_INDUCTION AND EMOTION_
We have implied throughout that we have feeling about a thing only so
far as we attach on basis of past experience an experience value to the
thing, as we say, “the burnt child dreads the fire.” Induction, as this
interpretation is termed, is so important an element that we will devote
a little space to considering its _rationale_, development, and place in
intellectual emotion.
What is the _rationale_ of the inductive act? Why should iteration lead
to expectancy of reiteration? I observe that a body unsupported falls in
a hundred instances, but is it not arbitrary for me then to suppose that
it will fall the hundred and first instance? In fact would it not be
more rational to suppose that this particular combination should be
exhausted, that it was time for nature to stop? But this very reason
rests on the uniformity of nature—the very law we are questioning—as
experienced in the past and applied to the future; only it is a negative
law of omissions, literally law of reiteration of unreiterations. Thus
if reason takes the law of uniformity of nature to task it can only do
so by assuming it. J. S. Mill in his treatment of this matter (_Logic_,
bk. iii. chap. 3, sec. 2), falls into an error. It is, indeed, true, as
he says, that some occurrences repeated suggest cessation and not
recurrence, as when we have several consecutive cloudy days, we expect a
bright one, or having had several rainy seasons we expect a dry one; but
it is plainly wrong to regard this, as he does, as a contradiction of
the principle of uniformity of nature. On the contrary, this is a very
good example of it. Experience of intermittent character of bad weather
in the past leads to expectancy of its re-intermittency for the future,
and the oftener the experience the stronger the belief as to the nature
of the still unexperienced. A negative uniformity is as much a
uniformity as a positive.
It is plain that we can assign no reason for our belief in the
uniformity of nature. It is simply a fact, an arbitrary fact if you
will, that the more often experiences are conjoined, the more strongly
we expect the conjuncture. I may imagine a body unsupported remaining
stationary in the air as readily as to imagine it falling; however, I
_believe_ it will fall, and I duck my head for fear of getting hurt. Not
any speculative reason then, but a very practical reason, is at the
bottom of this inductive tendency, that is, the conservation and
progress of the organism is secured by induction as anticipatory
function. The origin of induction is not then in its abstract
rationality, but in its immediate utility as a life function. Experience
is self-adjustment through felt stimulus. Once begun it grows by
continual self-reference, and hence practically all experience is
inductive. Experience is thus a _continuum_, an integrating cumulating
whole; and inductive experience, like all experience, arises and
progresses by reason of its serviceability.
It has been implied that the inductive act arises very early in the
history of experience. Every psychosis is what it is by reason of all
the previous psychoses in the individual and the race. Psychism, while
it has its points of development in individuals, must yet be estimated
as a unit, as a single whole. But we have to ask whether this
modification of one psychosis by another is conscious or unconscious. If
some low organism have in its lifetime but two consciousnesses, must we
regard the second as influenced in quality by the first, and if so,
consciously influenced, that is, a conscious relating, an active
induction as opposed to mechanical integration? Is mind always
self-building, or does psychosis act and react on psychosis
automatically? We have maintained that all the growth of mind has been
in the past, as in the present, by struggle, by severest endeavour, and
hence if experience modify experience it is by conscious act. Experience
thus constantly connects with itself and builds upon itself, it is
self-integrating, that is, inductive, in all its evolution. Mind, as
primarily pleasure-pain and struggle, by endeavour reaches back to
itself, realizes itself, and rises upon itself.
