A first course in philosophy

Preface

This book, the outgrowth of more than twenty years of teaching, aims especially to meet the wants of students who are young in the study of philosophy. It is my hope also, that this book will be of service to other students who, working in other fields, desire to know something of those problems of the world and our human life with which philosophers are occupied.

I have endeavored to set forth the main doctrine of philosophy in terms sufficiently simple, and in an exposition sufficiently ample to enable the student to comprehend the meaning of these doctrines and to appreciate their significance.

I have aimed to encourage the student to philosophize for himself, rather than merely to appropriate the product of other men's thinking. With this purpose in view, I have let the representatives of various philosophical theories advocate and defend their respective doctrines; and for the most part, have refrained from closing the debate.

My acquaintance with philosophy has taught me that its questions are still open, and that it is the mark of the truly philosophic mind to hold whatever convictions to which it has attained, as tentative and liable to revision in the light of fuller evidence. J. E. R.

Williams College, February 4, 1913.

Contents

Chapter Page

I. Introduction 1

I. The Meaning of Philosophy 1

II. Philosophy and Science 1

III. Philosophy and ReUgion 5

IV. The Reasons for Philosophy 6

Part I The Problem Of Reality

II. The Meaning of Being Real 11

III. The Nature of the Real 19

I. Dualism 19

II. Materialism 26

III. Idealism 39

IV, Critical or Agnostic monism 60

IV. The Problem op the One and the Many 63

I. Monism 64

II. Pluralism 74

III. Monistic Pluralism — Pluralistic Monism .... 85

V. The Soul and its Connection with the Body .... 92

VI. Cosmology 103

I. The Conceptions of Space and Time 103

II. Uniformity of Nature and Causation 117

III. Mechanical and Teleological Conceptions of the

Worid 129

IV. Objections to Teleology 140

Part II Epistemology

VII. The Doctrine of Knowledge 149

The Meaning of Knowledge 149

I. RationaUsm 157

II. Kant's Theory of Knowledge 164

III. The Empirical Theory of Knowledge 175

XV. The Epistemology of Royce 187

vii viii CONTENTS

Chapter Page

V The Pragmatic Theory of Knowledge 191

The Pragmatic Meaning of Truth 202

The Pragmatic Meaning of ReaUty or the Obj ect

in Knowledge 205

Objections to the Pragmatic Theory of Knowledge 207

Part III

VIII. The Philosophy of Conduct 223

I. The Problem of Morality 225

11. The Problem of Religion 262

Index 301

A FIRST COUItSE IN PHILOSOPHY

Introduction

I. THE MEANING OF PHILOSOPHY The following may serve as definitions of philosophy:

1. Any systematic and persistent thinking upon the nature and meaning of the real world and our existence.

2. An attempt to reach ultimate explanation of experience.

3. An attempt to solve certain problems which the universe about us and our human life force upon our minds.

II. PHILOSOPHY AND SCIENCE

Respecting the relation of philosophy to science, two views are held. One view is that they are fundamentally identical. Their subject is the same, their ultimate aim is the same; the difference between them is, that science exists only in the form of special sciences, each of which having a field within which its investigations are confined and within which its principles and explanations are valid, while the field of philosophy itself is coextensive with all the fields of the special sciences, philosophy being the ideal consummation of each special science, a final synthesis of them all. Make each science complete, unite the special knowledge

so obtained, and the result would be philosophic knowledge.

The aim of philosophy would be realized in the realization of the aims of each of the special sciences.

The other view is that philosophy is essentially different from science, that it has a field of its own, problems peculiar to itself, and which do not lie in the field of the special sciences.

Were each science to attain ideal completion, the task of philosophy would still remain, its problems would still await solution. Did we now possess complete science the questions which philosophy attempts to answer would still be open. Philosophy has a field of its own which can be delimited.

In one aspect this field includes and seems to be only coextensive with the special fields of science. The reason for this close relation is the fact, that philosophy presupposes and appropriates the knowledge and the conceptions which each science supplies, and by means of these philosophy seeks to frame a conception of the whole of reality which will find a place for the partial truths and conceptions of science and to unite them in a total view and final synthesis.

But, obviously, that which seeks the synthesis of the sciences must itself be distinct from each of them, and from science as science. The problem and aim of philosophy therefore clearly demarcates its field from the field of the special sciences.

