Present philosophical tendencies, a critical survey of naturalism, idealism, pragmatism, and realism together with a synopsis of the philosophy of William James

Front matter

PRESENT PHILOSOPHICAI

TENDENCIES

A CRITICAL SURVEY OF NATURALISM IDEALISM PRAGMATISM AND REALISM TOGETHER WITH A SYNOPSIS OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF WILLIAM JAMES

Preface

To avoid any misunderstanding as to the scope of the present book, let me say at the outset that with the excep¬ tion of the Appendix, it is a critique, rather than a history. I have attempted not merely to summarize, but to esti¬ mate, present philosophical tendencies; and my criticism is throughout based on the realistic philosophy which I set forth constructively only at the end.

Since my method has been critical rather than exposi¬ tory I shall doubtless be charged with having committed the error personae , with having attributed to certain writers views which they would not recognize as their own. Be this as it may, I have in any case formulated the views which I have criticised, so that the merits of the question may always be in the foreground of study. I have assumed it to be more important to discover whether certain current views were true or false than to discuss with painstaking nicety the question of their attribution.

Furthermore, I realize that I have given to the several tendencies which I have discussed the relative emphasis which is characteristic of Anglo-American thought. This appears in the importance which I have attached to the blend of “ critical” or Kantian, with metaphysical or Hegelian motives in idealism ; in my identification of realism with the “new” or non-dualistic realism; and in the prom¬ inence which I have given both to realism and to prag¬ matism. The difference in respect of distribution and

VII

VIII PRESENT PHILOSOPHICAL TENDENCIES

emphasis between an Anglo-American and a Continental survey of contemporary philosophy may be observed from a comparison of the present volume with Ludwig Stein’s excellent book, Die Philosophische Stromungen der Gegenwart.

Portions of the present book are reprinted from periodicals; and I have made due acknowledgment in the proper places. I desire also gratefully to acknowledge the help of my friends Professor E. B. Holt, Professor E. G. Spaulding, Dr. M. P. Mason, Dr. H. M. Sheffer, and Dr. Gunther Jacoby.

RALPH BARTON PERRY.

Cambridge, September, igu.

Chapter I. Philosophical Theory and Established Belief

§ i. Discrepancy between Theory and Belief .

§ 2. Theory and Belief as Forms of Knowledge, Having the Same

Fundamental Value .

§ 3. The Difference and Antagonism of Motive in Theory and

Belief . .

§ 4. The Solidarity of Belief .

§ 5. Galileo and the Inquisition .

§ 6. Descartes’s Reconciliation of Theory and Belief .

§ 7. The Natural Conservatism of Belief. Present Tendencies § 8. The Need of Mediation between Theory and Belief .

Chapter II. Scientific and Religious Motives in Philosophy § 1. The Difference between Science and Religion, and the Am¬ biguous Position of Philosophy .

§ 2. The Theoretical Motive in Science .

§ 3. Religion and the Motive of Belief .

§ 4. The Confusion of the Philosophical Motive. The Place of a

Purely Theoretical Philosophy .

§ 5. The Subordination of Science to Ethics and Religion in

Ancient and Mediaeval Thought .

§ 6. The Extension of Science to Religion in the Seventeenth and

Eighteenth Centuries .

§ 7. The Rupture between Science and Religion, and the Dilemma

, of Philosophy .

§^8. The Scientific Philosophy, and the Religious Philosophy .

^ § 9. Naturalism and Idealism. The Rise of Pragmatism and Neo-Realism .

PAGE

30 32

Chapter III. The Scope and Method of Science

§ 1. Naturalism and Natural Science

V

IX

X

§ 2. The Prestige of Science .

§ 3. The Agreement between Science and Common Sense

§ 4. The Properties of Bodies .

§ 5. Explanation and Description in Science .

§ 6. Conditions of Scientific Description .

§ 7. Illustrations of Scientific Method. Galileo’s Conception

of Acceleration .

§ 8. The Conception of Mass .

§ 9. The Conservation of Energy .

§10. The Analytical Version of Scientific Concepts . . .