Take a comparatively simple case. A child tastes an orange, and finds it
sweet, _i.e._, it relates the sweetness to the object, which relating is
a true thinking, an active conjoining or associating. Upon the
presentation of another orange to the child at a later date, he
identifies it as the sweet thing; he associates sweetness as to be
experienced from it on basis of past associating, that is, he makes an
induction. In this second orange-experience, as far as there is active
conjoining of mental products, a definite adding to present percept of
sweet taste as experienceable by conscious reference to former percept
(taste-experience), we must recognise a genuine thought-process. The
thinking consists in the joining of sensation of taste to an object, not
as a present, but as a future experience, on the basis of some past
experience. Here is a true mediation or reasoning of inductive type, and
also a true concept-process, that is, a taking together, a conscious
uniting, although the product is still particular. The nearest approach
to expressing this psychological process in language is to say, “This
round yellow is this sweet, because this round yellow was this sweet
before.” The correlating process rests upon the relating process
accomplished at first experience of orange-tasting, whereby the taste
was related to the thing tasted. This relating may be thrust upon the
mind, or the mind may consciously and actively assimilate. Thought in
the wide sense of the term may be made to include all mediate or
immediate conscious conjoining of experiences, whether the product be
general or particular.
Mediacy is certainly, however, accomplished before commonness is noted,
which in ordinary usage is concept-making. The grouping of the
particular taste with the particular sight and touch on basis of past
experience does not give a general result. The mediate term of past
experience of taste which the child brings up on sight of orange and
applies to the present case does not suggest commonness, but constancy
of experience, for at first it knows things only as identical, and not
as separate, or as like or unlike. The method of this early intelligence
is that of identifying, “The orange was sweet and is sweet”; and not
that of common characterizing, “Oranges are sweet, and this is an
orange.” The child does not discriminate or understand that the object
of its first experience is, by reason of this experience, no longer to
be experienced; it has not attained notion of disappearance. It does not
cognize the orange as one of a group or class, having as common
characters roundness, sweetness, and yellowness, and from presence of
round-yellow in any instance infer sweet; but it knows orange only as
this particular object of past, present, and future experience. Many of
the early thought-experiences of children are to be interpreted rather
upon this identity-method than upon the usual interpretation of true
concepts. Thus the child who calls every person of certain age, dress,
etc., “Papa,” is not thinking of a papa, or class of papas, but of the
papa. This is mistaken identity: the common and like is the same, and
the child requires considerable discrimination before it attains to
notion of papa in general. Same and not-same are discriminated before
like and unlike, and hence young children use common names as proper.
Now the mental product achieved by the child, which, as expressed in
words, we term the papa, may be styled a particular concept, a gathering
together of sight-sensations, and associating sound- and
touch-sensations with these so that any generally like group of
sight-sensations enables the child to call up on basis of past
experience the associated sound and touch, to expect the gentle word and
caress. The child in identifying the orange, “This round yellow thing is
the sweet thing,” is bringing together with a certain general force, not
of common characterization, indeed, but of temporal significance as
permanent grouping. Animals and young children think mostly on the
identifying plan; they join to and expect for a present experience what
has been conjoined with it in past experience, but the object is the
same, not a like one.
How then does the child come to knowledge of things as like, to form a
class of oranges after regarding all oranges as the orange? Pass oranges
before a young child one after the other so that one only is in sight,
and the child will probably know only one orange as the same continually
re-appearing. The image formed will, however, be more or less composite,
the mental product will be a concept-image, as being a re-inforcement
and exaggeration of common characters and a suppression of individual;
but for practical purposes it is still a particular concept, that is,
the child applies it to the one and not the many, and does not recognise
its representative nature. A general image as a group of common
qualities may be thus attained before consciousness of this generality
is reached.
If now two or three oranges are presented to the child at the same time,
it will learn to discriminate them as separate co-existences, having
characters in common, roundness, yellowness, etc.; the objects will be
recognised as individuals belonging to class round-yellow things. Here a
general image having a general import is achieved. The particular
characters, round, yellow, sweet, which always centred in and made up
the individual orange, are recognised to have general scope in applying
to many objects. Groups of characters had been achieved before by
particular thinking, but now by general thought groups of characters as
common are formed. From the practically coincident impressions it gains
the notion orange, so that it recognises new individuals as individuals,
and not as the individual or single object, as in the earlier and cruder
identity method of thinking. The mind now—instead of saying “Same
impressions, same object”—says “Same impressions, like objects.” Instead
of making an object as a group of qualities, it makes a class of objects
having the group of qualities in common. Concept-forming is thus often
but an extension from what I have termed the particular concept; the
group of qualities formed as characterizing the thing is through
experience with co-existences predicated of things. Notion or idea of
the orange precedes notion or idea of orange; but both are truly notions
or concepts, a taking together of impressions, one of particular, the
other of general import. The general significance of the particular
group is first forced upon the mind by experience, but soon the mind
generalizes as well as notices generalizations brought to it. Gradually
the mind obtains power to generalize, not only from co-existences, but
from successions, and later still to generalize by abstraction, to
compare and pick out common features amidst the unlike, to search for
unity in diversity.
