The Nineteenth Century

My previous lecture was occupied with the comparison of the nature-poetry of the romantic movement in England with the materialistic scientific philosophy inherited from the eighteenth century. It noted the entire disagreement of the two movements of thought. The lecture also continued the endeavour to outline an objectivist philosophy, capable of bridging the gap between science and that fundamental intuition of mankind which finds its expression in poetry and its practical exemplification in the presuppositions of daily life. As the nineteenth century passed on, the romantic movement died down. It did not die away, but it lost its clear unity of tidal stream, and dispersed itself into many estuaries as it coalesced with other human interests. The faith of the century was derived from three sources: one source was the romantic movement, showing itself in religious revival, in art, and in political aspiration: another source was the gathering advance of science which opened avenues of thought: the third source was the advance in technology which completely changed the conditions of human life.

My previous lecture compared the nature poetry of the romantic movement in England with the materialist scientific philosophy inherited from the eighteenth century. It noted the complete disagreement between these two ways of thinking. The lecture also continued the attempt to outline an objectivist philosophy. This philosophy could bridge the gap between science and a fundamental human intuition. That intuition finds expression in poetry and guides the assumptions of daily life. As the nineteenth century went on, the romantic movement grew less active. It did not disappear, but it lost its clear unity, like a tide spreading into many estuaries as it joined other human interests. The faith of the century came from three sources. One was the romantic movement, which showed itself in religious revival, art, and political aspiration. Another was the growing advance of science, which opened new paths of thought. The third was the advance of technology, which completely changed the conditions of human life.

Each of these springs of faith had its origin in the previous period. The French Revolution itself was the first child of romanticism in the form in which it tinged Rousseau. James Watt obtained his patent for his steam-engine in 1769. The scientific advance was the glory of France and of French influence, throughout the same century.

Each of these sources of faith began in the previous period. The French Revolution itself was the first child of romanticism in the form that influenced Rousseau. James Watt received his patent for his steam engine in 1769. Throughout the same century, scientific progress was the glory of France and of French influence.

Also even during this earlier period, the streams interacted, coalesced, and antagonised each other. But it was not until the nineteenth century that the threefold movement came to that full development and peculiar balance characteristic of the sixty years following the battle of Waterloo.

Even during this earlier period, the streams interacted, merged, and opposed one another. But only in the nineteenth century did the threefold movement reach its full development. It also reached the distinctive balance that marked the sixty years after the battle of Waterloo.

What is peculiar and new to the century, differentiating it from all its predecessors, is its technology. It was not merely the introduction of some great isolated inventions. It is impossible not to feel that something more than that was involved. For example, writing was a greater invention than the steam-engine. But in tracing the continuous history of the growth of writing we find an immense difference from that of the steam-engine. We must, of course, put aside minor and sporadic anticipations of both; and confine attention to the periods of their effective elaboration. The scale of time is so absolutely disparate. For the steam-engine, we may give about a hundred years; for writing, the time period is of the order of a thousand years. Further, when writing was finally popularised, the world was not then expecting the next step in technology. The process of change was slow, unconscious, and unexpected.

What makes this century unique and different from all earlier centuries is its technology. It was not just a matter of introducing a few great individual inventions. Clearly, something more was involved. For example, writing was a greater invention than the steam engine. But the history of writing’s gradual development is vastly different from that of the steam engine. Of course, we must set aside the minor and occasional early forms of both. We should focus on the periods when each was effectively developed. The time scales are completely different. For the steam engine, we may allow about a hundred years. For writing, the period is on the order of a thousand years. Also, when writing finally became widespread, the world was not expecting the next advance in technology. Change was slow, unconscious, and unexpected.

In the nineteenth century, the process became quick, conscious, and expected. The earlier half of the century was the period in which this new attitude to change was first established and enjoyed. It was a peculiar period of hope, in the sense in which, sixty or seventy years later, we can now detect a note of disillusionment, or at least of anxiety.

In the nineteenth century, the process became rapid, deliberate, and expected. In the first half of the century, people first adopted and welcomed this new attitude toward change. It was a time of unusual hope. Now, sixty or seventy years later, we can detect a note of disillusionment, or at least anxiety.

The greatest invention of the nineteenth century was the invention of the method of invention. A new method entered into life. In order to understand our epoch, we can neglect all the details of change, such as railways, telegraphs, radios, spinning machines, synthetic dyes. We must concentrate on the method in itself; that is the real novelty, which has broken up the foundations of the old civilisation. The prophecy of Francis Bacon has now been fulfilled; and man, who at times dreamt of himself as a little lower than the angels, has submitted to become the servant and the minister of nature. It still remains to be seen whether the same actor can play both parts.

The greatest invention of the nineteenth century was the invention of a method for inventing. A new method became part of life. To understand our age, we can set aside all the details of change. These include railways, telegraphs, radios, spinning machines, and synthetic dyes. We must focus on the method itself. It is the real innovation that has shaken the foundations of the old civilization. Francis Bacon’s prophecy has now come true. People once dreamed of being a little lower than the angels. Now they have submitted to becoming nature’s servants and ministers. It remains to be seen whether the same actor can play both roles.

The whole change has arisen from the new scientific information. Science, conceived not so much in its principles as in its results, is an obvious storehouse of ideas for utilisation. But, if we are to understand what happened during the century, the analogy of a mine is better than that of a storehouse. Also, it is a great mistake to think that the bare scientific idea is the required invention, so that it has only to be picked up and used. An intense period of imaginative design lies between. One element in the new method is just the discovery of how to set about bridging the gap between the scientific ideas, and the ultimate product. It is a process of disciplined attack upon one difficulty after another.

The whole change came from new scientific knowledge. Science is an obvious storehouse of ideas for practical use, especially when viewed in terms of its results rather than its principles. But if we are to understand what happened during the century, a mine is a better comparison than a storehouse. It is also a great mistake to think that a scientific idea alone is the invention we need, ready to be picked up and used. Between the idea and the invention lies an intense period of imaginative design. One element of the new method is the discovery of how to bridge the gap between scientific ideas and the final product. This involves tackling one difficulty after another in a disciplined way.

The possibilities of modern technology were first in practice realised in England, by the energy of a prosperous middle class. Accordingly, the industrial revolution started there. But the Germans explicitly realised the methods by which the deeper veins in the mine of science could be reached. They abolished haphazard methods of scholarship. In their technological schools and universities progress did not have to wait for the occasional genius, or the occasional lucky thought. Their feats of scholarship during the nineteenth century were the admiration of the world. This discipline of knowledge applies beyond technology to pure science, and beyond science to general scholarship. It represents the change from amateurs to professionals.

The possibilities of modern technology were first put into practice in England, through the energy of a prosperous middle class. As a result, the industrial revolution began there. But the Germans clearly understood how to reach the deeper veins in the mine of science. They did away with haphazard methods of scholarship. In their technical schools and universities, progress did not have to wait for an occasional genius or lucky idea. Their achievements in scholarship during the nineteenth century were admired around the world. This disciplined approach to knowledge applies beyond technology to pure science, and beyond science to scholarship in general. It represents the shift from amateurs to professionals.

