Lowell lectures, 1925, by Alfred North Whitehead.
The Origins of Modern Science — Mathematics as an Element in the History of Thought — The Century of Genius — The Eighteenth Century — The Romantic Reaction — The Nineteenth Century — Relativity — The Quantum Theory — Science and Philosophy — Abstraction — God — Religion and Science — Requisites for Social Progress.
THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
THE present book embodies a study of some aspects of Western culture during the past three centuries, in so far as it has been influenced by the development of science. This study has been guided by the conviction that the mentality of an epoch springs from the view of the world which is, in fact, dominant in the educated sections of the communities in question. There may be more than one such scheme, corresponding to cultural divisions. The various human interests which suggest cosmologies, and also are influenced by them, are science, aesthetics, ethics, religion. In every age each of these topics suggests a view of the world. In so far as the same set of people are swayed by all, or more than one, of these interests, their effective outlook will be the joint production from these sources. But each age has its dominant preoccupation; and, during the three centuries in question, the cosmology derived from science has been asserting itself at the expense of older points of view with their origins elsewhere. Men can be provincial in time, as well as in place. We may ask ourselves whether the scientific mentality of the modern world in the immediate past is not a successful example of such provincial limitation.
Philosophy, in one of its functions, is the critic of cosmologies. It is its function to harmonise, refashion, and justify divergent intuitions as to the nature of things. It has to insist on the scrutiny of the ultimate ideas, and on the retention of the whole of the evidence in shaping our cosmological scheme. Its business is to render explicit, and—so far as may be—efficient, a process which otherwise is unconsciously performed without rational tests.
Bearing this in mind, I have avoided the introduction of a variety of abstruse detail respecting scientific advance. What is wanted, and what I have striven after, is a sympathetic study of main ideas as seen from the inside. If my view of the function of philosophy is correct, it is the most effective of all the intellectual pursuits. It builds cathedrals before the workmen have moved a stone, and it destroys them before the elements have worn down their arches. It is the architect of the buildings of the spirit, and it is also their solvent:—and the spiritual precedes the material. Philosophy works slowly. Thoughts lie dormant for ages; and then, almost suddenly as it were, mankind finds that they have embodied themselves in institutions.
This book in the main consists of a set of eight Lowell Lectures delivered in the February of 1925. These lectures with some slight expansion, and the subdivision of one lecture into Chapters VII and VIII, are here printed as delivered. But some additional matter has been added, so as to complete the thought of the book on a scale which could not be included within that lecture course. Of this new matter, the second chapter—‘Mathematics as an Element in the History of Thought’—was delivered as a lecture before the Mathematical Society of Brown University, Providence, R. I.; and the twelfth chapter—‘Religion and Science’-—formed an address delivered in the Phillips Brooks House at Harvard, and is to be published in the August number of the Atlantic Monthly of this year (1925). The tenth and eleventh chapters—‘Abstraction’ and ‘God’—are additions which now appear for the first time. But the book represents one train of thought, and the antecedent utilisation of some of its contents is a subsidiary point. _ There has been no occasion in the text to make detailed reference to Lloyd Morgan’s Emergent Evolution or to Alexander’s Space, Time and Deity. It will be obvious to readers that I have found them very suggestive. I am especially indebted to Alexander’s great work. The wide scope of the present book makes it impossible to acknowledge in detail the various sources of information or of ideas. The book is the product of thought and reading in past years, which were not undertaken with any anticipation of utilisation for the present purpose. Accordingly it would now be impossible for me to give reference to my sources for details, even if it were desirable so to do. But there is no need: the facts which are relied upon are simple and well known. On the philosophical side, any consideration of epistemology has been entirely excluded. It would have been impossible to discuss that topic without upsetting the whole balance of the work. ‘The key to the book is the sense of the overwhelming importance of a prevalent philosophy.
My most grateful thanks are due to my colleague Mr. Raphael Demos for reading the proofs and for the suggestion of many improvements in expression.
Harvard University, June 29, 1925.
