The World of Universals

At the end of the preceding chapter we saw that such entities as relations appear to have a being which is in some way different from that of physical objects, and also different from that of minds and from that of sense-data. In the present chapter we have to consider what is the nature of this kind of being, and also what objects there are that have this kind of being. We will begin with the latter question.

At the end of the previous chapter, we saw that entities such as relations appear to have a different kind of being. Their being seems different in some way from that of physical objects, minds, and sense-data. In this chapter, we will consider the nature of this kind of being. We will also ask what objects have this kind of being. We will begin with the second question.

The problem with which we are now concerned is a very old one, since it was brought into philosophy by Plato. Plato's 'theory of ideas' is an attempt to solve this very problem, and in my opinion it is one of the most successful attempts hitherto made. The theory to be advocated in what follows is largely Plato's, with merely such modifications as time has shown to be necessary.

The problem we are now considering is very old, since Plato introduced it into philosophy. Plato's 'theory of ideas' is an attempt to solve this very problem. In my opinion, his theory is one of the most successful attempts made so far. The theory I will argue for here is largely Plato's, with only the changes that time has shown are necessary.

The way the problem arose for Plato was more or less as follows. Let us consider, say, such a notion as justice. If we ask ourselves what justice is, it is natural to proceed by considering this, that, and the other just act, with a view to discovering what they have in common. They must all, in some sense, partake of a common nature, which will be found in whatever is just and in nothing else. This common nature, in virtue of which they are all just, will be justice itself, the pure essence the admixture of which with facts of ordinary life produces the multiplicity of just acts. Similarly with any other word which may be applicable to common facts, such as 'whiteness' for example. The word will be applicable to a number of particular things because they all participate in a common nature or essence. This pure essence is what Plato calls an 'idea' or 'form'. (It must not be supposed that 'ideas', in his sense, exist in minds, though they may be apprehended by minds.) The 'idea' justice is not identical with anything that is just: it is something other than particular things, which particular things partake of. Not being particular, it cannot itself exist in the world of sense. Moreover it is not fleeting or changeable like the things of sense: it is eternally itself, immutable and indestructible.

The problem arose for Plato more or less as follows. Let us consider, for example, a concept such as justice. If we ask ourselves what justice is, we naturally begin by considering various just acts. We do this to discover what they have in common. All just acts must, in some sense, share a common nature, found in everything just and in nothing else. This common nature, which makes all these acts just, is justice itself. It is the pure essence that combines with the facts of ordinary life to produce many different just acts. The same applies to any other word that may describe ordinary facts, such as 'whiteness'. The word applies to a number of particular things because they all share a common nature or essence. This pure essence is what Plato calls an 'idea' or 'form'. (We must not suppose that 'ideas', in his sense, exist in minds, though minds may grasp them.) The 'idea' justice is not identical with anything that is just. It is something distinct from particular things, though those things share in it. Because the idea is not a particular thing, it cannot itself exist in the world we perceive through our senses. Moreover, unlike the things we perceive through our senses, it is not fleeting or changeable. It remains eternally itself, unchanging and indestructible.

Thus Plato is led to a supra-sensible world, more real than the common world of sense, the unchangeable world of ideas, which alone gives to the world of sense whatever pale reflection of reality may belong to it. The truly real world, for Plato, is the world of ideas; for whatever we may attempt to say about things in the world of sense, we can only succeed in saying that they participate in such and such ideas, which, therefore, constitute all their character. Hence it is easy to pass on into a mysticism. We may hope, in a mystic illumination, to see the ideas as we see objects of sense; and we may imagine that the ideas exist in heaven. These mystical developments are very natural, but the basis of the theory is in logic, and it is as based in logic that we have to consider it.

