I call my views positivism, because like the French positivists and also

like Locke and his school I maintain that all knowledge is to be derived

from the positive facts of experience. But my positivism is not of the

old kind; it is neither sensationalism nor materialism nor Comtism. It is

a new positivism broadened by a study of Kantian philosophy and Kant’s

problem of the _a priori_; and this new positivism, I hope, deserves the

attention of the thinkers of mankind.

Mr. Peirce calls it a “straddling of the question,” by which he means

that a man is “on both sides of the fence,” and has learned so to

formulate the issues, “that both parties can readily subscribe to his

propositions.”

2. DETERMINISM AND FATALISM.

Fatalism and determinism must not be confounded. We define determinism

as that view, according to which every event is determined by its

conditions. The decision of a man whose liberty is not curtailed by any

compulsion, so that he can act as he pleases exactly in agreement with

his character, is determined objectively by the motive and subjectively

by his character. A man of a certain character in a given situation will

act in a way that is perfectly determinable.

Determinism, as I take it, does not exclude free-will. Nor does it

exclude such chance as is, for instance, the incidental turning up of the

various faces of a die.

Determinism is the basis of science, and also of ethics as a science. If

the decision of a free will were merely the result of chance, why should

our teachers and preachers take so much trouble to form character?

While determinism is a sound doctrine, fatalism is a superstition.

Fatalism excludes the idea of free will. We define fatalism as that view

which regards the fate of a man, whatsoever he may do, as fixed. For

instance, we call the orthodox Mohammedan a fatalist; he looks at the

flame without quenching it, because he argues, “if it is Allah’s will

that my house burn down, it will burn down, whatever I may do.”

In my reply to Mr. Peirce (_The Monist_, Vol. II, p. 572) I approvingly

quoted from him a passage containing the word “fate,” adding that here

“the word ‘fate’ must be understood as Mr. Peirce understands it.” In

spite of this warning, Mr. Peirce employs this quotation made from _his_

writings as if it were mine, and calls attention to the inconsistency

involved in the different application of the word. This charge of

inconsistency is neither judicious nor fair!

We define “necessary” as “that which is determined.”

Determined means describable. Necessity is that feature of things which

makes it possible that we can, in proportion to our knowledge, describe

beforehand or predict the course of events.

Kant’s definition of “necessary,” as given in his “Critique of Pure

Reason,” is narrower. He says:

“That the coherence of which with the real is determined

according to universal conditions of experience is necessary,

or exists necessarily.”

This means in our phraseology, “that feature of the real which is

determined by the laws of form.”

The word “determinism” has been inappropriately used in the sense of

fatalism, in which sense it has to be condemned as a superstition.

The term is needed, however, to denote a basic principle of great

value. “Determinism,” if used in the sense which the word literally

indicates, means “that view which regards all events as determined by its

conditions.” Determinism does not mean that everything is decreed by some

fate, that some Deity or other power has determined the course of events.

It means that definite conditions produce definite results, and that the

results can be ascertained and described, if _all_ the conditions are

known.

Fatalism is a peculiar kind of determinism, and, indeed, an obviously

erroneous one. Fatalism rests upon a dualistic conception, regarding

necessity as a foreign force residing outside and above things and

compelling them to act in a special way. It is the Moira of the ancients

and the Kismet of the Mohammedans. The monistic view knows nothing of

a foreign force or supermundane _fatum_ enacting a special course

of affairs. Necessity, in the monistic conception, simply denotes

the determinedness of results by its conditions; it signifies that

_Gesetzmässigkeit_, or regularity according to law, is a feature of

reality. We need not repeat again that the monistic view of determinism

excludes neither chance nor free-will. It only excludes “absolute” chance

and that indeterminable arbitrariness which is sometimes said to be

free-will.

If events were not determined, if under the very same conditions the

same causes could bring about different results, so that no regularities

formulable in laws existed, the world would be a chaos and no cosmos,

absolute chance would prevail, and science would be impossible.

