is quite in harmony with Scotism, for Scotus, through Avicebron, derived
many of his ideas from the Neo-Platonists. Mr. Peirce proposes a modern
view of emanation, which starts the world from that βῦθος of nothingness
which at the same time is the womb of all existence. The primeval state
of being, says Mr. Peirce, “Was mere nothing from a physical aspect,”
but, if it was not really nothing, what, then, was it?
It was chance.
Here lies the essential difference between Mr. Peirce and the
neo-Platonists. The neo-Platonists (whose speculations, if they are
treated not as philosophy, but as poetical effusions, are very profound
and thoughtful) look to the Logos, or world-reason, as the beginning
of the world emanation, while Mr. Peirce shows a certain contempt for
reason. To the neo-Platonist, reasons _are_ explanations, while to our
modern Scotist, reasons explain nothing. He says:
“Reasons explain nothing, except upon some theistic hypothesis
which may be pardoned to the yearning heart of man, but must be
doubtful in the eyes of philosophy....” (P. 567.)
Mr. Peirce goes so far as to speak of “the dullness of ratiocination’s
self.”
Mr. Peirce’s gospel would deviate in the very first verse from that of
St. John, for it would read
Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ἡ τυχή.—In the Beginning was Chance!
And this chance which was in the beginning actually is, to Mr. Peirce,
God, a personal God, an anthropomorphic deity endowed with consciousness.
He says:
“That primeval chaos in which there was no regularity was
mere nothing from a physical aspect. Yet it was not a blank
zero; for there was an intensity of consciousness there, in
comparison with which all that we ever feel is but as the
struggling of a molecule or two to throw off a little of the
force of law to an endless and innumerable diversity of chance
utterly unlimited.” (_The Monist_, Vol. III, No. 1, p. 19.)
And in another passage he says of chance:
“That it is a being living and conscious is what all the
dullness that belongs to ratiocination’s self can scarce muster
hardihood to deny.” (P. 560.)
Mr. Peirce’s argument that all the dullness that belongs to
ratiocination’s self can scarcely muster hardihood to deny his
proposition, sounds strange in the mouth of a scientist. But it is not
strange; for I have found that enthusiastic defenders of improbable
theories always fill the holes of their argumentation with abuse of those
who dare to discover these holes. Call a person who doubts the truth
of your statements dull, and you will frighten many a weak mind into a
patient acceptance of your view.
We may rest assured that whenever a philosopher scolds he is at his wit’s
end. For why should he lose patience if he can prove his proposition?
Thus diatribes are always symptoms that there is some flaw in one’s logic
and the louder one chides the sorer is the spot.
Mr. Peirce is serious in the statement that chance is a conscious being.
He actually identifies chance and feeling. He says:
“Chance is but the outward aspect of that which within itself
is feeling.”
The primordial chance, the existence of which, according to Mr. Peirce,
“calls for no explanation,” has “a primordial habit-taking tendency.”
Whence this tendency gets into the universe of absolute chance, Mr.
Peirce is unable to disclose. The deviations from the mechanical order
in the present course of things, which, by the by, are by no means
proved, suggest to him and justify, in his opinion, this assumption.
Thus, assumes he, primordial chance ceased to be chance; it changed by
a gradual habit-taking into regularities. Consciousness ceased to be
consciousness and became crystallised into natural laws. Mind ceased to
be an arbitrary sporting, and by becoming effete it begot, through a
summation of minute effects, this material universe of ours. Accordingly,
real existence or thing-ness consists merely in the regularities thus
produced, and “physical events are but the degraded ... forms of
psychical events.”
This is in brief Mr. Peirce’s cosmogony, which, as the prophet of
Tychism, he reveals to us in axiomatic aphorisms.
By gradual habit-taking, Mr. Peirce declares (_The Monist_, Vol. I,
No. 2, p. 176), mind will at last be “crystallised in the infinitely
distant future.” This rather sad outlook is, in another passage, modified
by a counter-oracle, which announces that “an element of pure chance
survives.” Why, he does not say. Irregularities, not being entirely
suppressed, can increase again, and as such they are “undeveloped forms
of psychical events.” Says Mr. Peirce (_The Monist_, Vol. III, No. 1, p.