Alfred North Whitehead
CHAPTER IV THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
In so far as the intellectual climates of different epochs can be contrasted, the eighteenth century in Europe was the complete antithesis to the Middle Ages. The contrast is symbolised by the difference between the cathedral of Chartres and the Parisian salons, where D’Alembert conversed with Voltaire. The Middle Ages were haunted with the desire to rationalise the infinite: the men of the eighteenth century rationalised the social life of modern communities, and based their sociological theories on an appeal to the facts of nature. The earlier period was the age of faith, based upon reason. In the later period, they let sleeping dogs lie: it was the age of reason, based upon faith. To illustrate my meaning :—St. Anselm would have been distressed if he had failed to find a convincing argument for the existence of God, and on this argument he based his edifice of faith, whereas Hume based his Dissertation on the Natural History of Religion upon his faith in the order of nature. In comparing these epochs it is well to remember that reason can err, and that faith may be misplaced.
In my previous lecture I traced the evolution, during the seventeenth century, of the scheme of scientific ideas which has dominated thought ever since. It involves a fundamental duality, with material on the one hand, and on the other hand mind. In between there lie the concepts of life, organism, function, instantaneous reality, interaction, order of nature, which collectively form the Achilles heel of the whole system. :
I also express my conviction that if we desired to obtain a more fundamental expression of the concrete character of natural fact, the element in this scheme which we should first criticise is the concept of simple location. In view therefore of the importance which this idea will assume in these lectures, I will repeat the meaning which I have attached to this phrase. To say that a bit of matter has simple location means that, in expressing its spatio-temporal relations, it is adequate to state that it is where it is, in a definite finite region of space, and through-out a definite finite duration of time, apart from any essential reference of the relations of that bit of matter to other regions of space and to other durations of time. Again, this concept of simple location is independent of the controversy between the absolutist and the relativist views of space or of time. So long as any theory of space, or of time, can give a meaning, either absolute or relative, to the idea of a definite region of space, and of a definite duration of time, the idea of simple location has a perfectly definite meaning. This idea is the very foundation of the seventeenth century scheme of nature. Apart from it, the scheme is incapable of expression. I shall argue that among the primary elements of nature as apprehended in our immediate experience, there is no element whatever which possesses this character of simple location. It does not follow, however, that the science of the seventeenth century was simply wrong. I hold that by a process of constructive abstraction we can arrive at abstractions which are the simply-located bits of material, and at other abstractions which are the minds included in the scientific scheme. Accordingly, the real error is an example of what I have termed: The Fallacy of Misplaced Concreteness.
The advantage of confining attention to a definite group of abstractions, is that you confine your thoughts to clear-cut definite things, with clear-cut definite relations. Accordingly, if you have a logical head, you can deduce a variety of conclusions respecting the relationships between these abstract entities. Furthermore, if the abstractions are well. founded, that is to say, if they do not abstract from everything that is important in experience, the scientific thought which confines itself to these abstractions will arrive at a variety of important truths relating to our experience of nature. We all know those clear-cut trenchant intellects, immovably encased in a hard shell of abstractions. They hold you to their abstractions by the sheer grip of personality.
The disadvantage of exclusive attention to a group of abstractions, however well-founded, is that, by the nature of the case, you have abstracted from the remainder of things. In so far as the excluded things are important in your experience, your modes of thought are not fitted to deal with them. You cannot think without abstractions; accordingly, it is of the utmost importance to be vigilant in critically revising your modes of abstraction. It is here that philosophy finds its niche as essential to the healthy progress of society. It is the critic of abstractions. A civilisation which cannot burst through its current abstractions is doomed to sterility after a very limited period of progress. An active school of philosophy is quite as important for the locomotion of ideas, as is an active school of railway engineers for the locomotion of fuel.
Sometimes it happens that the service rendered by philosophy is entirely obscured by the astonishing success of a scheme of abstractions in expressing the dominant interests of an epoch. This is exactly what happened during the eighteenth century. Les philosophes were not philosophers. They were men of genius, clear-headed and acute, who applied the seventeenth century group of scientific abstractions to the analysis of the unbounded universe. Their triumph, in respect to the circle of ideas mainly interesting to their contemporaries, was overwhelming. Whatever did not fit into their scheme was ignored, derided, disbelieved. Their hatred of Gothic architecture symbolises their lack of sympathy with dim perspectives. It was the age of reason, healthy, manly, upstanding reason; but, of one-eyed reason, deficient in its vision of depth. We cannot overrate the debt of gratitude which we owe to these men. For a thousand years Europe had been a prey to intolerant, intolerable visionaries. The common sense of the eighteenth century, its grasp of the obvious facts of human suffering, and of the obvious demands of human nature, acted on the world like a bath of moral cleansing. Voltaire must have the credit, that he hated injustice, he hated cruelty, he hated senseless repression, and he hated hocus-pocus. Futhermore, when he saw them, he knew them. In these supreme virtues, he was typical of his century, on its better side. But if men cannot live on bread alone, still less can they do so on disinfectants. The age had its limitations; yet we cannot understand the passion with which some of its main positions are still defended, especially in the schools of science, unless we do full justice to its positive achievements. The seventeenth century scheme of concepts was proving a perfect instrument for research.
