Part 2

As the reader will soon perceive, the contributors agree in certain broad, fundamental opinions. Without exception they have sought to work their way free of the dogmatic incrustations that threaten to corrode even what is sound in characteristically modern thought. None of them, I think, can be suspect of a secret attraction to those pseudo-scientific and humanitarian short-cuts to truth and morality that lead in fact to pure scepticism and anarchy. All of them perceive that a naturistic humanism is finally a paradox. Some of them might be termed “pure” or “mere” humanists, others are religious humanists. Each has been free to speak his own mind, and is responsible only for what he has himself said. If the reader chances to conceive, as I personally do, that Irving Babbitt is at the centre of the humanistic movement, some of the other authors will appear to be near the periphery, although they too may seem near the centre from some other point of view. The authors of this symposium, in a word, have no desire to form a closed school, or party, or cult, or religion. They would agree that the _ism_ in humanism is at present a necessary evil. They are here temporarily assembled for the sole end of offering suggestions toward that new integration of values which may yet justify modernity.

Norman Foerster.

_January, 1930._

_Contents_

PAGE PREFACE: _Norman Foerster_ v

THE PRETENSIONS OF SCIENCE: _Louis Trenchard More_ 3

HUMANISM: AN ESSAY AT DEFINITION: _Irving Babbitt_ 25

THE HUMILITY OF COMMON SENSE: _Paul Elmer More_ 52

THE PRIDE OF MODERNITY: _G. R. Elliott_ 75

RELIGION WITHOUT HUMANISM: _T. S. Eliot_ 105

THE PLIGHT OF OUR ARTS: _Frank Jewett Mather, Jr._ 113

THE DILEMMA OF MODERN TRAGEDY: _Alan Reynolds Thompson_ 127

AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY: _Robert Shafer_ 149

PANDORA’S BOX IN AMERICAN FICTION: _Harry Hayden Clark_ 170

DIONYSUS IN DISMAY: _Stanley P. Chase_ 205

OUR CRITICAL SPOKESMEN: _Gorham B. Munson_ 231

BEHAVIOUR AND CONTINUITY: _Bernard Bandler II_ 258

THE WELL OF DISCIPLINE: _Sherlock Bronson Gass_ 268

COURAGE AND EDUCATION: _Richard Lindley Brown_ 285

A LIST OF BOOKS 291

_The essence of Elizabethan as of other humanisms is the understanding of man and the definition of the sphere of properly human activity. The philosophical mind of Shakespeare’s age began the work of reflection by cleaving the universe along three levels. On the lowest level is the natural world, which is the plane of instinct, appetite, animality, lust, the animal passions or affections; on this level the regulation is by necessary or natural law. On the middle level is the human world, which is regulated and, in a sense, created by the will and knowledge of man; working upon the natural world; but governed by reason, the special human faculty; and illuminated more or less from the level above. On the third level is the supernatural world, which is the plane of spiritual beings, and the home of eternal ideas._

--STUART P. SHERMAN: “ON CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE.”

HUMANISM AND AMERICA

_The Pretensions of Science_

LOUIS TRENCHARD MORE

I

Since the time when the Whigs of England fastened the specific title of _Pretender_ on the son and grandson of James II, the word has retained in our speech a sinister significance. For us a pretender is one who makes a false claim to a title. But in speaking of the pretensions of science, humanists do not mean precisely this. No humanist would deny that science has a legitimate field of its own when investigating the phenomena of the objective world and attempting to find law and order in the flux of events. Nor would he deny that it has added much to our security and power and has increased our opportunities for a richer life and character.

Science has its legitimate pretensions to power; but false claims are now being advanced on all sides under the shelter of its name, and it is these false claims which the humanist is concerned to expose. While our modern pretenders are unfortunately far greater in number than the two descendants of James, they do fall into two classes. The first includes those men of science who are not content to work in their limited field, but are really metaphysicians who have created a fictitious world of the imagination made out of æthers, electrons, and mathematical symbols, and have confused it in their own and others’ minds with the sensible world of brute fact. This class does comparatively little direct harm, as it merely creates some confusion in the orderly domain of science; but, indirectly, it has given a stimulus and specious authority to the pseudo-scientists. The second class comprises those who are claiming that the phenomena of the subjective world also lie in the field of science and have imposed on the age the pseudo-sciences of psychology and sociology. They would have us believe that all truth is scientific and that the conclusions of self-examination are but guess-work. By mere verbal analogies they have linked the study of man’s intellectual and spiritual nature to the physical world of mechanical matter and motion. It is the false claims of these pseudo-sciences which must be exposed and renounced in order that humanism may come again into its own as the arbiter of character.