There have always been people who devoted their lives to definite regions of thought. In particular, lawyers and the clergy of the Christian churches form obvious examples of such specialism. But the full self-conscious realisation of the power of professionalism in knowledge in all its departments, and of the way to produce the professionals, and of the importance of knowledge to the advance of technology, and of the methods by which abstract knowledge can be connected with technology, and of the boundless possibilities of technological advance,—the realisation of all these things was first completely attained in the nineteenth century; and among the various countries, chiefly in Germany.

There have always been people who devoted their lives to particular fields of thought. Lawyers and clergy of the Christian churches are obvious examples of such specialists. But several things were not fully and consciously understood until the nineteenth century, chiefly in Germany. These included the power of professional expertise in every field of knowledge and how to train professionals. They also included the importance of knowledge for technological progress, how abstract knowledge can be connected with technology, and the boundless possibilities for technological progress.

In the past human life was lived in a bullock cart; in the future it will be lived in an aeroplane; and the change of speed amounts to a difference in quality.

In the past, people lived life in an ox cart. In the future, they will live it in an airplane. This change in speed amounts to a difference in the quality of life.

The transformation of the field of knowledge, which has been thus effected, has not been wholly a gain. At least, there are dangers implicit in it, although the increase of efficiency is undeniable. The discussion of various effects on social life arising from the new situation is reserved for my last lecture. For the present it is sufficient to note that this novel situation of disciplined progress is the setting within which the thought of the century developed.

The transformation of knowledge achieved in this way has not been entirely beneficial. At least, it carries risks, although it has undeniably increased efficiency. I will discuss the various effects of this new situation on social life in my last lecture. For now, it is enough to note that this new situation of disciplined progress formed the setting for the century’s thought.

In the period considered four great novel ideas were introduced into theoretical science. Of course, it is possible to show good cause for increasing my list far beyond the number four. But I am keeping to ideas which, if taken in their broadest signification, are vital to modern attempts at reconstructing the foundations of physical science.

During the period considered, four important new ideas were introduced into theoretical science. Of course, there are good reasons to expand my list well beyond four. But I am limiting it to ideas that, in their broadest sense, are vital to modern attempts to rebuild the foundations of physical science.

Two of these ideas are antithetical, and I will consider them together. We are not concerned with details, but with ultimate influences on thought. One of the ideas is that of a field of physical activity pervading all space, even where there is an apparent vacuum. This notion had occurred to many people, under many forms. We remember the medieval axiom, nature abhors a vacuum. Also, Descartes’ vortices at one time, in the seventeenth century, seemed as if established among scientific assumptions. Newton believed that gravitation was caused by something happening in a medium. But, on the whole, in the eighteenth century nothing was made of any of these ideas. The passage of light was explained in Newton’s fashion by the flight of minute corpuscles, which of course left room for a vacuum. Mathematical physicists were far too busy deducing the consequences of the theory of gravitation to bother much about the causes; nor did they know where to look, if they had troubled themselves over the question. There were speculations, but their importance was not great. Accordingly, when the nineteenth century opened, the notion of physical occurrences pervading all space held no effective place in science. It was revived from two sources. The undulatory theory of light triumphed, thanks to Thomas Young and Fresnel. This demands that there shall be something throughout space which can undulate. Accordingly, the ether was produced, as a sort of all pervading subtle material. Again the theory of electromagnetism finally, in Clerk Maxwell’s hands, assumed a shape in which it demanded that there should be electromagnetic occurrences throughout all space. Maxwell’s complete theory was not shaped until the eighteen-seventies. But it had been prepared for by many great men, Ampère, Oersted, Faraday. In accordance with the current materialistic outlook, these electromagnetic occurrences also required a material in which to happen. So again the ether was requisitioned. Then Maxwell, as the immediate first-fruits of his theory, demonstrated that the waves of light were merely waves of his electromagnetic occurrences. Accordingly, the theory of electromagnetism swallowed up the theory of light. It was a great simplification, and no one doubts its truth. But it had one unfortunate effect so far as materialism was concerned. For, whereas quite a simple sort of elastic ether sufficed for light when taken by itself, the electromagnetic ether has to be endowed with just those properties necessary for the production of the electromagnetic occurrences. In fact, it becomes a mere name for the material which is postulated to underlie these occurrences. If you do not happen to hold the metaphysical theory which makes you postulate such an ether, you can discard it. For it has no independent vitality.

Two of these ideas are opposed, and I will consider them together. We are concerned not with details, but with their ultimate influence on thought. One idea is that a field of physical activity fills all space, even where there appears to be a vacuum. Many people had conceived of this idea in many forms. We remember the medieval axiom that nature abhors a vacuum. Descartes’ vortices, too, once seemed to be established among scientific assumptions in the seventeenth century. Newton believed that gravity was caused by something happening in a medium. But, on the whole, none of these ideas came to much in the eighteenth century. The passage of light was explained in Newton’s way, as the flight of tiny corpuscles. This explanation, of course, left room for a vacuum. Mathematical physicists were far too busy working out the consequences of the theory of gravitation to worry much about its causes. Nor did they know where to look for causes, had they troubled themselves with the question. There were speculations, but they were not very important. So, when the nineteenth century began, the idea of physical events filling all space had no effective place in science. The idea was revived from two sources. The wave theory of light triumphed, thanks to Thomas Young and Fresnel. This theory requires something throughout space that can undulate. The ether was therefore introduced as a kind of subtle material that filled all space. The theory of electromagnetism, too, eventually took shape in Clerk Maxwell’s hands. In this form, the theory required electromagnetic events to occur throughout all space. Maxwell’s complete theory did not take shape until the 1870s. But many great men had prepared the way for it, including Ampère, Oersted, and Faraday. In keeping with the materialistic outlook of the time, these electromagnetic events also required a material in which to occur. So the ether was called into service again. As an immediate first result of his theory, Maxwell then demonstrated that light waves were simply waves of these electromagnetic events. The theory of electromagnetism thus swallowed up the theory of light. This was a great simplification, and no one doubts its truth. But it had one unfortunate effect as far as materialism was concerned. A fairly simple kind of elastic ether was enough to account for light on its own. The electromagnetic ether, however, must be given exactly the properties needed to produce electromagnetic events. In fact, the ether becomes merely a name for the material assumed to underlie these events. If you do not hold the metaphysical theory that makes you assume such an ether, you can discard it. For the ether has no independent vitality.

Thus in the seventies of the last century, some main physical sciences were established on a basis which presupposed the idea of continuity. On the other hand, the idea of atomicity had been introduced by John Dalton, to complete Lavoisier’s work on the foundation of chemistry. This is the second great notion. Ordinary matter was conceived as atomic: electromagnetic effects were conceived as arising from a continuous field.

Thus, in the 1870s, some major physical sciences rested on a foundation that assumed the idea of continuity. On the other hand, John Dalton had introduced the idea of atomicity to complete Lavoisier’s work on the foundations of chemistry. Atomicity is the second great idea. Ordinary matter was understood to be atomic, while electromagnetic effects were understood to arise from a continuous field.

There was no contradiction. In the first place, the notions are antithetical; but, apart from special embodiments, are not logically contradictory. Secondly, they were applied to different regions of science, one to chemistry, and the other to electromagnetism. And, as yet, there were but faint signs of coalescence between the two.