This triumph of materialism was chiefly in the sciences of rational dynamics, physics, and chemistry. So far as dynamics and physics were concerned, progress was in the form of direct developments of the main ideas of the previous epoch. Nothing fundamentally new was introduced, but there was an immense detailed development. Special case was unravelled. It was as though the very Heavens were being opened, on a set plan. In the second half of the century, Lavoisier practically founded chemistry on its present basis. He introduced into it the principle that no material is lost or gained in any chemical transformations. This was the last success of materialistic thought, which has not ultimately proved to be double-edged. Chemical science now only waited for the atomic theory, in the next century.
In this century the notion of the mechanical explanation of all the processes of nature finally hardened into a dogma of science. ‘The notion won through on its merits by reason of an almost miraculous series of triumphs achieved by the mathematical physicists, culminating in the Méchanique Analytique of Lagrange, which was published in 1787. Newton’s Principia was published in 1687, so that exactly one hundred years separates the two great books. This century contains the first period of mathematical physics of the modern type. The publication of Clerk Maxwell’s Electricity and Magnetism in 1873 marks the close of the second period. Each of these three books introduces new horizons of thought affecting everything which comes after them.
In considering the various topics to which mankind has bent its systematic thought, it is impossible not to be struck with the unequal distribution of ability among the different fields. In almost all subjects there are a few outstanding names. For it requires genius to create a subject as a distinct topic for thought. But in the case of many topics, after a good beginning very relevant to its immediate occasion, the subsequent development appears as a weak series of flounderings, so that the whole subject gradually loses its grip on the evolution of thought. It was far otherwise with mathematical physics. The more you study this subject, the more you will find yourself astonished by the almost incredible triumphs of intellect which it exhibits. The great mathematical physicists of the eighteenth and first few years of the nineteenth century, most of them French, are a case in point: Maupertuis, Clairaut, D’Alembert, Lagrange, Laplace, Fourier, Carnot, form a series of names, such that each recalls to mind some achievement of the first rank. When Carlyle, as the mouthpiece of the subsequent Romantic Age, scoflingly terms the period the Age of Victorious Analysis, and mocks at Maupertuis as a sublimish gentleman in a white periwig, he only exhibits the narrow side of the Romanticists whom he is then voicing.
It is impossible to explain intelligently, in a short time and without technicalities, the details of the progress made by this school. I will, however, endeavour to explain the main point of a joint achievement of Maupertuis and Lagrange. Their results, in conjunction with some subsequent mathematical methods due to two great German mathematicians of the first half of the nineteenth century, Gauss and Riemann, have recently proved themselves to be the preparatory work necessary for the new ideas which Herz and Einstein have introduced into mathematical physics. Also they inspired some of the best ideas in Clerk Maxwell’s treatise, already mentioned in this lecture.
