experience imperfectly or perfectly digested, as the case may be.
In most instances they yield to analysis something of value. A more
plausible explanation of the theistic instinct is the anthropomorphic
one. Man knows that he originates many movements, both of his own body
and of other material things, and he knows of no other real source of
such movements. He therefore, in his primitive state, before scientific
explanations are attained, naturally refers motions in nature to an
original personal source. This, it may be supposed, is the natural habit
of the unsophisticated mind, and is at the bottom of theistic belief,
whether as unexplained in consciousness, and therefore an instinct, or
as a distinctly formulated belief. The phenomena of nature must have
originated somehow, and there is no other conceivable source of motion
than a personal one.
Facts developed by scientific research tend to weaken this
anthropomorphism. The indestructibility of matter means that it has never
been created. The conservation of energy states that matter has always
been in motion. The law of organic evolution is supposed to do away with
the necessity for creative intervention in the origination of plants
and animals. Finally, the observed facts of the evolution of mind show
that this, the light of the world, grew like the organic beings which
it inhabits. Nothing higher than man has been found, and there seems to
be no ground for suspecting the existence of any higher mind. And man
himself dies and undergoes dissolution, like other organic bodies. The
result of this use of the facts of science is agnosticism, at least. We
know of nothing beyond what they teach, and some agnostics go so far as
to say, “ignorabimus,” we shall never know. Agnostics, however, have
their faces set in different directions. Some rest in it as a relief
from mental toil, as persons more theologically inclined join a church.
Others, believers in the progressive evolution of knowledge as of other
phenomena, set themselves to explore the unknown country, believing that
our opportunities in this direction are practically unlimited.
Let us look again at this anthropomorphism which is so deeply seated and
so widely spread. Its essence is the fact that we control our own bodies
in a great degree and that our material organs obey the behests of our
mind. We do things for, to us, satisfactory reasons, and for satisfactory
reasons we leave many things undone, which we could readily do. What has
science done towards explaining this most ordinary phenomenon? We may
truthfully say, absolutely nothing. It remains a fact that a majority, if
not all animals, move their bodies in their entirety or in part, because
they have sensations. In the lower animals these sensations are merely
either sense-impressions from without, or they are from within, being
produced by their physical condition. We rise but little in the scale,
when effects of memory are evident, for we find that many actions are
due to experience of the result of former actions. With still higher
development, mental organisation becomes more apparent, and the reasoning
and emotional states have more and more distinct outcome in intelligent
acts. But the mechanism by which the act is called forth by the mental
state, has never been explained.
The difficulty lies here. A sensation, or a state of mind, weighs
nothing. A material body, let it be a cell or a mass of cells, as a
muscle, weighs something. How then can the former move the latter? From a
mechanical point of view, it cannot be done. For that which has no weight
to set in motion anything which has weight, is to violate the law of the
conservation and correlation of energy. And this law is not only an _a
priori_ necessity, but it has been demonstrated _a posteriori_ in so many
cases that exceptions cannot be thought of. So a school of physiologists
say that _it is not done_. No animal eats because it is hungry, or drinks
because it is thirsty. The man does not direct the muscle of his arm when
he writes, nor those of his tongue when he speaks. But it is easy to see
why such a school of physiologists includes but an infinitesimal part of
mankind.
There is a school of evolutionists who account for the whole matter
in harmony with the views of the physiologists above mentioned. I
refer to the Post-Darwinians, who account for evolution by natural
selection exclusively. That is, animals originally moved aimlessly
in all directions. Those whose movements were beneficial to them,
survived, while those whose movements were not beneficial, or which were
injurious, perished. As frequent motions in a given direction lead to
habits, so were inaugurated movements which were habitually beneficial
to the actors, which have therefore persisted and multiplied. Thus were
established the multifarious habits of animals and men. Consciousness had
nothing to do with the process. It merely acted the part of the onlooker,
being simply aware of what went on. “Like the locomotive whistle,” says
Huxley, “it made considerable noise, but did none of the work.”
To a person familiar with the facts of the evolution of the structures of
animals, this seems like a most inadequate theory. It is a commonplace
that no kind of selection, either artificial or natural, ever originated
anything. Selection simply selects between existing alternatives. The
fundamental question of evolution is, What is the origin of things?