There was no contradiction. First, the ideas are opposed, but they are not logically contradictory except in specific forms. Second, they were applied to different fields of science. One was applied to chemistry, and the other to electromagnetism. So far, there were only faint signs that the two fields were coming together.

The notion of matter as atomic has a long history. Democritus and Lucretius will at once occur to your minds. In speaking of these ideas as novel, I merely mean relatively novel, having regard to the settlement of ideas which formed the efficient basis of science throughout the eighteenth century. In considering the history of thought, it is necessary to distinguish the real stream, determining a period, from ineffectual thoughts casually entertained. In the eighteenth century every well-educated man read Lucretius, and entertained ideas about atoms. But John Dalton made them efficient in the stream of science; and in this function of efficiency atomicity was a new idea.

The idea that matter consists of atoms has a long history. Democritus and Lucretius will immediately come to mind. When I call these ideas new, I mean only relatively new. They were new compared with the established ideas that formed the working basis of science throughout the eighteenth century. When considering the history of thought, we must distinguish the main current of ideas that shapes a period from ideas casually entertained but without effect. In the eighteenth century, every well-educated man read Lucretius and considered ideas about atoms. But John Dalton made those ideas effective in the course of science. In that practical role, the idea that matter consists of atoms was new.

The influence of atomicity was not limited to chemistry. The living cell is to biology what the electron and the proton are to physics. Apart from cells and from aggregates of cells there are no biological phenomena. The cell theory was introduced into biology contemporaneously with, and independently of, Dalton’s atomic theory. The two theories are independent exemplifications of the same idea of ‘atomism.’ The biological cell theory was a gradual growth, and a mere list of dates and names illustrates the fact that the biological sciences, as effective schemes of thought, are barely one hundred years old. Bichât in 1801 elaborated a tissue theory: Johannes Müller in 1835 described ‘cells’ and demonstrated facts concerning their nature and relations: Schleiden in 1838 and Schwann in 1839 finally established their fundamental character. Thus by 1840 both biology and chemistry were established on an atomic basis. The final triumph of atomism had to wait for the arrival of electrons at the end of the century. The importance of the imaginative background is illustrated by the fact that nearly half a century after Dalton had done his work, another chemist, Louis Pasteur, carried over these same ideas of atomicity still further into the region of biology. The cell theory and Pasteur’s work were in some respects more revolutionary than that of Dalton. For they introduced the notion of organism into the world of minute beings. There had been a tendency to treat the atom as an ultimate entity, capable only of external relations. This attitude of mind was breaking down under the influence of Mendeleef’s periodic law. But Pasteur showed the decisive importance of the idea of organism at the stage of infinitesimal magnitude. The astronomers had shown us how big is the universe. The chemists and biologists teach us how small it is. There is in modern scientific practice a famous standard of length. It is rather small: to obtain it, you must divide a centimetre into one hundred million parts, and take one of them. Pasteur’s organisms are a good deal bigger than this length. In connection with atoms, we now know that there are organisms for which such distances are uncomfortably great.

The influence of atomicity was not limited to chemistry. The living cell is to biology what the electron and the proton are to physics. There are no biological phenomena apart from cells and groups of cells. Cell theory was introduced into biology at the same time as Dalton’s atomic theory, but independently of it. The two theories are independent examples of the same idea of ‘atomism.’ Biological cell theory developed gradually. A simple list of dates and names shows that the biological sciences, as effective systems of thought, are barely one hundred years old. In 1801, Bichât developed a theory of tissues. In 1835, Johannes Müller described ‘cells’ and established facts about their nature and relationships. In 1838, Schleiden finally established their fundamental character, followed by Schwann in 1839. So, by 1840, both biology and chemistry had been established on an atomic basis. The final triumph of atomism had to wait for the discovery of electrons at the end of the century. The importance of the imaginative background is illustrated by the work of another chemist, Louis Pasteur. Nearly half a century after Dalton’s work, Pasteur carried these same ideas of atomicity further into biology. Cell theory and Pasteur’s work were in some respects more revolutionary than Dalton’s. They introduced the idea of the organism into the world of minute beings. There had been a tendency to treat the atom as an ultimate entity, capable only of external relations. This way of thinking was breaking down under the influence of Mendeleef’s periodic law. But Pasteur showed the decisive importance of the idea of the organism at an infinitesimal scale. Astronomers had shown us how big the universe is. Chemists and biologists teach us how small it is. Modern scientific practice uses a famous standard of length. It is rather small. To obtain it, you must divide a centimetre into one hundred million parts and take one of them. Pasteur’s organisms are considerably bigger than this length. In connection with atoms, we now know that there are organisms for which such distances are uncomfortably great.

The remaining pair of new ideas to be ascribed to this epoch are both of them connected with the notion of transition or change. They are the doctrine of the conservation of energy, and the doctrine of evolution.

The two remaining new ideas from this period are both connected with change. They are the principles of conservation of energy and evolution.

The doctrine of energy has to do with the notion of quantitative permanence underlying change. The doctrine of evolution has to do with the emergence of novel organisms as the outcome of change. The theory of energy lies in the province of physics. The theory of evolution lies mainly in the province of biology, although it had previously been touched upon by Kant and Laplace in connection with the formation of suns and planets.

The theory of energy concerns the idea that quantity remains constant despite change. The theory of evolution concerns the emergence of new organisms as a result of change. Energy belongs to the field of physics. Evolution belongs mainly to biology. But Kant and Laplace had previously touched on evolution in connection with the formation of suns and planets.

The convergent effect of the new power for scientific advance, which resulted from these four ideas, transformed the middle period of the century into an orgy of scientific triumph. Clear-sighted men, of the sort who are so clearly wrong, now proclaimed that the secrets of the physical universe were finally disclosed. If only you ignored everything which refused to come into line, your powers of explanation were unlimited. On the other side, muddle-headed men muddled themselves into the most indefensible positions. Learned dogmatism, conjoined with ignorance of the crucial facts, suffered a heavy defeat from the scientific advocates of new ways. Thus to the excitement derived from technological revolution, there was now added the excitement arising from the vistas disclosed by scientific theory. Both the material and the spiritual bases of social life were in process of transformation. When the century entered upon its last quarter, its three sources of inspiration, the romantic, the technological, and the scientific had done their work.

Together, these four ideas gave science a new power to advance. Their combined effect turned the middle of the century into an orgy of scientific triumph. Clear-sighted men, the kind who are so clearly wrong, now declared that the secrets of the physical universe had finally been revealed. If only you ignored everything that refused to fit, your power to explain was unlimited. On the other side, muddle-headed men muddled themselves into the most indefensible positions. Learned dogmatists who did not know the crucial facts suffered a heavy defeat at the hands of scientists advocating new ways. People were already excited by the technological revolution. Now the possibilities revealed by scientific theory added to that excitement. Both the material and spiritual foundations of social life were being transformed. By the last quarter of the century, its three sources of inspiration, the romantic, the technological, and the scientific, had done their work.

Then, almost suddenly, a pause occurred; and in its last twenty years the century closed with one of the dullest stages of thought since the time of the First Crusade. It was an echo of the eighteenth century, lacking Voltaire and the reckless grace of the French aristocrats. The period was efficient, dull, and half-hearted. It celebrated the triumph of the professional man.