They aimed at discovering something more fundamental and more general than Newton’s laws of motion which were discussed in the previous lecture. They wanted to find some wider ideas, and in the case of Lagrange some more general means of mathematical exposition. It was an ambitious enterprise, and they were completely successful. Maupertuis lived in the first half of the eighteenth century, and Lagrange’s active life lay in its second half. We find in Maupertuis a tinge of the theologic age which preceded his birth. He started with the idea that the whole path of a material particle between any limits of time must achieve some perfection worthy of the providence of God. There are two points of interest in this motive principle. In the first place, it illustrates the thesis which I was urging in my first lecture that the way in which the medieval church had impressed on Europe the notion of the detailed providence of a rational personal God was one of the factors by which the trust in the order of nature had been generated. In the second place, though we are now all convinced that such modes of thought are of no direct use in detailed scientific enquiry, Maupertuis’ success in this particular case shows that almost any idea which jogs you out of your current abstractions may be better than nothing. In the present case what the idea in question did for Maupertuis was to lead him to enquire what general property of the path as a whole could be deduced from Newton’s laws of motion. Undoubtedly this was a very sensible procedure whatever one’s theological notions. Also his general idea led him to conceive that the property found would be a quantitative sum, such that any slight deviation from the path would increase it. In this supposition he was generalising Newton’s first law of motion. For an isolated particle takes the shortest route with uniform velocity. So Maupertuis conjectured that a particle travelling through a field of force would realise the least possible amount of some quantity. He discovered such a quantity and called it the integral action between the time limits considered. In modern phraseology it is the sum through successive small lapses of time of the difference between the kinetic and potential energies of the particle at each successive instant. This action, therefore, has to do with the interchange between the energy arising from motion and the energy arising from position. Maupertuis had discovered the famous theorem of least action. Maupertuis was not quite of the first rank in comparison with such a man as Lagrange. In his hands and in those of his immediate successors, his principle did not assume any dominating importance. Lagrange put the same question on a wider basis so as to make its answer relevant to actual procedure in the development of dynamics. His Principle of Virtual Work as applied to systems in motion is in effect Maupertuis’ principle conceived as applying at each instant of the path of the system. But Lagange saw further than Maupertuis. He grasped that he had gained a method of stating dynamical truths in a way which is perfectly indifferent to the particular methods of measurement employed in fixing the positions of the various parts of the system. Accordingly, he went on to deduce equations of motion which are equally applicable whatever quantitative measurements have been made, pro-vided that they are adequate to fix positions. The beauty and almost divine simplicity of these equations is such that these formulae are worthy to rank with those mysterious symbols which in ancient times were held directly to indicate the Supreme Reason at the base of all things. Later Herz— inventor of electromagnetic waves—based mechanics on the idea of every particle traversing the shortest path open to it under the circumstances constraining its motion; and finally Einstein, by the use of the geometrical theories of Gauss and Riemann, showed that these circumstances could be construed as being inherent in the character of space-time itself. Such, in barest outline, is the story of dynamics from Galileo to Einstein.
Meanwhile Galvani and Volta lived and made their electric discoveries and the biological sciences slowly gathered their material, but still waited for dominating ideas. Psychology, also, was beginning to disengage itself from its dependence on general philosophy. This independent growth of psychology was the ultimate result of its invocation by John Locke as a critic of metaphysical license. All the sciences dealing with life were still in an elementary observational stage, in which classification and direct description were dominant. So far the scheme of abstractions was adequate to the occasion.
In the realm of practice, the age which produced enlightened rulers, such as the Emperor Joseph of the House of Hapsburg, Frederick the Great, Walpole, the great Lord Chatham, George Washington, cannot be said to have failed. Especially when to these rulers, it adds the invention of parliamentary cabinet government in England, of federal presidential government in the United States, and of the humanitarian principles of the French Revolution. Also in technology it produced the steam-engine, and thereby ushered in a new era of civilisation. Undoubtedly, as a practical age the eighteenth century was a success. If you had asked one of the wisest and most typical of its ancestors, who just saw its commencement, I mean John Locke, what he expected from it he would hardly have pitched his hopes higher than its actual achievements.
In developing a criticism of the scientific scheme of the eighteenth century, I must first give my main reason for ignoring nineteenth century idealism— I am speaking of the philosophic idealism which finds the ultimate meaning of reality in mentality that is fully cognitive. This idealistic school, as hitherto developed, has been too much divorced from the scientific outlook. It has swallowed the scientific scheme in its entirety as being the only rendering of the facts of nature, and has then explained it as being an idea in the ultimate mentality. In the case of absolute idealism, the world of nature is just one of the ideas, somehow differentiating the unity of the Absolute: in the case of pluralistic idealism involving monadic mentalities, this world is the greatest common measure of the various ideas which differentiate the various mental unities of the various monads. But, however you take it, these idealistic schools have conspicuously failed to connect, in any organic fashion, the fact of nature with their idealistic philosophies. So far as concerns what will be said in these lectures, your ultimate outlook may be realistic or idealistic. My point is that a further stage of provisional realism is required in which the scientific scheme is recast, and founded upon the ultimate concept of organism.
In outline, my procedure is to start from the analysis of the status of space and of time, or in modern phraseology, the status of space-time. There are two characters of either. Things are separated by space, and are separated by time: but they are also together in space, and together in time, even if they be not contemporaneous. I will call these characters the separative and the prehensive characters of space-time. There is yet a third character of space-time. Everything which is in space receives a definite limitation of some sort, so that in a sense it has just that shape which it does have and no other, also in some sense it is just in this place and in no other. Analogously for time, a thing endures during a certain period, and through no other period. I will call this the modal-character of space-time. It is evident that the modal character taken by itself gives rise to the idea of simple location. But it must be conjoined with the separative and prehensive characters.
