Part 2

For Spencer, as for M. Bergson, we live in a world of change. But neither is content to accept changes as facts to be linked up within a scheme of scientific interpretation. Both must seek their Source. Now to inquire into the Source or Sources of phenomena is characteristic of man as thinker. And if, in common with those whom I follow, I regard this quest as beyond the limits of science, I am well aware that such delimitation of fields of inquiry is by no means universally accepted. M. Bergson, for example, regards metaphysics as the _Science_[29] which claims to dispense with symbols, which turns its back on analysis, which eschews logic, which dispenses with relativity and pierces to the absolute, which, apparently, uses the intellect only to establish its utter incompetence in this department of 'science'. Merely saying that this, whatever else it may be, is not what I, for one, understand by science--and not, by the way, what M. Bergson in other passages seems to mean by science[30]--I pass on to Spencer's treatment of the philosophy of science which, for him, is 'completely unified knowledge', 'the truths of philosophy bearing the same relation to the highest scientific truths that each of these bears to lower scientific truths.'

I suppose one of the basal truths in his philosophy of science is for Spencer the universality of connexion between cause and effect. Now let us eliminate Source as the Ultimate Cause (so far as that is possible in Spencer); let us restrict our attention to cause and effect in the realm of the knowable. When we try to do this we find his statements concerning them scarcely less puzzling than those that refer to force, with which cause is so often identified. Thus we are told[31] that 'motion set up in any direction is itself a cause of further motion in that direction since it is a manifestation of a surplus force in that direction'; and elsewhere[32] that 'the momentum of a body causes it to move in a straight line and at a uniform velocity'. A distinction is drawn between cause and conditions. But both produce effects, and only on these terms can there be that 'proportionality or equivalence between cause and effect' on which Spencer insists.[33] There is, however, scarcely a hint of what constitutes the difference between cause and conditions, save in so far as he speaks[34] of 'those conspicuous antecedents which we call the causes' and 'those accompanying antecedents which we call the conditions'. Many of the details of his treatment I find most perplexing; but to recite examples would be wearisome. And then, in the ninth and tenth articles of the Spencerian creed, cause plays a somewhat different part. For, there, the instability of the homogeneous and the multiplication of effects are given as the chief causes which 'necessitate' that redistribution of matter and motion of which evolution is one phase. Similarly, as I have noted above, in 'Progress: its Law and Cause', the fundamental attribute of all modes of change--that every cause produces more than one effect--is itself spoken of as a cause, and likened to 'gravitation as the cause of each of the groups of phenomena which Kepler formulated'. In these cases a generalization is regarded as the cause of the phenomena from which the generalization is drawn. But sometimes it is spoken of as the reason for the phenomena.[35] Here again, however, as throughout his work, reference to Source is close at hand. Hence, in place of the words cause and force, the word agency[36] sometimes stands for that which produces effects; or the word factor may be used. Thus we are told[37] of phenomena continually complicating under the influence of the same original factors'; and we meet with the argument (contra Huxley) that states of consciousness are factors, that is, they 'have the power of working changes in the nervous system and setting up motions'.[38] Always close at hand, constantly underlying Spencer's thought, is the notion of power which works changes. In his treatment of the philosophy of science we are never far from the noumenal Source of phenomena.

'For that interpretation of things which is alone possible for us this is all we require to know--that the force or energy manifested, now in one way now in another, persists or remains unchanged in amount. But when we ask what this energy is, there is no answer save that it is the noumenal Cause implied by the phenomenal effect.'[39]