Then, almost suddenly, progress paused. In its last twenty years, the century ended with one of the dullest periods of thought since the First Crusade. It echoed the eighteenth century, but without Voltaire or the reckless grace of the French aristocrats. The period was efficient, dull, and half-hearted. It celebrated the triumph of the professional man.

But looking backwards upon this time of pause, we can now discern signs of change. In the first place, the modern conditions of systematic research prevent absolute stagnation. In every branch of science, there was effective progress, indeed rapid progress, although it was confined somewhat strictly within the accepted ideas of each branch. It was an age of successful scientific orthodoxy, undisturbed by much thought beyond the conventions.

But looking back on this period of pause, we can now see signs of change. First, modern systematic research prevents complete stagnation. Every branch of science made real, indeed rapid, progress. But this progress was largely confined within each branch’s accepted ideas. It was an age of successful scientific orthodoxy, with little thought beyond established conventions.

In the second place, we can now see that the adequacy of scientific materialism as a scheme of thought for the use of science was endangered. The conservation of energy provided a new type of quantitative permanence. It is true that energy could be construed as something subsidiary to matter. But, anyhow, the notion of mass was losing its unique preeminence as being the one final permanent quantity. Later on, we find the relations of mass and energy inverted; so that mass now becomes the name for a quantity of energy considered in relation to some of its dynamical effects. This train of thought leads to the notion of energy being fundamental, thus displacing matter from that position. But energy is merely the name for the quantitative aspect of a structure of happenings; in short, it depends on the notion of the functioning of an organism. The question is, can we define an organism without recurrence to the concept of matter in simple location? We must, later on, consider this point in more detail.

Second, we can now see that scientific materialism was in danger of becoming inadequate as a framework for science. The conservation of energy provided a new kind of quantitative permanence. Energy could, it is true, be understood as something secondary to matter. But in any case, mass was losing its unique status as the one ultimate permanent quantity. Later, the relationship between mass and energy was reversed. Mass then became the name for a quantity of energy considered in relation to some of its dynamic effects. This line of thought leads to the idea that energy is fundamental, displacing matter from that position. But energy is merely the name for the quantitative aspect of a structure of events. In short, the idea of energy depends on the idea of an organism functioning. The question is whether we can define an organism without returning to the concept of matter in simple location. We must consider this point in more detail later.

The same relegation of matter to the background occurs in connection with the electromagnetic fields. The modern theory presupposes happenings in that field which are divorced from immediate dependence upon matter. It is usual to provide an ether as a substratum. But the ether does not really enter into the theory. Thus again the notion of material loses its fundamental position. Also, the atom is transforming itself into an organism; and finally the evolution theory is nothing else than the analysis of the conditions for the formation and survival of various types of organisms. In truth, one most significant fact of this later period is the advance in biological sciences. These sciences are essentially sciences concerning organisms. During the epoch in question, and indeed also at the present moment, the prestige of the more perfect scientific form belongs to the physical sciences. Accordingly, biology apes the manners of physics. It is orthodox to hold, that there is nothing in biology but what is physical mechanism under somewhat complex circumstances.

Matter is also pushed into the background in the study of electromagnetic fields. Modern theory assumes that events occur in these fields without directly depending on matter. An ether is usually proposed as an underlying medium. But the ether does not really play a part in the theory. Once again, the idea of material loses its fundamental place. The atom, too, is becoming an organism. Finally, evolution theory is nothing more than the analysis of the conditions under which various kinds of organisms form and survive. One of the most significant facts about this later period is the advance of the biological sciences. These sciences are essentially concerned with organisms. During that period, and even now, the physical sciences have been admired as the more perfect form of science. Biology therefore imitates physics. The accepted view is that biology involves nothing but physical mechanisms operating in somewhat complex circumstances.

One difficulty in this position is the present confusion as to the foundational concepts of physical science. This same difficulty also attaches to the opposed doctrine of vitalism. For, in this later theory, the fact of mechanism is accepted—I mean, mechanism based upon materialism—and an additional vital control is introduced to explain the actions of living bodies. It cannot be too clearly understood that the various physical laws which appear to apply to the behaviour of atoms are not mutually consistent as at present formulated. The appeal to mechanism on behalf of biology was in its origin an appeal to the well-attested self-consistent physical concepts as expressing the basis of all natural phenomena. But at present there is no such system of concepts.

One difficulty with this position is the current confusion about the basic concepts of physical science. The same difficulty also affects the opposing doctrine of vitalism. Vitalism accepts mechanism as a fact. By mechanism, I mean mechanism based on materialism. Vitalism then adds a vital control to explain the actions of living bodies. It cannot be stressed enough that the physical laws that seem to govern atoms are not consistent with one another as currently formulated. Originally, the appeal to mechanism in biology was an appeal to well-supported, consistent physical concepts as the basis of all natural phenomena. But today there is no such system of concepts.

Science is taking on a new aspect which is neither purely physical, nor purely biological. It is becoming the study of organisms. Biology is the study of the larger organisms; whereas physics is the study of the smaller organisms. There is another difference between the two divisions of science. The organisms of biology include as ingredients the smaller organisms of physics; but there is at present no evidence that the smaller of the physical organisms can be analysed into component organisms. It may be so. But anyhow we are faced with the question as to whether there are not primary organisms which are incapable of further analysis. It seems very unlikely that there should be any infinite regress in nature. Accordingly, a theory of science which discards materialism must answer the question as to the character of these primary entities. There can be only one answer on this basis. We must start with the event as the ultimate unit of natural occurrence. An event has to do with all that there is, and in particular with all other events. This interfusion of events is effected by the aspects of those eternal objects, such as colours, sounds, scents, geometrical characters, which are required for nature and are not emergent from it. Such an eternal object will be an ingredient of one event under the guise, or aspect, of qualifying another event. There is a reciprocity of aspects, and there are patterns of aspects. Each event corresponds to two such patterns; namely, the pattern of aspects of other events which it grasps into its own unity, and the pattern of its aspects which other events severally grasp into their unities. Accordingly, a non-materialistic philosophy of nature will identify a primary organism as being the emergence of some particular pattern as grasped in the unity of a real event. Such a pattern will also include the aspects of the event in question as grasped in other events, whereby those other events receive a modification, or partial determination. There is thus an intrinsic and an extrinsic reality of an event, namely, the event as in its own prehension, and the event as in the prehension of other events. The concept of an organism includes, therefore, the concept of the interaction of organisms. The ordinary scientific ideas of transmission and continuity are, relatively speaking, details concerning the empirically observed characters of these patterns throughout space and time. The position here maintained is that the relationships of an event are internal, so far as concerns the event itself; that is to say, that they are constitutive of what the event is in itself.

