57, etc.
of rationals, 40
■ of volumes, 44, etc.
■ of visual sensa, 305, etc.
Shape, and secondary qualities, 280
and Time, 335
— sensible, 335
optical, 336
■ physical, 339
Simplicity, two stages of, 547
Simultaneity, sensible, 360
■ tests for and definitions of,
364
neutral, 370, etc.
multiple relation theory of,
and sound, 366, etc.
and light, 374, etc.
relativity of, 476
Solidity, visual, 290, etc.
Sound, spatial characteristics of, 309
Space, traditional view of, 26, etc.
different kinds of, 27, etc.
and Ether, 31
Absolute and Relational
Theories of, 92, etc.
momentary, 96, 460
timeless, 96, 463, etc.
of a sense-history, 411
369
Space-Time, physical, 454, etc., 543,
etc.
• homaloidal and non-homa-
loidal, 483
compared with a family, 544
Spatial Separation, 188, 479
Spatio-temporal Separation, 188,
etc.
Speculative Philosophy, 20, etc.
Spheres, converging scries of, 44, 47
— • and planes, 193
Staircase Figure, 260
Standard Processes, correction of,
158, etc.
Stationary Courses, 199, etc.
Stimulus, 498
Stout, Prof. G. F., on presentations,
250, etc.
Strain, feeling of, and Force, 162,
etc.
Stress, 171
Structure, intrinsic, of Nature, 186,
etc., 455
Stumpf's Argument, 244, etc.
Surfaces, intrinsically different, 193,
208, etc.
Swift, Dean, on Irish Bishops, 204
Tactual Occupation, 316
Temporal relations, between acts
and sensa, 358
within a sense-field, 359
— within a sense-history, 362
neutral, 362, etc.
between perceiving and per-
ceived object, 388
Temporal Separation, intrinsic and
non-intrinsic, 480, 503
Tennant, Dr F. R., his alleged
paltering with Sin, 234
Things, 393
Third Law of Motion, 171, etc.
indefiniteness of, 172
and Newtonian Frames, 173
and non-Newtonian forces,
176
Thomas, The Apostle, uses touch
as test for physical reality, 497
Ties, logical, 75
Time, traditional view of, 54
analogies to Space, 54, etc.
intrinsic sense of, 57, etc.
M'Taggart's criticisms on,
79, etc.
and Laws of Logic, 83, etc.
Absolute and Relational
Theories of, 88, etc.
Scientific, 392
Time-directions, 468
plurality of possible, 472
limited range of, 474
Time-lapse, direct and indirect
measures of, 145
and spatial separation, 147,
etc.
INDEX
555
Timeless Space, 96, 463, etc.
its points, 464
its straight lines and planes,
465
Touch, active and passive, 340
Traces, hypothetical character
261, etc.
and sensible movement,
and visual solidity, 294
and visual distance, 297
and mnemic causation, 514
Transformation-equations, deduc
tion of, 136, etc.
evidence for, 139, etc.
of,
288
Transmissive Conditions, 491
Trinity, the Blessed, its internal
structure, 156, 215
its College at Cambridge, 286,
etc.
Uniform and non-uniform Strands of
History, 408
Uniformity, standard of, 156, etc.
Universe of Discourse, and Becom-
ing, 83, etc.
Variations, Calculus of, 196
Velocity of Light, 118, etc., 478
Volumes, series of converging, 44,
etc.
Containing, 47
Waterloo, Battle of, 89
Westminster Bridge, 52
Whitehead, Prof. A. N., and Ex-
tensive Abstraction, 38, etc.
and Timeless Space, 96, 463,
etc.
and Scientific Objects, 331
and Scientific Events, 389
and non - homogeneous ob-
jects, 402
Whole and Part, 48, etc., 55, etc.
Wiener, Dr N., and definition of
moments, 55
William III, King, 80
World-lines, 469, etc.
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