To be specific, there are two sorts of matters which do not lie within the province of the special sciences, and which do lie within the field of philosophy: 1. matters which each science must presuppose and make its working assumptions or postulates; 2. matters which lie beyond

INTRODUCTION S

the bounds which science sets for its pecuHar task, residual problems which transcend the boundary lines within which scientific explanation moves.

The first class of matters which lie outside the field of science contain such conceptions as the following: Space, Time, Matter, Causation, Force, Life, Mind, etc. The exact meaning of these conceptions lies outside of the field of science. It is the function of science to describe in the simplest and fewest possible terms the motions of that which we call matter; but science does not undertake to say what matter is. Science explains the phenomena of life, the evolution of living beings, it describes their various behaviors, but it does not tell us what life is, whence it came or whither it goes. Science describes the various functions of mind, it formulates the laws of their occurrence, it investigates the connection between these phenomena and phenomena of the physical order; but science leaves unanswered the question. What is mind ?

The second species of matters which lie beyond the boundaries of science are the problems of meaning, of value, of purpose. These questions have their source in our human experiences, in our rational, our feeling, our active nature; these questions of whence, whither, why, and what for, are the most significant and the most urgent ones which the world and life put to us; but to them science has no answer. Her function is exhausted when she has answered the question of how. The function of science is description; so far as the world is describable, it belongs to science. But the world of description is not all of the world. There is a world of purposes; there are meanings and values, and of these science takes no account.

One of the most important achievements of modem science is the sharply defined and narrowly drawn limits to scientific explanation. It is to this clearer understanding of its own task and its limits that science is in no small degree indebted for her most important and brilliant achievements.

The emancipation of modern science from metaphysics coincides with the rapid progress, the surprising developments of science within a comparatively recent period; but this more distinct and narrower boundary of science is at the same time a clearer determination of the field of philosophy and it is more possible than it has been at any time before, to render to science the things that belong to science, and to philosophy the things that belong to philosophy. This second view of the relation between philosophy and science is the one we must adopt; they are clearly different in their subject matters and in their aims.

But while they are different, they are intimately related, and, on the side of philosophy, the relation is one of dependence. Philosophy presupposes the results attained by the special sciences; it can frame its world view only by uniting in that view the conceptions which the several sciences have elaborated. Nothing can be true in philosophy which is false in science; and philosophy can ignore no fact which science has established. But, on the other hand, science must confess by the very limitations she has imposed upon her work, that she stops short of that final explanation, that ultimate solution of the world problem which it is the very essence of our rational nature to seek after. Philosophy is the necessary complement of science.

III. PHILOSOPHY AND RELIGION They differ in aim and motive. The aim of philosophy is theoretic. It is comprehensive knowledge, completeness of intellectual view. The aim of religion is practical; it is the satisfaction of life. What it seeks to know it seeks as a means to this end. Philosophy grows out of the rational demand for truth. Religion springs from the needs of the heart and the will. In religion, man seeks a reality to which he can entrust his life and all that is dear to him, a reality which will conserve his supreme values, prosper his aims, fulfill his wishes, aspirations and hopes. What man desires to know in religion, and all that he religiously desires, is, that his World or some Being of his World is friendly to him and is able to maintain his life against whatever is destructive or harmful.

This endeavor of man to relate himself in a practical way to a power not himself, but which is for him and works for his good, is the substance underlying every manifestation of religion, from that of primitive men to the religion of the most civilized men of to-day.

Both philosophy and religion have to do with objective and ultimate reality, with that which has supreme significance and value. Both seek the solution of the problem of the world, or rather of our existence, our place in this world. It is no less vital to religion to have assurance that the object of its trust and worship really exists, than is the objective reality to the philosopher who seeks to comprehend it. There is a further difference which should not be overlooked; it is that philosophy is more comprehensive than religion; it includes religion as one of its problems. Philosophy discharges the same function in respect to our religious experience that it exercises in relation to science, or to man's life in all its aspects; that function is to gain a comprehensive world view, in which the beliefs and ideals of religion shall have their place determined, their value for life rightly appraised, their claim to validity or truth passed upon by that highest tribunal, the reflecting and valuing self conscious spirit of man. For instance, religion and science are said to be in conflict, and the problem of a reconciliation between them is of pressing importance. Religion and morality have, it is claimed, changed their attitude to each other. In the past their relation has been one of mutual dependence and reciprocal influence. The time has now come when morality should quite dispense with religion; a religious belief, so far from being important and serviceable to the moral life, is detrimental to the highest type of morality. Clearly it belongs to philosopy to determine, so far as any settlement of these matters can be made, what are the relations of religion and science on the one side and of religion and morality on the other,