Science is taking on a new form that is neither purely physical nor purely biological. It is becoming the study of organisms. Biology studies the larger organisms, while physics studies the smaller ones. There is another difference between these two branches of science. Biological organisms include the smaller organisms of physics as ingredients. But there is currently no evidence that the smallest physical organisms can be broken down into component organisms. That may be possible. In any case, we face the question of whether there are primary organisms that cannot be broken down further. It seems very unlikely that nature involves an infinite regress. Therefore, a theory of science that rejects materialism must answer the question of what these primary entities are like. On this basis, there can be only one answer. We must begin with the event as the basic unit of what happens in nature. An event has to do with everything there is, and in particular with all other events. Events merge through the aspects of eternal objects, such as colours, sounds, scents, and geometrical features. These eternal objects are necessary for nature and do not emerge from it. An eternal object is an ingredient of one event in the form, or aspect, of a quality of another event. Aspects are reciprocal, and they form patterns. Each event corresponds to two such patterns. One is the pattern of aspects of other events that it grasps into its own unity. The other is the pattern of its own aspects that other events each grasp into their unities. Thus, a non-materialistic philosophy of nature will identify a primary organism as the emergence of a particular pattern, grasped in the unity of a real event. Such a pattern will also include the aspects of that event as grasped in other events. Through those aspects, the other events are modified, or partly determined. An event thus has an intrinsic and an extrinsic reality. These are the event as it exists in its own prehension and as it exists in the prehension of other events. The concept of an organism therefore includes the interaction of organisms. The ordinary scientific ideas of transmission and continuity are, relatively speaking, details about the observed features of these patterns throughout space and time. The position maintained here is that an event's relationships are internal to the event itself. In other words, those relationships help make the event what it is in itself.

Also in the previous lecture, we arrived at the notion that an actual event is an achievement for its own sake, a grasping of diverse entities into a value by reason of their real togetherness in that pattern, to the exclusion of other entities. It is not the mere logical togetherness of merely diverse things. For in that case, to modify Bacon’s words, “all eternal objects would be alike one to another.” This reality means that each intrinsic essence, that is to say, what each eternal object is in itself, becomes relevant to the one limited value emergent in the guise of the event. But values differ in importance. Thus though each event is necessary for the community of events, the weight of its contribution is determined by something intrinsic in itself. We have now to discuss what that property is. Empirical observation shows that it is the property which we may call indifferently retention, endurance or reiteration. This property amounts to the recovery, on behalf of value amid the transitoriness of reality, of the self-identity which is also enjoyed by the primary eternal objects. The reiteration of a particular shape (or formation) of value within an event occurs when the event as a whole repeats some shape which is also exhibited by each one of a succession of its parts. Thus however you analyse the event according to the flux of its parts through time, there is the same thing-for-its-own-sake standing before you. Thus the event, in its own intrinsic reality, mirrors in itself, as derived from its own parts, aspects of the same patterned value as it realises in its complete self. It thus realises itself under the guise of an enduring individual entity, with a life history contained within itself. Furthermore, the extrinsic reality of such an event, as mirrored in other events, takes this same form of an enduring individuality; only in this case, the individuality is implanted as a reiteration of aspects of itself in the alien events composing the environment.

In the previous lecture, we also reached the idea that an actual event is an achievement for its own sake. An event brings diverse entities together into a value through their real togetherness in a pattern. In doing so, it excludes other entities. This is not just the logical togetherness of things that are merely different. If it were, then, to modify Bacon’s words, “all eternal objects would be alike one to another.” The reality of their togetherness means that each intrinsic essence becomes relevant to the single, limited value that emerges as the event. An intrinsic essence is what each eternal object is in itself. But values differ in importance. So, although each event is necessary for the community of events, the weight of its contribution depends on something intrinsic to it. We must now discuss what that property is. Empirical observation shows that it is the property we may call retention, endurance or reiteration. Through this property, value recovers self-identity amid the transience of reality. This is the self-identity that primary eternal objects also possess. A particular shape (or formation) of value is reiterated within an event when the event as a whole repeats a shape. Each part in a succession of its parts also displays that shape. So, however you analyze the event in terms of the flow of its parts through time, the same thing-for-its-own-sake stands before you. Thus, in its own intrinsic reality, the event reflects aspects of the same patterned value that it realizes in its complete self. These aspects come from its own parts. In this way, the event realizes itself as an enduring individual entity, with a life history contained within itself. Furthermore, the event’s extrinsic reality, as reflected in other events, takes this same form of an enduring individuality. In this case, however, the individuality is implanted through the repetition of aspects of itself in the other events that make up its environment.

The total temporal duration of such an event bearing an enduring pattern, constitutes its specious present. Within this specious present the event realises itself as a totality, and also in so doing realises itself as grouping together a number of aspects of its own temporal parts. One and the same pattern is realised in the total event, and is exhibited by each of these various parts through an aspect of each part grasped into the togetherness of the total event. Also, the earlier life-history of the same pattern is exhibited by its aspects in this total event. There is, thus, in this event a memory of the antecedent life-history of its own dominant pattern, as having formed an element of value in its own antecedent environment. This concrete prehension, from within, of the life-history of an enduring fact is analysable into two abstractions, of which one is the enduring entity which has emerged as a real matter of fact to be taken account of by other things, and the other is the individualised embodiment of the underlying energy of realisation.

The full duration of an event bearing an enduring pattern makes up its specious present. Within this specious present, the event realizes itself as a whole. In doing so, the event also brings together aspects of its own temporal parts. The same pattern is realized in the whole event and displayed by each of these parts. Each part displays the pattern through an aspect that is gathered into the unity of the whole event. Aspects of the pattern in the whole event also display its earlier life history. Thus, the event has a memory of its dominant pattern’s earlier life history. The pattern had been an element of value in the event’s earlier environment. This concrete prehension, or grasp from within, of the life history of an enduring fact can be analyzed into two abstractions. One is the enduring entity, which has emerged as a real fact that other things must take into account. The other is the individual embodiment of the underlying energy of realization.

The consideration of the general flux of events leads to this analysis into an underlying eternal energy in whose nature there stands an envisagement of the realm of all eternal objects. Such an envisagement is the ground of the individualised thoughts which emerge as thought-aspects grasped within the life-history of the subtler and more complex enduring patterns. Also in the nature of the eternal activity there must stand an envisagement of all values to be obtained by a real togetherness of eternal objects, as envisaged in ideal situations. Such ideal situations, apart from any reality, are devoid of intrinsic value, but are valuable as elements in purpose. The individualised prehension into individual events of aspects of these ideal situations takes the form of individualised thoughts, and as such has intrinsic value. Thus value arises because there is now a real togetherness of the ideal aspects, as in thought, with the actual aspects, as in process of occurrence. Accordingly no value is to be ascribed to the underlying activity as divorced from the matter-of-fact events of the real world.

Thinking about the continual flow of events leads to this analysis. Beneath that flow is an eternal energy. Its nature includes an awareness of the realm of all eternal objects. This awareness is the basis for individual thoughts. These emerge as aspects of thought grasped within the life histories of subtler and more complex enduring patterns. The nature of the eternal activity must also include an awareness of all values obtainable through a real togetherness of eternal objects, as envisaged in ideal situations. Apart from any reality, such ideal situations have no intrinsic value, but they are valuable as elements of purpose. Individual events grasp aspects of these ideal situations in the form of individual thoughts. As thoughts, they have intrinsic value. Thus value arises because ideal aspects, as in thought, are now really together with actual aspects, as they occur. Therefore, no value should be assigned to the underlying activity apart from the actual events of the real world.