PAGE

58 60

Chapter IV. Naive and Critical Naturalism . The Two Varieties of Naturalism

Three Characteristic Philosophical Errors. ‘The Specula

tive Dogma’ .

‘Pseudo-simplicity/ and ‘Indefinite Potentiality’ .

Naive Naturalism. Buchner’s Monism of Matter . Spencer’s Monism of Force ....

Haeckel’s Monism of Substance .

Critical Naturalism .

The Sensationalism of Karl Pearson .

The Modified Position of Ernst Mach § 10. The Experimentalism of H. Poincar6 .

§ 11. The Failure of Critical Naturalism. The Priority of Logic and Mathematics .

5- 6.

64 66 68 70 72

Chapter V. Religion and the Limits or Science .... § 1. Religious Philosophy and the Limits of Science . . .

§ 2. Naturalism and Supernaturalism .

§ 3. The General Character of Contemporary Criticism of

Science .

§ 4. The Fallibility of Science .

§ 5. The Disparagement of the Descriptive Method . . .

§ 6. The Ideal of Descriptive Economy .

§ 7. The Option of Hypotheses .

§ 8. The ‘Real’ Cause and ‘Mere’ Description .

§ 9. The Unreality of Space and Time. The Kantian Argu¬ ment .

§ 10. Infinity and Continuity .

§ 11. The Priority of Consciousness .

§ 12. Science as a Limited Body of Truth .

CONTENTS xi

Part III Idealism

PAGE

Chapter VI. The Cardinal Principle of Idealism . . . . 113

§ 1. The General Meaning of Modem Idealism . 113

§ 2. Platonic Idealism, or Teleological Rationalism . 114

§ 3. Rationalism Purged of Teleology by Spinoza 116

§ 4. The Idealistic Revolution . 117

§ 5. The Beginnings of Modern Idealism. The Dualistic Ver¬ sion of Knowledge . 119

§ 6. Berkeley’s Refutation of Dualism . 122

§ 7. Epistemological Monism . 124

§ 8. Berkeley’s Proofs of Idealism. * Definition by Initial Pred¬ ication’ . nI26

§ 9. The Argument from ‘ the Ego-centric Predicament’ . . 128

§ 10. The Cardinal Principle and the Berkeleyan Proofs in Con¬ temporary Idealism . 132

Chapter VII. Objective or Transcendental Idealism . . . 135

§ 1. The General Meaning of Post-Kantian Idealism . . . 135

§ 2. The Sceptical Crisis in Hume . 136

§ 3. Kant to the Rescue. The ‘Categories’ and ‘Synthetic

Unity’ . 139

§ 4. Kant’s Relations to Idealism . 142

§ 5. Diverse Tendencies. ‘Critical’ Idealism . 144

§ 6. Metaphysical Idealism. Intellectualism . 146

§ 7. Voluntaristic or Ethical Idealism . 150

§ 8. Neo-Romanticism . 152

§ 9. The New Idealism and the Cardinal Principle .... 154

§ 10. The New Proof of Idealism from Synthetic Unity . . . 156

§ 11. The Revival of the Berkeleyan Arguments . 158

§ 12. Objective Idealism as an Escape from Subjectivism . . 162

Chapter VIII. Absolute Idealism and Religion . 164

§ 1. The General Meaning of Absolutism . 164

§ 2. Formalism, Arising from the Logical Basis of Absolutism . 166

§ 3. Equivocation Arising from the Attempt to Escape

Formalism . 169

§ 4. The Dogmatic Character of Absolutism. Agnosticism . 171

§ 5. Transition to Absolute Idealism. The Absolute Cognitive

Consciousness . 174

§ 6. Formalism in Absolute Idealism . 175

§ 7. Equivocation in Absolute Idealism . 180

§ 8. Dogmatism in Absolute Idealism . 183

XII

, PAGE

§ 9. Summary of Idealism. Idealism and Civilization . . . 188

§ 10. The Universalistic, or Leveling Tendency in Idealism . . 189

§ 11. The Virtue and the Extravagance of Idealism .... 192

Chapter IX. The Pragmatic Theory of Knowledge ... 197

§ 1. The General Meaning of Pragmatism . 197

§ 2. The Pragmatist Conception of the Theory of Knowledge . 199

§ 3. The Role of Ideas in Knowledge . 200

§ 4. The Meaning of Truth . 203

§ 5. Modes of Verification. Verification by Perception and by

Consistency . 2°5

§ 6. Verification by Operation and by Sentiment .... 207

§ 7. Verification by General Utility . 21 1

v § 8. The Realistic Version of Pragmatism . 213

^ § 9. The Subjectivistic Version of Pragmatism . 215

„ § 10. Realistic and Subjectivistic Interpretations. Satisfaction.