As in the Middle Ages canting simulation of goodness, as well as honest virtue, was covered by the word religion, so to-day vague speculation, as well as accurate experimentation, is proclaimed as science. By a curious throw-back we are apparently using the word “science” in the primitive sense of “all knowledge,” as the Greeks used it. And they, in spite of their acumen, had not been able to differentiate between the two equally valid methods of learning by objective experimentation and by personal experience. We have seemingly forgotten that one of the greatest achievements of the Renaissance was to discover this difference of method and to limit “science” strictly to the investigation of objective phenomena. Even Descartes, who attempted to create a purely mechanical world, excluded the processes of thought as something foreign to the scientific method.

It was the biologists of the nineteenth century, intoxicated with the delusion that the magic word evolution was a key to unlock all the mysteries of the universe, who foisted on the world the idea that man is but a complicated physical and chemical machine, and who sought to discredit the dualistic philosophy of the Renaissance physicists. And of all the biologists, Huxley, the militant propagandist, was the one who did the most to degrade humanism into the pseudo-sciences of psychology and sociology. He first correctly emphasised the fact that there is but one scientific method which is best exemplified by the subject of mechanics. But--and in this lies the source of his mischief to clear thinking--_he then defined science as merely organised common sense_. One has only to analyse this definition to discover its speciousness and its confusion of thought. His definition has been almost universally accepted, although it undoes all the lessons taught us by the religious thinkers of the Middle Ages and the scientific experimentalists of the Renaissance; and its effect has been to drive theoretical science back into the hypothetical metaphysics of the Greeks.

It is merely a truism to say that our contact with the objective and subjective worlds is based, directly or indirectly, on our sense-perceptions; and, to be intelligibly transmitted from one person to another, such data must be common to many individuals. Also, it is an inevitable tendency of the mind to organise all facts or to link them together. Thus Huxley really classes all sound knowledge as science. But, since this sound knowledge, according to him, can be attained only by following the method of mechanics, which is the interpretation by the mind of the spatial and temporal relations between sensible bodies, his inference is clear that the phenomena of consciousness, the individual mind, and our social relations, are to be interpreted as problems of matter and motion.

Yet what, actually, is the process of exact science? The answer to this question should show us whether or not the term does have any precise and limited significance, and whether or not fundamental confusion must result from the attempt to make it synonymous with all knowledge.

Exact science, then, is first of all based on the naïve belief in an objective and real world whose events are connected in an orderly and prescribed manner, and occur independently of our thought or will. The phenomena of this objective world appeal to us through our sense-organs by some form of action, which we call energy, and are interpreted by our minds. We speak of this interpretation as observation; but to be scientific we must also select the phenomena to be observed, in order that we may classify their similarities and their dissimilarities. In the course of time, we have found such precision in many of our classifications and such regularity in the past actions of phenomena, that we are able to predict future events. Those predictions, which from past experience we find to have been accurately verified, we formulate as laws. For example, we have observed the actions of so many falling bodies that we have formulated the law of gravitation. It would be an error to say that a body fell, yesterday, because of this law; that event was simply one of the observed facts from which the law was deduced; but it is quite proper to predict that such a body will fall, to-morrow, in accordance with the law of gravitation. To sum up, the scientific method is limited to experimental observation and the formulation of laws; its value lies in the fact that, by its cultivation, we have done much to allay our apprehensions for the future and thus have abated the edge of superstition; and we also have vastly increased our power over our environment, or, in the much misunderstood aphorism of Francis Bacon, we have found science to be valuable for its fruits.

In a general way, we may say that the scientist should follow in his investigations the phenomena of the objective world only until their special forms of energy are absorbed by our nervous system. It is in the province of the humanist to study the phenomena of the subjective world after these stimuli have been translated into emotion and thought.

If a scientific prediction, or law, is to be something more than a vague statement of what will probably occur, we feel the necessity of measuring the quantity of the event; that is, our minds are not satisfied until we are able to express it mathematically. Since the only measurable attributes, concerning which our opinion of more or less is definite, are geometrical lengths, the aim of all science is, and must be, to express its laws in the language of mechanics; for that subject alone deals exclusively with simple, sensible masses and their geometrical relations in space. We have then the paradox that while mathematics is the goal of science, in that it is the ideal method, or language of expression, it is not itself a science since it is concerned with subjective ideas and is not limited by the restrictions of sensible bodies. Modern men of science may rebel against this fact; but even the newer, and more dubious, of the pseudo-sciences are forced to substantiate their claims with the support of factitious mathematical formulæ and tables and to simulate the mechanistic method. The inevitable tendency of science is to investigate all phenomena quantitatively, and to view the whole universe as a vast and measurable machine.