Finally, to sum up this train of thought, the underlying activity, as conceived apart from the fact of realisation, has three types of envisagement. These are: first, the envisagement of eternal objects; secondly, the envisagement of possibilities of value in respect to the synthesis of eternal objects; and lastly, the envisagement of the actual matter of fact which must enter into the total situation which is achievable by the addition of the future. But in abstraction from actuality, the eternal activity is divorced from value. For the actuality is the value. The individual perception arising from enduring objects will vary in its individual depth and width according to the way in which the pattern dominates its own route. It may represent the faintest ripple differentiating the general substrate energy; or, in the other extreme, it may rise to conscious thought, which includes poising before self-conscious judgment the abstract possibilities of value inherent in various situations of ideal togetherness. The intermediate cases will group round the individual perception as envisaging (without self-consciousness) that one immediate possibility of attainment which represents the closest analogy to its own immediate past, having regard to the actual aspects which are there for prehension. The laws of physics represent the harmonised adjustment of development which results from this unique principle of determination. Thus dynamics is dominated by a principle of least action, whose detailed character has to be learnt from observation.

Finally, to sum up this line of thought, the underlying activity has three ways of envisaging, considered apart from realization. First, it envisages eternal objects. Second, it envisages possibilities of value in the synthesis of eternal objects. Finally, it envisages the actual facts that must enter into the total situation achievable through the addition of the future. But when considered apart from actuality, eternal activity is separated from value. For actuality is the value. The individual perception arising from enduring objects varies in depth and breadth. Its depth and breadth depend on how the pattern dominates its own course. The perception may represent the faintest ripple distinguishing the general underlying energy. At the other extreme, it may rise to conscious thought. Conscious thought includes holding up the abstract possibilities of value for self-conscious judgment. These are the possibilities of value inherent in various situations of ideal togetherness. The intermediate cases will cluster around a particular kind of individual perception. This perception envisages, without self-consciousness, the one immediate possibility of attainment that most closely resembles its own immediate past. It does so with regard to the actual aspects available for prehension. The laws of physics represent the harmonized adjustment of development that results from this unique principle of determination. Thus, dynamics is governed by a principle of least action. The details of that principle must be learned through observation.

The atomic material entities which are considered in physical science are merely these individual enduring entities, conceived in abstraction from everything except what concerns their mutual interplay in determining each other’s historical routes of life-history. Such entities are partially formed by the inheritance of aspects from their own past. But they are also partially formed by the aspects of other events forming their environments. The laws of physics are the laws declaring how the entities mutually react among themselves. For physics these laws are arbitrary, because that science has abstracted from what the entities are in themselves. We have seen that this fact of what the entities are in themselves is liable to modification by their environments. Accordingly, the assumption that no modification of these laws is to be looked for in environments, which have any striking difference from the environments for which the laws have been observed to hold, is very unsafe. The physical entities may be modified in very essential ways, so far as these laws are concerned. It is even possible that they may be developed into individualities of more fundamental types, with wider embodiment of envisagement. Such envisagement might reach to the attainment of the poising of alternative values with exercise of choice lying outside the physical laws, and expressible only in terms of purpose. Apart from such remote possibilities, it remains an immediate deduction that an individual entity, whose own life-history is a part within the life-history of some larger, deeper, more complete pattern, is liable to have aspects of that larger pattern dominating its own being, and to experience modifications of that larger pattern reflected in itself as modifications of its own being. This is the theory of organic mechanism.

The atomic material entities studied in physics are simply individual entities that endure over time. Physics considers them only in terms of how they interact to determine the course of one another’s histories. These entities are partly formed by inheriting aspects of their own pasts. But they are also partly formed by aspects of other events in their environments. The laws of physics describe how the entities react to one another. For physics, these laws are arbitrary, because the science does not consider what the entities are in themselves. We have seen that their environments can change what the entities are in themselves. So it is very unsafe to assume that these laws will remain unchanged in different environments. Those environments may differ strikingly from the ones in which the laws have been observed to hold. Physical entities may change in ways that are very important to these laws. It is even possible that physical entities may develop into individuals of more fundamental types, with a broader capacity for awareness. Such awareness might allow them to weigh alternative values and exercise choice beyond the reach of physical laws. This choice could be expressed only in terms of purpose. Even apart from such remote possibilities, an immediate conclusion follows. An individual entity’s life history may be part of the life history of a larger, deeper, more complete pattern. Aspects of that larger pattern may then come to dominate the entity’s own being. Changes in the larger pattern may also be reflected in changes in the entity’s own being. This is the theory of organic mechanism.

According to this theory the evolution of laws of nature is concurrent with the evolution of enduring pattern. For the general state of the universe, as it now is, partly determines the very essences of the entities whose modes of functioning these laws express. The general principle is that in a new environment there is an evolution of the old entities into new forms.

According to this theory, the laws of nature evolve alongside enduring patterns. This is because the present state of the universe partly determines the very nature of entities. The laws express how these entities function. The general principle is that in a new environment, existing entities evolve into new forms.

This rapid outline of a thoroughgoing organic theory of nature enables us to understand the chief requisites of the doctrine of evolution. The main work, proceeding during this pause at the end of the nineteenth century, was the absorption of this doctrine as guiding the methodology of all branches of science. By a blindness which is almost judicial as being a penalty affixed to hasty, superficial thinking, many religious thinkers opposed the new doctrine; although, in truth, a thoroughgoing evolutionary philosophy is inconsistent with materialism. The aboriginal stuff, or material, from which a materialistic philosophy starts is incapable of evolution. This material is in itself the ultimate substance. Evolution, on the materialistic theory, is reduced to the rôle of being another word for the description of the changes of the external relations between portions of matter. There is nothing to evolve, because one set of external relations is as good as any other set of external relations. There can merely be change, purposeless and unprogressive. But the whole point of the modern doctrine is the evolution of the complex organisms from antecedent states of less complex organisms. The doctrine thus cries aloud for a conception of organism as fundamental for nature. It also requires an underlying activity—a substantial activity—expressing itself in individual embodiments, and evolving in achievements of organism. The organism is a unit of emergent value, a real fusion of the characters of eternal objects, emerging for its own sake.

This brief outline of a complete organic theory of nature helps us understand the main requirements of evolution. During the pause at the end of the nineteenth century, the main task was to make evolution a guide to the methods of all branches of science. Many religious thinkers opposed the new doctrine. Their blindness was almost a just penalty for hasty, superficial thinking. In truth, a complete evolutionary philosophy is inconsistent with materialism. The basic stuff, or material, from which a materialistic philosophy starts cannot evolve. This material is itself the ultimate substance. In the materialistic theory, evolution becomes merely another word for changes in the external relations between portions of matter. There is nothing to evolve, because one set of external relations is as good as any other. There can only be change, without purpose or progress. But the whole point of the modern doctrine is that complex organisms evolve from earlier, less complex organisms. The doctrine therefore cries out for a view of the organism as fundamental to nature. It also requires an underlying activity, a substantial activity, that expresses itself in individual embodiments and evolves through its achievements in forming organisms. The organism is a unit of emerging value. It is a real fusion of the characteristics of eternal objects, emerging for its own sake.

Thus in the process of analysing the character of nature in itself, we find that the emergence of organisms depends on a selective activity which is akin to purpose. The point is that the enduring organisms are now the outcome of evolution; and that, beyond these organisms, there is nothing else that endures. On the materialistic theory, there is material—such as matter or electricity—which endures. On the organic theory, the only endurances are structures of activity, and the structures are evolved.