The rise of generalizing power is through the struggle for existence; it
originates, like all other mental processes, in practical needs. Law is
thereby not simply acted upon or merely recognised, as in the
associative stage: it is definitely sought for and applied. Art arises,
and also science. The ability, given by generalizing power, of dealing
with things in the lump, becomes of signal service, and specially
distinguishes man. But the primary value of the concept in all its
stages is not as a summation of experience, but as a guide for the
future. Through reiterated grouping the concept-group is recognised as
permanent factor, so that one element of a group being given, other
elements are expected through a conscious assimilation with the past
experience. The concept answering to the word orange, for example, is
the mental product recognising a constant co-existence of certain
qualities of shape, colour, size, taste, etc., so that from occurrence
of one or more we infer other or others. Concepts are the inner
groupings, the mental synthesizings, which interpret the outer groupings
that we term laws of nature. In all this we see the inductive element in
its conscious form, experience developing itself by anticipating future
in terms of past.
We have now to consider briefly the psychological nature of judgment and
reasoning with special reference to the inductive feature. Logically
judgment is any connecting, _plus_ affirming of reality, as effected
through the copula. The copula is made, not only to denote relation, but
reality of relation, to express, not only the act of connecting, but
also its validity for the case in hand. Psychologically, judging may be
regarded as any thinking, as any relating without reference to the
things related, whether it be a joining of the concept “reality” to some
other concept as a concept-forming process, or any joining of other
elements. I have already discussed the nature of relating _per se_, but
on the topic of judgment a word is to be said about the
proposition-form. In all thinking there are the two things
joined—subject and predicate in language-expression—and the act of
joining, or copula in language-expression; thus all thought is capable
of the proposition-form. Indeed, the word-form cannot express a thinking
but only a thought as a consolidated and single product, and as a sign
of process. The word is a summary of process and relations, but it
cannot express process as concept-forming or judging. The word orange
signifies for the mind by symbolic and shorthand method, “Thing is sweet
_plus_ thing is yellow,” etc; but as far as process happens, and not
simultaneous composite representation, the process is capable of
proposition-form. All relatings or joinings, even of particulars to
particulars, are of the proposition-type, and I must dissent from the
common view that two percepts cannot stand in subject-predicate
relations. As I have before discussed, the relating of particular to
particular is thinking, and to say “This sweet belongs to this yellow”
is awkward indeed, but still psychologically proper. Every proposition,
on the other hand, is susceptible of analysis as expressive of
concept-forming relating. The proposition “Man is mortal” is expression
of a mental process of joining; the concept mortal is either attached to
or detached from the concept man, according as we consider the process
as synthetic or analytic. If it be a grouping or concept-forming in full
sense, it means that in forming the concept man, we add to the already
gathered qualities the quality “mortal” on basis of experience. The
child first notices deaths in cases of John, Peter, etc., whom it knows
to belong to the class “men,” forms the concept “mortal” and adds it by
generalisation to the whole class and enlarges concept “man” by one
quality. This proposition, as denoting inductive concept-forming,
expresses the act of incorporating on basis of experience the quality
mortal into the quality-group man. As analytic, as a detaching of what
has been grouped, the proposition still expresses joining, and until the
statement becomes purely formal and practically meaningless the
rejoining is always a strengthening of the concept, and formative in its
value.