18):
“There are almost insensible fortuitous departures from
regularity; these will produce, in general, equally minute
effects.... Protoplasm is in an excessively unstable
condition.... In the protoplasm these habits are to some slight
extent broken up, so that, according to the law of mind, ...
feeling becomes intensified.
“This breaking up of habit and renewed fortuitous spontaneity
will, according to the law of mind, be accompanied by an
intensification of feeling.”
This is the gist of Mr. Peirce’s mental philosophy, which proclaims that
“consciousness is not to be reinstated without tychism.” The reappearance
of chance is said to explain the origin of mind!
Our conception of mind is different. We see mind develop out of sentiency
by the recognition of the regularities of the surrounding world. Reason
is almost a synonym of man’s ability to form generalisations, of his
having and operating with concepts, of his thinking ideas. Not the
arbitrariness of a wilful mind is the properly mental of man’s soul,
but his reason; and man’s reason originates under the influence of the
uniformities of the surrounding world, which impress themselves, in what
we call experience, upon his existence. The more a creature recognises
the regularities of existence, and the more its soul becomes an image of
this world-order, which is the prototype of his reason, of the divine
Logos, the higher it rises in the scale of evolution.
If chance, as Mr. Peirce declares, is but the outward aspect of that
which within is feeling, we should henceforth have to look upon the
roulette and dice as sentient beings.
3. THE FOUR POSITIVE ARGUMENTS OF TYCHISM INSUFFICIENT.
Mr. Peirce adduces four positive arguments for believing in absolute
chance. They are: (1) the prevalence of growth; (2) the variety of the
universe; (3) the necessity of explaining law; and (4) the existence of
feeling.
By growth, Mr. Peirce does not understand the growth of crystals, or
trees, or organisms. That kind of growth is a mere transformation.
Mr. Peirce’s idea of “real” growth is “opposed to the conservation
of energy.” It is not an increase of the thing growing through the
assimilation of substances taken from the surrounding world; it is an
actual increase of energy, not a mere change; it is a growth of the
universe itself. Granted the possibility of this so-called “real” growth,
and we can easily explain the evolution of the world out of the tiniest
beginning. But, of course, one thing has to go: either the conservation
of energy or “real growth.” Mr. Peirce lets go the former, I the
latter.[135]
The variety of the universe is, in my world-conception, sufficiently
explained by the variety of forms, for form is indeed the _principium
individuationis_; a doctrine, which, but for Mr. Peirce’s philosophy,
I should regard as almost universally accepted. Among its advocates we
find also Mr. Peirce’s great master, Duns Scotus, and Scotus’s teacher,
Avicebron. In so far as various formations are possible, (exactly as the
die can show six different surfaces,) chance plays an important part in
the diversification of nature, but this chance is not to be thought of as
a violation of the law, but appears to be a special case only, and a true
manifestation of the law under complicated conditions.
Chance and probability are not mere subjective ideas, creatures of our
ignorance, playing a rôle simply in our limited knowledge of the world.
The words signify a certain condition of objective existence.
For instance, the probability of throwing 1 with one die is 1/6.
This means, the die is so constructed that it can show six different
positions, one among them being 1; and these six possibilities are as
real a quality of the die, as its weight or its color.
The die has six possible positions. Now I take a die and throw 3. Are we
not entitled to believe that the throw was sufficiently determined by all
the innumerable conditions which accompany the act? We confidently think
so, and feel no need of assuming any absolute chance. Now I throw again.
What is now the probability of throwing 1? We answer again, 1/6. And, lo!
there it is! It came at the second throw, and we ask, was our statement
of the probabilities wrong? We say, no! it was not wrong, for it remains
true even now. The statement does not mean that we shall throw a 1 at
each sixth throw, but that (supposing the die to be perfect) 1/6 among
all the possible throws will be 1, so that supposing all the possible
throws realised in an infinite series of throws, the average number of
1’s among them will be the one-sixth part of the whole.