So, as we examine the nature of nature itself, we find that organisms emerge through a selective activity resembling purpose. The point is that enduring organisms are now the result of evolution. Beyond these organisms, nothing else endures. According to the materialistic theory, material such as matter or electricity endures. According to the organic theory, only structures of activity endure, and these structures have evolved.

Enduring things are thus the outcome of a temporal process; whereas eternal things are the elements required for the very being of the process. We can give a precise definition of endurance in this way: Let an event A be pervaded by an enduring structural pattern. Then A can be exhaustively subdivided into a temporal succession of events. Let B be any part of A, which is obtained by picking out any one of the events belonging to a series which thus subdivides A. Then the enduring pattern is a pattern of aspects within the complete pattern prehended into the unity of A, and it is also a pattern within the complete pattern prehended into the unity of any temporal slice of A, such as B. For example, a molecule is a pattern exhibited in an event of one minute, and of any second of that minute. It is obvious that such an enduring pattern may be of more, or of less, importance. It may express some slight fact connecting the underlying activities thus individualised; or it may express some very close connection. If the pattern which endures is merely derived from the direct aspects of the external environment, mirrored in the standpoints of the various parts, then the endurance is an extrinsic fact of slight importance. But if the enduring pattern is wholly derived from the direct aspects of the various temporal sections of the event in question, then the endurance is an important intrinsic fact. It expresses a certain unity of character uniting the underlying individualised activities. There is then an enduring object with a certain unity for itself and for the rest of nature. Let us use the term physical endurance to express endurance of this type. Then physical endurance is the process of continuously inheriting a certain identity of character transmitted throughout a historical route of events. This character belongs to the whole route, and to every event of the route. This is the exact property of material. If it has existed for ten minutes, it has existed during every minute of the ten minutes, and during every second of every minute. Only if you take material to be fundamental, this property of endurance is an arbitrary fact at the base of the order of nature; but if you take organism to be fundamental, this property is the result of evolution.

Enduring things are thus the result of a process in time. Eternal things, by contrast, are the elements required for the process to exist at all. We can define endurance precisely in this way: Suppose an enduring structural pattern runs throughout an event A. Then A can be divided completely into a succession of events in time. Let B be any part of A, chosen from any series of events that divides A in this way. The enduring pattern is a pattern of aspects within the complete pattern prehended into the unity of A. It is also a pattern within the complete pattern prehended into the unity of any temporal slice of A, such as B. For example, a molecule is a pattern displayed in an event lasting one minute, and in any second of that minute. Such an enduring pattern may obviously be more or less important. It may express some slight fact connecting the underlying activities that are thus made individual. Or it may express some very close connection. The enduring pattern may come only from the direct aspects of the external environment, as reflected in the standpoints of the various parts. In that case, the endurance is an external fact of slight importance. But if the enduring pattern comes wholly from the direct aspects of the event’s various temporal sections, the endurance is an important internal fact. It expresses a certain unity of character that joins the underlying individual activities. There is then an enduring object with a certain unity for itself and for the rest of nature. Let us use the term physical endurance for endurance of this type. Physical endurance is then the process of continuously inheriting a certain identity of character, passed on throughout a historical route of events. This character belongs to the whole route and to every event in it. This is the exact property of material. If material has existed for ten minutes, it has existed during every minute of those ten minutes and every second of every minute. But if you take material to be fundamental, this property of endurance is an arbitrary fact at the foundation of nature’s order. If you take organism to be fundamental, this property is the result of evolution.

It looks at first sight, as if a physical object, with its process of inheritance from itself, were independent of the environment. But such a conclusion is not justified. For let B and C be two successive slices in the life of such an object, such that C succeeds B. Then the enduring pattern in C is inherited from B, and from other analogous antecedent parts of its life. It is transmitted through B to C. But what is transmitted to C is the complete pattern of aspects derived from such events as B. These complete patterns include the influence of the environment on B, and on the other antecedent parts of the life of the object. Thus the complete aspects of the antecedent life are inherited as the partial pattern which endures throughout all the various periods of the life. Thus a favourable environment is essential to the maintenance of a physical object.

At first, a physical object may seem independent of its environment because it inherits its pattern from itself. But that conclusion is not justified. Let B and C be two successive stages in the life of such an object, with C following B. The enduring pattern in C is inherited from B and from other similar earlier stages in the object's life. The pattern is passed through B to C. But what passes to C is the complete pattern of aspects derived from events such as B. These complete patterns include the influence of the environment on B and on the other earlier stages of the object's life. Thus the complete aspects of its earlier life are inherited as the partial pattern that endures throughout all the different periods of its life. A favorable environment is therefore essential to maintaining a physical object.

Nature, as we know it, comprises enormous permanences. There are the permanences of ordinary matter. The molecules within the oldest rocks known to geologists may have existed unchanged for over a thousand million years, not only unchanged in themselves, but unchanged in their relative dispositions to each other. In that length of time the number of pulsations of a molecule vibrating with the frequency of yellow sodium light would be about 16.3 × 1022 = 163,000 × (106)³. Until recently, an atom was apparently indestructible. We know better now. But the indestructible atom has been succeeded by the apparently indestructible electron and the indestructible proton.

Nature, as we know it, includes things that endure for enormous lengths of time. Ordinary matter is one example. The molecules in the oldest rocks known to geologists may have remained unchanged for over a billion years. They may have remained unchanged not only in themselves but also in their positions relative to one another. In that time, a molecule vibrating at the frequency of yellow sodium light would pulse about 16.3 × 1022 = 163,000 × (106)³ times. Until recently, the atom seemed indestructible. We know better now. But the supposedly indestructible atom has been replaced by the apparently indestructible electron and the indestructible proton.

Another fact to be explained is the great similarity of these practically indestructible objects. All electrons are very similar to each other. We need not outrun the evidence, and say that they are identical; but our powers of observation cannot detect any differences. Analogously, all hydrogen nuclei are alike. Also we note the great numbers of these analogous objects. There are throngs of them. It seems as though a certain similarity were a favourable condition for endurance. Common sense also suggests this conclusion. If organisms are to survive, they must work together.

Another fact to explain is the great similarity among these practically indestructible objects. All electrons are very similar to one another. We should not go beyond the evidence and say they are identical. But we cannot detect any differences between them. Similarly, all hydrogen nuclei are alike. We also note the great numbers of these similar objects. There are throngs of them. It seems that a certain similarity is a favorable condition for survival. Common sense also suggests this conclusion. If organisms are to survive, they must work together.

Accordingly, the key to the mechanism of evolution is the necessity for the evolution of a favourable environment, conjointly with the evolution of any specific type of enduring organisms of great permanence. Any physical object which by its influence deteriorates its environment, commits suicide.

The key to evolution, then, is that a favorable environment must evolve alongside any type of organism that endures for a very long time. Any physical object that damages its environment through its influence commits suicide.

One of the simplest ways of evolving a favourable environment concurrently with the development of the individual organism, is that the influence of each organism on the environment should be favourable to the endurance of other organisms of the same type. Further, if the organism also favours the development of other organisms of the same type, you have then obtained a mechanism of evolution adapted to produce the observed state of large multitudes of analogous entities, with high powers of endurance. For the environment automatically develops with the species, and the species with the environment.

