Science and Philosophy

In the present lecture, it is my object to consider some reactions of science upon the stream of philosophic thought during the modern centuries with which we are concerned. I shall make no attempt to compress a history of modern philosophy within the limits of one lecture. We shall merely consider some contacts between science and philosophy, in so far as they lie within the scheme of thought which it is the purpose of these lectures to develop. For this reason the whole of the great German idealistic movement will be ignored, as being out of effective touch with its contemporary science so far as reciprocal modification of concepts is concerned. Kant, from whom this movement took its rise, was saturated with Newtonian physics, and with the ideas of the great French physicists—such as Clairaut,¹¹ for instance—who developed the Newtonian ideas. But the philosophers who developed the Kantian school of thought, or who transformed it into Hegelianism, either lacked Kant’s background of scientific knowledge, or lacked his potentiality of becoming a great physicist if philosophy had not absorbed his main energies.

In this lecture, I aim to consider some ways science influenced philosophical thought during the modern centuries we are studying. I will not try to fit a history of modern philosophy into one lecture. We will consider only some points of contact between science and philosophy. We will consider them only as far as they fit within the framework of thought these lectures aim to develop. For this reason, I will leave out the whole great German idealist movement. Its ideas and those of contemporary science were too far apart to influence each other effectively. Kant, who inspired this movement, was deeply versed in Newtonian physics. He was also steeped in the ideas of the great French physicists who developed Newton’s ideas, such as Clairaut.¹¹ But the philosophers who developed Kant’s school of thought or transformed it into Hegelianism lacked something Kant had. They lacked either his background in science or his potential to become a great physicist if philosophy had not absorbed most of his energy.

The origin of modern philosophy is analogous to that of science, and is contemporaneous. The general trend of its development was settled in the seventeenth century, partly at the hands of the same men who established the scientific principles. This settlement of purpose followed upon a transitional period dating from the fifteenth century. There was in fact a general movement of European mentality, which carried along with its stream, religion, science and philosophy. It may shortly be characterised as being the direct recurrence to the original sources of Greek inspiration on the part of men whose spiritual shape had been derived from inheritance from the Middle Ages. There was therefore no revival of Greek mentality. Epochs do not rise from the dead. The principles of aesthetics and of reason, which animated the Greek civilisation, were reclothed in a modern mentality. Between the two there lay other religions, other systems of law, other anarchies, and other racial inheritances, dividing the living from the dead.

Modern philosophy arose in much the same way as science, and at the same time. Its general direction was set in the seventeenth century. Some of the same people who established the principles of science helped set that direction. This settled purpose followed a period of transition that began in the fifteenth century. In fact, a general shift in European thought carried religion, science, and philosophy along with it. In brief, people returned directly to the original sources of Greek inspiration. Yet their spiritual outlook had been shaped by their inheritance from the Middle Ages. So there was no revival of the Greek way of thinking. Past ages do not rise from the dead. The principles of beauty and reason that inspired Greek civilization took on a modern form. Between the two ages lay other religions, other legal systems, other forms of anarchy, and other racial inheritances. These separated the living from the dead.

Philosophy is peculiarly sensitive to such differences. For, whereas you can make a replica of an ancient statue, there is no possible replica of an ancient state of mind. There can be no nearer approximation than that which a masquerade bears to real life. There may be understanding of the past, but there is a difference between the modern and the ancient reactions to the same stimuli.

Philosophy is especially sensitive to such differences. You can make a copy of an ancient statue, but you cannot reproduce an ancient state of mind. The closest you can come is like the resemblance between a masquerade and real life. We may understand the past, but modern and ancient people react differently to the same stimuli.

In the particular case of philosophy, the distinction in tonality lies on the surface. Modern philosophy is tinged with subjectivism, as against the objective attitude of the ancients. The same change is to be seen in religion. In the early history of the Christian Church, the theological interest centred in discussions on the nature of God, the meaning of the Incarnation, and apocalyptic forecasts of the ultimate fate of the world. At the Reformation, the Church was torn asunder by dissension as to the individual experiences of believers in respect to justification. The individual subject of experience had been substituted for the total drama of all reality. Luther asked, ‘How am I justified?’; modern philosophers have asked, ‘How do I have knowledge?’ The emphasis lies upon the subject of experience. This change of standpoint is the work of Christianity in its pastoral aspect of shepherding the company of believers. For century after century it insisted upon the infinite worth of the individual human soul. Accordingly, to the instinctive egotism of physical desires, it has superadded an instinctive feeling of justification for an egotism of intellectual outlook. Every human being is the natural guardian of his own importance. Without a doubt, this modern direction of attention emphasises truths of the highest value. For example, in the field of practical life, it has abolished slavery, and has impressed upon the popular imagination the primary rights of mankind.

In philosophy, the difference in tone is obvious. Modern philosophy tends toward subjectivism, unlike the objective outlook of the ancients. The same change can be seen in religion. In the early Christian Church, theological interest centered on the nature of God and the meaning of the Incarnation. It also centered on apocalyptic predictions about the ultimate fate of the world. At the Reformation, disagreements about believers’ individual experiences of justification tore the Church apart. The individual subject of experience had taken the place of the whole drama of reality. Luther asked, ‘How am I justified?’ Modern philosophers have asked, ‘How do I have knowledge?’ The emphasis is on the subject of experience. This change in outlook came from Christianity’s pastoral role in guiding the community of believers. For centuries, Christianity insisted on the infinite worth of each human soul. As a result, people have an instinctive sense that a self-centered intellectual outlook is justified. This sense has been added to the instinctive self-centeredness of physical desires. Every human being naturally guards their own importance. Without a doubt, this modern focus emphasizes truths of the highest value. For example, in practical life, it has abolished slavery. It has also impressed upon the popular imagination the fundamental rights of humanity.

Descartes, in his Discourse on Method, and in his Meditations, discloses with great clearness the general conceptions which have since influenced modern philosophy. There is a subject receiving experience: in the Discourse this subject is always mentioned in the first person, that is to say, as being Descartes himself. Descartes starts with himself as being a mentality, which in virtue of its consciousness of its own inherent presentations of sense and of thought, is thereby conscious of its own existence as a unit entity. The subsequent history of philosophy revolves round the Cartesian formulation of the primary datum. The ancient world takes its stand upon the drama of the Universe, the modern world upon the inward drama of the Soul. Descartes, in his Meditations, expressly grounds the existence of this inward drama upon the possibility of error. There may be no correspondence with objective fact, and thus there must be a soul with activities whose reality is purely derivative from itself. For example, here is a quotation¹² from Meditation II: “But it will be said that these presentations are false, and that I am dreaming. Let it be so. At all events it is certain that I seem to see light, hear a noise, and feel heat; this cannot be false, and this is what in me is properly called perceiving (sentire), which is nothing else than thinking. From this I begin to know what I am with somewhat greater clearness and distinctness than heretofore.” Again in Meditation III: “...; for, as I before remarked, although the things which I perceive or imagine are perhaps nothing at all apart from me, I am nevertheless assured that those modes of consciousness which I call perceptions and imaginations, in as far only as they are modes of consciousness, exist in me.”

