Part 3

This answer follows from the analysis hitherto accepted of the relation of what I have called "object" to "consciousness" in any sensation or idea. It is held that what I call the object is merely the "content" of a sensation or idea. It is held that in each case we can distinguish two elements and two only, (1) the fact that there is feeling or experience, and (2) _what_ is felt or experienced; the sensation or idea, it is said, forms a whole, in which we must distinguish two "inseparable aspects," "content" and "existence." I shall try to show that this analysis is false; and for that purpose I must ask what may seem an extraordinary question: namely what is meant by saying that one thing is "content" of another? It is not usual to ask this question; the term is used as if everybody must understand it. But since I am going to maintain that "blue" is _not_ the content of the sensation of blue, and what is more important, that, even if it were this analysis would leave out the most important element in the sensation of blue, it is necessary that I should try to explain precisely what it is that I shall deny.

What then is meant by saying that one thing is the "content" of another? First of all I wish to point out that "blue" is rightly and properly said to be part of the content of a blue flower. If, therefore, we also assert that it is part of the content of the sensation of blue, we assert that it has to the other parts (if any) of this whole the same relation which it has to the other parts of a blue flower--and we assert only this: we cannot mean to assert that it has to the sensation of blue any relation which it does not have to the blue flower. And we have seen that the sensation of blue contains at least one other element beside blue--namely, what I call "consciousness," which makes it a sensation. So far then as we assert that blue is the content of the sensation, we assert that it has to this "consciousness" the same relation which it has to the other parts of a blue flower: we do assert this, and we assert no more than this. Into the question what exactly the relation is between blue and a blue flower in virtue of which we call the former part of its "content" I do not propose to enter. It is sufficient for my purpose to point out that it is the general relation most commonly meant when we talk of a thing and its qualities; and that this relation is such that to say the thing exists implies that the qualities also exist. The _content_ of the thing is _what_ we assert to exist, when we assert _that_ the thing exists.

When, therefore, blue is said to be part of the content of the "sensation of blue," the latter is treated as if it were a whole constituted in exactly the same way as any other "thing." The "sensation of blue," on this view, differs from a blue bead or a blue beard, in exactly the same way in which the two latter differ from one another: the blue bead differs from the blue beard, in that while the former contains glass, the latter contains hair; and the "sensation of blue" differs from both in that, instead of glass or hair, it contains consciousness. The relation of the blue to the consciousness is conceived to be exactly the same as that of the blue to the glass or hair: it is in all three cases the _quality_ of a _thing._

But I said just now that the sensation of blue was analysed into "content" and "existence," and that blue was said to be _the_ content of the idea of blue. There is an ambiguity in this and a possible error, which I must note in passing. The term "content" may be used in two senses. If we use "content" as equivalent to what Mr. Bradley calls the "_what_"--if we mean by it the _whole_ of what is said to exist, when the thing is said to exist, then blue is certainly not _the_ content of the sensation of blue: part of the _content_ of the sensation is, in this sense of the term, that other element which I have called consciousness. The analysis of this sensation into the "content" "blue," on the one hand, and mere existence on the other, is therefore certainly false; in it we have again the self-contradictory identification of "Blue exists" with "The sensation of blue exists," But there is another sense in which "blue" might properly be said to be _the_ content of the sensation--namely, the sense in which "content," like _εἴδος_ is opposed to "substance" or "matter." For the element "consciousness," being common to all sensations, may be and certainly is regarded as in some sense their "substance," and by the "content" of each is only meant that in respect of which one differs from another. In this sense then "blue" might be said to be _the_ content of the sensation; but, in that case, the analysis into "content" and "existence" is, at least, misleading, since under "existence" must be included "_what_ exists" in the sensation other than blue.

We have it, then, as a universally received opinion that blue is related to the sensation or idea of blue, as its _content_, and that this view, if it is to be true, must mean that blue is part of _what_ is said to exist when we say that the sensation exists. To say that the sensation exists is to say both that blue exists and that "consciousness," whether we call it the substance of which blue is _the_ content or call it another part of the content, exists too. Any sensation or idea is a "_thing,_" and what I have called its object is the quality of this thing. Such a "thing" is what we think of when we think of a _mental image._ A mental image is conceived as if it were related to that of which it is the image (if there be any such thing) in exactly the same way as the image in a looking-glass is related to that of which it is the reflection; in both cases there is identity of content, and the image in the looking-glass differs from that in the mind solely in respect of the fact that in the one case the other constituent of the image is "glass" and in the other case it is consciousness. If the image is of blue, it is not conceived that this "content" has any relation to the consciousness but what it has to the glass: it Is conceived _merely_ to be its _content._ And owing to the fact that sensations and ideas are all considered to be _wholes_ of this description--things in the mind--the question: What do we know? is considered to be identical with the question: What reason have we for supposing that there are things outside the mind _corresponding_ to these that are inside it?