For simplicity of thought, I will first speak of space only, and will afterwards extend the same treatment to time.
The volume is the most concrete element of space. But the separative character of space, analyses a volume into sub-volumes, and so on indefinitely. Accordingly, taking the separative character in iso- lation, we should infer that a volume is a mere multiplicity of non-voluminous elements, of points in fact. But it is the unity of volume which is the ultimate fact of experience, for example, the voluminous space of this hall. This hall as a mere multiplicity of points is a construction of the logical imagination.
Accordingly, the prime fact is the prehensive unity of volume, and this unity is mitigated or limited by the separated unities of the innumerable contained parts. We have a prehensive unity, which is yet held apart as an aggregate of contained parts. But the prehensive unity of the volume is not the unity of a mere logical aggregate of parts. The parts form an ordered aggregate, in the sense that each part is something from the standpoint of every other part, and also from the same standpoint every other part is something in relation to it. Thus if A and B and C are volumes of space, B has an aspect from the standpoint of 4, and so has C, and so has the relationship of B and C. This aspect of B from AZ is of the essence of 4. The volumes of space have no independent existence. They are only entities as within the totality; you cannot extract them from their environment without destruction of their very essence. Accordingly, I will say that the aspect of B from J is the mode in which B enters into the composition of 4. This is the modal character of space, that the prehensive unity of 4 is the prehension into unity of the aspects of all other volumes from the standpoint of 4. The shape of a volume is the formula from which the totality of its aspects can be derived. Thus the shape of a volume is more abstract than its aspects. It is evident that I can use Leibniz’s language, and say that every volume mirrors in itself every other volume in space.
Exactly analogous considerations hold with respect to durations in time. An instant of time, without duration, is an imaginative logical construction. Also each duration of time mirrors in itself all temporal durations.
But in two ways I have introduced a false simplicity. In the first place, I should have conjoined space and time, and conducted my explanation in respect to four-dimensional regions of space-time. I have nothing to add in the way of explanation. In your minds, substitute such four-dimensional regions for the spatial volumes of the previous explanations.
Secondly, my explanation has involved itself in a vicious circle. For I have made the prehensive unity of the region J to consist of the prehensive unification of the modal presences in 4 of other regions. This difficulty arises because space-time cannot in reality be considered as a self-subsistent entity. It is an abstraction, and its explanation requires reference to that from which it has been extracted. Space-time is the specification of certain general characters of events and of their mutual ordering. This recurrence to concrete fact brings me back to the eighteenth century, and indeed to Francis Bacon in the seventeenth century. We have to consider the development in those epochs, of the criticism of the reigning scientific scheme.
No epoch is homogeneous; whatever you may have assigned as the dominant note of a considerable period, it will always be possible to produce men, and great men, belonging to the same time, who exhibit themselves as antagonistic to the tone of their age. This is certainly the case with the eighteenth century. For example, the names of John Wesley and of Rousseau must have occurred to you while I was drawing the character of that time. But I do not want to speak of them, or of others. The man whose ideas I must consider at some length is Bishop Berkeley. Quite at the commencement of the epoch, he made all the right criticisms, at least in principle. It would be untrue to say that he produced no effect. He was a famous man. ‘The wife of George II was one of the few queens who, in any country, have been clever enough, and wise enough, to patronise learning judiciously; accordingly, Berkeley was made a bishop, in days; when bishops in Great Britain were relatively far greater men than they are now. Also, what was more :mportant than his bishopric, Hume studied him, and developed one side of his philosophy in a way which might have disturbed the ghost of the great ecclesiastic. Then Kant studied Hume. So, to say that Berkeley was uninfluential during the century, would certainly be absurd. But all the same, he failed to affect the main stream of scientific thought. It flowed on as if he had never written. Its general success made it impervious to criticism, then and since. The world of science has always remained perfectly satisfied with its peculiar abstractions. They work, and that is sufficient for it.