Thus Plato is led to a world beyond the senses, more real than the ordinary world we perceive. This is the unchanging world of ideas. This world alone gives the world of the senses whatever faint reflection of reality the latter may have. For Plato, the truly real world is the world of ideas. Whatever we try to say about things we perceive, we can only say that they participate in certain ideas. Those ideas therefore make up all the characteristics of those things. From here, it is easy to move into mysticism. We may hope that a moment of mystical insight will let us see ideas just as we see physical objects. And we may imagine that ideas exist in heaven. These mystical developments are very natural, but the theory rests on logic. So we must consider the theory on its logical basis.

The word 'idea' has acquired, in the course of time, many associations which are quite misleading when applied to Plato's 'ideas'. We shall therefore use the word 'universal' instead of the word 'idea', to describe what Plato meant. The essence of the sort of entity that Plato meant is that it is opposed to the particular things that are given in sensation. We speak of whatever is given in sensation, or is of the same nature as things given in sensation, as a particular; by opposition to this, a universal will be anything which may be shared by many particulars, and has those characteristics which, as we saw, distinguish justice and whiteness from just acts and white things.

Over time, the word 'idea' has gained many associations that are quite misleading when applied to Plato's 'ideas'. So we will use the word 'universal' instead of the word 'idea' to describe what Plato meant. The essential feature of the kind of entity Plato meant is its contrast with particular things we experience through sensation. We call anything experienced through sensation, or anything of the same nature as things experienced through sensation, a particular. In contrast, a universal is anything that may be shared by many particulars. A universal also has the features that, as we saw, distinguish justice and whiteness from just acts and white things.

When we examine common words, we find that, broadly speaking, proper names stand for particulars, while other substantives, adjectives, prepositions, and verbs stand for universals. Pronouns stand for particulars, but are ambiguous: it is only by the context or the circumstances that we know what particulars they stand for. The word 'now' stands for a particular, namely the present moment; but like pronouns, it stands for an ambiguous particular, because the present is always changing.

When we examine common words, we find that, broadly speaking, proper names stand for particulars. Other nouns, adjectives, prepositions, and verbs stand for universals. Pronouns stand for particulars, but are ambiguous. Only the context or circumstances tell us which particulars the pronouns stand for. The word 'now' stands for a particular, namely the present moment. But like pronouns, 'now' stands for an ambiguous particular, because the present is always changing.

It will be seen that no sentence can be made up without at least one word which denotes a universal. The nearest approach would be some such statement as 'I like this'. But even here the word 'like' denotes a universal, for I may like other things, and other people may like things. Thus all truths involve universals, and all knowledge of truths involves acquaintance with universals.

No sentence can be formed without at least one word that refers to a universal. The closest we could come would be a statement like 'I like this'. But even here, the word 'like' refers to a universal, because I may like other things. And other people may like things. So all truths involve universals, and all knowledge of truths involves acquaintance with universals.

Seeing that nearly all the words to be found in the dictionary stand for universals, it is strange that hardly anybody except students of philosophy ever realizes that there are such entities as universals. We do not naturally dwell upon those words in a sentence which do not stand for particulars; and if we are forced to dwell upon a word which stands for a universal, we naturally think of it as standing for some one of the particulars that come under the universal. When, for example, we hear the sentence, 'Charles I's head was cut off', we may naturally enough think of Charles I, of Charles I's head, and of the operation of cutting off his head, which are all particulars; but we do not naturally dwell upon what is meant by the word 'head' or the word 'cut', which is a universal: We feel such words to be incomplete and insubstantial; they seem to demand a context before anything can be done with them. Hence we succeed in avoiding all notice of universals as such, until the study of philosophy forces them upon our attention.

Nearly all the words in the dictionary stand for universals. So it is strange that hardly anyone except philosophy students ever realizes that universals exist. We do not naturally focus on words in a sentence that do not stand for particular things. If we are forced to focus on a word for a universal, we naturally think of a particular example instead. For example, when we hear the sentence, 'Charles I's head was cut off', we may naturally think of Charles I. We may also think of Charles I's head and the act of cutting off his head. All of these are particulars. But we do not naturally focus on the meaning of the word 'head' or the word 'cut'. These words stand for universals. We feel that such words are incomplete and lack substance. They seem to need a context before we can do anything with them. So we manage to overlook universals themselves until studying philosophy forces us to notice them.