The enormous importance of chance (viz., of that real chance which is
no violation of the law) has been recognised since Democritus and has
received a fresh illustration from the investigations of Darwin, which I
need not here recapitulate.
The theory of probabilities teaches, that whatever can happen in the long
course of an infinite number of events, actually will happen, and that
whatever, according to the nature of things, has a greater probability,
will in an infinite number of cases occur with proportionately greater
frequency.
The lesson which we have to draw from this statement is, that that which
we wish not to happen, should be made impossible. And this can be done,
perhaps not perfectly, but approximately. According to Mr. Peirce, the
evolution of mind is due to the reappearance of chance; we say that the
evolution of mind is marked by man’s increasing power in the restriction
of chance.
The identification of chance with feeling, or even with mind, is to me an
idea so grotesque, that I am inclined to regard it as a relic of gnostic
speculations.
Mr. Peirce, instead of attempting to comprehend laws, as we do, seeks to
trace their origin. He tries to explain their existence by growth, as if
they were beings that evolve like the forms of planetary systems or the
organisms of living creatures. Considering the fact that Mr. Peirce is a
realist only in name, and that his philosophy is soaked with nominalistic
traditions, we should say (and Mr. Peirce will pardon me that I quote the
expression from him) that:
“The puzzle for him is simply the usual difficulty that plagues
nominalism when it finds itself confronted with a reality which
has an element of generality.”
The assumption of absolute chance might be used to account for any
otherwise inexplicable event, but Mr. Peirce does not countenance this
idea. He warns us to be cautious in its use, like the druggist who labels
his poisons “handle with care”; “I only use chance,” he says, “to give
room for the development of law.” Having used absolute chance to start
the world with, he dismisses it. So Fiesco discharges his negro after he
has done his work: “_Der Mohr hat seine Schuldigkeit gethan, der Mohr
kann gehen_.”
In my criticism of Mr. Peirce’s theory I said (_The Monist_, II, p. 574):
“How little, after all, we can escape the determinism of law as
being a feature of the world, will be seen from the fact that
the explanation for the evolution of law is presented by Mr.
Peirce as being itself a law, i. e., a formula describing a
regularity supposed to obtain in facts.”
Mr. Peirce replies:
“Is there no difference between a law, the essence of which
is to be inviolable ... and _that mental law, the violation
of which is so included in the essence that unless it were
violated, it would cease to exist_?... Thus I clearly escape
the contradiction attributed to me.” (P. 561.)
Mr. Peirce’s escape is like the disappearance of a medium from a room
without doors. He must have got out through the fourth dimension. The
argument is so subtle that I cannot see it, and I feel tempted to retort
in a sentence quoted from my profound adversary:
“I confess, I can find only words without ideas in the
objection.” (P. 561.)
Mr. Peirce speaks of law as having developed out of chance, but he
himself, in fact, after a fashion, explains the origin of those laws of
nature which represent its present uniformities by a law of habit-taking.
That the conservation of energy should leave no room for feeling is
to me an obscure proposition. The law of the conservation of energy
declares only that the sum of all energy in the world, potential as well
as kinetic, remains constant. If a living and feeling being renews its
waste and stores up new energy in its tissues, it must take it out of the
general storehouse of nature; it must transform it, and cannot produce it
out of nothing. Why should feeling become impossible, if the conservation
of energy is true?
The identification of chance with feeling is, to my mind, a vagary. It is
true that feeling develops mind; mind makes deliberation possible, and
deliberation implies choice. But choice is not chance. The choice which
a man makes is determined by his character. There is more resemblance
between logical identity and a pun, than between feeling and chance.
4. THE NEGATIVE ARGUMENT A LOGICAL FALLACY.
The four positive arguments for believing in absolute chance are
untenable. But Mr. Peirce, knowing that he had to weather a storm of
criticisms, has taken along a sheet-anchor, consisting of a negative
argument, which, if it were true, would make the four positive arguments
redundant.
What shall we say to the statement, that chance need not be explained?
