Part 41

I hope now to have made good my original thesis: that the idea of necessity marks a certain stage in the development of judgment; that it refers to a residuum, in our judgments and thus in our objects, of indeterminateness or vagueness, which it replaces without wholly negating; that it is thus relative to “chance” or contingency; that its value consists wholly in the impulse given judgment towards the _is_, or the concrete reality defined throughout. The analysis has been long; the reader may have found it not only tedious, but seemingly superfluous, since, as he may be saying to himself, no one nowadays regards necessity as anything but a name for fixed uniformities in nature, and of this view of the case nothing has been said. I hope, however, that when we come to a consideration of necessity as equivalent to uniformity, it will be found that the course of this discussion has not been irrelevant, but the sure basis for going further.

JOHN DEWEY.

FOOTNOTES:

[65] This article, as the title may indicate, was suggested by Mr. Peirce’s article upon “The Doctrine of Necessity Examined.” As, however, my thought takes finally a different turn, I have deemed it better to let it run its own course from the start, and so have not referred, except indirectly, to Mr. Peirce’s argument. I hope this will not be taken as a desire to slur over my indebtedness to him.

[66] The reason of this abstraction is in practical nature, as already indicated. For all the savage _cares_ about it, the death in general, _is_ the real fact. It is all that interests him. It is hardly worth while to attempt to persuade the savage; indeed, if he were not only a savage, but also a philosopher, he might boldly challenge the objector to present _any_ definition of object which should not refer objectivity to man’s practical activity; although he might, as a shrewd savage, admit that some one activity (or self) to which the object is referred has more content than another. In this case, I, for one, should not care about entering the lists against the savage. But when the common-sense philosopher, who resists all attempts to reconstruct the original object on the ground that a fact is a fact and all beyond that is metaphysics, is also a case-hardened nominalist (as he generally is), it is time to protest. It might be true that the real object is always relative to the value of some action; but to erect this pure universal into the object, and then pride one’s self on enlightenment in rejecting the “scholastic figment” of the reality of universals is a little too much.

THE ISSUES OF “SYNECHISM.”

In a late number of _The Monist_, (Vol. II, No. 4,) there appears a singularly acute and profound article, from the pen of one of the ablest of American logicians and mathematicians, Mr. Charles S. Peirce. Its subject is “The Law of Mind”—the idea of continuity. The writer tells us, (p. 534,) “the tendency to regard continuity, in the sense in which I shall define it, as an idea of prime importance in philosophy, may conveniently be termed _Synechism_.” With this _synechistic_ philosophy, as applied to mind, the paper is occupied, to the exclusion, for the nonce, of Mr. Peirce’s companion doctrine of _Tychism_,[67] which was dealt with, by him, in the January, 1891, and April, 1892, issues of _The Monist_. These conceptions are, both of them, to be viewed as essential to philosophy as a whole, but the latter is; for the present, allowed to drop out of sight, in order to allow of the due elaboration of the former.[68]

THE FORMULA OF SYNECHISM.

The formula of Synechism, with which the article begins, is as follows:

“Logical analysis applied to mental phenomena shows that there is but one law of mind, namely, that ideas tend to spread continuously, and to affect certain others which stand to them in a peculiar relation of affectibility. In this spreading they lose intensity, and especially the power of affecting others, but gain generality, and become welded with other ideas.” (Vol. II, No. 4, p. 534.)

The individuality and continuity of ideas are, then, shown respectively to involve no contradiction; an idea once past—in the sense of an event in an individual consciousness—is not wholly past, it is only going—“infinitesimally past, less past than any assignable past date.” Thus the conclusion is reached that “the present is connected with the past by a series of real, infinitesimal steps.” Again, “We are forced to say that we are immediately conscious through an infinitesimal interval of time. This is all that is requisite.” (_Ibid._, pp. 535-536.)