Mr. Peirce not only confounds fate and necessity, but he also identifies

them with resistance, and with reality. My idea of necessity has as

little to do with the experience of, reaction as, for instance, with

the idea of density, or with pleasure and pain. To confound such

heterogeneous concepts must be productive of confusion. No wonder that

Mr. Peirce makes the confession that these ideas seem to him “of a mixed

nature.”

That my presentation of the case of Determinism _versus_ Free-will

results in “a doctrine to which the advocates of free-will will generally

subscribe as readily as their opponents,” is used as a reproach; but I do

not take it as such, for my intention is not to side with one party, but

to bring out the truth of both views.

3. NATURAL LAWS, DESCRIPTIONS.

Mr. Peirce makes the following allegation of inconsistency. He says of me:

“The declaration (§ 198) that ‘natural laws are simply a

description of nature as nature is,’ and that ‘the facts of

nature express the character of nature,’ are nominalistic. But

in another place (107-116) he says distinctly that uniformities

are real.” (P. 531.)

I am unable to detect any inconsistency in these expressions. The gist of

these three statements is this: the formulas usually called natural laws

describe certain uniformities of reality.

The expression “description of nature” is by no means nominalistic. If

law is said to be a description, it is not a mere name, but presupposes

the existence of some objective reality for the description of which it

has been formulated.

4. CAUSATION.

Mr. Peirce’s usage of the word “cause” is very unsettled. He says (p.

538):

“The original idea of an efficient cause is that of an agent,

more or less like man.”

The original idea of “cause” is the struggle of reaching an end or

bringing about a certain state of things. The Latin _causa_ means “a

lawsuit.”

In a similar way, the German _Ursache_ does not mean the original thing,

but a “seeking.” _Sache_ is the English _sake_ and Gothic _sakjô_,

meaning “struggle,” or “quarrel.” It is derived from the same root as the

verb “to seek.”

Like _causa_, the word _Ursache_ was used as a legal term.

Mr. Peirce further states:

“The modern mechanical conception, on the other hand, is

that the relative positions of particles determine their

accelerations at the instants when they occupy those

positions.” (P. 538.)

“In dynamics, it is the fixed force, gravitation, or whatever

else, together with those relative positions of the bodies that

determine the intensity and direction of the forces, that is

regarded as the cause.” (P. 540.)

“The practice which I endeavor to follow in regard to the

word _cause_ is, to use it in the Aristotelian sense of an

_efficient cause_ in all its crudeness.” (P. 541.)

“When my idea is a more general and logical one, I prefer to

speak of the explanation.” (P. 541.)

No wonder that some causes are prior to their effects, others

simultaneous, and that effects may even be prior to their causes! Using

the word in various senses, Mr. Peirce becomes so entangled about

causation, that in mustering the ideas force, position, reason, law,

cause, and explanation, he no longer knows which is which.

* * * * *

Mr. Peirce being unable to bring any consistency into the usage of the

term “cause,” drops it entirely as a philosophical word. This is Dr.

Ironbeard’s method, who kills his patient to save him pain.

There was a time when I felt inclined to follow that plan of dealing

with words in this predicament. But I found out very soon that there is

not one difficult word in philosophical language which is not or was not

at some time or other almost universally maltreated by the professional

thinkers of mankind. What, then, is to be done? Shall we eradicate all

old terms that are erroneously used and create a philosophical Volapük,

which will have the advantage of being unincumbered with the errors of a

long historical inheritance, but the disadvantage of being nowhere spoken

and nowhere understood, except by its inventors?

Dr. Ironbeard’s method of dealing with terms is radical. It imitates the

method of the social reformers who, on finding something wrong in society

generally, propose to tear down the entire social structure, and begin

the world over again from its beginning.