What I wish to point out is (1) that we have no reason for supposing that there are such things as mental images at all--for supposing that blue _is_ part of the content of the sensation of blue, and (2) that even if there are mental images, no mental image and no sensation or idea is _merely_ a thing of this kind: that 'blue,' even if it is part of the content of the image or sensation or idea of blue, is always _also_ related to it in quite another way, and that this other relation, omitted in the traditional analysis, is the _only_ one which makes the sensation of blue a mental fact at all.

The true analysis of a sensation or idea is as follows. The element that is common to them all, and which I have called "consciousness," really _is_ consciousness. A sensation is, in reality, a case of 'knowing' or 'being aware of' or 'experiencing' something. When we know that the sensation of blue exists, the fact we know is that there exists an awareness of blue. And this awareness is not merely, as we have hitherto seen it must be, itself something distinct and unique, utterly different from blue: it also has a perfectly distinct and unique relation to blue, a relation which is _not_ that of thing or substance to content, nor of one part of content to another part of content. This relation is just that which we mean in every case by 'knowing.' To have in your mind 'knowledge' of blue, is _not_ to have in your mind a 'thing' or 'image' of which blue is the content. To be aware of the sensation of blue is _not_ to be aware of a mental image--of a "thing," of which 'blue' and some other element are constituent parts in the same sense in which blue and glass are constituents of a blue bead. It is to be aware of an awareness of blue; awareness being used, in both cases, in exactly the same sense. This element, we have seen, is certainly neglected by the 'content' theory: that theory entirely fails to express the fact that there is, in the sensation of blue, this unique relation between blue and the other constituent. And what I contend is that this omission is _not_ mere negligence of expression, but is due to the fact that though philosophers have recognised that _something_ distinct is meant by consciousness, they have never yet had a clear conception of _what_ that something is. They have not been able to hold _it_ and _blue_ before their minds and to compare them, in the same way in which they can compare _blue_ and _green._ And this for the reason I gave above: namely that the moment we try to fix our attention upon consciousness and to see _what_, distinctly, it is, it seems to vanish: it seems as if we had before us a mere emptiness. When we try to introspect the sensation of blue, all we can see is the blue: the other element is as if it were diaphanous. Yet it _can_ be distinguished if we look attentively enough, and if we know that there is something to look for. My main object in this paragraph has been to try to make the reader _see_ it; but I fear I shall have succeeded very ill.

It being the case, then, that the sensation of blue includes in its analysis, beside blue, _both_ a unique element 'awareness' _and_ a unique relation of this element to blue, I can make plain what I meant by asserting, as two distinct propositions, (1) that blue is probably not part of the content of the sensation at all, and (2) that, even it were, the sensation would nevertheless not be the sensation _of_ blue, if blue had only this relation to it. The first hypothesis may now be expressed by saying that, if it were true, then, when the sensation of blue exists, there exists a _blue awareness_: offence may be taken at the expression, but yet it expresses just what should be and is meant by saying that blue is, in this case, a _content_ of consciousness or experience. Whether or not, when I have the sensation of blue, my consciousness or awareness is thus blue, my introspection does not enable me to decide with certainty: I only see no reason for thinking that it is. But whether it is or not, the point is unimportant, for introspection _does_ enable me to decide that something else is also true: namely that I am aware _of_ blue, and by this I mean, that my awareness has to blue a quite different and distinct relation. It is possible, I admit, that my awareness is blue _as well_ as being _of_ blue: but what I am quite sure of is that it is _of_ blue; that it has to blue the simple and unique relation the existence of which alone justifies us in distinguishing knowledge of a thing from the thing known, indeed in distinguishing mind from matter. And this result I may express by saying that what is called the _content_ of a sensation is in very truth what I originally called it--the sensation's _object._

But, if all this be true, what follows?