Mr. Peirce says:
“Chance, according to me, or irregularity—that is, the absence
of any coincidence,—calls for no explanation. If _law_ calls
for explanation, as Dr. Carus admits it does, surely the
mere absence of law calls for no further explanation than is
afforded by the mere absence of any particular circumstance
necessitating the result.” (P. 559.)
Mr. Peirce is a great logician, but the logical arguments of his
philosophy are not sound. If the absence of law, of coincidences, of
regularities, did not require explanation, the scientist would (as is
but right) still have to explain the uniformities of nature, but the
miracle monger would have a good time; for he could tell us boldly that,
according to the rules of modern logic he is not bound to give any
explanation.
It is true that while everything must be explained, the absence of
everything (i. e. nothing) need not be explained; but we cannot use
this pattern as a schedule which can be filled out at our pleasure. The
ideas “absence of,” “no,” “no one,” and “nothing” play a part in logic
analogous to that of zero in mathematics. I need hardly remind the
reader of the puzzling demonstration, that since one cat has one tail
more than _no_ cat, and since no cat has eight tails, one cat must have
nine tails. Operations with zero act like death in the realm of human
conventionalities. Death makes the beggar equal to the king. Multiply any
equation that is wrong with zero, and it will be correct. Operations with
zero render the impossible possible.
But let us look closer at Mr. Peirce’s proposition. He avers that “the
mere absence of any particular circumstance necessitating the result
calls for no explanation.”
Should it ever happen that the absence of any particular circumstance
necessitates the result, I do not see why this absence should remain
unexplained. Say for instance, a certain stronghold is taken because the
enemy discovers the absence of guards in a certain part of the walls. If
this absence of guards be counted as an important circumstance helpful
in the conquest of the citadel (and there is no reason why we should not
count it as such) can we say that while the presence of guards on all
other spots of the wall has to be and can be explained as an endeavor to
secure the place against a _coup de main_, the mere absence of guards
calls for no explanation? The absence of guards in a particular spot
of the Capitol during the siege by the Gauls, was accounted for by the
steepness of the place. This particular spot was regarded as safe on
account of its inaccessibility. Similarly, the absence of guards in the
citadel of the Messenians is explained by the idea that the Spartans
would make no attack because in that particularly stormy night a
cloudburst seemed to prevent all approach.
Obviously the necessity of explaining a rule, does not confer the
privilege of neglecting to explain its exceptions.
It goes without saying that Mr. Peirce’s argument (even if it were
formally faultless) can have no force with a necessitarian. Such
a one, after having explained and proved to his satisfaction that
_Gesetzmässigkeit_ (or regularity such as can be formulated in laws) is a
characteristic feature of the universe, is not only asked to believe that
there are after all exceptions to law, but is even told that according to
some paragraph in Mr. Peirce’s unwritten logic of relatives no further
argument is needed to prove the non-existence of law. Only Mr. Peirce’s
extreme love of his pet theories can make him blind to such palpable
fallacies. But such are the foundations of his philosophical architecture.
III. MR. PEIRCE AS A CRITIC.
A good general, who has to mask the weak points of his position, uses
the strategem of making demonstrative sallies upon his enemy. Mr.
Peirce, although apparently quite unconscious of the fact that his basic
doctrines are untenable, instinctively imitates this maxim of warfare.
His defence is mostly aggressive. Instead of replying to my arguments he
endeavors to represent my views as incohesive and contradictory.
The present issue is not whether my views are tenable, but whether Mr.
Peirce’s are. However, I am glad to have the benefit of the searching
criticism of so subtle a thinker as Mr. Peirce. Therefore, I willingly
appear before his tribunal to expurgate myself of his charges.
1. THE A PRIORI AND POSITIVISM.
Mr. Peirce is greatly puzzled with my position. He quotes several
statements of mine which appear to him contradictory. I said: (1) that
millions of _single_ experiences cannot establish a belief in necessity,
(2) that necessitarianism must be founded upon the _a priori_, and (3)
that the _a priori_ must be founded upon experience.[136] To him who
overlooks the here italicised word “single” this may, indeed, seem to be
a vicious circle.