Even among philosophers, we may say, broadly, that only those universals which are named by adjectives or substantives have been much or often recognized, while those named by verbs and prepositions have been usually overlooked. This omission has had a very great effect upon philosophy; it is hardly too much to say that most metaphysics, since Spinoza, has been largely determined by it. The way this has occurred is, in outline, as follows: Speaking generally, adjectives and common nouns express qualities or properties of single things, whereas prepositions and verbs tend to express relations between two or more things. Thus the neglect of prepositions and verbs led to the belief that every proposition can be regarded as attributing a property to a single thing, rather than as expressing a relation between two or more things. Hence it was supposed that, ultimately, there can be no such entities as relations between things. Hence either there can be only one thing in the universe, or, if there are many things, they cannot possibly interact in any way, since any interaction would be a relation, and relations are impossible.

Broadly speaking, even philosophers have given much or frequent attention only to universals named by adjectives or nouns. They have usually overlooked universals named by verbs and prepositions. This omission has had a major effect on philosophy. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that most metaphysics since Spinoza has been largely shaped by this omission. Here, in outline, is how this happened. Generally speaking, adjectives and common nouns express qualities or properties of individual things. Prepositions and verbs, by contrast, tend to express relations between two or more things. So neglecting prepositions and verbs led to the belief that every statement could be understood as assigning a property to one thing. On this view, no statement needed to express a relation between two or more things. Philosophers therefore supposed that, ultimately, relations between things could not exist. It followed that either there could be only one thing in the universe, or there could be many things that could not possibly interact. Any interaction would be a relation, and relations were held to be impossible.

The first of these views, advocated by Spinoza and held in our own day by Bradley and many other philosophers, is called monism; the second, advocated by Leibniz but not very common nowadays, is called monadism, because each of the isolated things is called a monad. Both these opposing philosophies, interesting as they are, result, in my opinion, from an undue attention to one sort of universals, namely the sort represented by adjectives and substantives rather than by verbs and prepositions.

The first view is called monism. Spinoza supported this view, as do Bradley and many other philosophers today. The second view, supported by Leibniz but not very common today, is called monadism. This name comes from calling each isolated thing a monad. Although both opposing philosophies are interesting, I think they give too much attention to one kind of universal. These are universals represented by adjectives and nouns rather than verbs and prepositions.

As a matter of fact, if any one were anxious to deny altogether that there are such things as universals, we should find that we cannot strictly prove that there are such entities as qualities, i.e. the universals represented by adjectives and substantives, whereas we can prove that there must be relations, i.e. the sort of universals generally represented by verbs and prepositions. Let us take in illustration the universal whiteness. If we believe that there is such a universal, we shall say that things are white because they have the quality of whiteness. This view, however, was strenuously denied by Berkeley and Hume, who have been followed in this by later empiricists. The form which their denial took was to deny that there are such things as 'abstract ideas '. When we want to think of whiteness, they said, we form an image of some particular white thing, and reason concerning this particular, taking care not to deduce anything concerning it which we cannot see to be equally true of any other white thing. As an account of our actual mental processes, this is no doubt largely true. In geometry, for example, when we wish to prove something about all triangles, we draw a particular triangle and reason about it, taking care not to use any characteristic which it does not share with other triangles. The beginner, in order to avoid error, often finds it useful to draw several triangles, as unlike each other as possible, in order to make sure that his reasoning is equally applicable to all of them. But a difficulty emerges as soon as we ask ourselves how we know that a thing is white or a triangle. If we wish to avoid the universals whiteness and triangularity, we shall choose some particular patch of white or some particular triangle, and say that anything is white or a triangle if it has the right sort of resemblance to our chosen particular. But then the resemblance required will have to be a universal. Since there are many white things, the resemblance must hold between many pairs of particular white things; and this is the characteristic of a universal. It will be useless to say that there is a different resemblance for each pair, for then we shall have to say that these resemblances resemble each other, and thus at last we shall be forced to admit resemblance as a universal. The relation of resemblance, therefore, must be a true universal. And having been forced to admit this universal, we find that it is no longer worth while to invent difficult and unplausible theories to avoid the admission of such universals as whiteness and triangularity.