The point before us is that this scientific field of thought is now, in the twentieth century, too narrow for the concrete facts which are before it for analysis. This is true even in physics, and is more espe- cially urgent in the biological sciences. Thus, in order to understand the difficulties of modern scientific thought and also its reactions on the modern world, we should have in our minds some conception of a wider field of abstraction, a more concrete analysis, which shall stand nearer to the complete concreteness of our intuitive experience. Such an analysis should find in itself a niche for the concepts of matter and spirit, as abstractions in terms of which much of our physical experience can be interpreted. It is in the search for this wider basis for scientific thought that Berkeley is so important. He launched his criticism shortly after the schools of Newton and Locke had completed their work, and laid his finger exactly on the weak spots which they had left. I do not propose to consider either the subjective idealism which has been de- rived from him, or the schools of development which trace their descent from Hume and Kant respectively. My point will be that— whatever the final metaphysics you may adopt — there is another line of development embedded in Berkeley, pointing to the analysis which we are in search of. Berkeley overlooked it, partly by reason of the over intellectualism of philosophers, and partly by his haste to have recourse to an idealism with its objectivity grounded in the mind of God. You will remember that I have already stated that the key of the problem lies in the notion of simple location. Berkeley, in effect, criticises this notion. He also raises the question, What do we mean by things being realised in the world of nature?
In Sections 23 and 24 of his Principles of Human Knowledge, Berkeley gives his answer to this latter question. I will quote some detached sentences from those Sections:
‘23. But, say you, surely there is nothing easier than for me to imagine trees, for instance, in a park, or books existing in a closet, and nobody by to perceive them. I answer, you may so, there is no difficulty in it; but what is all this, I beseech you, more than framing in your mind certain ideas which you call books and trees, and at the same time omitting to frame the idea of anyone that may perceive them?
‘When we do our utmost to conceive the existence of external bodies, we are all the while only contemplating our own ideas. But the mind taking no notice of itself, is deluded to think it can and does conceive bodies existing unthought of or without the mind, though at the same time they are apprehended by or exist in itself.
‘24. It is very obvious, upon the least inquiry into our thoughts, to know whether it be possible for us to understand what is meant by the absolute existence of sensible objects in themselves, or without the mind. ‘To me it is evident those words mark out either a direct contradiction, or else noth- igocatiall:: Leque
Again there is a very remarkable passage in Section 10, of the fourth Dialogue of Berkeley’s Alciphron. I have already quoted it, at greater length, in my Principles of Natural Knowledge:
‘Euphranor. Tell me, Alciphron, can you discern the doors, window and battlements of that same castle?
‘Alciphron. I cannot. At this distance it seems only a small round tower.
‘Euph. But I, who have been at it, know that it is no small round tower, but a large square building with battlements and turrets, which it seems you do not see.
‘Alc. What will you infer from thence?
‘Euph. I would infer that the very object which you strictly and properly perceive by sight is not that thing which is several miles distant.
‘Alc. Why so?
‘Euph. Because a little round object is one thing, and a great square object is another. Is it not SOR isae
Some analogous examples concerning a planet and a cloud are then cited in the dialogue, and this passage finally concludes with:
‘Euphranor. Is it not plain, therefore, that neither the castle, the planet, nor the cloud, which you see here, are those real ones which you suppose exist at a distance ?”
It is made explicit in the first passage, already quoted, that Berkeley himself adopts an extreme idealistic interpretation. For him mind is the only absolute reality, and the unity of nature is the unity of ideas in the mind of God. Personally, I think that Berkeley’s solution of the metaphysical problem raises difficulties not less than those which he points out as arising from a realistic interpretation of the scientific scheme. There is, however, another possible line of thought, which enables us to adopt anyhow an attitude of provisional realism, and to widen the scientific scheme in a way which is useful for science itself.
I recur to the passage from Francis Bacon’s Natural History, already quoted in the previous lecture:
‘It is certain that all bodies whatsoever, though they have no sense, yet they have perception: . and whether the body be alterant or altered, ever- more a perception precedeth operation; for else all bodies would be alike one to another. . . .’
Also in the previous lecture I construed perception (as used by Bacon) as meaning taking account of the essential character of the thing perceived, and I construed sense as meaning cognition. We cer- tainly do take account of things of which at the time we have no explicit cognition. We can even have a cognitive memory of the taking account, without having had a contemporaneous cognition. Also, as Bacon points out by his statement, ti for else all bodies would be alike one to another,’ it is evidently some element of the essential character which we take account of, namely something on which diversity is founded and not mere bare logical diversity.
The word perceive is, in our common usage, shot through and through with the notion of cognitive apprehension. So is the word apprehension, even with the adjective cognitive omitted. I will use the word prehension for uncognitive apprehension: by this I mean apprehension which may or may not be cognitive. Now take Euphranor’s last remark:
‘Is it not plain, therefore, that neither the castle, the planet, nor the cloud, which you see here, are those real ones which you suppose exist at a dis- tance?’ Accordingly, there is a prehension, here in this place, of things which have a reference to other places.