All that it is necessary to say at the outset is, that this view is supported by an elaborate inquiry into the nature of infinity and continuity in general, into which, for the purpose of the present paper, it is not needful to enter. And this for two reasons: (1) The synechistic philosophy, by itself, does not profess to be monistic. Its expounder does not, even if his Tychism were not in reserve, profess to carry it beyond the realm of mind, with all that is implied in such a reservation. Now, it is the bearing of Mr. Peirce’s Synechism upon a monistic solution of the universe with which the present article is concerned. And (2) Mr. Peirce’s method of treatment, though precise and logical in the direction of its own path, is too purely technical to be summarised for the general reader’s benefit. But withal, Synechism is far too fertile, not so much in respect of what it makes clear, as suggestively, and, if the expression may be allowed, _obliquely_, to be passed over without comment. Its excogitator is eminently frank; he does not conceal the difficulties which, ever and anon, occur in his statement. Sometimes his theory seems a trifle too wide for the facts encountered, sometimes rather too scanty to contain them. Such phrases as the following: “No, I think we can only hold”—p. 552; “we are driven to perceive”—p. 555; “this obliges me to say”—p. 557; “the principle with which I set out requires me to maintain”—p. 558; “the only answer that I can, at present, make is”—p. 559, etc., etc., do every credit to the writer’s candor, but they would scarcely occur in an exposition, which, in the mind of its author, made the rough places altogether plain. Synechism, even with Tychism in the background, probably does not, in Mr. Peirce’s own mind, completely solve the world-riddle, at least, as yet. Still these very pauses themselves, on the part of a thinker of such ability, are eminently suggestive. To use his own words: “the present paper is intended to show what Synechism is, and what it leads to.” Let us emphasise this latter clause, as likely to be more fruitful than the former.

MR. PEIRCE’S POSITIVISM.

Mr. Peirce, in spite of his theory of chance, is, in his Synechism, almost severely a positivist;[69] but his positivism, like most of that current nowadays, does not go deep enough. He is positivist, _after_ he has got externality—fertile in excitations—comfortably disposed around his subject; and vibrations, undulations, attractions, etc., ready to play upon the thousand-stringed harp, _but not before_. For, “we must not tax introspection,” he tells us, p. 548, “to make a phenomenon manifest, which essentially involves externality,” when the real problem at issue is: Is there externality, in the vulgar sense, at all, or is it only that _rationalised externality_ which _circumspection_, within the limits of egoity, reveals? Now, upon this a good deal hinges. At all events the difference in question, or, rather, that there _is_ a difference, has been mooted, to say the least. And, this being the case, it is a little tedious, when the really vital point of the spatial extension of feelings is being debated, to have this illustration brought in, (p. 548,): “Moreover, our own feelings are focused in attention to such a degree, that we are not aware that ideas are not brought to an absolute unity. Just as nobody, not instructed by special experiment, has any idea how very, very little of the field of vision is distinct.” Why, that is reasoning in a circle, if some systems are true; and it is a begging of the question, if they are the reverse.

If the system of so-called objective reality were, at sight, wholly veracious, if everything existed just as it seems, this positivism of Mr. Peirce’s might be workable. Then no one would seek to go beneath the process of the apparent, the actually visible, for a _rationale_. But modern science teaches, in its very primer, that many things are, and act, quite otherwise than as they seem to be, and do. Appearances _rationalised_ are alone to be accepted. The sun does not “rise” and “set,” as it seems to do. The earth is not, as it appears to be, an immovable plane, and so on. And, this once allowed, where is the principle to end? If the superficial judgment may be thus corrected, or reversed, it is liable to revision or reversal _ad infinitum_, unless reason be shown to the contrary. It may thus be disputed whether our author is quite in order in writing, as he does, and using the statement to support his theory—“Precisely how primary sensations, as colors and tones, are excited, we cannot tell, in the present state of psychology.... As far as sight and hearing are in question, we know that they are only excited by vibrations of inconceivable complexity; and the chemical senses are probably not more simple.” (P. 557.)