Most of the terms which have been in use for centuries and even

millenniums, I have found to correspond to a special want of expressing

some definite reality or constant group of realities or important

relation among realities. The misuse of different words almost invariably

has its origin in a consideration of the name alone, to the neglect

of the reality denoted by the name. And misuses can be mended only by

carefully investigating the realities themselves for the denotation of

which the words have been invented. If we were to make a clean sweep

of the “superstitions,” soul, God, cause, natural law, etc., because

in many minds there are superstitious notions connected with these

ideas, we should soon have to invent new terms for the realities which

necessitated the formation of the old ones. The great bulk of religious

and philosophical words originated because in each case there was an

actual want of a phrase to denote some specific reality. The errors of

the various terms arise because our ideas concerning the nature of these

realities have not as yet been matured, and it is the office of the

philosopher to contribute his mite toward their clarification.

Causation, in my conception, is transformation. Take any system of

conditions and let it somehow be changed. The event which starts the

change is called the cause, the new configuration produced, the effect.

The various factors of the system are the conditions or circumstances.

Taking this view, I _do not say_ that the effect is the cause

transformed. The total effect is the cause plus all the circumstances

transformed. The effect is something radically different from the cause.

The cause is always an event, that is a motion of some kind; the effect,

a new arrangement, a new formation, a new state of things, or perhaps the

dissolution of an old state of things.

While cause and effect are different, the whole process of causation,

including cause, circumstances, and effect, is to be viewed as one

fact, or, rather, as one system of facts; and a process of causation is

explained, (as we have seen above) as soon as it is so described that we

recognise it as a transformation.[137]

There is a popular usage which calls the cause of the falling stone

gravitation. This kind of cause is not an event, not a motion, but a law

of nature, and I prefer to call it “the reason” for the stone’s fall.

Mr. Peirce defines a reason as follows:

“A reason, in one sense, is the replacement of a

multiple-subject of an observational proposition by a general

subject, which by the very conditions of the special experience

is predicable of the multiple subject.” (P. 558.)

This somewhat stilted definition seems upon the whole to agree with what

I also call “a reason.” All the reasons by which we comprehend nature are

formulated in statements which describe those general features of reality

which we call “laws of nature.”

Who does not see that causes (i. e., events which produce effects) and

reasons (i. e., the formulas by which we comprehend the uniformities of

nature) are two radically different ideas, and who can deny that the

denotation of these two radically different ideas, by one and the same

term, must and actually does bring about lamentable confusion in the

minds of philosophers! Accordingly, let us call them by different names;

never mind what we call them, but let us distinguish them. I regard the

usage stated here as the most appropriate. We call “the cause” of the

stone’s fall that event which removed its support; but when we inquire

after the reason why the stone falls, we want to know the law of nature

which describes in a general formula that quality of stones which makes

them fall.

5. THE FUTURE IN MENTAL CAUSATION.

It seems as if some evil genius had caused Mr. Peirce to cross my

position everywhere, even where I should expect to find him in perfect

agreement.

Concerning mental and mechanical causation he first startles me with an

italicised proposition which declares:

“_There is no mechanical truth in saying that the past

determines the future rather than the future the past._” (P.

539.)

Mr. Peirce apparently intends to discredit the belief that the past

determines the future. He adds:

“We continue, for convenience, to talk of mechanical phenomena

as if they were regulated, in the same manner in which our

intentions regulate our actions, (which is essentially a

determination of the future by the past,) although we are quite

aware that it is not really so.” (P. 539.)

In other words, Mr. Peirce contends that our view of mechanical causation

is based upon an analogy with mental causation; the latter being a

determination of the future by the past, we conclude that the former is

regulated in the same manner.

This is an old error which rests on the supposition that cognition begins

with introspection or self-knowledge. The truth is that all cognition

begins with objective observation.

We have to say, (1) that man’s view of mechanical causation has not been

fashioned after the model of mental causation, and (2) that the future

actually enters as a factor in mental causation. We do not believe that

the future determines the past, but it does determine the present.

Should we judge of the causation of mechanical motions from our own

mental experience, we should certainly reach other conclusions than we

do, for the most characteristic feature of mental causation, that which

essentially distinguishes it from mechanical causation, is the fact that

the future actually enters into it as the main factor.

We as rational beings, and the lower animals also on a smaller scale,

do know to some extent the future. We know by experience the effects of

certain actions. This fact of the future’s being partly known, makes

it possible for the future to enter as a factor in mental causation.