Now go back to Berkeley’s sentences, quoted from his Principles of Human Knowledge. He contends that what constitutes the realisation of natural enti- ties is the being perceived within the unity of mind.
We can substitute the concept, that the realisation is a gathering of things into the unity of a prehension; and that what is thereby realised is the prehension, and not the things. This unity of a prehension defines itself as a here and a now, and the things so gathered into the grasped unity have essential reference to other places and other times. For Berkeley’s mind, I substitute a process of prehensive unification. In order to make intelligible this concept of the progressive realisation of natural occurrences, considerable expansion is required, and confrontation with its actual implications in terms of concrete experience. This will be the task of the subsequent lectures. In the first place, note that the idea of simple location has gone. The things which are grasped into a realised unity, here and now, are not the castle, the cloud, and the planet simply in themselves; but they are the castle, the cloud, and the planet from the standpoint, in space and time, of the prehensive unification. In other words, it is the perspective of the castle over there from the standpoint of the unification here. It is, therefore, aspects of the castle, the cloud, and the planet which are grasped into unity here. You will remember that the idea of perspectives is quite familiar in philosophy. It was introduced by Leibniz, in the notion of his monads mirroring perspectives of the universe. I am using the same notion, only I am toning down his monads into the unified events in space and time. In some ways, there is a greater analogy with Spinoza’s modes; that is why I use the terms mode and modal. In the analogy with Spinoza, his one substance is for me the one under-lying activity of realisation individualising itself in an interlocked plurality of modes. Thus, concrete fact is process. Its primary analysis is into under- lying activity of prehension, and into realised pre- hensive events. Each event is an individual matter of fact issuing from an individualisation of the sub- strate activity. But individualisation does not mean substantial independence.
An entity of which we become aware in sense perception is the terminus of our act of perception. I will call such an entity, a sense-object. For example, green of a definite shade is a sense-object; so is a sound of definite quality and pitch; and so is a definite scent; and a definite quality of touch. The way in which such an entity is related to space during a definite lapse of time is complex. I will say that a sense-object has ingression into space-time. The cognitive perception of a sense-object is the awareness of the prehensive unification (into a standpoint 4) of various modes of various sense- objects, including the sense-object in question. The standpoint 4 is, of course, a region of space-time; that is to say, it is a volume of space through a duration of time. But as one entity, this standpoint is a unit of realised experience. A mode of a sense- object at 4 (as abstracted from the sense-object whose relationship to 4 the mode is conditioning) is the aspect from 4 of some other region B. Thus the sense-object is present in 4 with the mode of location in B. Thus if green be the sense-object in question, green is not simply at 4 where it is being perceived, nor is it simply at B where it is perceived as located; but it is present at 4 with the mode of location in B. There is no particular mystery about this. You have only got to look into a mirror and to see the image in it of some green leaves behind your back. For you at 4 there will be green; but not green simply at 4 where you are. The green at A will be green with the mode of having location at the image of the leaf behind the mirror. Then turn round and look at the leaf. You are now perceiving the green in the same way as you did before, except that now the green has the mode of being located in the actual leaf. I am merely describing what we do perceive: we are aware of green as being one element in a prehensive unification of sense-objects; each sense-object, and among them green, having its particular mode, which is expressible as location elsewhere. There are various types of modal location. For example, sound is voluminous: it fills a hall, and so sometimes does diffused colour. But the modal location of a colour may be that of being the remote boundary of a volume, as for example the colours on the walls of a room. Thus primarily space-time is the locus of the modal ingression of sense-objects. This is the reason why space and time (if for simplicity we disjoin them) are given in their entireties. For each volume of space, or each Japse of time, includes in its essence aspects of all volumes of space, or of all lapses of time. The difficulties of philosophy in respect to space and time are founded on the error of considering them as primarily the loci) of simple locations. Perception is simply the cognition of prehensive unification; or more shortly, perception is cognition of prehension. The actual world is a manifold of prehensions; and a ‘prehension’ is a ‘prehensive occasion’; and a prehensive occasion is the most concrete finite entity, conceived as what it is in itself and for itself, and not as from its aspect in the essence of another such occasion. Prehensive unification might be said to have simple location in its volume 4, But this would be a mere tautology. For space and time are simply abstractions from the totality of prehensive unifications as mutually patterned in each other. Thus a prehension has simple location at the volume 4 in the same way as that in which a man’s face fits on to the smile which spreads over it. There is, so far as we have gone, more sense in saying that an act of perception has simple location; for it may be conceived as being simply at the cognised prehension.