In his Discourse on Method and his Meditations, Descartes clearly sets out the general ideas that have since influenced modern philosophy. There is a subject receiving experience. In the Discourse, Descartes always refers to this subject in the first person, as himself. Descartes begins with himself as a mind. This mind is conscious of its own inherent experiences of sense and thought. Through this consciousness, it is aware of its own existence as a single entity. The subsequent history of philosophy revolves around Descartes's formulation of this primary datum. The ancient world takes the drama of the Universe as its starting point. The modern world starts with the inward drama of the Soul. In his Meditations, Descartes explicitly bases the existence of this inward drama on the possibility of error. Experiences may not correspond to objective facts. Therefore, there must be a soul with activities whose reality comes solely from the soul itself. For example, here is a quotation¹² from Meditation II: “But it will be said that these experiences are false, and that I am dreaming. Let it be so. In any case, it is certain that I seem to see light, hear a noise, and feel heat. This cannot be false. And this is what, in me, is properly called perceiving (sentire), which is nothing other than thinking. From this I begin to know what I am somewhat more clearly and distinctly than before.” Again in Meditation III: “... for, as I remarked before, the things I perceive or imagine may be nothing at all apart from me. Nevertheless, I am certain that those modes of consciousness I call perceptions and imaginations exist in me, insofar as they are modes of consciousness.”

The objectivism of the medieval and the ancient worlds passed over into science. Nature is there conceived as for itself, with its own mutual reactions. Under the recent influence of relativity, there has been a tendency towards subjectivist formulations. But, apart from this recent exception, nature, in scientific thought, has had its laws formulated without any reference to dependence on individual observers. There is, however, this difference between the older and the later attitudes towards science. The anti-rationalism of the moderns has checked any attempt to harmonise the ultimate concepts of science with ideas drawn from a more concrete survey of the whole of reality. The material, the space, the time, the various laws concerning the transition of material configurations, are taken as ultimate stubborn facts, not to be tampered with.

The objectivism of the ancient and medieval worlds carried over into science. Science sees nature as existing in its own right, with its parts interacting with one another. More recently, the influence of relativity has encouraged more subjectivist ways of describing nature. But apart from this recent exception, science has formulated nature’s laws without reference to any dependence on individual observers. There is, however, a difference between older and later attitudes toward science. The anti-rationalism of modern thinkers has discouraged attempts to reconcile the basic concepts of science with ideas drawn from a more concrete view of reality as a whole. Matter, space, time, and the various laws governing changes in the arrangement of matter are treated as ultimate, stubborn facts that must not be tampered with.

The effect of this antagonism to philosophy has been equally unfortunate both for philosophy and for science. In this lecture we are concerned with philosophy. Philosophers are rationalists. They are seeking to go behind stubborn and irreducible facts: they wish to explain in the light of universal principles the mutual reference between the various details entering into the flux of things. Also, they seek such principles as will eliminate mere arbitrariness; so that, whatever portion of fact is assumed or given, the existence of the remainder of things shall satisfy some demand of rationality. They demand meaning. In the words of Henry Sidgwick¹³—“It is the primary aim of philosophy to unify completely, bring into clear coherence, all departments of rational thought, and this aim cannot be realised by any philosophy that leaves out of its view the important body of judgments and reasonings which form the subject matter of ethics.” Accordingly, the bias towards history on the part of the physical and social sciences with their refusal to rationalise below some ultimate mechanism, has pushed philosophy out of the effective currents of modern life. It has lost its proper rôle as a constant critic of partial formulations. It has retreated into the subjectivist sphere of mind, by reason of its expulsion by science from the objectivist sphere of matter. Thus the evolution of thought in the seventeenth century coöperated with the enhanced sense of individual personality derived from the Middle Ages. We see Descartes taking his stand upon his own ultimate mind, which his philosophy assures him of; and asking about its relations to the ultimate matter—exemplified, in the second Meditation, by the human body and a lump of wax—which his science assumes. There is Aaron’s rod, and the magicians’ serpents; and the only question for philosophy is, which swallows which; or whether, as Descartes thought, they all lived happily together. In this stream of thought are to be found Locke, Berkeley, Hume, Kant. Two great names lie outside this list, Spinoza and Leibniz. But there is a certain isolation of both of them in respect to their philosophical influence so far as science is concerned; as though they had strayed to extremes which lie outside the boundaries of safe philosophy, Spinoza by retaining older ways of thought, and Leibniz by the novelty of his monads.

This hostility to philosophy has been equally unfortunate for philosophy and science. In this lecture, we are concerned with philosophy. Philosophers are rationalists. They seek to look beyond stubborn facts that cannot be reduced to anything simpler. They want to explain how the various details in the flow of things relate to one another. They seek to do this through universal principles. They also seek principles that will eliminate mere arbitrariness. Given any part of the facts, the existence of everything else should meet some demand of reason. They demand meaning. In the words of Henry Sidgwick¹³: “The primary aim of philosophy is to unify all areas of rational thought completely and bring them into clear coherence. No philosophy can achieve this aim if it leaves out the important body of judgments and reasoning that forms the subject matter of ethics.” The physical and social sciences favor historical explanation and refuse to seek a rational explanation beneath some ultimate mechanism. As a result, they have pushed philosophy out of the effective currents of modern life. Philosophy has lost its proper role as a constant critic of partial accounts. Science has expelled philosophy from the objective realm of matter. Because of this, philosophy has retreated into the subjective realm of mind. Thus, the development of thought in the seventeenth century worked together with the stronger sense of individual personality inherited from the Middle Ages. We see Descartes starting from his own ultimate mind, whose existence his philosophy assures him of. He asks how his mind relates to ultimate matter, whose existence his science assumes. In the second Meditation, he gives the human body and a lump of wax as examples of matter. There are Aaron’s rod and the magicians’ serpents. The only question for philosophy is which swallows which, or whether, as Descartes thought, they all lived happily together. Locke, Berkeley, Hume, and Kant belong to this stream of thought. Two great names stand outside this list: Spinoza and Leibniz. But both have had a certain isolation in their philosophical influence on science. It is as if they had strayed to extremes beyond the boundaries of safe philosophy. Spinoza did so by retaining older ways of thinking, and Leibniz by the novelty of his monads.

The history of philosophy runs curiously parallel to that of science. In the case of both, the seventeenth century set the stage for its two successors. But with the twentieth century a new act commences. It is an exaggeration to attribute a general change in a climate of thought to any one piece of writing, or to any one author. No doubt Descartes only expressed definitely and in decisive form what was already in the air of his period. Analogously, in attributing to William James the inauguration of a new stage in philosophy, we should be neglecting other influences of his time. But, admitting this, there still remains a certain fitness in contrasting his essay, Does Consciousness Exist, published in 1904, with Descartes’ Discourse on Method, published in 1637. James clears the stage of the old paraphernalia; or rather he entirely alters its lighting. Take for example these two sentences from his essay: “To deny plumply that ‘consciousness’ exists seems so absurd on the face of it—for undeniably ‘thoughts’ do exist—that I fear some readers will follow me no farther. Let me then immediately explain that I mean only to deny that the word stands for an entity, but to insist most emphatically that it does stand for a function.”

The history of philosophy has followed a curious path parallel to the history of science. In both fields, the seventeenth century set the stage for the next two centuries. But a new act begins in the twentieth century. It would be an exaggeration to credit any one work or author with a general change in intellectual climate. No doubt Descartes simply gave clear and decisive expression to ideas already circulating in his time. Similarly, if we credit William James with starting a new stage in philosophy, we overlook other influences of his time. Even so, it still makes sense to contrast his essay Does Consciousness Exist, published in 1904, with Descartes’ Discourse on Method, published in 1637. James clears the stage of the old equipment. Or rather, he completely changes its lighting. Take, for example, these two sentences from his essay: “To deny outright that ‘consciousness’ exists seems absurd at first. After all, ‘thoughts’ undeniably exist. So I fear some readers will follow me no farther. Let me immediately explain that I mean only to deny that the word refers to an entity. I insist most emphatically that it does refer to a function.”