Suppose someone wanted to deny completely that universals exist. We would find that we cannot strictly prove the existence of qualities, the universals expressed by adjectives and nouns. But we can prove that relations must exist, the kind of universals generally expressed by verbs and prepositions. Take the universal whiteness as an example. If we believe that this universal exists, we will say that things are white because they have the quality of whiteness. Berkeley and Hume, however, strongly denied this view, and later empiricists have followed them. They expressed their rejection by denying that there are such things as 'abstract ideas'. When we want to think of whiteness, they said, we picture a particular white thing and reason about that thing. We take care to draw only conclusions that we can see are equally true of any other white thing. As an account of how we actually think, this is undoubtedly largely true. In geometry, for example, when we want to prove something about all triangles, we draw a particular triangle. We then reason about that triangle, taking care to use only features it shares with other triangles. To avoid mistakes, beginners often find it useful to draw several triangles, as different from one another as possible. This helps them make sure their reasoning applies equally to all the triangles. But a difficulty arises when we ask how we know that something is white or is a triangle. Suppose we want to avoid the universals whiteness and triangularity. We will choose a particular patch of white or a particular triangle as our example. We will then say that anything is white or a triangle if it resembles our chosen example in the right way. But the required resemblance will itself have to be a universal. Since there are many white things, the resemblance must hold between many pairs of particular white things. Applying to many pairs in this way is what makes something a universal. Saying that each pair has a different resemblance will not help. We would then have to say that these resemblances resemble one another. So we would eventually be forced to accept resemblance as a universal. The relation of resemblance must therefore be a genuine universal. Once we have been forced to accept this universal, difficult and implausible theories to avoid others are no longer worthwhile. Such theories would merely avoid accepting universals like whiteness and triangularity.

Berkeley and Hume failed to perceive this refutation of their rejection of 'abstract ideas', because, like their adversaries, they only thought of qualities, and altogether ignored relations as universals. We have therefore here another respect in which the rationalists appear to have been in the right as against the empiricists, although, owing to the neglect or denial of relations, the deductions made by rationalists were, if anything, more apt to be mistaken than those made by empiricists.

Berkeley and Hume failed to see this argument against their rejection of 'abstract ideas'. Like their opponents, they considered only qualities and completely ignored relations as universals. So here is another point on which the rationalists seem to have been right and the empiricists wrong. Yet because the rationalists neglected or denied relations, their deductions were, if anything, more likely to be mistaken than the empiricists’ deductions.

Having now seen that there must be such entities as universals, the next point to be proved is that their being is not merely mental. By this is meant that whatever being belongs to them is independent of their being thought of or in any way apprehended by minds. We have already touched on this subject at the end of the preceding chapter, but we must now consider more fully what sort of being it is that belongs to universals.

We have now seen that there must be such entities as universals. The next point to prove is that their being is not merely mental. In other words, whatever being universals have is independent of whether minds think of them or perceive them in any way. We briefly discussed this subject at the end of the previous chapter. But we must now consider more fully what kind of being universals have.