Was it partly with Spencer in view that Mr. Bertrand Russell recently urged[40] that the word cause 'is so inextricably bound up with misleading associations as to make its complete extrusion from the philosophical vocabulary desirable'? Professor Mach[41] had previously expressed the hope 'that the science of the future will discard the use of cause and effect as formally obscure'. And as long ago as 1870 W. K. Clifford[42] tried to show in 'what sort of way an exact knowledge of the facts would supersede an enquiry after the causes of them'; and urged that the hypothesis of continuity 'involves such an interdependence of the facts of the universe as forbids us to speak of one fact or set of facts as the cause of another fact or set of facts'. Such views may, perhaps, be regarded as extreme; and the word cause is not likely to be extruded from the vocabulary of current speech, of the less exact branches of science, or of general discussions of world-processes. Still, a philosophy of science must take note of this criticism of the use of a term which is, to say the least of it, ambiguous. We must at any rate try to get rid of ambiguity. Now we live in a world of what, in a very broad and inclusive sense, may be called things; and these things are in varied ways related to each other. (I must beg leave to assume, without discussion, that the relatedness of things is no less constitutive of the world with which a philosophy of science has to deal than the things which are in relation.) And when things stand in certain kinds of relatedness to each other changes take place. The trouble is that the kinds of relatedness are so many and the kinds of change are also so many! Spencer tried to reduce all kinds of relatedness to one quasi-mechanical type; and he signally failed--or shall I say that he succeeded only by ignoring all the specific differences on the one hand, and, on the other hand, by so smudgy an extension of the meaning of mechanical and physical terms as to make them do duty in every conceivable connexion?

So long as we can deal with simple types of relatedness, such as that which we call gravitative, in any given system of things regarded as isolated, we can express in formulae not only the rate of change within the system, but also the rate at which the rate of change itself changes. And these formulae are found to be generally applicable where like things are in a like field of relatedness. So that Spencer's persistence of force (at least in one of its many meanings) is replaced in such cases by sameness of differential equations. And in such cases we have no need for the word cause. Of course the value of the constants in any such formula depends upon the nature of the field of relatedness and of the things therein; and only certain systems, in which the relations are simple, or are susceptible of simplification, can be dealt with, at present, in this manner. It is imperative to remember that not only the rate of change but the kind of change differs in different relational fields--a fact of which Spencer took too little cognizance, so bent was he on some sort of unification at all hazards. Revert now to a field of gravitative relatedness, in which the motion of things is the kind of change, while the rate of change is expressible in a formula; may we not say that the co-presence of things in this relationship does imply certain motions and changes of motion within the system to which the term gravitative applies? There seems little room for ambiguity if we call what is thus implied the effect, and if we term those modes of relatedness which carry this kind of implication, effective. It may, however, be said that it sounds somewhat strange to speak of relations as effective. How can mere relatedness as such _do_ anything? What is implied by the effect is surely, it will be urged, a cause in the full and rich sense of the word--a cause which produces the effect. For what is here suggested is nothing more than a generalized statement of the truth that the relational constitution of the system being what it is, the changes are what they are! And so we come back to the conception of an agency which in some way produces the observable change--of a power which is active behind the phenomenal scene--of force and cause in the Spencerian sense. But, so far as scientific interpretation is concerned, this reference to Source--for such it really is--is useless. The gravitative system can be dealt with scientifically just as well without it as with it.

What, then, becomes of the scientific conception of energy? Is not energy that which produces observable change? Is it not active in the sense required? And can we say that this conception is useless for scientific interpretation? I suppose most of us, in our student days, have passed through the phase of regarding energy as an active demon which plays a notorious part in the physical drama. Spencer loved it dearly. But some of us, under what we consider wiser guidance, hold that what we should understand by kinetic energy is nothing of this sort. It is a constant ratio of variables, conveniently expressed as 1/2_mv_^{2}. That, however, it may be said, is absurd. Energy is not merely a ratio or a formula; it is something much more real; perhaps the most real of all the realities the being of which has been disclosed by physical science. Granted in a sense, and a very true sense. But what is this reality? It is the reality of the changes themselves in those fields of relatedness to which the formula has reference. There is nothing, I conceive, in the modern treatment of energy that affords any scientific justification of the Spencerian view[43] that energy is an agent through the activity of which the constant ratio of variables is maintained in the physical world.