All knowledge begins with experience. We define experience as the effects
of events upon sentient beings, and these effects are sense-impressions
of certain forms and interrelations. At an advanced stage of evolution,
the formal and relational are first unconsciously, as, for instance, in
counting, and then consciously, with scientific deliberation, abstracted
from the sensory. Systems of pure forms are constructed out of the purely
formal elements, thus gained from experience by abstraction, such as
our system of numbers and the logical categories. Now the laws of these
forms of thought are applicable to all formal and relational conditions
of reality. The formal and relational of reality are known to us even
in those regions of the universe and in those provinces of scientific
investigation which have not as yet been explored. The scientist knows
them _a priori_, even before he investigates objects which he never saw
before. He is acquainted with certain of their qualities, viz., with the
laws of their formal and relational conditions.
Thus the _a priori_, or, as I prefer to call it, formal thought, is a
product of experience, and is again applicable to experience.
Single experiences, isolated observations, innumerable particular cases
cannot directly yield or reveal the laws of formal thought. So long as
they remain single and isolated they will never develop into mental
factors; but such is the nature of reality that the single experiences
will be built up and arranged in feeling substance as systematically
as, for instance, the formation of crystals or the harmonious growth of
cells in organisms? When sentient creatures become conscious not only
of the sensory element of their experience, but also of this system of
their soul, of the formal of their psychical existence, they become
rational beings; and the formal which grows with their sentiency is not
an exclusive and peculiar quality of theirs; it is not purely subjective,
but it has been imparted to them, piecemeal, together with the single
data of their experience. It constitutes a part of their _Anschauung_; it
is found in the objective world and is a general feature of reality.
Out of the formal elements of our _Anschauungen_, of the facts of
experience, that organ of cognition is developed which Kant calls “pure
reason.”
Experience is often used to denote sense-experience only; thus Kant
contrasts experience or sense-perception, which he calls _a posteriori_,
with pure reason and formal thought, which he calls _a priori_. We use
experience in the sense defined above, _so as to include the formal
element_.
I am unable to form a clear conception of Mr. Peirce’s view of the _a
priori_. Those systems of formal thought which I regard as constructions
he regards as products of analysis. He says, “They are results dependent
upon the action of reason in the depths of our own consciousness.” He
only grants that “their abstract and distinct formulation comes very
late.” He still holds that the _a priori_ is innate.
In my conception, mathematical ideas, like that of the contrivance of
logarithms, are inventions; and they are constructions as much as the
invention of the steam-engine by James Watt.
There is one peculiarity about the purely formal which is not found in
the sensory elements of experience. Our knowledge of the various spheres
of the purely formal is of a general nature; it applies to any form of
the same kind. This gives system to our formal conceptions, and enables
us to make statements which are rigidly and unequivocally determined. It
is this quality which makes them available as an organ of cognition when
dealing with facts of experience. They furnish us with methods, schedules
of reference, and plans which like blanks have to be filled out.
Science begins with the application of formal thought, viz., with
counting, measuring, and classifying. Only with the assistance of the
formal sciences can we master the material of the sensory data of
experience; and thus it happens that the formal is the condition, not of
any kind of experience, but of every systematic experience.
The formal sciences are the tools of cognition. That to which they cannot
be applied remains unexplained, and this is the ultimate reason why
processes of nature can be regarded as explained only when recognised as
processes of transformation. Cognition is the tracing of form. We can
understand a change only if it is a change of form. We cannot understand
how anything real can disappear into, or originate out of, nothing. We
have no explanation for any actual increase or decrease either of matter
or energy. Whenever we see something entirely new we regard it as a new
combination, the elements of which existed before.
If there were processes in the universe which could positively be proved
not to be transformations we should be confronted with an unfathomable
mystery; and it is a matter of course that we must not be duped so easily
by the appearance of problems which cannot be solved at first sight. The
advance of science which has resolved so many mysterious phenomena into
plain instances of transformation gives us confidence that this method
is the only reliable maxim of inquiry. It has helped us so far, and it
will help us in the future.
* * * * *