Consider such a proposition as 'Edinburgh is north of London'. Here we have a relation between two places, and it seems plain that the relation subsists independently of our knowledge of it. When we come to know that Edinburgh is north of London, we come to know something which has to do only with Edinburgh and London: we do not cause the truth of the proposition by coming to know it, on the contrary we merely apprehend a fact which was there before we knew it. The part of the earth's surface where Edinburgh stands would be north of the part where London stands, even if there were no human being to know about north and south, and even if there were no minds at all in the universe. This is, of course, denied by many philosophers, either for Berkeley's reasons or for Kant's. But we have already considered these reasons, and decided that they are inadequate. We may therefore now assume it to be true that nothing mental is presupposed in the fact that Edinburgh is north of London. But this fact involves the relation 'north of', which is a universal; and it would be impossible for the whole fact to involve nothing mental if the relation 'north of', which is a constituent part of the fact, did involve anything mental. Hence we must admit that the relation, like the terms it relates, is not dependent upon thought, but belongs to the independent world which thought apprehends but does not create.

Consider a statement such as 'Edinburgh is north of London'. Here we have a relation between two places. It seems clear that this relation exists independently of our knowledge of it. When we learn that Edinburgh is north of London, we learn something that concerns only Edinburgh and London. Learning this does not make the statement true. On the contrary, we simply recognize a fact that existed before we knew it. The area of the earth's surface where Edinburgh stands would be north of the area where London stands. This would hold even if no human being knew about north and south, and even if the universe contained no minds. Many philosophers, of course, deny this, either for Berkeley's reasons or for Kant's. But we have already considered these reasons and found them inadequate. We may therefore now assume that the fact that Edinburgh is north of London does not depend on anything mental. But this fact involves the relation 'north of', which is a universal. The whole fact could not be independent of everything mental if one of its parts involved anything mental. The relation 'north of' is one of those parts. So we must accept that this relation, like the places it relates, does not depend on thought. Instead, the relation belongs to the independent world that thought recognizes but does not create.

This conclusion, however, is met by the difficulty that the relation 'north of' does not seem to exist in the same sense in which Edinburgh and London exist. If we ask 'Where and when does this relation exist?' the answer must be 'Nowhere and nowhen'. There is no place or time where we can find the relation 'north of'. It does not exist in Edinburgh any more than in London, for it relates the two and is neutral as between them. Nor can we say that it exists at any particular time. Now everything that can be apprehended by the senses or by introspection exists at some particular time. Hence the relation 'north of' is radically different from such things. It is neither in space nor in time, neither material nor mental; yet it is something.

This conclusion, however, faces a difficulty. The relation 'north of' does not seem to exist in the same sense that Edinburgh and London exist. If we ask 'Where and when does this relation exist?' the answer must be 'Nowhere and at no time'. There is no place or time where we can find the relation 'north of'. The relation does not exist in Edinburgh any more than in London, because it connects both places without favoring either. Nor can we say that the relation exists at any particular time. Now everything we can perceive through our senses or through introspection exists at some particular time. So the relation 'north of' is fundamentally different from such things. The relation is neither in space nor in time, neither material nor mental. Yet it is something.

It is largely the very peculiar kind of being that belongs to universals which has led many people to suppose that they are really mental. We can think of a universal, and our thinking then exists in a perfectly ordinary sense, like any other mental act. Suppose, for example, that we are thinking of whiteness. Then in one sense it may be said that whiteness is 'in our mind'. We have here the same ambiguity as we noted in discussing Berkeley in Chapter IV. In the strict sense, it is not whiteness that is in our mind, but the act of thinking of whiteness. The connected ambiguity in the word 'idea', which we noted at the same time, also causes confusion here. In one sense of this word, namely the sense in which it denotes the object of an act of thought, whiteness is an 'idea'. Hence, if the ambiguity is not guarded against, we may come to think that whiteness is an 'idea' in the other sense, i.e. an act of thought; and thus we come to think that whiteness is mental. But in so thinking, we rob it of its essential quality of universality. One man's act of thought is necessarily a different thing from another man's; one man's act of thought at one time is necessarily a different thing from the same man's act of thought at another time. Hence, if whiteness were the thought as opposed to its object, no two different men could think of it, and no one man could think of it twice. That which many different thoughts of whiteness have in common is their object, and this object is different from all of them. Thus universals are not thoughts, though when known they are the objects of thoughts.