Idealists admit that some things really exist of which they are not aware: there are some things, they hold, which are not inseparable aspects of _their_ experience, even if they be inseparable aspects of some experience. They further hold that some of the things of which they are sometimes aware do really exist, even when they are not aware of them: they hold for instance that they are sometimes aware of other minds, which continue to exist even when they are not aware of them. They are, therefore, sometimes aware of something which is _not_ an inseparable aspect of their own experience. They do _know some_ things which are _not_ a mere part or content of their experience. And what my analysis of sensation has been designed to show is, that whenever I have a mere sensation or idea, the fact is that I am then aware of something which is equally and in the same sense _not_ an inseparable aspect of my experience. The awareness which I have maintained to be included in sensation is the very same unique fact which constitutes every kind of knowledge: "blue" is as much an object, and as little a mere content, of my experience, when I experience it, as the most exalted and independent real thing of which I am ever aware. There is, therefore, no question of how we are to "get outside the circle of our own ideas and sensations." Merely to have a sensation is already to _be_ outside that circle. It is to know something which is as truly and really _not_ a part of _my_ experience, as anything which I can ever know.

Now I think I am not mistaken in asserting that the reason why Idealists suppose that everything which _is_ must be an inseparable aspect of some experience, is that they suppose some things, at least, to be inseparable aspects of _their_ experience. And there is certainly nothing which they are so firmly convinced to be an inseparable aspect of their experience as what they call the _content_ of their ideas and sensations. If, therefore, _this_ turns out in every case, whether it be also the content or not, to be at least _not_ an inseparable aspect of the experience of it, it will be readily admitted that nothing else which _we_ experience ever is such an inseparable aspect. But if we never experience anything but what is _not_ an inseparable aspect of _that_ experience, how can we infer that anything whatever, let alone _everything,_ is an inseparable aspect of _any_ experience? How utterly unfounded is the assumption that "_esse_ is _percipi"_ appears in the clearest light.

But further I think it may be seen that if the object of an Idealist's sensation were, as he supposes, _not_ the object but merely the content of that sensation, if, that is to say, it really were an inseparable aspect of his experience, each Idealist could never be aware either of himself or of any other real thing. For the relation of a sensation to its object is certainly the same as that of any other instance of experience to its object; and this, I think, is generally admitted even by Idealists: they state as readily that _what_ is judged or thought or perceived is the _content_ of that judgment or thought or perception, as that blue Is the content of the sensation of blue. But, if so, then when any Idealist thinks he is _aware_ of himself or of any one else, this cannot really be the case. The fact Is, on his own theory, that himself and that other person are in reality mere _contents_ of an awareness, which is aware _of_ nothing whatever. All that can be said is that there is an awareness in him, _with_ a certain content: it can never be true that there is in him a consciousness _of_ anything. And similarly he is never aware either of the fact that he exists or that reality is spiritual. The real fact, which he describes in those terms, is that his existence and the spirituality of reality are _contents_ of an awareness, which is aware of nothing--certainly not, then, of it own content.

And further if everything, of which he thinks he is aware, is in reality merely a content of his own experience he has certainly no _reason_ for holding that anything does exist except himself: it will, of course, be possible that other persons do exist; solipsism will not be necessarily true; but he cannot possibly infer from anything he holds that it is not true. That he himself exists will of course follow from his premiss that many things are contents of _his_ experience. But since everything, of which he thinks himself aware, is in reality merely an inseparable aspect of that awareness; this premiss allows no inference that any of these contents, far less any other consciousness, exists at all except as an inseparable aspect of his awareness, that is, as part of himself.

Such, and not those which he takes to follow from it, are the consequences which _do_ follow from the Idealist's supposition that the object of an experience is in reality merely a content or inseparable aspect of that experience. If, on the other hand, we clearly recognise the nature of that peculiar relation which I have called "awareness of anything"; if we see that _this_ is involved equally in the analysis of _every_ experience--from the merest sensation to the most developed perception or reflexion, and that _this_ is in fact the only essential element in an experience--the only thing that is both common and peculiar to all experiences--the only thing which gives us reason to call any fact mental; if, further, we recognise that this awareness is and must be in all cases of such a nature that its object, when we are aware of it, is precisely what it would be, if we were not aware: then it becomes plain that the existence of a table in space is related to my experience of _it_ in precisely the same way as the existence of my own experience is related to my experience of _that._ Of both we are merely aware: if we are aware that the one exists, we are aware in precisely the same sense that the other exists; and if it is true that my experience can exist, even when I do not happen to be aware of its existence, we have exactly the same reason for supposing that the table can do so also. When, therefore, Berkeley, supposed that the only thing of which I am directly aware is my own sensations and ideas, he supposed what was false; and when Kant supposed that the objectivity of things in space _consisted_ in the fact that they were "Vorstellungen" having to one another different relations from those which the same "Vorstellungen" have to one another in subjective experience, he supposed what was equally false. I am as directly aware of the existence of material things in space as of my own sensations; and _what_ I am aware of with regard to each is exactly the same--namely that in one case the material thing, and in the other case my sensation does really exist. The question requiring to be asked about material things is thus not: What reason have we for supposing that anything exists _corresponding_ to our sensations? but: What reason have we for supposing that material things do _not_ exist, since _their_ existence has precisely the same evidence as that of our sensations? That either exist _may_ be false; but if it is a reason for doubting the existence of matter, that it is an inseparable aspect of our experience, the same reasoning will prove conclusively that our experience does not exist either, since that must also be an inseparable aspect of our experience of _it._ The only _reasonable_ alternative to the admission that matter exists _as well as_ spirit, is absolute Scepticism--that, as likely as not _nothing_ exists at all. All other suppositions--the Agnostic's, that something, at all events, does exist, as much as the Idealist's, that spirit does--are, if we have no reason for believing in matter, as baseless as the grossest superstitions.