The Making of Reality . 217

§ 11. The Dilemma of Pragmatism . 219

Chapter X. Immediatism versus Intellectualism . 222

§ 1. Definition of the Issue . 222

§ 2. Non-intellectual Experience, or Immediacy . 224

§ 3. Immediacy Implied in Mediate Knowledge . 225

§ 4. The Abstractness of Concepts. “ Vicious Intellectualism” 228

§ 5. The Failure of Concepts to Grasp Reality. Radical Anti-

intellectualism . 229

§ 6. The Failure of Anti-intellectualism to Understand the In¬ tellectual Method. Concept as Function and as Content. 231

§ 7. The Confusion between the Relations of Symbols and the

Relations Symbolized . 232

§ 8. The Supposition that Concepts are Necessarily Privative . 234

§ 9. The Misunderstanding Concerning Analysis . 236

§ 10. The Supposed Superiority of the Immediacy that Precedes

Analysis . 2 37

§ 11. The Subjectivistic Version of Immediatism . 239

§12. The Realistic Version of Immediatism . 240

Chapter XI. Pluralism, Indeterminism and Religious Faith . 242

§ 1. Pluralism as the Sequel to Empiricism. The Additive

Character of Knowledge . 242

XIII

PAGE

§ 2. Pluralism and External Relations . 244

§ 3. Pluralism as a Philosophy of Religion . 246

§ 4. Indeterminism as the Sequel to Pluralism . 249

§ 5. Indeterminism and the Reality of Time . 250

§ 6. Indeterminism as the Sequel to Anti-intellectualism. Will

as itself the Author of Determinism . 254

§ 7. Determinism as an Intellectualistic Falsification of Tem¬ poral Reality . 255