IV. THE REASONS FOR PHILOSOPHY

Philosophy is an inevitable undertaking. When experience has ripened and reason is awakened and he has begun to eat of the tree of knowledge, man must philosophize. The option he has is to do so badly, or in some degree wisely and successfully.

It has often been an objection to philosophy, that it leads only to doubt, never to knowledge; it asks questions to which it can give no answer, it propounds riddles it cannot solve; it is a fruitless labor, a vain quest; the latest philosophical thinker is no nearer the goal of his endeavor than the first who essayed the task. In their answers to the questions concerning the universe, the meaning and destiny of man's existence, the philosophers are no nearer an agreement than were those of the first generation. These conflicting solutions of philosophy should warn us from embarking upon an enterprise that has brought so little result; and admonish us against the unwisdom of concerning ourselves with matters which it would be wiser to conclude are beyond our human faculties.

Against objections of this sort, the justification of philosophy in the following: It is not the philosopher, but the universe and our human life that propound the riddles which so tempt and baffle at the same time our ventures of thought. Philosophy does not invent these problems; it is our best endeavor to solve in some manner the problems we cannot avoid if we think at all; if we are to live a rational life, and not be content with the life of the brute. But even if it were true that philosophy has hitherto been a fruitless quest for the Holy Grail, it is better for man, worthier of his nature to have gone on that quest than tamely to have remained at home, sunk in the dull life of the brain, or occupied only with the tasks he can easily and surely accomplish. To seek truth even if we fail to find it, is better than to decline the search either through fear of failure or indifference to the enterprise.

Furthermore, were it the case that this labor of philosophy has brought no success either to the generations before us or to our own age, it is by no means settled that those who are to come after us will not succeed where we have failed; the way is yet long and there is time yet for achievements in thought of which we can form but a faint conception.

Be that as it may, that which has called forth philosophy is man's rational life, and the philosophic endeavor has been prompted and sustained by a deep and hitherto ineradicable faith, that the world and our human existence have a meaning which we are destined in an increasing measure to understand. Man's constitutional faith is, that he will not be put to intellectual confusion in the end, that his craving for meaning and for good are yet to be satisfied. Man inevitably believes that if he orders his thoughts aright, and makes rational his actions, his world will eventually show itself to be intelligible, and his search for truth will not end in disappointment.

Now this deeply wrought faith man cannot rationally abandon until his best has been done, his last effort made. To become faithless and abandon the quest until it is certain that the world problem has no solution, until it is certain there is no Holy Grail, were to be unfaithful to man's own higher nature; it were to decline in the scale of being; to become something less than man. But is the case so bad with our human philosophizing endeavors ? Surely something has been gained by this labor of so many generations of great thinkers; I for one, think the problems of philosophy, the limits within which our thinking can hope for success, are better understood, more clearly defined, than they were in the minds of the earlier philosophical thinkers. Now it is no slight gain to have brought the world-problem, and the problem of our existence into clearer more definite formulation, and to have discovered within what limits any solution of these great problems is possible, to have eliminated some solutions, and to have determined those within which our final choice must fall.

The demarcation of the special sciences, the elimination from their fields of matters which are irrelevant to science; in short, the establishment of the sciences, is itself a philosophic achievement. For the conception of science, the determination of its function, its limit, is possible only if some point of view is taken which lies outside of the fields of science, from which it is possible to comprehend and pass judgment upon science itself; this knowing of science is itself a philosophical function.

But, apart from the consideration of progress in philosophy and approximation to its final aim, philosophy is justified for another reason — it fosters the discipline of the mind, it imparts the willingness to see all, to prove all things, to suspend judgment until the evidence is all in; to exercise a rational restraint upon passional motives. This is both requisite to true philosophizing and the natural fruit of its exercise. The philosopher as such is not a believer, he is rather a critical observer and judge of our various human beliefs, or better, he is one who is seeking by this thoughtful survey and critical judgment to determine the relative truth- values of these often warring beliefs. Philosophy may be defined as man's endeavor to make rational, coherent, and satisfying his inevitable beliefs. Philosophy does not create beliefs, its function is to rationalize them. To the philosopher, it is not so important that we believe, as are our reasons for believing and the coherence of a given belief with all our other beliefs and with the totality of our experience.