The scientific materialism and the Cartesian Ego were both challenged at the same moment, one by science and the other by philosophy, as represented by William James with his psychological antecedents; and the double challenge marks the end of a period which lasted for about two hundred and fifty years. Of course, ‘matter’ and ‘consciousness’ both express something so evident in ordinary experience that any philosophy must provide some things which answer to their respective meanings. But the point is that, in respect to both of them, the seventeenth century settlement was infected with a presupposition which is now challenged. James denies that consciousness is an entity, but admits that it is a function. The discrimination between an entity and a function is therefore vital to the understanding of the challenge which James is advancing against the older modes of thought. In the essay in question, the character which James assigns to consciousness is fully discussed. But he does not unambiguously explain what he means by the notion of an entity, which he refuses to apply to consciousness. In the sentence which immediately follows the one which I have already quoted, he says:

Scientific materialism and the Cartesian Ego were both challenged at the same time. Science challenged the first, and philosophy challenged the second. William James, together with his predecessors in psychology, represented the philosophical challenge. These two challenges mark the end of a period that lasted about two hundred and fifty years. Of course, both ‘matter’ and ‘consciousness’ express something so evident in ordinary experience that any philosophy must account for their respective meanings. But the seventeenth century view of both rested on an assumption that is now being challenged. James denies that consciousness is an entity, but accepts that it is a function. The distinction between an entity and a function is therefore vital to understanding James’s challenge to older ways of thinking. The essay in question discusses fully the character James assigns to consciousness. But James does not clearly explain what he means by an entity, a term he refuses to apply to consciousness. In the sentence immediately following the one I have already quoted, he says:

“There is, I mean, no aboriginal stuff or quality of being, contrasted with that of which material objects are made, out of which our thoughts of them are made; but there is a function in experience which thoughts perform, and for the performance of which this quality of being is invoked. That function is knowing. ‘Consciousness’ is supposed necessary to explain the fact that things not only are, but get reported, are known.”

“There is, I mean, no fundamental substance or quality of being from which our thoughts of material objects are made. There is nothing of this kind distinct from what the objects themselves are made of. But thoughts do perform a function in experience. This quality of being is invoked to explain how they perform it. That function is knowing. ‘Consciousness’ is supposed to be necessary to explain why things not only exist, but are also reported and known.”

Thus James is denying that consciousness is a ‘stuff.’

So James denies that consciousness is a ‘stuff.’

The term ‘entity,’ or even that of ‘stuff,’ does not fully tell its own tale. The notion of ‘entity’ is so general that it may be taken to mean anything that can be thought about. You cannot think of mere nothing; and the something which is an object of thought may be called an entity. In this sense, a function is an entity. Obviously, this is not what James had in his mind.

The term ‘entity,’ or even ‘stuff,’ does not fully explain itself. The idea of an ‘entity’ is so broad that it may mean anything we can think about. You cannot think about sheer nothing. And the something you think about may be called an entity. In this sense, a function is an entity. Obviously, this is not what James had in mind.

In agreement with the organic theory of nature which I have been tentatively putting forward in these lectures, I shall for my own purposes construe James as denying exactly what Descartes asserts in his Discourse and his Meditations. Descartes discriminates two species of entities, matter and soul. The essence of matter is spatial extension; the essence of soul is its cogitation, in the full sense which Descartes assigns to the word ‘cogitare.’ For example, in Section Fifty-three of Part I of his Principles of Philosophy, he enunciates: “That of every substance there is one principal attribute, as thinking of the mind, extension of the body.” In the earlier, Fifty-first Section, Descartes states: “By substance we can conceive nothing else than a thing which exists in such a way as to stand in need of nothing beyond itself in order to its existence.” Furthermore, later on, Descartes says: “For example, because any substance which ceases to endure ceases also to exist, duration is not distinct from substance except in thought;....” Thus we conclude that, for Descartes, minds and bodies exist in such a way as to stand in need of nothing beyond themselves individually (God only excepted, as being the foundation of all things); that both minds and bodies endure, because without endurance they would cease to exist; that spatial extension is the essential attribute of bodies; and that cogitation is the essential attribute of minds.

In keeping with the organic theory of nature I have tentatively proposed in these lectures, I will interpret James as denying exactly what Descartes asserts in his Discourse and his Meditations. This interpretation serves my own purposes. Descartes distinguishes two kinds of entities, matter and soul. The essence of matter is spatial extension. The essence of soul is thought, in the full sense Descartes gives the word ‘cogitare.’ For example, in Section Fifty-three of Part I of his Principles of Philosophy, Descartes states: “Every substance has one principal attribute, such as thought in the mind or extension in the body.” In the earlier Section Fifty-one, Descartes states: “By substance we can understand only a thing that exists in such a way that it needs nothing beyond itself to exist.” Later, Descartes also says: “For example, any substance that ceases to endure also ceases to exist. So duration is distinct from substance only in thought....” We can therefore conclude that, for Descartes, minds and bodies each exist without needing anything beyond themselves. God alone is excepted, as the foundation of all things. Both minds and bodies endure, because they would cease to exist without endurance. Spatial extension is the essential attribute of bodies, and thought is the essential attribute of minds.

It is difficult to praise too highly the genius exhibited by Descartes in the complete sections of his Principles which deal with these questions. It is worthy of the century in which he writes, and of the clearness of the French intellect. Descartes in his distinction between time and duration, and in his way of grounding time upon motion, and in his close relation between matter and extension, anticipates, as far as it was possible at his epoch, modern notions suggested by the doctrine of relativity, or by some aspects of Bergson’s doctrine of the generation of things. But the fundamental principles are so set out as to presuppose independently existing substances with simple location in a community of temporal durations, and, in the case of bodies, with simple location in the community of spatial extensions. Those principles lead straight to the theory of a materialistic, mechanistic nature, surveyed by cogitating minds. After the close of the seventeenth century, science took charge of the materialistic nature, and philosophy took charge of the cogitating minds. Some schools of philosophy admitted an ultimate dualism; and the various idealistic schools claimed that nature was merely the chief example of the cogitations of minds. But all schools admitted the Cartesian analysis of the ultimate elements of nature. I am excluding Spinoza and Leibniz from these statements as to the main stream of modern philosophy, as derivative from Descartes; though of course they were influenced by him, and in their turn influenced philosophers. I am thinking mainly of the effective contacts between science and philosophy.

It is hard to praise too highly the genius Descartes shows in the full sections of his Principles that address these questions. His work is worthy of the century in which he wrote and of the clarity of the French intellect. Descartes distinguishes between time and duration, grounds time in motion, and closely connects matter with extension. In these ways, he anticipates modern ideas suggested by relativity and by some aspects of Bergson’s account of how things come into being. He does so as far as was possible in his time. But his fundamental principles assume that substances exist independently and have a simple location within a shared system of temporal durations. For bodies, the principles also assume a simple location within a shared system of spatial extensions. These principles lead directly to a theory of a materialistic, mechanistic nature observed by thinking minds. After the end of the seventeenth century, science took charge of materialistic nature, and philosophy took charge of thinking minds. Some schools of philosophy accepted a fundamental dualism. The various idealistic schools claimed that nature was merely the chief example of what minds think. But all schools accepted the Cartesian analysis of the ultimate elements of nature. I am excluding Spinoza and Leibniz from these statements about the main stream of modern philosophy as it developed from Descartes. Of course, Descartes influenced both philosophers, and they in turn influenced other philosophers. I am thinking mainly of the ways science and philosophy actually influenced each other.