§ 8. Freedom as Creative Activity . 261

§ 9. The Pragmatic Theory of Truth Applied to Religious Faith 265

§ 10. Pragmatism and the Spirit of the Age . 267

Chapter XII. A Realistic Theory of Mind . 271

I. Introductory . 271

§ 1. Realism as a Polemic . 271

§ 2. The Fundamental Importance of the Problem of Mind . 272

II. The Method of Introspection . 275

§ 3. Mental Content as Revealed by Introspection . . . . 275

§ 4. The Neutral Elements of Mental Content. The Need of a

Unifying Relation . 277

§ 5. Mental Action. The Alleged Self-intuition of a Pure

Spiritual Activity . 279

§ 6. Mental Action as the Feeling of Bodily Action . . . 283

III. The Method of General Observation . 286

§ 7. The Alleged Impossibility of Observing the Contents of

Another Mind . 286

§ 8. The Difficulty of Observing Mental Content. The Case of

Perception . 289

§ 9. Proprio-ceptive Sensations . 292

§ 10. The Content of Desire, Memory and Thought .... 295

§ 11. The Alleged Impossibility of Observing Mental Action . 297

§ 12. Mental Action as Nervous System . 298

§ 13. Mental Action as Interest . 3°°

§ 14. Mental Content as Identified by Interested Action . . 301

§ 15. A Summary Definition of Mind . 3°3

Chapter XIII. A Realistic Theory of Knowledge .... 306

I. The Theory of Immanence . 3 °6

§ 1. The Old Realism and the New . 3°6

XIV

PAGE

§ 2. The Duality of Mind and Body as a Difference of Organ¬ ization . . 308

§ 3. Representation as an Immanent Relation . 311

II. The Theory of Independence . 313

§ 4. The Half-realisms. Independence of Finite Knowledge . 313

§ 5. Independence of Mediate Knowledge . 314

§ 6. Thorough-going Realism. Independence of Experience

or Consciousness . 315

§ 7. The Arguments for Independence. The Negative Argu¬ ment . 316

§ 8. The Argument from the Externality of Relations . . . 319

§ 9. The Argument from the Distinction between Object and

Awareness . 321

§ 10. The Argument from the Nature of Mind . 322

III. Truth and Error . 323

§ 11. The Realm of Subjectivity . 323

§ 12. The Sphere of Truth and Error . 324

§ 13. Mistaking and Right Judging . 326

Chapter XIV. A Realistic Philosophy of Life . 329

§ 1. Enlightenment and Disillusionment . 329

§ 2. Realism and the Dependence of Value on Desire . . . 331

§ 3. The Nature of Moral Value. The Right and the Best . 333

§ 4. The Objectivity or Absoluteness of Value. Contemporary

Confusion of the Issue . 335

§ 5. The Difference between the Absoluteness and the Su-

^ premacy of Value . 339

§ 6. Value as Cause or Determination . 341

v'f § 7. Freedom, Positive and Negative . 342

§ 8. The Grounds of Religious Belief . 344

§ 9. The Hazard of Faith . 345

THE PHILOSOPHY OF WILLIAM JAMES

I. Philosophy of Mind . 349

§ 1. The Place of the Problem of Mind in James’s Philosophy . 349

§ 2. Mind as Interested and Selective . 350

§ 3. The Relational or Functional Theory of Consciousness . 352

§ 4. The Experience of Activity . 354

II. Theory of Knowledge . 356

§ 5. The Function of Cognition . 356

§ 6. The Pragmatic Nature of Truth . 360

CONTENTS XV

PAGE

§ 7. Empiricism . 3^3

§ 8. Percepts and Concepts. The Critique of Intellectualism . 366

III. Philosophy of Religion . 3^9

§ 9. The Right to Believe . 369

§ 10. Reflex Action and Theism . 37°

§ 11. The Dilemma of Determinism . 371

§ 12. Pluralism and Moralism . 373

IV. Conclusion . 375

Index . .

Chapter I Philosophical Theory And Established

BELIEF 1

§i. It is impossible to undertake a summary of philo¬ sophical tendencies without being sensible of the breach between the philosophy of the schools and the

Discrepancy ... , . .

between philosophy of the streets, between the latest Belief and speculations, hypotheses, and definitions of critical experts, and the general beliefs of man¬ kind. This discrepancy is not peculiar to philosophy. There is a similar difference between pure science and popular science, between political theory and political faith or tradition. But in neither case is the difference so confusing or disturbing as in the case of philosophy. Confusion between pure and popular science is avoided by the development of an organized technique, which makes pure science largely unintelligible to the layman; and there is little danger of a premature application of scientific hypotheses, because of the material difficulties which must be overcome before any such hypothesis can be applied. The same holds, although much less certainly, of politics. Political action is based on the steady and widespread acceptance, within a community, of certain general beliefs that are not immediately affected by the fluctuations of theory. And here also the applica¬ tion of theory must, except under extraordinary condi-

1 Reprinted, with additions and alterations, from an article entitled “Theories and Beliefs,” Harvard Theological Review , Vol. Ill, July, 1910.

tions, move at a slow pace because of the complexity of the instrumentalities employed.

It may be argued that the common philosophical beliefs are similarly protected and rendered stable by their wide interpenetration with social interests, and by the authority of established religion. But the fact remains that a philo¬ sophical revolution is more easily accomplished than a political revolution. The reason for this lies in the fact that a philosophy, unlike a polity, is an individual matter. A man may reconstruct his Weltanschauung — establish his world of thought upon a new foundation, and rearrange his order of values — without encountering any greater resist¬ ance than the inertia of his own habits. And such a revolu¬ tion is the more easily accomplished in an individualistic era like the present, in which the church has relaxed its hold upon the minds of men. If, then, there be any practical risk in the exposure of belief to the variability of theory, that risk will be peculiarly great in the case of philosophy. And there is also a peculiar liability to confusion here, because theoretical philosophy has never as yet succeeded in developing a technique of its own. The terms of philo¬ sophical research and speculation are largely the terms of religious belief; so that the layman too readily identifies the tentative hypotheses of the investigator with the venerable symbols of his faith.