If the phenomena of life are to be classed as an exact science, it is necessary to postulate that the living organism, also, is a machine,--a thing of various material parts, acting on each other by mechanical forces. Such a postulate is pure _fiat_, for we have found no common factors between what we call vital actions and mechanical and physical forces. Biology is, at best, confined to the discovery of qualitative classifications, and the mutual chemical and physical reactions of the organism; and life is so complex and so variable that very few of its phenomena can be predicted with any accuracy. For example, the so-called law of heredity is often cited, but we have made scarcely any progress towards predicting variations in even an immediately succeeding generation. Even if a general law of progressive evolution were granted to have been established, no one could foretell by it the future variations of any species.

If the scientific method is badly strained when applied to even the simplest forms of life, it completely fails when used to elucidate the phenomena of the mind. The fundamental definition of science excludes the processes of consciousness from its field, for it assumes that objective phenomena are to be interpreted by the mind. If we attempt to study the mind objectively, then we come face to face with the absurd paradox of a thing investigating itself by means of I itself. And the gibe cast at the scientific psychologists, that they propose to study the mind by first denying its existence, is only too well founded.

The possibility of a scientific method is based on a rational interpretation of objective phenomena. Psychology, as a science, would be a solemn version of _Alice Through the Looking Glass_ in which real persons are viewed and analysed by their images, or rather by some other intelligence, such as a dog or an inhabitant of Mars. The futility of such a process should be apparent if we recollect that an animal’s mental processes can themselves be estimated and expressed only as a vaguer and more rudimentary sort of human mind.

II

Our modern idea that science embraces all kinds of knowledge is, as I have mentioned before, a curious reversion to the Greeks. In spite of the fact that they formulated the great deductive laws of physics, such as cause and effect, conservation of matter, etc., and developed an extraordinarily fruitful science of geometry, they remained indifferent to the experimental method. They developed almost no apparatus for experimentation, established no standards of measurement, and their arithmetical symbols were so awkward that only the simplest calculations could be made. They never succeeded in disentangling subjective and objective ideas. Plato could anticipate the modern conception of natural law in his aphorism that God geometrises, but at the same time he vaguely identified the human soul with the stars and endued the universe with life. Democritus pictured the world as an aggregation of atoms, differing only in size, shape, and motion; yet he also tacitly ascribed to them a will or desire to move which was only less pronounced than in those finer particles which constituted the souls of men. Also the four classic elements,--earth, water, air, and fire,--which combined in different proportions to form all material bodies, were actuated by the animistic principle that each element sought its own place. One could multiply these examples of classical thought which confused mechanical forces with the vital attributes of will and desire.

The failure of the Greeks to develop an objective and experimental method was intensified by the domination of the Christian religion during the Middle Ages. The emphasis of thought was placed on the problems of human character. At a time when men were taught that our environment was a trap set by the powers of evil to allure our souls to eternal damnation, there could be little stimulus to study the laws of nature or to apply them to increase our interest in a temporal life. It is customary for historians to condemn the Church for having crushed science, but no concerted opposition was necessary in a society which saw no advantage in gathering its fruits. It was an axiom that truth was the direct consequence of intuition and revelation, that God had revealed in the Bible, and through His living Church, all the knowledge necessary for man’s guidance in a transitory state. To neglect such a certainty for the perceptions of our fallible and sinful senses, and to construct a world from them according to our reason, would be to fall into the sin of the pride of the intellect. Furthermore, in a society small in numbers and in area, where the greater number were believed to have been created to minister to the comfort of the few, little need was felt for mechanical power and industry. The only science which seemed to be worth cultivating was one which was believed to foretell human events and to affect our spiritual life.