This division of territory between science and philosophy was not a simple business; and in fact it illustrated the weakness of the whole cut-and-dried presupposition upon which it rested. We are aware of nature as an interplay of bodies, colours, sounds, scents, tastes, touches and other various bodily feelings, displayed as in space, in patterns of mutual separation by intervening volumes, and of individual shape. Also the whole is a flux, changing with the lapse of time. This systematic totality is disclosed to us as one complex of things. But the seventeenth century dualism cuts straight across it. The objective world of science was confined to mere spatial material with simple location in space and time, and subjected to definite rules as to its locomotion. The subjective world of philosophy annexed the colours, sounds, scents, tastes, touches, bodily feelings, as forming the subjective content of the cogitations of the individual minds. Both worlds shared in the general flux; but time, as measured, is assigned by Descartes to the cogitations of the observer’s mind. There is obviously one fatal weakness to this scheme. The cogitations of mind exhibit themselves as holding up entities, such as colours for instance, before the mind as the termini of contemplation. But in this theory these colours are, after all, merely the furniture of the mind. Accordingly, the mind seems to be confined to its own private world of cogitations. The subject-object conformation of experience in its entirety lies within the mind as one of its private passions. This conclusion from the Cartesian data is the starting point from which Berkeley, Hume, and Kant developed their respective systems. And, antecedently to them, it was the point upon which Locke concentrated as being the vital question. Thus the question as to how any knowledge is obtained of the truly objective world of science becomes a problem of the first magnitude. Descartes states that the objective body is perceived by the intellect. He says (Meditation II): “I must, therefore, admit that I cannot even comprehend by imagination what the piece of wax is, and that it is the mind alone which perceives it. I speak of one piece in particular; for, as to wax in general, this is still more evident. But what is the piece of wax that can be perceived only by the mind?... The perception of it is neither an act of sight, of touch, nor of imagination, and never was either of these, though it might formerly seem so, but is simply an intuition (inspectio) of the mind,....” It must be noted that the Latin word ‘inspectio’ is associated in its classical use with the notion of theory as opposed to practice.

Dividing territory between science and philosophy was not simple. In fact, the difficulty exposed a weakness in the whole fixed assumption behind the division. We experience nature as an interplay of bodies, colours, sounds, scents, tastes, touches, and various other bodily feelings. These appear in space, with individual shapes and patterns of separation created by the volumes between them. The whole is also in flux, changing as time passes. This ordered totality is revealed to us as a single complex of things. But seventeenth-century dualism cuts straight across it. The objective world of science was limited to mere spatial matter, with a definite location in space and time. This matter was subject to definite rules governing its movement. The subjective world of philosophy claimed colours, sounds, scents, tastes, touches, and bodily feelings. These formed the subjective content of individual minds’ thoughts. Both worlds shared in the general flux. But Descartes assigned measured time to the thoughts of the observer’s mind. There is one obvious and fatal weakness in this scheme. Thoughts appear to present things, such as colours, to the mind as objects of contemplation. But in this theory, these colours are, after all, merely part of the mind’s contents. The mind therefore seems confined to its own private world of thoughts. The subject-object structure of experience lies entirely within the mind as one of its private experiences. This conclusion from Descartes’s premises was the starting point for the respective systems of Berkeley, Hume, and Kant. Before them, Locke had focused on this point as the vital question. Thus the question of how we gain any knowledge of science’s truly objective world becomes a problem of the first magnitude. Descartes says that the intellect perceives the objective body. He says (Meditation II): “I must therefore admit that I cannot even grasp through imagination what the piece of wax is. The mind alone perceives it. I am speaking of one particular piece. For this is even more evident when we consider wax in general. But what is the piece of wax that only the mind can perceive?... Perceiving it is not an act of sight, touch, or imagination. Nor was it ever any of these, though it may once have seemed so. It is simply an intuition (inspectio) of the mind,....” It is worth noting that, in classical usage, the Latin word ‘inspectio’ is associated with theory rather than practice.

The two great preoccupations of modern philosophy now lie clearly before us. The study of mind divides into psychology, or the study of mental functionings as considered in themselves and in their mutual relations, and into epistemology, or the theory of the knowledge of a common objective world. In other words, there is the study of the cogitations, quâ passions of the mind, and their study quâ leading to an inspection (intuition) of an objective world. This is a very uneasy division, giving rise to a host of perplexities whose consideration has occupied the intervening centuries.

The two main concerns of modern philosophy are now clear. The study of mind divides into psychology and epistemology. Psychology studies mental functions in themselves and in relation to one another. Epistemology is the theory of how we know a shared objective world. In other words, thoughts are studied as experiences of the mind. They are also studied as leading to a direct perception (intuition) of an objective world. This division is very uneasy. It has given rise to many puzzles that have occupied philosophers in the centuries since.

As long as men thought in terms of physical notions for the objective world and of mentality for the subjective world, the setting out of the problem, as achieved by Descartes, sufficed as a starting point. But the balance has been upset by the rise of physiology. In the seventeenth century men passed from the study of physics to the study of philosophy. Towards the end of the nineteenth century, notably in Germany, men passed from the study of physiology to the study of psychology. The change in tone has been decisive. Of course, in the earlier period the intervention of the human body was fully considered, for example, by Descartes in Part V of the ‘Discourse on Method.’ But the physiological instinct had not been developed. In considering the human body, Descartes thought with the outfit of a physicist; whereas the modern psychologists are clothed with the mentalities of medical physiologists. The career of William James is an example of this change in standpoint. He also possessed the clear, incisive genius which could state in a flash the exact point at issue.

As long as people thought of the objective world in physical terms and the subjective world in mental terms, Descartes’s formulation of the problem was a sufficient starting point. But the rise of physiology has upset that balance. In the seventeenth century, people moved from studying physics to studying philosophy. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, particularly in Germany, people moved from studying physiology to studying psychology. The change in outlook has been decisive. Of course, in the earlier period, thinkers fully considered the role of the human body. Descartes did so, for example, in Part V of the ‘Discourse on Method.’ But the physiological instinct had not yet developed. When Descartes considered the human body, he thought like a physicist. Modern psychologists, by contrast, think like medical physiologists. The career of William James is an example of this change in standpoint. He also had a clear, incisive genius that allowed him to state the exact point at issue in a flash.

The reason why I have put Descartes and James in close juxtaposition is now evident. Neither philosopher finished an epoch by a final solution of a problem. Their great merit is of the opposite sort. They each of them open an epoch by their clear formulation of terms in which thought could profitably express itself at particular stages of knowledge, one for the seventeenth century, the other for the twentieth century. In this respect, they are both to be contrasted with St. Thomas Aquinas, who expressed the culmination of Aristotelian scholasticism.

It should now be clear why I have placed Descartes and James side by side. Neither philosopher brought an era to an end by finally solving a problem. Their great merit lies in just the opposite. Each opened a new era by clearly defining terms that could help people express their thoughts. These terms suited the state of knowledge at the time, the seventeenth century for Descartes and the twentieth for James. In this respect, both philosophers stand in contrast to St. Thomas Aquinas, who expressed Aristotelian scholasticism at its peak.