What is the fate of things originated? is a secondary question. To
this first question the Post-Darwinian reply must be, that everything
possible has originated no one knows yet how, so that what has survived
was necessarily to be found in this _embarras de richesse_. This is an
enormous assumption, and one to which the history of the life of past
and present ages lends no support. No such multifarious and promiscuous
variation is known to have occurred in living or in extinct organic
beings. But if the variations have not been infinite, then the chance of
the existing one having been hit upon becomes greatly reduced, and the
chance of its having occurred at the same time in individuals of opposite
sex is still smaller. Finally, the chance of its not being immediately
bred out by the overwhelming numbers of individuals not possessing it, is
indeed infinitesimal. In fact, it is evident that variations of structure
must have appeared in numbers of individuals of a species at the same
time, in order to secure survival. This indicates a common cause of
general application. That such causes have existed and been effective
at all periods of past and present time is amply proved by the facts
of geology and paleontology. The most influential in effecting change
of form and structure has been the motion of the body and of its parts
necessary to secure its food, to defend or protect itself from dangers,
and to reproduce its kind. The direct mechanical effects of these motions
on all the materials of the body may be traced in the successive stages
of the forms of past ages to those of the present time.
The objections above made to the theory of multifarious variation of
organic forms, apply with equal force to the theory of multifarious
movements of organic beings as furnishing the source of intelligent
habits. An additional and especial objection to the latter hypothesis
is the fact that it does not recognise the well-known adaptability of
animals to new situations and circumstances. If the events of life were
a routine moving with mathematical precision, the theory of origin from
multifarious variations would have a better foundation; but this is not
the case. Food, friends, and enemies do not appear in stated periods,
quantities, or qualities. Emergencies are common, and variation of
circumstance is the rule. Without sensation, uniform habits would but
lead to destruction. Everything which should not be presented in the
habitual form and at the habitual time would be neglected. Food and
drink would be refused, or not obtained; defense and reproduction would
not be attempted under the proper conditions. In fact, the conduct of
living beings would be no more intelligent than that of inorganic matter
in motion, were sensation to have no share in the process. But as soon
as we believe that the habits of animals are due to hunger, thirst,
and the perception of temperature, resistance, etc., their acts become
intelligible, and the formation of habits becomes a necessary consequence
of memory or the faculty of subsequent recognition of sensations
experienced at a previous time.
It is, in this connection, of great interest to recall the diverse
effects on our mental history of sense-impressions, as compared with
the effect of thought. Sense-impressions are not remembered in the
proper sense of the term. The repetition in memory is always vastly more
indistinct than the original state of consciousness; so much so as to be
a very different thing. Thought, on the contrary, when remembered at all,
is an exact repetition in quality of its first presence. The presentative
consciousness has one quality; the representative and re-representative
have another quality. This shows us that the structural arrangement
of brain substance concerned in the latter forms of consciousness
have a far more permanent quality than that due to the former. They
thus constitute more permanent acquisitions, and this being the case,
must have a most important bearing on evolution.[140] This is because
it is a representative state which determines action. The process of
determination may become so rapid as to be almost instantaneous; but
it had to be learned and the representation was what gave the act its
character and which organised the machinery of the automatic or reflex
act.
I here refer to the low degrees of consciousness sometimes called
subconsciousness, and the expression, “the subliminal consciousness,”
introduced by F. Meyer. All shades of consciousness intervene between
the most distinct forms and the unconsciousness of the reflex state.
Intelligent subconsciousness is a low stage in this evanescent
series. Stages on the passage to and from sleep, and other forms of
unconsciousness due to physical causes, are properly termed subconscious.
There are reflexes which are due to mechanisms which we inherit from
our animal and human ancestors, which are sometimes accompanied by
consciousness. The amount of intelligence displayed will depend on
the function involved. Experiments on vertebrate animals show that
intelligent adaptation of the movements of the body have been transferred
forwards in the brain during the course of evolution. Thus, a fish which
retains the medulla only, will guide itself through the water so as
to avoid danger. If the cerebellum and thalami are left to a reptile,
it will avoid destructive acts. But if a mammal is deprived of its
hemispheres, its actions are without design, and it is incapable of
self-preservation.
It may be that in the temporary absence of the higher consciousness,
the lower forms which once existed in our ancestors may be revived, as
in some of the elements of our dreams, and in some forms of cerebral
disease, when much of the blood is withdrawn from the cortex or parts
of it. The amount of consciousness necessary to the performance of
intelligent acts depends on the novelty of the situation. Many of the
theories on this subject, however, take it for granted that intelligent
acts arise in primarily unconscious states. This is only credible on the
supposition that such acts have arisen by natural selection only, a view
which I have combated on a previous page. Some authors use expressions
which can only imply unconscious consciousness. This is of course
absurd and self-contradictory. No source but sensation can be found for
intelligent acts.
It is true that there are some movements of organic bodies which have an
intelligent appearance, to which we cannot ascribe consciousness. Such
are those of the spermatozoöids and of the leucocytes. Some of the lowest
animals and plants cannot be yet proved to be conscious. We cannot now
explain the nature of the movements which these forms exhibit, but they
will probably yield to research. Enough it is for our present purpose
to know that the majority of animals are conscious for a large part
of their lives. And we have abundant evidence to show that movements
inaugurated in conscious states may be performed, so soon as learned, in
unconsciousness, and become part of the mental furniture of the animal.