There are more entities involved in nature than the mere sense-objects, so far considered. But, allowing for the necessity of revision consequent on a more complete point of view, we can frame our answer to Berkeley’s question as to the character of the reality to be assigned to nature. He states it to be the reality of ideas in mind. A complete metaphysic which has attained to some notion of mind, and to some notion of ideas, may perhaps ultimately adopt that view. It is unnecessary for the purpose of these lectures to ask such a fundamental question. We can be content with a pro- visional realism in which nature is conceived as a complex of prehensive unifications. Space and time exhibit the general scheme of interlocked relations of these prehensions. You cannot tear any one of them out of its context. Yet each one of them within its context has all the reality that attaches to the whole complex. Conversely, the totality has the same reality as each prehension; for each pre hension unifies the modalities to be ascribed, from its standpoint, to every part of the whole. A pre- hension is a process of unifying. Accordingly, nature is a process of expansive development, necessarily transitional from prehension to prehensien. What is achieved is thereby passed beyond, but it is also retained as having aspects of itself present to prehensions which lie beyond it.
Thus nature is a structure of evolving processes. The reality is the process. It is nonsense to ask if the colour red is real. The colour red is ingredient in the process of realisation. The realities of nature are the prehensions in nature, that is to say, the events in nature.
Now that we have cleared space and time from the taint of simple location, we may partially abandon the awkward term prehension. This term was introduced to signify the essential unity of an event. namely, the event as one entity, and not as a mere assemblage of parts or of ingredients. It is necessary to understand that space-time is nothing else than a system of pulling together of assemblages into unities. But the word event just means one of these spatio-temporal unities. Accordingly, it may be used instead of the term ‘prehension’ as meaning the thing prehended.
An event has contemporaries. This means that an event mirrors within itself the modes of its contemporaries as a display of immediate achievement. An event has a past. This means that an event mirrors within itself the modes of its predecessors, as memories which are fused into its own content.
An event has a future. This means that an event mirrors within itself such aspects as the future throws back on to the present, or, in other words, as the present has determined concerning the future. Thus an event has anticipation:
*The prophetic soul Of the wide world dreaming on things to come.’
These conclusions are essential for any form of realism. For there is in the world for our cognisance, memory of the past, immediacy of realisation, and indication of things to come.
In this sketch of an analysis more concrete than that of the scientific scheme of thought, I have started from our own psychological field, as it stands for our cognition. I take it for what it claims to be: the self-knowledge of our bodily event. I mean the total event, and not the inspection of the details of the body. This self-knowledge discloses a pre- hensive unification of modal presences of entities beyond itself. I generalise by the use of the principle that this total bodily event is on the same level as all other events, except for an unusual complexity and stability of inherent pattern. The strength of the theory of materialistic mechanism has been the demand, that no arbitrary breaks be introduced into nature, to eke out the collapse of an explanation. I accept this principle. But if you start from the immediate facts of our psychological experience, as surely an empiricist should begin, you are at once led to the organic conception of nature of which the description has been commenced in this lecture.
It is the defect of the eighteenth century scientific scheme that it provides none of the elements which compose the immediate psychological experiences of mankind. Nor does it provide any elementary trace of the organic unity of a whole, from which the organic unities of electrons, protons, molecules, and living bodies can emerge. According to that scheme, there is no reason in the nature of things why portions of material should have any physical relations to each other. Let us grant that we cannot hope to be able to discern the laws of nature to be necessary. But we can hope to see that it is necessary that there should be an order of nature. The concept of the order of nature is bound up with the concept of nature as the locus of organisms in process of development.
Note. In connection with the latter portion of this chapter a sentence from Descartes’ ‘Reply to Objections . . . against the Meditations’ is interesting:— ‘Hence the idea of the sun will be the sun itself existing in the mind, not indeed formally, as it exists in the sky, but objectively, z.¢., in the way in which objects are wont to exist in the mind; and this mode of being is truly much less perfect than that in which things exist outside the mind, but it is not on that account mere nothing, as I have already said.’ [Reply to Objections I, Translation by Haldane and Ross, vol. ii, p. 10.] I find difficulty in reconciling this theory of ideas (with which I agree) with other parts of the Cartesian philosophy,