§ 2. Both theory and belief, the new word of critical spec¬ ulation, and the old assumptions of life, are forms of knowl- Theory and edge. And although it is necessary that these Belief as Forms forms should be distinguished and even Ha^ingthe86* seParatety organized, that necessity should Same Funda- not blind us to the fact that their value is funmentai Value damentally the same. That the control of

nature through the advancement of knowledge is the instrument of progress and the chief ground of hope, is the axiom of modern civilization. This is more peculiarly a modern idea than is commonly supposed. The ancient world had its dogmatic and its critical idea of progress. The former was the idea of national or racial aggrandizement by the conquest of territory and the usurpation of political control. The latter, contributed by the genius of Greece, was the humanistic idea of the intensive cultivation and refinement of human nature. These ancient ideas were superseded by Christian supernaturalism, which referred man’s hope of salvation to another world which might be won by the repudiation of this. As Christian Europe became secularized, there developed the theocratic idea of a fixed system in which all human activities should be limited and controlled by religious authority. Finally, as a reaction against the established order, there appeared the idea of the Renaissance — an enthusiasm for antiquity, and a desire to reverse the course of history.

The modern idea, though it borrows something from all of these ideas, is fundamentally different. It bespeaks a solidarity of mankind in the enterprise of life, and in this manifests its Christianity; and it derives from paganism a respect for human capacities, and a confidence in man’s power to win the good for himself. But these motives are so united in the modern spirit as to produce something genuinely new. The good is to be won by the race and for the race; it lies in the future, and can result only from prolonged and collective endeavor; and the power to achieve it lies in the progressive knowledge and control of nature. This is the Baconian idea. The incentive to knowledge lies in its application to life. “For fruits and inventions are, as it were, sponsors and sureties for the truth of philosophies.” Therefore, Bacon would have men of learning begin and end their study with the facts of their present environment. “For our road does not lie on a level, but ascends and descends, first ascending to axioms, then descending to works.” In the last part of the New Atlantis there is a remarkable description of the riches of Solomon’s House, the great museum and laboratory, the treasure house and workshop, which was “the lantern of this kingdom.” The words with which the father of

Solomon’s House receives his visitors are a terse and elo¬ quent summary of that which Francis Bacon prophesied, and which posterity has steadily achieved. “The end of our foundation is the knowledge of causes, and secret motions of things; and the enlarging of the bounds of human empire, to the effecting of all things possible.” 1

The value of theory and belief is in the end the same. Both are forms of knowledge, and knowledge furnishes the illumination and guidance of all conscious action. But, as we shall now see, each of these forms of knowledge has also a specific value, through which this more funda¬ mental value is realized; and these more specific values require not only a difference of procedure, but even a certain incommensurability of terms.

§ 3. In an essay entitled “The Scepticism of Believers,” Leslie Stephen remarks a common confusion between The Difference un belief and contrary belief. The term ‘ belief ’ and is at any historical moment almost invariably

ofMotive hi used to denote the established belief, that is, Theory and the belief supported by authority or by the Belief consensus of opinion; while the term ‘unbe¬

lief’ is used to denote dissent from the established belief, even when, as is most often the case, this dissent is itself due to belief. The established belief resists change, and must be attacked, weakened, or destroyed, before it is possible for another belief to get a hearing; hence assenters come to regard dissenters as destructive in their primary intent, and are blinded to the fact that there is another belief at stake , which may be as affirmative and constructive in its own terms as that which at the time pre¬ vails. Thus modern religious orthodoxy has condemned as unbelief a certain secular tendency which really has arisen, not from a love of mischief-making, but from a most

1 Bacon : Philosophical Works , Edited by Ellis and Spedding, Vol. Ill, p. 156; cf. ibid, Vol. IV, pp. 73, 96. This reference to Bacon is in part re¬ printed from an article entitled: “The Prophecy of Francis Bacon,” Pop¬ ular Science Monthly , Vol. LXXVII, May, 1910.

devoted confidence in the uniformity of nature, and in the power of man to save himself. It is not wholly unjust to assert, as Leslie Stephen does assert, that, in opposing the free advance of science and of individualism, defenders of “the Faith” have virtually sought to prevent or destroy that faith in the enterprise of civilization which has mainly inspired the progress of the last two centuries.