It seems, then, that the control of ponderable matter by mental states
is not the exclusive prerogative of man, but is a phenomenon of common
observation in the animal kingdom. The facts indicate that it is
characteristic of mind to move resistant and tri-dimensional matter
under suitable conditions. These conditions are rigid, but within the
limits which they define, the sequence is definite. It is difficult
to believe in anything which is in direct violation of mechanical
necessity, and a mere hypothesis to that effect would not deserve a
moment’s consideration. But the belief that the body, or parts of it, are
moved in direct obedience to mental states is founded on more numerous
observations than are most of those beliefs which we hold to be true. In
fact there is no scientific doctrine better supported by observation and
experience than this one. On this ground alone, then, we are compelled
to believe in something in the universe which is supermechanical, or
extramechanical. We may call this supernaturalism, or occultism, or
what we like, but the fact remains. We have in it the germ of theism,
anthropomorphic, if you will, but one which grows in importance as we
come to examine further into the characteristics of mental action.
Before going into this part of the subject, I will refer to the part
played by mind in evolution. From what has gone before, it is evident
that this part has been an important one. If structures are produced by
motions, it is clear that habits produce structures, and _vice versa_;
and that under the law of natural selection only the useful and harmless
ones have survived. It follows, then, that progressive evolution of
form is secured by the presence of consciousness, and must, sooner or
later, fail without it. With development of intelligence the progress
must become more continuous and rapid. The facts of paleontology confirm
such a hypothesis; since the more intelligent animals (Mammalia) have
generally supplanted the less intelligent, (Reptilia and Batrachia),
whenever brought into conflict with them. The supremacy of the
intelligent over the unintelligent Mammalia is also clearly shown by
research into their past history. The modification of type, or evolution,
has also become more and more rapid as time has advanced and intelligence
developed.
There is another reason why the intervention of supermechanics into
the process has been necessary to secure such results as we observe in
the evolution of life. The law of inorganic evolution is, as Spencer
epitomises it, “the integration of matter and the dissipation of
energy.” Natural chemical reactions when not interfered with by human
intelligence, produce solids and give out heat. In other words, they
result in death and not in life. To produce life something different from
chemical energy has been necessary. And as the case is a parallel one
to the evolution of the types of life, we may suspect that the agency
at work has been a related one. It is some form of energy of the vital
class which is able to overcome the bonds which hold dead matter in
their adamantine grasp; and it is evident that such an energy could have
been organised only in some region where mechanics of a superchemical
order prevail. If we take a large view of the universe the alternatives
of life and death present themselves clearly before us. The law of the
latter is the integration of matter and dissipation of energy. The law of
the former is the converse; the loosing of the bonds of matter, and the
production of mechanism for the raising of the type of energy. The first
is catagenesis, the latter is anagenesis. The end of catagenesis is the
extinction of all mind and all life. Anagenesis sustains both. The best
foundation for our belief in anagenesis is that it exists. Catagenesis
has not destroyed it, and this fact must lead us to suspect that it is
the product of an agency which is superchemical; and the only such that
we know is consciousness.
In the presence of such a far-reaching hypothesis we are called upon to
consider more particularly the relations of mind to its physical basis.
The essential condition of the existence of mind as we know it, is
metabolism. The substance[141] of the nervous cells must be in a state
of decomposition and recomposition; old material loosing its chemical
bonds and giving forth energy, and new material arriving to undergo
the same process. The energy thus produced displays the phenomena of
mind, and as such differs widely from the inorganic energies of heat,
light, etc. The extent to which it displays habits depends on the part
of the nervous structure where it is produced. In the spinal cord it is
strictly automatic, and as we approach the hemispheres the so-called
voluntary element becomes more apparent, until a region is reached where
conception, deliberation, and judgment have their seat. In this region
energy is purely mental in its attributes, and it unlocks the executive
mechanism of the body, and puts it in action in accordance with the needs
of consciousness. So far, mechanical laws explain the order of events.
The supermechanical resides in the mental content and its effects on the
outgoing energy. No quantitative relation can be shown to exist between
the results of the mental processes of classification, conception,
judgment, etc, and the amount of incoming or outgoing energy. Indeed it
is plain that none can exist, if the statement already made be true,
viz., that thoughts are without weight. This part of the subject requires
critical treatment, but the general result is included in the above
statement, which is sufficient for our present purpose.