Chapter II The Meaning Of Being Real

There are two questions which, though they are most intimately connected, it is nevertheless important to keep distinct. One question is, What should we mean by the predicate term, when we say a certain object is real ? The other question is. What is the nature of the object we accept as real ? Of course these two questions can be asked concerning the same object; one and the same object presents two aspects, is present to our minds in two ways. One of these aspects we signify by the term that; the other by the term what; using the corresponding abstract terms we speak now of the thatness of the object and again of the whatness of the object, or what means the same thing, we speak of the realness of the object, and of its nature as a real object. I may be in quite different states of mind in relation to the true character of a presented object. I may be absolutely certain that the object exists; but I may be altogether uncertain what is the ultimate nature of that same object. Of these two fundamental questions in philosophy, it is plainly the first with which we must make a beginning. And accordingly, our first special problem in philosophy is the meaning of being real. When for instance, I say of a star, I seem to be perceiving. The star is real; while of the star in my dream, I afterwards say, It was an unreal star, what should I mean by the realness of the star of my waking perception, and by the unrealness of the star of my dream? The star of my dream has all the qualities which the star of my waking experience possesses; it is bright with the same luster, it shines in the same skies, it excites the same emotions; wherein then lies the difference which I mean to assert when I say of one of the stars, It is real, and of the other. It is unreal ? In what consists this realness of the one and the unrealness of the other star ? The specific problem is thus defined. We can best approach its solution if we first note some of the characteristics of those objects we regard as real.

1. Real objects are social objects. The real star is not my private object; it is shared by other minds. I can appeal to the perceptions of my human fellows. Indeed I must be able to do so if I am to justify my claim that my star is a real star. On the contrary, the star I seem to perceive in a hallucination I may be experiencing is a star which no other mind at the same time could perceive; this star is not a common object; my experience is an unsocial one.

2. The second characteristic of a real object is, it permits and demands from me a different behavior toward it from that which it is possible or proper for me to adopt toward an unreal object. I must take account of a real object in my thinking, in my purpose and in my actions. I must in some way reckon with it, and to some extent at least on its own terms. The real object thus coerces my behavior, imposes a condition upon my thinking, if that thinking is to attain its end. The real object in one aspect of it is an obstacle to my thinking, my willing and to my action in certain directions; it compels a choice of other directions if I am to go on at all, and it may not permit me to remain where I am.

3. But on the other hand, the real object is also responsive to my mind, it is fulfilling in relation to some intention or purpose or want of mine: it answers my questions, it completes what would otherwise remain partial, fragmentary, and unsatisfying. This third characteristic can no more be denied of the real object than can the other two.

But after all, does this statement of the characteristics of the objects we call real, answer our question about the meaning of being real ? Would any enumeration, however complete, of the marks which enable us to tell what objects are real, be a definition of what we mean by calling an object real?

We may admit that a real object does possess these qualities, does function in this manner in relation to our experience, but does all this really answer the question we are trying to answer, namely, wherein lies the realness of this object ?

Take the characteristics we call its social significance. Let it be true that no object is real which all minds could not recognize, do we mean that it is just this fact that all these minds can have this same object present to them, which constitutes the realness of the object? Is it the common experience which makes the object a real one, or does the common experience or possibility of it afford the proof that the object is real? In which case the realness of the object is something distinct from the common experience. It is the ground or reason for that common experience. The realness of the object explains the common experience, which otherwise would be an unsolved problem but the mere fact that it is a social object does not constitute its realness.

The case is the same with the other two characteristics of real objects. What we should mean by their being real is distinct from certain relations they sustain to our minds, certain functions they discharge, or any significance or value which may attach to them as real; being real, these two things belong to them, but it is not these things we should mean by their being real. The meaning of what is to be real, it would seem, must be sought in some other characteristic of the object and in some other relation to our minds, and it is just in this mode of existence of the object, its relation to a thinking or affirming mind that this first problem in philosophy centers. And since every object (or object matter of our thought) whether real or unreal must exist in relation to some mind, a real object must be in some manner related to the mind. Our problem can be formulated in a narrower compass and in more exact terms, namely: How is the real object related to the idea which seeks to know that object? I am indebted to Professor Royce for this simple but exceedingly fruitful definition of the problem of real being.