I go so far as to maintain that there is no mental causation except

some consideration of the future be contained in the motive cause. The

presence of a plan, of an end kept in view, of an aim to be reached

in the future, is exactly what distinguishes the purposive action of

thinking beings from mechanical events.

6. MENTAL CAUSATION.

Mr. Peirce has discovered in my expositions of mechanical and mental

action what he believes to be a flagrant contradiction, and, as if

it were the exhibition of my scalp, displays it triumphantly (§ 27)

in capitals and italics. “No objection can be made,” I said, “to the

possibility of explaining the motions ... of the brain by the laws of

molar and molecular mechanics.” And “yet the simplest psychical reflexes

cannot be explained from mechanical or physical laws alone.”

Is this really a contradiction, or is it Mr. Peirce’s inability to

discover the agreement between the two statements? Let us see.

Take a little toy fish of tin with a small iron rod in its snout,

floating in the water, and push the fish so that it shoots forward with

a certain velocity in a straight line. Now take a magnet and hold it at

a short distance from the prolonged path of the fish. The fish at once

changes its course; it now describes a curve which according to the

laws of mechanics is determined (omitting any other possible modifying

circumstances) by the momentum of the push, the velocity of which is

gradually diminished by the friction of the water, and the attraction of

the magnet. These are the data, and from these data the motion of the

fish is unequivocally determined by the laws of mechanics.

Now, when we speak of the motion of the fish, we mean the motion, and

not the iron rod, or the qualities of the iron rod, in its snout. While

speaking of motion or the laws of motion, and while calculating the curve

of a motion, our ideas move in a perfectly defined sphere of abstraction

from which all other things and considerations are excluded. This method

of abstraction which is the essence of human thought and also of that

special kind of human thought called science, is the way by which alone

we are enabled to arrive at clear distinctions and lucid explanations. We

have to keep our various abstractions stored in an orderly manner in our

mind, each one in a special box. If we do not distinguish the different

spheres of abstraction and their limits, we shall soon confound all

issues in a hopeless chaos.

But we find, on further examination, that in this limitation of the

description to the abstract sphere of pure motion only a part of

the process before us is described. The description explains fully,

exhaustively, and satisfactorily the mechanical aspect of the case, but

it does not explain why the magnet attracts iron. The attraction of

the magnet consists in the definite qualities of (1) the magnet, (2)

the iron, and (3) the medium between them. When we inquire after an

explanation of the physical qualities of things, we enter into another

sphere of abstraction, viz., that of physics. That physics will have

to be explained as a domain of molecular mechanics may be mentioned

incidentally.

Take another and simpler instance: the fall of a stone. The motion of

the stone, its increasing velocity during the fall can be explained

according to the laws of mechanics; but that quality of the stone called

gravity, which is the reason of its fall, cannot be deduced from the laws

of mechanics. The gravity of a mass is treated in mechanics as the given

fact or datum, an investigation into the nature of which is excluded from

the sphere of mechanics. He who demands of mechanics an explanation of

gravity searches in the wrong box.

When we come to the investigation of psychical phenomena, we strike a

feature which is entirely absent in mechanics, physics, and chemistry.

It is the appearance of feeling. Feelings vary according to the various

impressions made by surrounding objects. The same objects making the

same impressions, special kinds of feelings come to stand for or to

represent their respective kinds of objects, and thus feelings acquire

meaning, feelings become ideas. This peculiarity of sentiency, that it

has acquired meaning, is the characteristic feature of “mind.”

When speaking of mind I refer to all those phenomena of meaning-freighted

feelings which ensoul thinking beings; and the domain of psychology is

thus again quite a distinct domain of abstraction.

Now let us return to the contradiction of which Mr. Peirce accuses me.