Since consciousness possesses such extraordinary relations to matter we
may well suspect that it has a wider distribution than comes within the
purview of our present limited ken. Why should it not protect and nourish
itself under conditions different from those which prevail in our planet?
The one condition necessary to it is metabolism—which means free energy.
The kind of physical basis cannot be important, provided it be capable
of exhibiting this kind of non-automatic energy. Automatism and all its
reflex consequences are the death of consciousness, as every one knows.
From such a type of energy all the fixed types of energy must have been
derived, and with them the types of both mental and physical structures.
In its freest form it should have as a physical basis a form of matter
which should be without habits, but always ready to undergo a catagenetic
change into routine energy and ultimate unconsciousness. Such a medium
should be unspecialised matter, and the consciousness inhabiting it would
be a creator. Such consciousness would be readily transmitted wherever
the physical basis should be suitable, and one such substance is our
protoplasm. The probable inferiority of protoplasm as a physical basis
is indicated by the long and tedious education which has been necessary
to enable beings made of it to attain a high order of intelligence. In
such a basis anagenesis is slow, and catagenesis is easy. Other bases
might be imagined where the reverse would be the case. No assumption
can be made as to a constant and limited amount of consciousness in the
universe. That such is the case is supposable; but it is also supposable
that the amount of suitable physical basis may be increased by a process
of assimilation of non-conscious matter, as is done by animals in
digestion and reproduction. This process might continue until all matter
should be brought into that generalised condition which is necessary
to the continuance of consciousness. The entire universe would then
be conscious, and a maximum limit would be reached. In the primitive
consciousness, whatever its extent in space in the Universe, we have the
Supreme Being or Person.
II. THE IDEALISM OF THEISM.
What I mean by the above expression is the theism which is supposed
to be demonstrated by idealistic metaphysics. There are two forms of
this alleged demonstration, both of which have for their starting-point
the basis of the idealistic philosophy. This basis is the fact that we
know nothing of matter excepting as sense-impressions. From this it is
inferred that were conscious beings to become extinct, matter would
no longer exist. It is also a consequence of this belief that what we
observe of the conduct of matter, which we call by the name of natural
law, is of purely mental origin.
If now the universe consist wholly of mind, the totality of it, either
as reduced to a body of general laws, or to a single comprehensive
generalisation, or concept, is one form of idealistic God. The other
demonstration is as follows. Since matter exists as mental states, and
since these mental states are common to mankind, who are mortal; since
these mental states reproduce themselves from generation to generation,
it is inferred that a permanent mental state exists, which possesses the
permanent sensations we call matter. And this common mind of humanity is
God.
The difference between these deities is this. In the first case he is an
abstraction of the human mind and therefore not a person apart from such
men as are capable of the generalisations of which he consists. In the
second case he is a person apart from humanity. The validity of either
demonstration to the thinker depends on his point of view. To every one
but the idealist, the first proposition is atheism. The evidence for the
second is metaphysical anthropomorphism, and would be a demonstration,
were the theory of idealism well founded.
The fact that we only know matter as sense-impressions does not, in
the opinion of realists, prove that it does not exist as the resistant
and extended. Resistance of each part to the movements of other parts
(energy), and extension in space, are conditions about which we have a
great deal of information. Our lives are spent in overcoming the one, and
in getting round the other. Our methods of dealing with it represent the
antithesis of those employed in thought-processes. The latter are best
performed in the absence of the muscular exertion which is so necessary
in dealing with the former. I have referred to the well-known difference
in consciousness between sense-impressions and the representation and
re-representation of them. The difference certainly implies a difference
in the immediate sources of the respective kinds of consciousness. The
one is produced by something different from that which produces the
other. In short, the one is produced by the contact of matter external
to our physical basis, and the other is produced by a modification of
brain-structure; and in the first place by that simplest form of it
which is the cause of memory. The effect of such observation is the
conviction that matter exists as something outside of consciousness or
mind, in spite of the fact that we only know it in consciousness. In a
word, consciousness and knowledge imply the existence rather than the
non-existence of something which is known.
The fundamental actualities are, then, subject and object; or, in popular
language, mind and matter. Philosophy includes the sciences which embrace
the knowledge of both subject and object; but the practical philosophy
is the science of the mutual relations of the two. It may be said that
subject and object are opposite sides of the same reality, but this form
of expression appears to me to be no more accurate than the statement
that energy and matter are opposite sides of the same thing. As energy
is the motion of matter, mind is the intelligence of matter; and both
may be called properties of matter with equal propriety, since both are
impossible without a physical basis. Mind, however, differs from energy
in possessing some intrinsic qualities which are in essence independent
of the qualities of the physical basis; and these intrinsic qualities
are the forms of logic. These are, however, but a part of the totality
of mind, although they underlie or penetrate all its representative
activities.