To argue, we cannot tell precisely _how_ they are excited, but we know that they _are_ excited, is somewhat feminine; seeing that the said “excitement” is not patent on the surface of ordinary perception. And, this being the case, the excitement, or its mode rather, not being given immediately, but only mentally annexed, Mr. Peirce is not consistently positivist. It is equally open to an opponent to “annex” something else of his own to the “given” thing, or altogether to deny the necessity of anything whatever being thus annexed. In any case that (if anything) which is sought to be annexed must stand the test of positivism; we must know _if_ such a thing is, and _what_ it is precisely. And this is just what Mr. Peirce cannot do for us. He cannot tell us exactly what the “excitant” of feelings _is_; he can only guess what it is “_something like_,” viz.: the feelings themselves. Hence the following:

“The principle with which I set out [that of continuity] requires me to maintain that these feelings are communicated to the nerves by continuity, _so that there must be something like them in the excitants themselves_. If this seems extravagant, it is to be remembered that it is the sole possible way of reaching any explanation of sensation, which otherwise must be pronounced a general fact absolutely inexplicable and ultimate. Now absolute inexplicability is a hypothesis which sound logic refuses, under any circumstances, to justify.” (P. 558.—The italics are not in the original.)

There must be something like the feelings in the excitants of the feelings. Now, this point is worthy of the closest attention. Note that “the excitant” _alone_ is mentioned. _Vibrations_ excite sight and hearing. Yet, from what follows, it is plain that Synechism is not inconsistent with belief in a fixed objective. “Even the least psychical of peripheral sensations, that of pressure, has, in its excitation, conditions which, though apparently simple, are seen to be complicated enough when we consider _the molecules and their attractions_,” pp. 557-558. Can there, then, be any doubt that we have here three distinct things: (1) a subjective, (2) an “excitant,” and (3) an objective; the middle term being a vehicle of communication between the first and third? It does not affect this presentation of Mr. Peirce’s position that, at an earlier stage of his argument, he speaks of matter—synonymous, presumably, with the objective—as being “not completely dead, but merely mind, hide-bound with habits,” as “partially deadened” or “effete,” mind; or that the editor of _The Monist_ says that, with Mr. Peirce, “mind is the beginning of all.” (_The Monist_, Vol. III, No. 1, p. 95.) The question, at present, is not regarding origins, but regarding co-existences. So that there is a distinct _hiatus_ here, arising from the confusion of the stimulant, or excitant, of sensation with the objective itself.[70] Now, the stimulant of sensation is never the object perceived. Hence, once an objective is admitted, a trinity of entities is unavoidable, since still less can the “stimulant” be the subject. This special difficulty, in the present writer’s opinion, is inseparable from dualism in every form. How it besets Mr. Peirce’s theory is evident from his hazarded suggestion: “There must be _something like_ the feelings in the excitants.” He thus uses only two of his cosmical terms, and gives the third the go-by! All dualism halts, but surely there is here a palpable stumble.

In a recent article in _The Open Court_[71] I have pointed out the vanity of introducing a vehicle of communication between object and subject, especially emphasising the fact that, once this intermediate term is brought in, the veritable objective disappears. “Once you bring in vibrations,” I remarked, “you practically provide a _second_ object, which is really a part of the subject, and, in order to do this, you have taken from the original objective all that composed it.”[72] (_The Open Court_, p. 3361.)

Is it any wonder, then, that Mr. Peirce should suppose the excitants to be “something like” the excited feelings? Since he, practically, surrenders the objective, what could more closely resemble the subjective than the subjective itself? If he had adopted the position of Hume, and made impressions and ideas all-in-all, his principle of continuity might hold. But this he does not do, since (1) he implicitly admits the objective element, and (2) even if he did not do this, there must be something other than the idea or feeling in his system, since, otherwise, there could be no ground for the charge of seeming “extravagance,” which, he admits, may be leveled against, at least one of, his conclusions.