The very unusual kind of existence universals have is largely what has led many people to think universals are mental. We can think of a universal. Our thinking then exists in a perfectly ordinary sense, like any other mental act. Suppose, for example, that we are thinking of whiteness. Then in one sense we may say that whiteness is 'in our mind'. This phrase has the same ambiguity we noted when discussing Berkeley in Chapter IV. Strictly speaking, what is in our mind is not whiteness, but the act of thinking about whiteness. The related ambiguity in the word 'idea', which we noted in that discussion, also causes confusion here. In one sense, 'idea' means the object of an act of thought. In this sense, whiteness is an 'idea'. Unless we watch for this ambiguity, we may think whiteness is an 'idea' in the other sense: an act of thought. We then come to think that whiteness is mental. But thinking of whiteness as mental strips whiteness of its essential quality of universality. One person's act of thought is necessarily different from another person's act of thought. A person's act of thought at one time is necessarily different from that same person's act of thought at another time. So if whiteness were the thought rather than its object, no two different people could think of whiteness. Nor could any one person think of whiteness twice. What many different thoughts of whiteness have in common is their object. This object is different from all those thoughts. Thus universals are not thoughts, though when universals are known, they are the objects of thoughts.

We shall find it convenient only to speak of things existing when they are in time, that is to say, when we can point to some time at which they exist (not excluding the possibility of their existing at all times). Thus thoughts and feelings, minds and physical objects exist. But universals do not exist in this sense; we shall say that they subsist or have being, where 'being' is opposed to 'existence' as being timeless. The world of universals, therefore, may also be described as the world of being. The world of being is unchangeable, rigid, exact, delightful to the mathematician, the logician, the builder of metaphysical systems, and all who love perfection more than life. The world of existence is fleeting, vague, without sharp boundaries, without any clear plan or arrangement, but it contains all thoughts and feelings, all the data of sense, and all physical objects, everything that can do either good or harm, everything that makes any difference to the value of life and the world. According to our temperaments, we shall prefer the contemplation of the one or of the other. The one we do not prefer will probably seem to us a pale shadow of the one we prefer, and hardly worthy to be regarded as in any sense real. But the truth is that both have the same claim on our impartial attention, both are real, and both are important to the metaphysician. Indeed no sooner have we distinguished the two worlds than it becomes necessary to consider their relations.

For convenience, we will speak of things as existing only when they are in time. In other words, we must be able to identify some time at which they exist. This does not rule out their existing at all times. Thus thoughts and feelings, minds and physical objects exist. But universals do not exist in this sense. We will say that universals subsist or have being. Here, 'being' is timeless, in contrast to 'existence'. The world of universals may therefore also be called the world of being. The world of being is unchanging, rigid, and exact. It delights mathematicians, logicians, builders of metaphysical systems, and all who love perfection more than life. The world of existence is fleeting and vague, without sharp boundaries or any clear plan or arrangement. But it contains all thoughts and feelings, all the information our senses provide, and all physical objects. It contains everything that can do either good or harm. It contains everything that makes any difference to the value of life and the world. Depending on our temperaments, we will prefer to contemplate one world or the other. The world we do not prefer will probably seem a pale shadow of the world we prefer. We will probably think it hardly deserves to be considered real in any sense. But the truth is that both worlds have an equal claim to our impartial attention. Both are real, and both are important to the metaphysician. Indeed, as soon as we distinguish the two worlds, we must consider how they relate to each other.

But first of all we must examine our knowledge of universals. This consideration will occupy us in the following chapter, where we shall find that it solves the problem of a priori knowledge, from which we were first led to consider universals.

But first we must examine our knowledge of universals. We will do so in the next chapter. There we will find that examining this knowledge solves the problem of a priori knowledge. That problem first led us to consider universals.