[1] _International Journal of Ethics,_ October, 1902.

THE NATURE AND REALITY OF OBJECTS OF PERCEPTION

There are two beliefs in which almost all philosophers, and almost all ordinary people are agreed. Almost everyone believes that he himself and what he directly perceives do not constitute the whole of reality: he believes that _something_ other than himself and what he directly perceives _exists_ or is _real._ I do not mean to say that almost everyone believes that what he directly perceives is real: I only mean that he does believe that, whether what he directly perceives is real or not, something other than it and other than himself certainly is so. And not only does each of us thus agree in believing that _something_ other than himself and what he directly perceives is real: almost everyone also believes that _among_ the real things, other than himself and what he directly perceives, are other persons who have thoughts and perceptions in some respects similar to his own. That most people believe this I think I need scarcely try to show. But since a good many philosophers may appear to have held views contradictory of this one, I will briefly point out my reason for asserting that most philosophers, even among those (if any) who have believed the contradictory of this, have yet held this as well. Almost all philosophers tell us something about the nature of _human_ knowledge and _human_ perception. They tell us that _we_ perceive so and so; that the nature or origin of _our_ perceptions is such and such; or (as I have just been telling you) that men in general have such and such beliefs. It might, indeed, be said that we are not to interpret such language too strictly: that, though a philosopher talks about _human_ knowledge and _our_ perceptions, he only means to talk about his own. But in many cases a philosopher will leave no doubt upon this point, by expressly assuming that there are other perceptions, which differ in some respects from his own: such, for instance, is the case when (as is so common nowadays) a philosopher introduces psycho-genetic considerations into his arguments --considerations concerning the nature of the perceptions of men who existed before and at a much lower stage of culture than himself. Any philosopher, who uses such arguments, obviously assumes that perceptions other than his own have existed or been real. And even those philosophers who think themselves justified in the conclusion that neither their own perceptions nor any perceptions like theirs are _ultimately_ real, would, I think admit, that _phenomenally_, at least, they _are_ real, and are certainly _more_ real than some other things.

Almost everyone, then, does believe that some perceptions other than his own, and which he himself does not directly perceive, are real; and believing this, he believes that something other than himself and what he directly perceives is real. But how do we know that anything exists except our own perceptions, and what we directly perceive? How do we know that there are any other people, who have perceptions in some respects similar to our own?

I believe that these two questions express very exactly the nature of the problem which it is my chief object, in this paper, to discuss. When I say these words to you, they will at once suggest to your minds the very question, to which I desire to find an answer; they will convey to you the very same meaning which I have before my mind, when I use the words. You will understand at once what question it is that I mean to ask. But, for all that, the words which I have used are highly ambiguous. If you begin to ask yourselves what I do mean by them, you will find that there are several quite different things which I might mean. And there is, I think, great danger of confusing these different meanings with one another. I think that philosophers, when they have asked this question in one sense, have often answered it in quite a different sense; and yet have supposed that the answer which they have given is an answer to the very same question which they originally asked. It is precisely because there is this ambiguity--this danger of confusion, in the words which I have used, that I have chosen to use them. I wish to point out as clearly as I can, not only what I do mean by them, but also some things which I do _not_ mean; and I wish to make it clear that the questions which I do _not_ mean to ask, are different questions from that which I do mean to ask.

I will take the second of my two questions, since there is in the other an additional ambiguity to which I do not now wish to call attention. My second question was: How do we know that there exist any other people who have perceptions in some respects similar to our own? What does this question mean?