All uniting or relating is, however, more than a bare connecting; it is
a definite mode of relating, it has a form; and the first and
fundamental form is that of time and space, by which all relating has
the inductive quality of relying upon the past for the interpretation of
the future. But thought as self-active mentality is specially stimulated
and controlled by the form of reality. All relatings are not, however,
influenced by sense of reality, and hence belief is not coincident with
judgment in the large sense. Affirmation or denial of actuality or
reality is a kind of joining, but is not joining _per se_. The infant
joins taste of sweetness with percept round-yellow for the first time
and for many following times with no reference to reality or unreality.
“This round-yellow is this sweet” expresses a mere connecting, a bare
relating, but as neither real nor unreal. There is no emphasis laid on
the copula by which it expresses more than a mere joining. But let the
perfect tranquility of the child’s experience be broken in upon by
discord of appearance and reality, let the child once have a bitter
experience with a round lemon, then its future conjoinings of
round-yellow and sweet will be more or less tinged by sense of
possibility of error, and emphasis will be laid on the copula, “That
_is_ sweet.” Through other such experiences with other of its
thought-groups, the child generalises to the universal significance of
reality and unreality for all its thinking; hence, all conjoinings with
their copula-expressions attain a new force and quality from this
induction. In the light of fallibility as making up a part of the
concept “experience,” all thought-experience modifies itself by this
self-relation. Reality becomes so constant and universal for all
thought-life that mature thought can never escape it. Hegel tried to
rise superior to the notion of existence, but psychologically, at least,
he failed. The conception or induction of reality becomes a necessary
form of thought by being united with all unitings. Judgment in the
narrow sense may be defined as all those relatings in which the reality
of the relation is affirmed or denied.
Lastly a word on the nature of reasoning. Reasoning is mediatorial; the
joining is accomplished through one or more mediates. Most if not all
thinking is by mediating; joining proceeds only upon ground or basis,
whether recognised or not as such. “Kings are mortal” is the
language-expression of a conjoining effected either through the
particular mediate term, John, or terms, John, Peter, etc., or through
the general mediate term men. In both cases the conjoining is effected
through subjoining of the mediate term to both the elements to be
conjoined. In the first case the process is: “John is mortal, John is
king, therefore kings are mortal.” This relating of king and mortal is
strengthened by subjoining for other particular mediates, Peter, James,
etc. In the second case the process is: “Men are mortal, kings are men,
therefore kings are mortal.” In both cases the appeal is to constancy of
coherence of a quality to a quality-group, in the first, mortality
coherent with king John, hence coherent with kings; in the second, kings
have mortality because mortality is coherent with the group man = kings
+ others. In both cases the generalising tendency, that is, the
inductive quality, is the main point and not the method of mediation. In
both processes the concept king is filled out by the additional quality
mortality, and there is real gain in generalising and concept-forming,
whether the mind accomplishes it by the more special or more general
reference. Induction in the large sense is thus inclusive of both
induction and deduction in the restricted sense as determined by the
mode of mediation. Inductive thinking, as we have treated it, is the
joining which generalises, whatever be the means used to this end.
Induction as generalising tendency is imbedded in experience, and is the
largest factor in all its development. All cognition as interpretation
is induction.
That induction, as giving the experience value of things on basis of
previous experience, is fundamental to all emotions about the things,
has been implied throughout our discussion. But the inductive act may
itself be emotively considered and intellectual emotion may arise. How
and why induction came to be a pleasurable act and carried on for its
own sake is, perhaps, not explainable by biologic evolution. It is
certain that the inductive act, like other functions, arises as painful
effort and as a mere means of serving life. Identifying and recognising
is accomplished only under pressure of the struggle for existence.
Animals in general, and, indeed, most human beings exercise their
intelligence, make inductions, only as compelled by the demands of life.
The Australian savages who guided Lumholtz in his search for new
marsupials knew about the animals solely in a practical way, and were
totally unable to comprehend Lumholtz’s motive. So geologists examining
stones are entirely misapprehended by savages and the semi-civilized,
though these people are sufficiently acquainted with stones so far as
they are a source of mineral wealth, are useful for building, etc. And
from the point of view of natural selection pure science, the pursuit of
knowledge solely for its own sake, without the least reference to its
appreciation, is unexplainable.