One of the simplest ways for a favorable environment to develop alongside an individual organism is for each organism to help others of the same type survive. If each organism also helps others of the same type develop, this creates a mechanism of evolution. This mechanism can produce what we observe: large numbers of similar organisms with a strong capacity to survive. The environment automatically develops with the species, and the species develops with the environment.

The first question to ask is, whether there is any direct evidence for such a mechanism for the evolution of enduring organisms. In surveying nature, we must remember that there are not only basic organisms whose ingredients are merely aspects of eternal objects. There are also organisms of organisms. Suppose for the moment and for the sake of simplicity, we assume, without any evidence, that electrons and hydrogen nuclei are such basic organisms. Then the atoms, and the molecules, are organisms of a higher type, which also represent a compact definite organic unity. But when we come to the larger aggregations of matter, the organic unity fades into the background. It appears to be but faint and elementary. It is there; but the pattern is vague and indecisive. It is a mere aggregation of effects. When we come to living beings, the definiteness of pattern is recovered, and the organic character again rises into prominence. Accordingly, the characteristic laws of inorganic matter are mainly the statistical averages resulting from confused aggregates. So far are they from throwing light on the ultimate nature of things, that they blur and obliterate the individual characters of the individual organisms. If we wish to throw light upon the facts relating to organisms, we must study either the individual molecules and electrons, or the individual living beings. In between we find comparative confusion. Now the difficulty of studying the individual molecule is that we know so little about its life history. We cannot keep an individual under continuous observation. In general, we deal with them in large aggregates. So far as individuals are concerned, sometimes with difficulty a great experimenter throws, so to speak, a flash light on one of them, and just observes one type of instantaneous effect. Accordingly, the history of the functioning of individual molecules, or electrons, is largely hidden from us.

The first question is whether there is any direct evidence for such a mechanism in the evolution of enduring organisms. As we survey nature, we must remember that basic organisms are not the only kind. Their ingredients are merely aspects of eternal objects. There are also organisms made up of other organisms. For simplicity, let us assume for the moment that electrons and hydrogen nuclei are basic organisms, although we have no evidence for this. Atoms and molecules are then organisms of a higher type. They also form compact, definite organic unities. But in larger aggregations of matter, organic unity fades into the background. It seems faint and elementary. It is present, but the pattern is vague and indecisive. The result is merely an aggregation of effects. In living beings, however, the pattern becomes definite again, and the organic character becomes prominent. The characteristic laws of inorganic matter are therefore mainly statistical averages arising from confused aggregates. Far from illuminating the ultimate nature of things, these laws blur and erase the individual characters of individual organisms. To understand the facts about organisms, we must study either individual molecules and electrons or individual living beings. Between these, we find comparative confusion. The difficulty in studying an individual molecule is that we know so little about its life history. We cannot keep one under continuous observation. Generally, we deal with molecules in large aggregates. Sometimes, with difficulty, a great experimenter can, so to speak, shine a flashlight on an individual molecule or electron. Even then, the experimenter observes only one kind of instantaneous effect. The history of how individual molecules or electrons function is therefore largely hidden from us.

But in the case of living beings, we can trace the history of individuals. We now find exactly the mechanism which is here demanded. In the first place, there is the propagation of the species from members of the same species. There is also the careful provision of the favourable environment for the endurance of the family, the race, or the seed in the fruit.

But with living beings, we can trace the history of individuals. Here we find exactly the mechanism needed. First, members of a species reproduce, creating new members of the same species. There is also careful provision of a favorable environment for the survival of the family, the race, or the seed in the fruit.

It is evident, however, that I have explained the evolutionary mechanism in terms which are far too simple. We find associated species of living things, providing for each other a favourable environment. Thus just as the members of the same species mutually favour each other, so do members of associated species. We find the rudimentary fact of association in the existence of the two species, electrons and hydrogen nuclei. The simplicity of the dual association, and the apparent absence of competition from other antagonistic species accounts for the massive endurance which we find among them.

Clearly, though, I have explained the evolutionary mechanism in terms that are far too simple. We find species living together and providing favorable environments for each other. Just as members of the same species benefit each other, so do members of species living together. We find a basic example of association in the two species of electrons and hydrogen nuclei. This simple association between the two, and the apparent absence of competition from other opposing species, accounts for their remarkable endurance.

There are thus two sides to the machinery involved in the development of nature. On one side, there is a given environment with organisms adapting themselves to it. The scientific materialism of the epoch in question emphasised this aspect. From this point of view, there is a given amount of material, and only a limited number of organisms can take advantage of it. The givenness of the environment dominates everything. Accordingly, the last words of science appeared to be the Struggle for Existence, and Natural Selection. Darwin’s own writings are for all time a model of refusal to go beyond the direct evidence, and of careful retention of every possible hypothesis. But those virtues were not so conspicuous in his followers, and still less in his camp-followers. The imagination of European sociologists and publicists was stained by exclusive attention to this aspect of conflicting interests. The idea prevailed that there was a peculiar strong-minded realism in discarding ethical considerations in the determination of the conduct of commercial and national interests.

There are two sides to the process by which nature develops. On one side, organisms adapt to a given environment. The scientific materialism of the period emphasized this aspect. From this point of view, a fixed amount of material is available, and only a limited number of organisms can use it. The fixed nature of the environment dominates everything. As a result, the Struggle for Existence and Natural Selection seemed to be the final words of science. Darwin’s own writings remain a model for all time of restraint and careful consideration of every possible hypothesis. He refused to go beyond the direct evidence. But these virtues were less noticeable in his followers, and even less so in their hangers-on. European sociologists and publicists focused exclusively on this aspect of conflicting interests, and their imaginations were stained by it. The prevailing idea was that ignoring ethics when pursuing commercial and national interests showed a special kind of tough-minded realism.

The other side of the evolutionary machinery, the neglected side, is expressed by the word creativeness. The organisms can create their own environment. For this purpose, the single organism is almost helpless. The adequate forces require societies of coöperating organisms. But with such coöperation and in proportion to the effort put forward, the environment has a plasticity which alters the whole ethical aspect of evolution.

The other side of evolution, the neglected side, is expressed by the word creativeness. Organisms can create their own environment. A single organism is almost helpless to do this. The necessary forces require groups of organisms working together. But when organisms cooperate, the environment can be shaped in proportion to the effort they put in. This changes the whole ethical aspect of evolution.

In the immediate past, and at present, a muddled state of mind is prevalent. The increased plasticity of the environment for mankind, resulting from the advances in scientific technology, is being construed in terms of habits of thought which find their justification in the theory of a fixed environment.

In the recent past, as now, confused thinking has been widespread. Advances in scientific technology have made the human environment more changeable. Yet people interpret this greater flexibility through habits of thought based on the idea of a fixed environment.

The riddle of the universe is not so simple. There is the aspect of permanence in which a given type of attainment is endlessly repeated for its own sake; and there is the aspect of transition to other things,—it may be of higher worth, and it may be of lower worth. Also there are its aspects of struggle and of friendly help. But romantic ruthlessness is no nearer to real politics, than is romantic self-abnegation.

The mystery of the universe is not so simple. One aspect is permanence, in which a particular kind of achievement is endlessly repeated for its own sake. Another is change toward other things, which may be of higher or lower worth. The universe also has aspects of struggle and friendly help. But romantic ruthlessness is no closer to real politics than romantic self-denial.