In many ways neither Descartes nor James were the most characteristic philosophers of their respective epochs. I should be disposed to ascribe these positions to Locke and to Bergson respectively, at least so far as concerns their relations to the science of their times. Locke developed the lines of thought which kept philosophy on the move; for example he emphasized the appeal to psychology. He initiated the age of epoch-making enquiries into urgent problems of limited scope. Undoubtedly, in so doing, he infected philosophy with something of the anti-rationalism of science. But the very groundwork of a fruitful methodology is to start from those clear postulates which must be held to be ultimate so far as concerns the occasion in question. The criticism of such methodological postulates is thus reserved for another opportunity. Locke discovered that the philosophical situation bequeathed by Descartes involved the problems of epistemology and psychology.

In many ways, neither Descartes nor James was the most representative philosopher of his time. I would give those positions to Locke and Bergson, respectively, at least in their relation to the science of their times. Locke developed lines of thought that kept philosophy moving. For example, he emphasized the importance of psychology. He began an age of groundbreaking inquiries into urgent problems of limited scope. In doing so, he undoubtedly introduced some of science’s anti-rationalism into philosophy. But a fruitful method must begin with clear assumptions treated as final for the purpose at hand. Criticism of those assumptions is therefore left for another occasion. Locke discovered that the philosophical situation Descartes left behind raised problems of epistemology and psychology.

Bergson introduced into philosophy the organic conceptions of physiological science. He has most completely moved away from the static materialism of the seventeenth century. His protest against spatialisation is a protest against taking the Newtonian conception of nature as being anything except a high abstraction. His so-called anti-intellectualism should be construed in this sense. In some respects he recurs to Descartes; but the recurrence is accompanied with an instinctive grasp of modern biology.

Bergson brought the organic concepts of physiological science into philosophy. He moved furthest away from the static materialism of the seventeenth century. His objection to spatialisation is an objection to treating Newton’s conception of nature as anything more than a high abstraction. His so-called anti-intellectualism should be understood in this sense. In some respects, he returns to Descartes, but he does so with an instinctive grasp of modern biology.

There is another reason for associating Locke and Bergson. The germ of an organic theory of nature is to be found in Locke. His most recent expositor, Professor Gibson,¹⁴ states that Locke’s way of conceiving the identity of self-consciousness ‘like that of a living organism, involves a genuine transcending of the mechanical view of nature and of mind, embodied in the composition theory.’ But it is to be noticed that in the first place Locke wavers in his grasp of this position; and in the second place, what is more important still, he only applies his idea to self-consciousness. The physiological attitude has not yet established itself. The effect of physiology was to put mind back into nature. The neurologist traces first the effect of stimuli along the bodily nerves, then integration at nerve centres, and finally the rise of a projective reference beyond the body with a resulting motor efficacy in renewed nervous excitement. In biochemistry, the delicate adjustment of the chemical composition of the parts to the preservation of the whole organism is detected. Thus the mental cognition is seen as the reflective experience of a totality, reporting for itself what it is in itself as one unit occurrence. This unit is the integration of the sum of its partial happenings, but it is not their numerical aggregate. It has its own unity as an event. This total unity, considered as an entity for its own sake, is the prehension into unity of the patterned aspects of the universe of events. Its knowledge of itself arises from its own relevance to the things of which it prehends the aspects. It knows the world as a system of mutual relevance, and thus sees itself as mirrored in other things. These other things include more especially the various parts of its own body.

There is another reason to associate Locke and Bergson. Locke’s work contains the beginnings of an organic theory of nature. His most recent expositor, Professor Gibson,¹⁴ says that Locke’s way of conceiving the identity of self-consciousness ‘like that of a living organism, involves a genuine transcending of the mechanical view of nature and of mind, embodied in the composition theory.’ But Locke’s grasp of this position is inconsistent. More importantly, he applies the idea only to self-consciousness. The physiological approach has not yet established itself. Physiology had the effect of putting mind back into nature. The neurologist traces the effects of stimuli along the body’s nerves. These effects are then integrated at nerve centres. Finally, there arises a reference outward, beyond the body. This leads to renewed nervous excitement that produces movement. In biochemistry, we find that the chemical composition of the parts is finely adjusted to preserve the whole organism. Mental cognition can thus be seen as the reflective experience of a whole. This experience reports to itself what the whole is in itself, as a single event. The event integrates all its partial happenings, but it is not just their sum. It has its own unity as an event. Considered as an entity in its own right, this whole is the prehension into unity of patterned aspects of the universe of events. Its knowledge of itself arises from its own relevance to the things whose aspects it prehends. It knows the world as a system of mutual relevance, and so sees itself mirrored in other things. These other things include, especially, the various parts of its own body.

It is important to discriminate the bodily pattern, which endures, from the bodily event, which is pervaded by the enduring pattern, and from the parts of the bodily event. The parts of the bodily event are themselves pervaded by their own enduring patterns, which form elements in the bodily pattern. The parts of the body are really portions of the environment of the total bodily event, but so related that their mutual aspects, each in the other, are peculiarly effective in modifying the pattern of either. This arises from the intimate character of the relation of whole to part. Thus the body is a portion of the environment for the part, and the part is a portion of the environment for the body; only they are peculiarly sensitive, each to modifications of the other. This sensitiveness is so arranged that the part adjusts itself to preserve the stability of the pattern of the body. It is a particular example of the favourable environment shielding the organism. The relation of part to whole has the special reciprocity associated with the notion of organism, in which the part is for the whole; but this relation reigns throughout nature and does not start with the special case of the higher organisms.

It is important to distinguish the enduring bodily pattern from the bodily event, which is shaped throughout by that pattern, and from the parts of the bodily event. The parts of the bodily event are themselves shaped throughout by their own enduring patterns. These patterns form elements of the bodily pattern. The parts of the body are really portions of the environment of the whole bodily event. But they are related in such a way that each part’s presence in the other is especially effective in changing the other’s pattern. This is because of the close relationship between the whole and its parts. Thus the body is a portion of the environment of the part, and the part is a portion of the environment of the body. But each is especially sensitive to changes in the other. This sensitivity is arranged so that the part adjusts itself to keep the body’s pattern stable. It is one example of a favorable environment protecting the organism. The relationship between part and whole has the special reciprocity associated with the idea of an organism, in which the part serves the whole. But this relationship exists throughout nature. It does not begin with the special case of higher organisms.

Further, viewing the question as a matter of chemistry, there is no need to construe the actions of each molecule in a living body by its exclusive particular reference to the pattern of the complete living organism. It is true that each molecule is affected by the aspect of this pattern as mirrored in it, so as to be otherwise than what it would have been if placed elsewhere. In the same way, under some circumstances an electron may be a sphere, and under other circumstances an egg-shaped volume. The mode of approach to the problem, so far as science is concerned, is merely to ask if molecules exhibit in living bodies properties which are not to be observed amid inorganic surroundings. In the same way, in a magnetic field soft iron exhibits magnetic properties which are in abeyance elsewhere. The prompt self-preservative actions of living bodies, and our experience of the physical actions of our bodies following the determinations of will, suggest the modification of molecules in the body as the result of the total pattern. It seems possible that there may be physical laws expressing the modification of the ultimate basic organisms when they form part of higher organisms with adequate compactness of pattern. It would, however, be entirely in consonance with the empirically observed action of environments, if the direct effects of aspects as between the whole body and its parts were negligible. We should expect transmission. In this way the modification of total pattern would transmit itself by means of a series of modifications of a descending series of parts, so that finally the modification of the cell changes its aspect in the molecule, thus effecting a corresponding alteration in the molecule,—or in some subtler entity. Thus the question for physiology is the question of the physics of molecules in cells of different characters.