But for our present purposes the significance of this lies not in the issue between warring beliefs, both of which are positive and confident, but in the issue between belief, which puts heart into men, and that state of suspended animation, of hesitation, and general impotence, which is properly to be regarded as unbelief. “The man has most faith, in the sense in which faith represents a real force,” says our author, “whose convictions are such as are most favorable to energetic action, and is freest from the doubts which paralyze the will in the great moments of life. He must have a clear vision of an end to be achieved, devotion to which may be the ruling passion of his life and the focus to which all his energies may converge.”1 In the present discussion, I use the phrase ‘established belief’ to denote faith, in this sense of conviction favorable to action; and it is my purpose to show that the opposite state of mind, unbelief, or the lack of convictions favorable to action, may be induced by theory . Before theory can become belief it must be assimilated to a plan of life; it must be not only asserted, but also adopted. And when belief becomes theory, it means that an integral component of some man’s plan of life is withdrawn; making it necessary that his hand should be stayed, and the plan suspended, if not permanently abandoned. Without a recognition of this radical difference between theory and belief, unless it be understood that as moods, states of mind, or moments of life, they are almost antithetical, one must remain blind to the real tragedy of heresy and doubt.

The virtue of belief lies in the application. Knowledge

1 Leslie Stephen, An Agnostic's Apology, p. 50.

does not become belief until it is presupposed for the pur¬ poses of action. This holds equally of the most elementary common sense, of technical skill, and of religious piety. Common sense consists of the manifold things that can be taken for granted for the purposes of everyday life. Common sense must be true to be useful; but it would still not be useful unless it were habitually and implicitly trusted. Technical skill is derived from science; but until scientific principles are sufficiently well established to be relied on, they cannot be applied. And piety, if it be not constant, if a life be not founded on it, is not that good thing which is called religion. He who makes plans for the morrow, or constructs a bridge, or prays to God, believes. There is, then, a specific value in belief , over and above the value of truth which it must have in common with knowledge. This value is that confidence and steadiness, without which no consecutive endeavor is possible. And since this is the case, it follows that there is a legitimate and powerful incentive to belief, which may be distinguished from the love of truth. So that they are not wholly unreasonable who resent being robbed of their belief; or, seeking to have it restored, pray God to help their unbelief.

Now it is clear that theory can no more take the place of belief than a stone can take the place of bread. Theory does not directly nourish and sustain life, as belief does; because, unlike belief, it does not suit the humor of action. To theorize is to doubt. The investigator must be both incredulous and credulous, believing nothing, and prepared to believe anything. While he remains theoretically minded, he remains open-minded, receptive to evidence, committing himself to assertions only tentatively or provi¬ sionally. He may be preparing foundations, but he cannot let them stand, and hence is not free to build on them. Furthermore, for the very reason that the theorist is not expected to put his theories into practice, he enjoys a certain irresponsibility. To him is allotted the task of examining a question on its merits, without reference to ulterior motives. He is permitted a certain play of con¬ jecture, a certain oscillation of mind between hypothetical alternatives, that is fatal to administrative competence. Nor is the theoretical mind held to those standards of proportionateness which obtain in life. The scientist is not infrequently likened to James’s “myopic ant,” who tumbles into every microscopic crack and fissure, and never suspects that a centre exists. But fatal as such procedure would be to the proper conduct of life, it is neither unworthy nor unfruitful as an incident of theoretical analysis. Chesterton has remarked that “a man does not go mad because he builds a statue a mile high, but he may go mad by thinking it out in square inches.”1 In the latter case, judged by the standards of social efficiency, the man is mad; but his madness is explained, or adjudged not madness after all, when it is recognized that his interest is theoretical. And a similar allowance is made for a certain difference of pace in life and in theory. There is a maxim to the effect that “he that will believe only what he can fully comprehend, must have a very long head or a very short creed.” In other words, when theoretically-minded, one proceeds as though life permitted of being invariably guided by good and manifest reasons; whereas practically, if one were to adopt such a principle, one would never reach the first milestone. Intelligent living proceeds not by doubting, examining, experimenting, and proving, but by assuming. There is an urgency and brevity about life that makes it impossible that one should give the rein to one’s critical powers or weigh every affirmation in the delicate balance of logic.