Concerning real being two doctrines are held. One of these by an unfortunate terminology is called the realistic conception of being. This doctrine holds that to be real means to be independent of any perceiving or thinking consciousness. This does not mean that the object exists apart from all relations to our minds. An absolutely unrelated object is a self contradictory conception. The object must sustain some relations to our minds in order to be judged as real or unreal.

The realist (for so we will call him) maintains that the realness of the object is its independence of any merely perceiving or asserting mind for its character as real. The object was real prior to this mind's acknowledgment of it, and it would remain real were this mind to vanish from the universe. The real object is one which can enter into the knowing relation and pass out of it without being affected thereby in its character as real. Merely thinking of or cognizing such an object does not in any wise affect the matter of its real existence.

The second of these doctrines, which we will call the idealistic conception of the real being, maintains that the real object cannot be independent of the idea which knows or seeks it. The real object, this doctrine asserts, would lose its realness altogether, did no mind perceive, think, or otherwise take notice of it. The realness of the object, no less than its qualities, belongs to the object only because the object is not independent of experience. It is worth while to discuss these two doctrines somewhat.

The realist in support of his view, appeals to the experience of being coerced in our perceptions, to our consciousness of obstacles, resistance to actions, to a persistent stubbomess in the grain of experience, which we cannot change at will; his contention is that these facts compel the assumption of something which is independent of our experience itself; that in these experiences we have to do with a reality, the certain mark of which is independence of our minds.

To this the idealist replies, coerciveness, resistance to our active experiences, stubborness of experience are doubtless facts; they are situations which arise in the course of experience; but they do not for that reason point to something which is independent of experience as such; but rather to other facts, other features of experience which are incompatible with those parts or regions of experience in which this coercion, resistance, or persistence is felt. I am coerced in some particular experience, not because there is something which is independent of all experience, but because other parts of experience, other needs, other purposes call for a limitation or a rejection altogether of this particular activity or process of experience. I meet resistance to my efforts, not because there is something which is independent of all purposive activity, but because other interests and purposes call for a different kind or direction of activity. The stubborness in the grain of experience does not come from something which is outside and independent of experience itself, but from the structure and habits which experience has acquired, and in particular from the social character of our human experience.

This observation leads to the second fact to which the realist appears in support of his doctrine, that fact is, just this social significance of real objects. Real objects are the basis of common perception; they are the standard of agreeing judgments, they make possible social intercommunication and serve as the basis of common plans of action.

All this is possible, says the realist, only if there is something which is independent, both of every individual experience and of the common experience also. It is the object's independence which makes it intelligible that there can be common perceptions, common plans of action, and cooperation in practical activities.

Now the idealist freely recognizes this independence of the merely individual or private mind in the case of our perceptions, assertions of fact and of our social communications and actions; but, he maintains, that independence of the individual's experience is not for that reason independence of all experience, of experience ueberhaupt. His contention is, that 'the character of independence in relation to the individual's mind has been created by the social medium in which particular objects have been constituted and defined. Real objects exist only in or for our social experience; when, therefore, the individual appeals from his private experience to the object as real as a standard of judgment, he is appealing to his social fellows' experience; for the real is what all the world experiences. Thus does the object reveal its realness, not by its independence of out perceptions, thoughts, and purposes; but by the fact that it sustains a relation of dependence upon all our minds. The object is real for the sole reason that it is an inseparable part of our mental lives; because it is the fulfiUer of purposes, the satisfaction of wants the completer of fragmentary meanings; it is just these effective connections between the object and our minds, which the term real properly connotes.

Against the realist's position the idealist makes this further oojection. Did the realness of objects consist in their independence, we could never know which of the multitudinous objects presented to us, are real, for, in order to determine that matter, it would be necessary to know whether the object which claims to be real; could validate its claim by continuing to exist and to remain unaffected in the absence or withdrawal of all human perceptions or thinking; now, obviously such a test of real being is impossible, and consequently the realist's doctrine affords us no test or criterion for distinguishing between real and unreal objects.