Further, if we consider the question in terms of chemistry, we need not explain each molecule’s actions solely by reference to the pattern of the whole living organism. Each molecule is affected by the aspect of that pattern reflected in it. So the molecule is different from what it would have been elsewhere. Similarly, an electron may be spherical in some circumstances and egg-shaped in others. As far as science is concerned, the approach is simply to ask a question. Do molecules in living bodies show properties not observed in inorganic surroundings? Similarly, in a magnetic field, soft iron shows magnetic properties that remain inactive elsewhere. Living bodies act quickly to preserve themselves. We also experience our bodies acting physically in response to decisions of the will. These facts suggest that the body’s overall pattern modifies its molecules. There may be physical laws that express how the most basic organisms are modified. Such modification may occur when they form part of higher organisms whose patterns are sufficiently compact. It would, however, be entirely consistent with the observed effects of environments if the direct effects between the whole body and its parts were negligible. We should expect effects to be transmitted. In this way, a change in the overall pattern would be transmitted through changes in a descending series of parts. Finally, a change in the cell would change the aspect of the cell reflected in the molecule. This would bring about a corresponding change in the molecule, or in some subtler entity. Thus, for physiology, the question is one of the physics of molecules in cells of different kinds.

We can now see the relation of psychology to physiology and to physics. The private psychological field is merely the event considered from its own standpoint. The unity of this field is the unity of the event. But it is the event as one entity, and not the event as a sum of parts. The relations of the parts, to each other and to the whole, are their aspects, each in the other. A body for an external observer is the aggregate of the aspects for him of the body as a whole, and also of the body as a sum of parts. For the external observer the aspects of shape and of sense-objects are dominant, at least for cognition. But we must also allow for the possibility that we can detect in ourselves direct aspects of the mentalities of higher organisms. The claim that the cognition of alien mentalities must necessarily be by means of indirect inferences from aspects of shape and of sense-objects is wholly unwarranted by this philosophy of organism. The fundamental principle is that whatever merges into actuality, implants its aspects in every individual event.

We can now see how psychology relates to physiology and physics. The private psychological field is simply the event viewed from its own standpoint. The unity of this field is the unity of the event. But the event is viewed as one entity, not as a sum of parts. The parts relate to one another and to the whole through their aspects in one another. To an outside observer, a body is the sum of its aspects as they appear to that observer. These include aspects of the body as a whole and as a sum of parts. For the outside observer, aspects of shape and sense-objects are dominant, at least in what the observer knows. But we must also allow for the possibility that we can directly perceive aspects of higher organisms' mentalities in ourselves. The philosophy of organism gives no grounds for claiming that we must know other mentalities only through indirect inferences from aspects of shape and sense-objects. The fundamental principle is that whatever becomes actual plants its aspects in every individual event.

Further, even for self-cognition, the aspects of the parts of our own bodies partly take the form of aspects of shape, and of sense-objects. But that part of the bodily event, in respect to which the cognitive mentality is associated, is for itself the unit psychological field. Its ingredients are not referent to the event itself; they are aspects of what lies beyond that event. Thus the self-knowledge inherent in the bodily event is the knowledge of itself as a complex unity, whose ingredients involve all reality beyond itself, restricted under the limitation of its pattern of aspects. Thus we know ourselves as a function of unification of a plurality of things which are other than ourselves. Cognition discloses an event as being an activity, organising a real togetherness of alien things. But this psychological field does not depend on its cognition; so that this field is still a unit event as abstracted from its self-cognition.

Further, even in knowing ourselves, we perceive parts of our own bodies partly in terms of shape and sense-objects. But the part of the bodily event associated with the knowing mind is itself a unified psychological field. Its elements do not refer to the event itself. They are aspects of what lies beyond the event. Thus, the self-knowledge inherent in the bodily event is knowledge of itself as a complex unity. Its elements involve all reality beyond itself, as limited by its pattern of aspects. So we know ourselves as a process that unifies many things other than ourselves. Cognition reveals an event as an activity that organizes a real togetherness of things other than itself. But this psychological field does not depend on being known. So the field remains a unified event even when considered apart from its self-knowledge.

Accordingly, consciousness will be the function of knowing. But what is known is already a prehension of aspects of the one real universe. These aspects are aspects of other events as mutually modifying, each the others. In the pattern of aspects they stand in their pattern of mutual relatedness.

So consciousness is the function of knowing. But what is known is already a prehension of aspects of the one real universe. These are aspects of other events, each modifying the others. In the pattern of aspects, these aspects stand in their pattern of mutual relations.

The aboriginal data in terms of which the pattern weaves itself are the aspects of shapes, of sense-objects, and of other eternal objects whose self-identity is not dependent on the flux of things. Wherever such objects have ingression into the general flux, they interpret events, each to the other. They are here in the perceiver; but, as perceived by him, they convey for him something of the total flux which is beyond himself. The subject-object relation takes its origin in the double rôle of these eternal objects. They are modifications of the subject, but only in their character of conveying aspects of other subjects in the community of the universe. Thus no individual subject can have independent reality, since it is a prehension of limited aspects of subjects other than itself.

The basic elements from which the pattern weaves itself are aspects of shapes, sense-objects, and other eternal objects. These objects remain identical to themselves regardless of the flux of things. Wherever such objects enter the general flux, they make events intelligible to one another. They are present in the perceiver. But as the perceiver perceives them, they convey something of the total flux beyond the perceiver. The subject-object relation arises from this double role of eternal objects. They modify the subject, but only by conveying aspects of other subjects in the community of the universe. Thus no individual subject can have an independent reality. Each subject is a prehension of limited aspects of subjects other than itself.

The technical phrase ‘subject-object’ is a bad term for the fundamental situation disclosed in experience. It is really reminiscent of the Aristotelian ‘subject-predicate.’ It already presupposes the metaphysical doctrine of diverse subjects qualified by their private predicates. This is the doctrine of subjects with private worlds of experience. If this be granted, there is no escape from solipsism. The point is that the phrase ‘subject-object’ indicates a fundamental entity underlying the objects. Thus the ‘objects,’ as thus conceived, are merely the ghosts of Aristotelian predicates. The primary situation disclosed in cognitive experience is ‘ego-object amid objects.’ By this I mean that the primary fact is an impartial world transcending the ‘here-now’ which marks the ego-object, and transcending the ‘now’ which is the spatial world of simultaneous realisation. It is a world also including the actuality of the past, and the limited potentiality of the future, together with the complete world of abstract potentiality, the realm of eternal objects, which transcends, and finds exemplification in and comparison with, the actual course of realisation. The ego-object, as consciousness here-now, is conscious of its experient essence as constituted by its internal relatedness to the world of realities, and to the world of ideas. But the ego-object, in being thus constituted, is within the world of realities, and exhibits itself as an organism requiring the ingression of ideas for the purpose of this status among realities. This question of consciousness must be reserved for treatment on another occasion.

The technical phrase ‘subject-object’ is a poor term for the basic situation revealed in experience. It calls to mind the Aristotelian phrase ‘subject-predicate.’ It already assumes the metaphysical doctrine of separate subjects, each defined by its own private predicates. According to this doctrine, subjects have private worlds of experience. If we accept this doctrine, there is no escape from solipsism. The phrase ‘subject-object’ suggests that a fundamental entity lies beneath the objects. The ‘objects,’ understood in this way, are merely the ghosts of Aristotelian predicates. The basic situation revealed in cognitive experience is ‘ego-object amid objects.’ By this I mean that the primary fact is an impartial world that extends beyond the ‘here-now’ marking the ego-object. This world also extends beyond the ‘now’ of the spatial world, where things become real at the same time. It includes the reality of the past and the limited potential of the future. It also includes the complete world of abstract potentiality, the realm of eternal objects. This realm extends beyond the actual course of realization. Its eternal objects are exemplified in that course and can be compared with it. The ego-object, as consciousness here and now, is aware of the essence of its experience. This essence is formed by its internal relationship to the world of realities and the world of ideas. But the ego-object, formed in this way, exists within the world of realities. It shows itself to be an organism that requires the ingression of ideas to have this status among realities. The question of consciousness must be left for another occasion.