Nevertheless, it is a fact that at a certain point in psychism the
intellectual life develops for its own sake; the inductive act is
pleasurable, and the desire arises to continue it as such, that is, here
is true intellectual emotion, an emotion arising about an intellectual
act represented as such. This feeling about induction may rise to an
absorbing passion, as with Charles Darwin. He liked nothing better than
making inductions, until he finally came to like little else. If the
reason is asked for induction becoming pleasurable, and an end in itself
psychology at present has no answer.
It is plain that when intellectual activity is desired, not as a means,
but as an end in itself, it excludes much intellectual emotion which is
commonly associated therewith. Surprise and wonder, for instance, are
intellectual emotions at contemplating a conjuncture very contrary to
expectation, entirely opposite to some pre-formed induction, but they do
not imply devotion to intellectual activity as such. The visitor to a
biological laboratory who, on first seeing blood corpuscles, cries
“Wonderful! Who would have thought it! One’s blood all full of such
things! Let me look again!” is hardly actuated by the scientific motive.
All phenomena are equally wonderful or wonderless—which amounts to the
same thing—to the scientist; for him everything is simply natural, he
forms no expectations not founded on facts. The “wonders of science” are
wonders only to the outsider: the scientist takes them as matter of
fact. It is no more wonderful to him that the blood should be full of
corpuscles than that it should fall in drops. The tyro does not wonder
at a drop of blood; he wonders to see the drop filled with myriads of
animated corpuscles; the scientist wonders at neither. He who, on being
told of blood corpuscles, exclaims, “I want to know,” plainly desires
knowledge, but is not impelled by a pure thirst for knowledge. The
scientific items appearing in the newspapers generally appeal merely to
seekers for marvels and lovers of intellectual sensation. Surprise and
wonder are then extraneous impulses to knowledge, the impulse to
knowledge for its own sake being quite distinct. As based on
intellectual shock they imply a considerable intellectual integration,
and hence are by no means primitive in mental life, yet far from being
as late as emotion for knowledge _per se_. Wonder gives birth to the
Arabian Nights and to Jules Verne’s romances, but it always hinders true
science.
Again, the pleasure and desire of achieving and achievement often plays
a large part in intellectual pursuits, as in a wide variety of activity.
Reaching an end merely for the sake of accomplishment, an emotion about
any end, as, for instance, a wide generalisation to be attained, merely
as end, intellectual action has in common with all other teleological
action, but the teleologic emotion is not distinctly intellectual. The
desire to achieve for achievement’s sake, to reach the satisfaction of
accomplishment, is extremely multiplex in its application. The man who
does a thing just to see if he can do it, who does feats of any kind is
obviously impelled by a different emotion from the one who performs the
same activity for the pleasure of the activity itself. He who plays a
game to succeed, and he who plays for the pleasurable activity involved,
are in very different frames of mind. And emotion for achievement is
generally complicated by desire to be thereby superior to one’s fellows.
The intense competitive struggle is plain in all departments even among
scientists. The emotion of competition, the earnest desire to surpass
others in interpreting nature and life is a tremendous force among all
scientific workers, and not even Darwin himself, exceptional though he
was, could keep out every vestige of _amour propre_.
We note also that love of any intellectual activity for its own sake, as
induction, must be distinguished from the love of truth. Here induction
is exercised, not for itself, but as a means to an end, truth; inducing
is not merely a pleasing exercise, but a means to accomplishment of a
definite result. Darwin, of course, a trained and habitual inductionist,
worked both from the pleasurability of the activity and from his
devotion to truth, to which this induction was the true method. Though
both these motives, love of an activity and love of some definite end
thereby attained, as truth, reputation, etc., are closely connected,
they are perfectly distinct modes of emotion, as the least reflection
convinces. Truth is some very wide permanent and significant conjuncture
of experience discovered and set forth, such as the origin of species in
progressive modification, or the intensity of light in inverse
proportion to the square of the distance, and this is the kind of
induction or conjoining demanded by the love of truth.