I feel sure that it will still be said that change must inevitably imply that which produces change, and that, even if energy be only a ratio of variables within a changing field, there is still the implication of Force as the real Cause of which the change itself, however formulated, is the effect. No doubt this is one of the meanings which the ambiguous words force and cause may carry. It is to remove this ambiguity that I have suggested that the word Source should be substituted for cause in this sense. And what about force? In one of its meanings it now generally stands for a measure of change. For those who accept Source as a scientific concept it may well stand for the measure or degree of its activity gauged by the phenomenal effect; for those who do not accept it, the measure or degree of the change itself[44]--to be dealt with in mechanics in terms of mass and acceleration. This leaves outstanding, however, the use of the word force in the phrase--the forces of nature--gravitative force, cohesive force, electromotive force, and so on. It was, I take it, with this usage in view that Spencer spoke of vital, mental, and social forces. Now the reference in each of these cases is to some specific mode of relatedness among the things concerned. We need to name it in some way; and this is the way that is, rather unfortunately, sanctioned by custom and long usage. When we say that a thing is in a field of electromotive force we mean (do we not?) that the relatedness is of that particular kind named electromotive, and not of another kind. When Spencer spoke of social forces he had in view changes which take place within a field of social relationships. We do not really need the word force in this sense, since the term relatedness would suffice, and has no misleading associations. But there it is: our business should be to understand clearly what it means. It does not, or should not, I think, mean more, in this connexion, than a particular kind of relatedness in virtue of which an observable kind of change occurs.

We may now pass to cause and conditions. When Spencer distinguishes between those conspicuous antecedents which we call the causes and those accompanying antecedents which we call the conditions, he invites the question: What, then, is the essential difference between them? If the accompanying antecedents are distinguished as inconspicuous, we surely need some criterion of the distinction. Furthermore, inconspicuous conditions are, in science, every whit as important as those which are conspicuous. Now we all know that Mill regarded the cause as 'the sum total of the conditions positive and negative taken together.'[45] But he expressly distinguishes between _events_ and _states_.[46] Discussing, for example, the case of a man who eats of a particular dish and dies in consequence, he says:

'The various conditions, except the single one of eating the food, were not events but states possessing more or less of permanency, and might therefore have preceded the effect by an indefinite length of duration, for want of that event which was requisite to complete the required concurrence of conditions.'

Again he says:

'When sulphur, charcoal, and nitre are put together in certain proportions and in a certain manner, the effect is, not an explosion, but that the mixture acquires a property by which in given circumstances it will explode. The ingredients of the gunpowder have been brought into a state of preparedness for exploding as soon as the other conditions of an explosion shall have occurred.'

And he tells us that physiological processes 'often have for the chief part of their operation to predispose the constitution to some mode of action'.

This distinction may profitably be carried further and emphasized in our terminology. Take any thing, or any integrated group of things, regarded as that higher order of thing which we call a self-contained system. Process occurs therein, and process involves change. In so far as the system is self-contained its changes and states are inherent in its constitution. We need a term by which to designate that which is thus inherent and constitutional. The term _ground_ might be reserved for this purpose. The word ground has its natural home in logic. It is here extended (if it be an extension) to that to which the logic has reference in the existing world. One is here following Spencer, who claims[47] that 'Logic is a science pertaining to objective existence'. On these terms the constitution of any system is the ground of the properties, states, and happenings in that system regarded as isolated. But the changes or properties will be also in relation to surrounding things or systems. _These_ changes, or modifications of change, in relation to external things or events, may properly be said to be conditioned; and we may well restrict the term conditions to influences _outside_ the constitution as ground. Of course, if we accept this usage, we must not speak, with Mill, of the constitution of any system as the condition of its inherent changes or properties. That is why we need some such word and concept as ground. Now we may fix our attention on any constituent part of some natural system and make that part the centre of our interest. That part may be changing in virtue of its constitution; and the rest of the system, regarded as external to this selected part, must therefore be regarded as conditioning. It is a matter of convenience for purposes of scientific interpretation whether we select a larger or a smaller system-group and discuss its constitutional character. Thus we may think of the constitution of the solar system, or of that of the sun's corona; of the constitution of an organism or of that of one of its cells; of the constitution of a complex molecule or of that of an atom therein. We have here reached, or nearly reached, the limiting case in one direction--that of restricting our field of inquiry. The limiting case in the other direction is, I suppose, the universe. But could we so expand our thought as to embrace, if that were possible, the whole universe, then there are no conditions; for _ex hypothesi_ there is nothing for science outside the universe. We have reached the limiting concept. Hence, for science, the constitution of nature is the ultimate ground of all that is or happens.