FEELINGS SPATIALLY EXTENDED.

This leads us to Mr. Peirce’s conclusions regarding subjective spatial extension—the spatial extension of feelings—as the result of observation of irritated protoplasm. Our attention is directed to an excited mass of protoplasm,—an amœba, or a slime-mould,—which “does not differ in any radical way from the contents of a nerve-cell, though its functions may be less specialised.” (P. 547.) The irritation is induced when, say, the amœba is “quiescent and rigid,” and we note its behaviour under it. That feeling passes from one part of this amorphous continuum of protoplasm to another, we are led to believe. And this conclusion follows: “Whatever there is in the whole phenomenon to make us think there is feeling in such a mass of protoplasm,—_feeling_, but plainly no _personality_,—goes logically to show that that feeling has a subjective, or substantial, spatial extension, as the excited state has.” This is a chain of reasoning. Let us examine its links. We have:

(1) The behaviour of the amœba under immediate, mechanical irritation—the spread, or spatial extension, of the state of irritation.

(2) We are asked to identify this spread-out irritation, this field of excitation, with “feeling” on the part of the amœba, because there is “no doubt that it feels when it is excited.”

(3) From the spatial extension of the irritation, thus identified with feeling, we are asked to conclude that the feeling, in the amœba, has a subjective, spatial extension as the excited state has, and, finally, passing from the feeling of the amœba to our own feelings, by inference, we are asked to admit:

(4) Not that we have necessarily a feeling of bigness, but that “the feeling [inferentially arrived at from the spread-out irritation on the part of the amœba] as a subject of inhesion is big.” (P. 548.)

After this, we are disposed to agree with Mr. Peirce when he says: “This is, no doubt, a difficult idea to seize”; not, as he goes on to say, “for the reason that it is a subjective, not an objective, extension,” but on the ground that the reasoning involves, plainly, not only the subjective and objective, but what Clifford calls the “ejective,” as well, and this assumption, _inter alia_, that the last-named lies on the same plane as the former. Never, surely, was the conclusion that feelings have spatial extension more easily reached. It is only when we find that in (1) we are dealing with the objective pure and simple, observed phenomena; that in (2) the connection between irritation or excitation, and feeling is assumed, in the object, because feeling, subjectively, is found to accompany irritation; that (3) as the irritation, in the amœba, is spread out, so is the feeling to be viewed; and (4) that, as the feeling of the amœba, so is our feeling to be considered, viz.: that the feeling, “as a subject of inhesion, is big,” we are led to say after all this, that, by such a process, anything, or everything, could be demonstrated,—the _field_ of spatial extension, for example, having no more claim to be assumed than the _point_ at which the irritation admittedly begins. Why should the _middle_ stage of the irritation be selected in preference to the _initial_ and _final_ ones? The irritation originates in a point, spreads, and then dies out. Thus our feeling, (we purposely use Mr. Peirce’s nomenclature,) or idea, of an elephant, is unquestionably, as a subject of inhesion, “big.” _But only for a time, and not at first._ Really, our idea, or feeling—in Synechism—of an elephant, must logically commence as a minute speck, and return to this vanishing-point again. There is no other way out of it. For must not the analogy of the irritated amœba be followed throughout, and if not, why not?

DUALISM AND THE WAY OUT.