The point to be made for the purposes of the present discussion is that a philosophy of nature as organic must start at the opposite end to that requisite for a materialistic philosophy. The materialistic starting point is from independently existing substances, matter and mind. The matter suffers modifications of its external relations of locomotion, and the mind suffers modifications of its contemplated objects. There are, in this materialistic theory, two sorts of independent substances, each qualified by their appropriate passions. The organic starting point is from the analysis of process as the realisation of events disposed in an interlocked community. The event is the unit of things real. The emergent enduring pattern is the stabilisation of the emergent achievement so as to become a fact which retains its identity throughout the process. It will be noted that endurance is not primarily the property of enduring beyond itself, but of enduring within itself. I mean that endurance is the property of finding its pattern reproduced in the temporal parts of the total event. It is in this sense that a total event carries an enduring pattern. There is an intrinsic value identical for the whole and for its succession of parts. Cognition is the emergence, into some measure of individualised reality, of the general substratum of activity, poising before itself possibility, actuality, and purpose.

The point for this discussion is that an organic philosophy of nature must start from the opposite end of a materialistic philosophy. Materialism starts with independently existing substances, matter and mind. Matter undergoes changes in its external relations of movement, while mind undergoes changes in the objects it contemplates. In this materialistic theory, there are two kinds of independent substances, each subject to its own kinds of change. The organic view starts by analyzing process as the realization of events arranged in an interconnected community. The event is the basic unit of reality. An enduring pattern emerges when the achievement of a process becomes stable. It then becomes a fact that retains its identity throughout the process. Endurance is not primarily a matter of enduring beyond itself, but of enduring within itself. By this I mean that an enduring pattern is reproduced in the temporal parts of the whole event. In this sense, a whole event carries an enduring pattern. The whole and its succession of parts share the same intrinsic value. Cognition is the emergence of the general underlying activity into some degree of individual reality. In cognition, this activity holds possibility, actuality, and purpose before itself.

It is equally possible to arrive at this organic conception of the world if we start from the fundamental notions of modern physics, instead of, as above, from psychology and physiology. In fact by reason of my own studies in mathematics and mathematical physics, I did in fact arrive at my convictions in this way. Mathematical physics presumes in the first place an electromagnetic field of activity pervading space and time. The laws which condition this field are nothing else than the conditions observed by the general activity of the flux of the world, as it individualises itself in the events. In physics, there is an abstraction. The science ignores what anything is in itself. Its entities are merely considered in respect to their extrinsic reality, that is to say, in respect to their aspects in other things. But the abstraction reaches even further than that; for it is only the aspects in other things, as modifying the spatio-temporal specifications of the life histories of those other things, which count. The intrinsic reality of the observer comes in: I mean what the observer is for himself is appealed to. For example, the fact that he will see red or blue enters into scientific statements. But the red which the observer sees does not in truth enter into science. What is relevant is merely the bare diversity of the observer’s red experiences from all of his other experiences. Accordingly, the intrinsic character of the observer is merely relevant in order to fix the self-identical individuality of the physical entities. These entities are only considered as agencies in fixing the routes in space and in time of the life histories of enduring entities.

We can equally arrive at this organic conception of the world by starting from the basic ideas of modern physics. Above, we started from psychology and physiology instead. In fact, my own studies in mathematics and mathematical physics led me to my convictions in this way. Mathematical physics begins by assuming an electromagnetic field of activity that extends throughout space and time. The laws governing this field are simply the conditions followed by the general activity of the world’s flow, as that activity takes individual form in events. Physics relies on abstraction. The science ignores what anything is in itself. It considers its entities only in terms of their external reality, that is, their aspects in other things. But the abstraction goes even further. Only those aspects in other things that modify the descriptions of their life histories in space and time count. The observer’s inner reality does enter the picture. By this I mean that science appeals to what the observer is for himself. For example, scientific statements take account of the fact that he will see red or blue. But the red the observer sees does not actually enter into science. All that matters is the simple difference between the observer’s experiences of red and all his other experiences. Accordingly, the observer’s inner character matters only for establishing the individual identity of physical entities as the same entities over time. These entities are considered only as forces that determine the paths through space and time of the life histories of enduring entities.

The phraseology of physics is derived from the materialistic ideas of the seventeenth century. But we find that, even in its extreme abstraction, what it is really presupposing is the organic theory of aspects as explained above. First, consider any event in empty space where the word ‘empty’ means devoid of electrons, or protons, or of any other form of electric charge. Such an event has three rôles in physics. In the first place, it is the actual scene of an adventure of energy, either as its habitat or as the locus of a particular stream of energy: anyhow, in this rôle the energy is there, either as located in space during the time considered, or as streaming through space.

The language of physics comes from the materialistic ideas of the seventeenth century. But even at its most abstract, physics really assumes the organic theory of aspects explained above. First, consider any event in empty space. Here, ‘empty’ means without electrons, protons, or any other form of electric charge. Such an event has three roles in physics. First, it is the actual scene of an adventure of energy. It is either the habitat of the energy or the place where a particular stream of energy flows. In either case, the energy is there. It is either located in space during the time considered or streaming through space.

In its second rôle, the event is a necessary link in the pattern of transmission, by which the character of every event receives some modification from the character of every other event.

In its second role, the event is a necessary link in a pattern of transmission. Through this pattern, the character of every event is changed somewhat by the character of every other event.

In its third rôle, the event is the repository of a possibility, as to what would happen to an electric charge, either by way of deformation or of locomotion, if it should have happened to be there.

In its third role, the event holds a possibility. It holds what would happen to an electric charge if one were there, whether the charge would change shape or move.

If we modify our assumption by considering an event which includes in itself a portion of the life-history of an electric charge, then the analysis of its three rôles still remains; except that the possibility embodied in the third rôle is now transformed into an actuality. In this replacement of possibility by actuality, we obtain the distinction between empty and occupied events.

Suppose we change our assumption and consider an event that includes part of the life history of an electric charge. The analysis of the event’s three roles still applies. But the possibility represented by the third role is now an actuality. This replacement of possibility by actuality gives us the distinction between empty and occupied events.

Recurring to the empty events, we note the deficiency in them of individuality of intrinsic content. Considering the first rôle of an empty event, as being a habitat of energy, we note that there is no individual discrimination of an individual bit of energy, either as statically located, or as an element in the stream. There is simply a quantitative determination of activity, without individualisation of the activity in itself. This lack of individualisation is still more evident in the second and third rôles. An empty event is something in itself, but it fails to realise a stable individuality of content. So far as its content is concerned, the empty event is one realised element in a general scheme of organised activity.

Returning to empty events, we see that their intrinsic content lacks individuality. First, consider an empty event’s role as a habitat of energy. In this role, no individual bit of energy is distinguished, whether located in one place or part of a stream. There is only a quantitative measure of activity. The activity itself is not individualised. This lack of individualisation is even more evident in the second and third roles. An empty event is something in itself, but its content does not achieve a stable individuality. As far as its content is concerned, the empty event is one realised element in a general scheme of organised activity.