Let us now see how we stand. Consider the following statements:

1. The Unknowable is the cause of all the phenomena we observe.

2. The constitution of gunpowder is the cause of its explosiveness.[48]

3. The fall of a spark was the cause of the actual explosion of the powder.[49]

Or these:

1. Life is the cause of all vital manifestations.

2. The inherited nature of a hen's egg is the cause of its producing a chick and not a duckling.

3. The cause of the development of the chick embryo is the warmth supplied by the incubating mother.[50]

In each case the reference under (1) is to a transcendent cause which produces the phenomena under consideration. I suggest that the word Source should here be used instead of cause. In each case the reference under (2) is to the nature or constitution of that within which some process occurs. I suggest that the word ground should here be used instead of cause. In each case the reference under (3) is to some external influence. I suggest that the word condition should here be used instead of cause. We thus eliminate the word cause altogether. But since, in nine cases out of ten, the conditions, or some salient condition, is what is meant by cause in popular speech, and in the less exact sciences, the word cause may perhaps be there retained with this particular meaning. These are of course merely suggestions towards the avoidance of puzzling ambiguity. One could wish that Spencer could have thought out some such distinctions to help his sorely perplexed readers.

One could wish, too, that he had devoted his great powers of thought to a searching discussion of the different types of relatedness which are found in nature, and to a fuller consideration of a synthetic scheme of their inter-relatedness. It is imperative that our thought of relations should have a concrete backing. 'Every act of knowing', says Spencer, 'is the formation of a relation in consciousness answering to a relation in the environment.' But the knowledge-relations are of so very special a type; and the relations in the environment are so many and varied. Much more analysis of natural relations is required than Spencer provides. I do not mean, of course, that there is any lack of analysis--and of very penetrating analysis--in the _Psychology_, the _Biology_, the _Sociology_, and the _Ethics_. I mean that in _First Principles_, which must be regarded as his general survey of the philosophy of science, there is no searching analysis of the salient types of relationship which enter into the texture of this very complex world. Such omnibus words as differentiation, integration, segregation, do duty in various connexions with convenient elasticity of meaning to suit the occasion. But apart from qualifying adjectives,[51] such as astronomic, geologic, and so on up to artistic and literary, there is too little attempt at either a distinguishing of the types of relatedness or at a relationing of the relations so distinguished. One just jumps from one to another after a break in the text, and finds oneself in a wholly new field of inquiry. Little but the omnibus terminology remains the same. Nor does the _Essay on the Classification of the Sciences_, with all its tabulation, furnish what is really required. What one seeks to know is how those specific kinds of relatedness which characterize the successive phases of evolutionary progress, inorganic, organic, and superorganic, differ from one another and how they are connected. This one does not find. The impression one gets, here and elsewhere, is that all forms of relatedness must somehow, by the omission of all other specific characters, be reduced to the mechanical type. This, no doubt, is unification of a sort. But is it the sort of unification with which a philosophy of science should rest content?

It may be said that unification can only be reached by digging down to some ubiquitous type of relation which is common to all processes throughout the universe at any stage of evolution. But what, on these terms, becomes of evolution itself as a problem to be solved? Surely any solution of that problem must render an account of just those specific modes of relatedness which have been ignored in digging down to the foundations. Surely there must be unification of the superstructure as well as of the substructure. Here and now is our world, within the texture of which things stand to each other in such varied relations, though they may be reducible to a few main types. There, in the faraway part, was the primitive fire-mist, dear to Spencer's imagination, in which the modes of relationship were so few and so simple, and all seemingly of one main type. How do we get in scientific interpretation from the one to the other? Will it suffice to breathe over the scene the magic words differentiation and integration? Spencer appears to think so. Of course he did exceptionally fine work in elucidating the modes of differentiation and integration within certain relational fields--though he sometimes uses the latter word for mere shrinkage in size.[52] But what one asks, and asks of him in vain, is just how, within a connected scheme, the several relational fields in the domain of nature are themselves related, and how they were themselves differentiated. How, for instance, did the specific relationships exhibited in the fabric of crystals arise out of the primitive fire-mist relations? At some stage of evolution this specific form of relatedness came into being, whereas before that stage was reached it was not in being. No doubt we may say that the properties of the pre-existing molecules were such that these molecules could in due course become thus related, and enter into the latticed architecture of the crystal. They already possessed the potentiality of so doing. And if we have resort to potentialities, all subsequently developed types and modes of relatedness were potentially in existence _ab initio_--they were, as Tyndall said, 'once latent in a fiery cloud.' But it is difficult to see how the specific modes of relatedness which obtain within the crystal, can be said to exist prior to the existence of the crystal within which they so obtain.