The _crux_ of philosophy, from the time of Hume to the present day, has been, what may be summarised as, the consciousness of succession _as_ succession. The hours pass over the mental dial, but, though one succeeds the other, something is needed besides the succession of the terms of the series to give consciousness of the series _as a series_, to give the synthesis of the day made up of hours. Hume virtually gave up the problem in eviscerating the subjective. Prof. T. H. Green only missed the point at issue when he placed his eternal consciousness, which was to “have and to hold” the terms of the cosmical series, as it were in solution, for the human organism, _out of time altogether_. Mr. Peirce puts the matter boldly when he says: “An idea once past is gone forever, [in the sense of an event in an individual consciousness,] and any supposed recurrence of it is another idea.” (P. 534.) In order, then, that an idea past may be present really, and not vicariously, the notion that consciousness necessarily occupies an interval of (finite) time must be given up; since, to put it briefly, a second past is as much past as a year. According to Mr. Peirce then, and his contention is supported by an elaborate inquiry into the nature of infinity and continuity generally, “we are immediately conscious through an infinitesimal interval of time.” For the complete _rationale_, reference must necessarily be made to the article itself.

Even the above outline, however, is sufficient to show that, here as elsewhere, Mr. Peirce’s dualism is his snare. Nothing but this could lead to a disintegration so complete as the following:

“In this infinitesimal interval, not only is consciousness continuous in a subjective sense, that is, considered as a subject, or substance, having the attribute of duration; but also, because it is immediate consciousness, its object is _ipso facto_ continuous.” (P. 536.)

This is to admit, practically, that there is something in consciousness other than the consciousness itself. And this is evident, because at one and the same time, (whether an interval of finite time, or an infinitesimal interval,—whether an “instant” or a “moment,”—does not matter,) these two entities are different. For:

“This mediate perception is objectively, or as to the object represented, spread over the four instants; but subjectively, or as itself the subject of duration, it is completely embraced in the second moment.” (_Ibid._)

But this “mediate” and “immediate” cannot simultaneously exist, unless there is something else _to which_ they do so exist. It is only paltering with us in a double sense to speak of “instant” and “moment” in this connection. The one may pass into the other, but there is “a time when” (it matters not whether the interval be finite or infinitesimal) they do not coexist. Hence, they are not the same, but different.

According to Mr. Peirce’s notation, for all ordinary purposes we may write, if _a_ is a finite quantity, and _i_ an infinitesimal, _a_ + _i_ = _a_. “That is to say, this is so for all purposes of measurement.” Be it so; the infinitesimal may be neglected for purposes of calculation. But such a formula can only be experimental. The theory which embodies it cannot avail for a world-scheme; to admit it would be to grant that a thing is, and is not, at one and the same time. Surely the most superficial reader will see that, to put it popularly, a world-scheme admits of no alternative subject to accept, or to reject, a neglectable quantity.

And this is not the only instance of dualism in Mr. Peirce’s world-scheme as a totality. For have we not Synechism and Tychism as well? With the latter Mr. Peirce does not deal in the paper now under consideration. He must, however, be credited, or debited, with it, as held in reserve. For our present purpose it is not necessary to examine Tychism in detail. Its alleged existence is sufficient. For, and here let the significance of what follows be noted, in Mr. Peirce’s view, as opposed to determinism, Tychism exists as a principle. It _is_, otherwise it could not be expounded as operative. But it also exists as an idea, first, it may be, in our author’s mind, and subsequently in the minds of his disciples. Thus it falls into the synechistic province: “As an idea it can only be affected by an idea, by anything but an idea it cannot be affected at all.” (“The Law of Mind,” p. 557.) Yet to affirm Tychism thus impotent, because unaffectible, outside the synechistic sphere, is to contradict Mr. Peirce’s conclusions, for if Tychism is nothing outside the ideal realm, it is altogether inside it. Hence Synechism is everything practically, and Tychism nothing. But that Mr. Peirce will not have. He has a two-fold Tychism, that is the fact; actual and operative on the one hand, ideal on the other. And this is dualism confessed.

Mr. Peirce’s method is quite fertile in duplication of the subjective entity. His latest paper, “Man’s Glassy Essence,” (_The Monist_, Vol. III, No. 1,) contains some typical instances.

“Viewing a thing from the outside, considering its relations of action and reaction with other things, it appears as matter. Viewing it from the inside, looking at its immediate character as feeling, it appears as consciousness.” (P. 20.)