Some qualification is required when the empty event is the scene of the transmission of a definite train of recurrent wave-forms. There is now a definite pattern which remains permanent in the event. We find here the first faint trace of enduring individuality. But it is individuality without the faintest capture of originality: for it is merely a permanence arising solely from the implication of the event in a larger scheme of patterning.

Some qualification is needed when a definite series of repeating waveforms passes through an empty event. In that case, a definite pattern remains constant within the event. Here we find the first faint trace of lasting individuality. But this individuality has not acquired even the faintest trace of originality. It lasts solely because the event is involved in a larger scheme of patterning.

Turning now to the examination of an occupied event, the electron has a determinate individuality. It can be traced throughout its life-history through a variety of events. A collection of electrons, together with the analogous atomic charges of positive electricity, forms a body such as we ordinarily perceive. The simplest body of this kind is a molecule, and a set of molecules forms a lump of ordinary matter, such as a chair, or a stone. Thus a charge of electricity is the mark of individuality of content, as additional to the individuality of an event in itself. This individuality of content is the strong point of the materialistic doctrine.

Turning now to an occupied event, the electron has a distinct individuality. It can be traced through a variety of events throughout its life. A collection of electrons, together with the corresponding atomic charges of positive electricity, forms a body like those we ordinarily perceive. The simplest body of this kind is a molecule. A collection of molecules forms a lump of ordinary matter, such as a chair or a stone. Thus, an electric charge marks the individuality of the content, in addition to the individuality of the event itself. This individuality of content is the strength of the materialistic doctrine.

It can, however, be equally well explained on the theory of organism. When we look into the function of the electric charge, we note that its rôle is to mark the origination of a pattern which is transmitted through space and time. It is the key of some particular pattern. For example, the field of force in any event is to be constructed by attention to the adventures of electrons and protons, and so also are the streams and distributions of energy. Further, the electric waves find their origin in the vibratory adventures of these charges. Thus the transmitted pattern is to be conceived as the flux of aspects throughout space and time derived from the life history of the atomic charge. The individualisation of the charge arises by a conjunction of two characters, in the first place by the continued identity of its mode of functioning as a key for the determination of a diffusion of pattern; and, in the second place, by the unity and continuity of its life history.

However, the theory of organism can explain it equally well. When we examine the function of an electric charge, we see that it marks the origin of a pattern. This pattern is transmitted through space and time. The charge is the key to a particular pattern. For example, to construct the field of force in any event, we must attend to the histories of electrons and protons. The same is true of the flows and distributions of energy. Electric waves also originate in the vibrations of these charges. Thus, we should understand the transmitted pattern as a flow of aspects through space and time. These aspects come from the life history of the atomic charge. Two features together make the charge an individual. First, it continues to function in the same way as a key for determining how a pattern spreads. Second, its life history has unity and continuity.

We may conclude, therefore, that the organic theory represents directly what physics actually does assume respecting its ultimate entities. We also notice the complete futility of these entities, if they are conceived as fully concrete individuals. So far as physics is concerned, they are wholly occupied in moving each other about, and they have no reality outside this function. In particular for physics, there is no intrinsic reality.

We may therefore conclude that the organic theory directly represents what physics actually assumes about its ultimate entities. We also see how completely futile these entities are if they are understood as fully concrete individuals. As far as physics is concerned, they do nothing but move each other around, and they have no reality outside this function. In particular, physics recognizes no intrinsic reality.

It is obvious that the basing of philosophy upon the presupposition of organism must be traced back to Leibniz.¹⁵ His monads are for him the ultimately real entities. But he retained the Cartesian substances with their qualifying passions, as also equally expressing for him the final characterisation of real things. Accordingly for him there was no concrete reality of internal relations. He had therefore on his hands two distinct points of view. One was that the final real entity is an organising activity, fusing ingredients into a unity, so that this unity is the reality. The other point of view is that the final real entities are substances supporting qualities. The first point of view depends upon the acceptance of internal relations binding together all reality. The latter is inconsistent with the reality of such relations. To combine these two points of view, his monads were therefore windowless; and their passions merely mirrored the universe by the divine arrangement of a preëstablished harmony. This system thus presupposed an aggregate of independent entities. He did not discriminate the event, as the unit of experience, from the enduring organism as its stabilisation into importance, and from the cognitive organism as expressing an increased completeness of individualisation. Nor did he admit the many-termed relations, relating sense-data to various events in diverse ways. These many-termed relations are in fact the perspectives which Leibniz does admit, but only on the condition that they are purely qualities of the organising monads. The difficulty really arises from the unquestioned acceptance of the notion of simple location as fundamental for space and time, and from the acceptance of the notion of independent individual substance as fundamental for a real entity. The only road open to Leibniz was thus the same as that later taken by Berkeley [in a prevalent interpretation of his meaning], namely an appeal to a Deux ex machinâ who was capable of rising superior to the difficulties of metaphysics.

Obviously, the idea of basing philosophy on the presupposition of organism goes back to Leibniz.¹⁵ For Leibniz, monads are the ultimately real entities. But he also retained Cartesian substances and their qualifying passions. These, too, expressed for him the final character of real things. Accordingly, he saw no concrete reality in internal relations. He therefore had two distinct points of view. One was that the ultimate real entity is an organizing activity that fuses ingredients into a unity. That unity is the reality. The other was that the ultimate real entities are substances that support qualities. The first view depends on accepting internal relations that bind all reality together. The second is inconsistent with the reality of such relations. To combine the two views, Leibniz made his monads windowless. Their passions merely mirrored the universe through the divine arrangement of a pre-established harmony. His system thus presupposed a collection of independent entities. Leibniz did not distinguish the event, as the unit of experience, from the enduring organism, in which experience stabilizes into importance. Nor did he distinguish either from the cognitive organism, which expresses a more complete individualization. He also did not admit many-termed relations that connect sense-data to various events in diverse ways. These many-termed relations are in fact the perspectives that Leibniz does admit. But he admits them only as qualities of the organizing monads. The difficulty really arises from two unquestioned assumptions. One is that simple location is fundamental to space and time. The other is that independent individual substance is fundamental to a real entity. The only course open to Leibniz was therefore the one later taken by Berkeley, according to a prevalent interpretation of his meaning. Both appealed to a Deux ex machinâ capable of rising above the difficulties of metaphysics.

In the same way as Descartes introduced the tradition of thought which kept subsequent philosophy in some measure of contact with the scientific movement, so Leibniz introduced the alternative tradition that the entities, which are the ultimate actual things, are in some sense procedures of organisation. This tradition has been the foundation of the great achievements of German philosophy. Kant reflected the two traditions, one upon the other. Kant was a scientist, but the schools derivative from Kant have had but slight effect on the mentality of the scientific world. It should be the task of the philosophical schools of this century to bring together the two streams into an expression of the world-picture derived from science, and thereby end the divorce of science from the affirmations of our aesthetic and ethical experiences.

Descartes began a tradition of thought that kept later philosophy in some contact with the scientific movement. In the same way, Leibniz began an alternative tradition. In this tradition, the entities that are the ultimate actual things are, in some sense, processes of organization. This tradition has been the foundation of the great achievements of German philosophy. Kant reflected each of the two traditions upon the other. Kant was a scientist, but the schools of thought that followed him have had little effect on scientific thinking. The philosophical schools of this century should bring the two streams together to express the picture of the world derived from science. In doing so, they should end the separation between science and what our aesthetic and ethical experiences affirm.