It had been generally accepted from ancient times that the stars influenced our lives and foretold the future. Such knowledge was eagerly sought by a society which was principally concerned with religion and was, at the same time, a prey to superstitious fear. It is not surprising that astrology was seriously cultivated. If we grant the postulate that the stars do affect us, then we must admit that astrology was a true science. The positions and the motions of the planets and stars were observed and recorded as accurately as possible, and deductions were made according to rules and laws believed to have been verified by experience. Nor does it seem to me much more credulous to believe that our character is determined by the relative positions of the planets, than to assume, as do Mr. Watson and the modern behaviourists, that our thoughts are caused by the relative positions and motions of the material atoms which happen to compose the substance of our brains. The astrologists had, at least, the great advantage of dealing with real bodies which we can observe, while these psychologists have for their use only the hypothetical and machine-made atoms of the chemist which they can never hope to observe. There is little to choose between the superstition that the planets foretell our characters and the superstition that atoms constitute thought; both lead to equally foolish and irrational practices. And there is the less excuse for the psychologist, since he has had the benefit of a longer past experience than had the astrologer to convince him of the futility of identifying mind and matter.

The only other science which aroused popular interest was alchemy. The basis of this subject was the postulate that all matter was composed of the four elements combined in various proportions. By the use of chemical reagents, the combinations of these elements could be altered and a given substance be thus changed into another. Alchemy is generally associated with the attempt to transmute metals and, in particular, to change lead into gold, because the natural cupidity of their patrons made it advisable for the alchemists to hold that prospect before them in order to obtain a livelihood. In principle, alchemy is but little different from modern chemistry. Our most recent theory still holds that the difference between lead and gold is due only to the numerical relations of a single element, the electron. The difference between chemistry and alchemy does not lie in either their fundamental hypotheses or their methods, but in our vastly superior technique of experimentation and accumulated knowledge. The nature of the modern electronic atom is essentially as fictitious as was the nature of the mediæval elements.

Besides exciting the hope of wealth, alchemy was important as an aid to health and longevity. Since health required that the four elements of the body should be preserved in their proper balance, illness, and even death, were but the temporary or permanent loss of their right proportions. Alchemists, convinced of this truth, were led to seek for a sovereign substance, the philosopher’s stone, which would have the power to restore this disturbed balance and give to its fortunate owner permanent health and life.

It is a mistake to suppose that the Church oppressed these sciences--many of its most orthodox fathers and saints eagerly studied them. The abuses due to the rampant charlatanry of many of their practitioners were repressed, but their serious doctrines were fused into the religion of the time much as, in our day, the clergy have tried to harmonise Christianity and biological evolution. In fact, as we shall see, the most determined opposition which the new Copernican theory of the solar system had to overcome was the fusion of Christian dogma with Aristotelian astrology and alchemy.

It was natural that the first fruits of the new science of the Renaissance should have been in astronomy and mechanics. The accumulated observations of the astrologers had vastly increased the complexity of the Ptolemaic system, and the discrepancies between the observed and calculated positions of the planets had become glaringly evident. When the great treatise of Copernicus was finally published as he lay on his death-bed, it is altogether probable that no one suspected that it marked the beginning of a new philosophy. He had merely proved that the calculations of astronomers were greatly simplified by assuming that the sun, instead of the earth, was the fixed centre of the solar system, and that the earth and other planets revolved about it in circular orbits. It must remain a mooted question whether Copernicus believed that his discovery was only a mathematical device; his book states explicitly that he, as a Catholic, still subscribed to the belief that the earth was actually the fixed centre of the universe as the Church and the Aristotelians both taught to be a necessary article of faith. At all events, it was not until Galileo some sixty years later invented the telescope and turned it on the heavens, that men saw the significance of the discovery. The eye of the telescope penetrated the depths of the solar system. It proved that the planets were not pure celestial matter but were mere masses like the earth. Their brilliance was not a divine fire but ordinary sunlight reflected from their dull surfaces; they, like the earth, were inanimate bodies revolving about the sun and the Copernican system became a fact instead of a mathematic device. It is not extravagant to assert that, with the acceptance of Copernican astronomy, the whole mediæval conception of nature gave place to a reliance on experimental evidence.

The work of Galileo in founding the science of mechanics was fatal to the mysticism of the contemporary alchemists. Instead of the elements with their natural places, their likes and dislikes, their hierarchy of nobility, and their subserviency to planetary influences, he laid down the universal principle that all natural actions were due to mechanical forces whose only function was to alter the motions of bodies and whose amount was measurable in mathematical symbols. His significant work for us was an uncompromising war waged against the scientific dogmatism of the Aristotelians on the clear-cut issue that knowledge of the objective world could be obtained only by experimental evidence, and not by subjective preconceptions. Understood rightly, he had reinstated the Platonic dualism of two worlds, one of matter, and the other of the mind or spirit.