I hope it is clear that I am not attempting to divide men into believers and theorists. I am distinguishing not between classes of men, but between characteristic moods or states of mind. The difference, however, is not so much psychological as it is moral. There is a different motive in theory and in belief, a different human good. Hence it

follows that these moods may confront one another dramati¬ cally both in individual life and in the history of society. There is a party of theory and a party of belief, with a loyalty to each. It may be that in our own time, for example, there is more need of emphasizing the motive of belief. We live in a rationalistic age, many of us in a rationalistic fellowship or community, and incline to the party of theory. It is the mark of such partisanship to suppose that advocates of established belief are moved to suspect or resist innovation only by stubbornness or inertia. On the contrary, conservatism is not less passionate than radicalism, nor less moved by the love of good. For the advocate of established belief is the advocate of established life; of that present adjustment of interests which is daily tested and proved, and to which the great majority of men are wholly and irrevocably committed. It is less enlight¬ ened to despise him as the enemy of truth than to pay him some respect as the friend of peace and order.

§ 4. We shall not understand the strength of the motive of belief, or the part which it plays in the vital economy, The Solidarity until we recognize its corporate character. An of Belief established belief possesses a value proportional to the number of interest invested in it. And this solidar¬ ity of belief manifests itself on every scale, individual, social, and historical. It has been said that every man of action is a fatalist. This is due to the need of a permanence of belief, if the several acts of an individual life are to contrib¬ ute to one end. A plan of action, in proportion to its scope, requires time and manifold agencies for its execution, and must be adhered to from moment to moment and from act to act. Every plan of action is based on innumer¬ able assumptions concerning the natural and social environ¬ ment; and if these assumptions be questioned, the plan is virtually suspended. Action is efficient in proportion to its range, and the greater its range the more necessary is it that its components should be rigid and stable. Assump¬ tions must be trusted implicitly in order that one may be

THEORY AND BELIEF II

free to leave them behind one’s back and face the work to be done.

The larger the enterprise, the greater the need of a fixed orientation, of a view that shall not dissolve until a thousand tributary agencies have been assembled, coordinated, and made jointly and cumulatively to achieve the designated end. It follows that a steadiness of belief is more indispen¬ sable to social than to individual action. Every variety of cooperation requires that men shall occupy common ground. The best partners, like the best friends, are those who can take the most for granted. That which is true of every lesser social enterprise is supremely true of politics and religion. The arm of society is the institution, and this owes its power to a wide-spread community of belief. The institution is the most delicate and complicated mechanism of life, constructed out of the purposes and convictions of innumerable individuals. And this mechanism cannot remain intact, and be the instrument that it is designed to be, unless the parts be firm and durable. In short, society could not act, for the maintenance of order or the promotion of civilization, if men’s ideas were fluent and transitory. This does not mean merely that social action would be ham¬ pered, but that any political or organized community what¬ soever would be impossible. Unbelief is equally fatal to the full benefit of religion. That benefit is realized only when a firm conviction concerning the ultimate source of human fortune, or the supreme object of devotion, dominates and unifies all the varied activities of life. This benefit is never fully attained; but so far as it has been attained, it has given to civilization something of the sweetness and vigor of health. When science and art, common sense and mysti¬ cal ecstasy, the outer manner and the inner propensity, in all men different and yet in all alike, do but embroider and enact one theme, the circle is closed and the strength of man made perfect. And such unanimity of imagination and enthusi¬ asm, quickening and ennobling the concert of action, must rest on unseen but deep-laid foundations of common belief.