An idea which physiologically considered is a special brain-structure or

combination of brain-structures, reacts upon a given stimulus, which, let

us say, is the sound of a certain word. The word is a sound-symbol and

the word possesses a certain meaning. The word spoken having the same

meaning as a special idea that is thought, while its brain-structure is

agitated, possesses a quality comparable to chemical affinities. This

peculiar word will serve as a stimulus for this peculiar idea. It will

not (at least not directly) stimulate other ideas—as little as a chemical

that has no affinity for the ingredients of another chemical will cause a

reaction. Why the motion takes place calls for a psychical explanation,

but the motion itself takes place in strict accord with the laws of

mechanics.

But are not the laws of mechanics annulled by the laws of physics, and

those of physiology by the laws of psychology?

No, they are not annulled, but modified.

A piece of iron that falls to the ground with the same velocity as a

stone of equal weight will be held up by a magnet strong enough to hold

it. This is not an annulment of the gravity of the iron; it is not a

reversion of the law of gravitation; gravitation holds in this case as

good as in any other. It is only a modification and a complication. We

must remember that the law of gravity does not say, the non-supported

piece of iron or stone will drop, it says that all bodies are attracted

by the earth with a definite force depending upon their mass and

position. And this attraction takes place in our example; the iron

supported by the magnet retains all its inherent gravity, which is

constantly asserting itself, although counteracted by the force of the

attraction of the magnet.

Since the mechanical, chemical, psychical, etc. qualities represent

reality in various abstract aspects, we should know that there are no

purely mechanical, no purely chemical, no purely psychical phenomena.

Every real phenomenon, i. e. the original whole from which the

abstractions have been made, presents a complex state of things of which

many various aspects can and must be taken.

I repeat now without fear of contradiction or miscomprehension,

that brain-motions are perfectly explainable by the laws of molar

and molecular mechanics, while psychical reflexes, not being purely

mechanical processes, cannot be explained by mechanical laws. The

properly psychical and the properly mental are other elements of an

entirely different nature from the mechanical and the physical. They

belong to a radically different sphere of abstraction. He who tries to

explain the psychical by the mechanical, looks for his explanation in the

wrong box. And he who regards the proposition that the mechanical laws

hold good for all motions without any exception, but that they cannot be

called upon to explain that which is not motion, as a contradiction, has

not as yet learned practically to apply the method of abstraction.

It is strange that we have to give this little lesson in the elements

of abstraction lore to so prominent a logician as Mr. Peirce. We feel

inclined to exclaim: “Art thou a master of Israel and knowest not these

things?”

STRAY SHOTS.

There are a number of incidental comments aimed at scattered points of

my position. I call them “stray shots”; they have exploded without harm.

While going over the battle-field I shall pick them up and will throw

some of them back into Mr. Peirce’s camp, whence they came.

Mr. Peirce is in the habit of calling every approach to his views “deep,”

while divergencies are branded as “shallow.”—

Hume’s scepticism is called Leibnitz’s principle, by which latter Mr.

Peirce apparently means that innumerable single cases of experience

alone do not constitute certainty. Why Mr. Peirce demands that Hume’s

conclusion which Leibnitz never would have countenanced, should be

identified with Leibnitz’s principle from which it is derived is not

apparent.—

How easily Mr. Peirce changes his opinion! Venn’s “Logic of Chance,”

which Mr. Peirce so much admired formerly, has become “a blundering

little book.”—

Synechism and agapasticism, viz., the principle of continuity and the

idea of love as main factors of evolution are nothing new. I have

always defended them, although not in the peculiar way that Mr. Peirce

does.[138] In his article “Evolutionary Love” he appears to me unjust

toward Darwin. I do not think that I should improve my propositions,

which are in their way synechistic as well as agapastic, by adopting

either Mr. Peirce’s terms or his presentation of these principles.—

Mr. Peirce says, he does not doubt that my idea of mental causation was

intended to be an improvement on his molecular theory of protoplasm. I

can assure Mr. Peirce that I had no such intentions. I held my view long

before I ever had a chance of knowing Mr. Peirce’s molecular theory of

protoplasm. Moreover, I am unable to discover any similarity between his

views and mine.—

The Monist, Vol. 3, 1892-1893 · 第 60 / 65 段