DEFINITION OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS--THE SEPARABILITY OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS
FROM ITS OBJECT--DISCUSSION OF IDEALISM
One last question suggests itself with regard to the consciousness. In
what measure is it separable from the object? Do the consciousness and
its object form two things or only one?
Under observation these two terms constantly show themselves united.
We experience a sensation and have consciousness of it; it is the same
fact expressed in two different ways. All facts of our perception thus
present themselves, and they are one. But our reason may outstrip our
observation. We are able to make a distinction between the two
elements _being_ and _being perceived_. This is not an experimental
but an ideological distinction, and an abstraction that language makes
easy.
Can we go further, and suppose one of the parts thus analysed capable
of existing without the other? Can sensation exist as physical
expression, as an object; without being illuminated by the
consciousness? Can the consciousness exist without having an object?
Let us first speak of the existence of the object when considered as
separated from the consciousness. The problem is highly complicated.
It has sometimes been connected with the idealist thesis according to
which the object of consciousness, being itself a modality of the
consciousness, cannot exist apart from it--that is to say, outside the
periods in which it is perceived. It would therefore result from this
that this separation between existence and perception might be made,
when it is admitted (contrary to the idealist hypothesis) that the
object perceived is material and the consciousness which perceives it
mental. In this case, it will be thought, there is no link of
solidarity between the consciousness and its continuity. But I am not
of that opinion. The union of the consciousness and its object is one
of fact, which presents itself outside any hypothesis on the nature of
the object. It is observation which demonstrates to us that we must
perceive an object to be assured of its existence; the reason,
moreover, confirms the necessity of this condition, which remains true
whatever may be the "stuff" of the object.
Having stated this, the question is simply to know whether this
observation of fact should be generalised or not. We may, it seems to
me, decline to generalise it without falling into a contradiction in
terms. It may be conceived that the objects which we are looking at
continue to exist, without change, during the moments when we have
lost sight of them. This seems reasonable enough, and is the opinion
of "common" sense.[30]
The English philosophers, Bain and Mill, have combated this
proposition with extraordinary ardour, like believers combating a
heresy. But notwithstanding their attacks it remains intelligible, and
the distinction between _being_ and _being perceived_ preserves its
logical legitimacy. This may be represented, or may be thought; but
can it be realised?
So far as regards external objects, I think we all, in fact, admit it.
We all admit a distinction, between the existence of the outer world
and the perception we have of it; its existence is one thing, and our
perception of it is another. The existence of the world continues
without interruption; our perception is continually interrupted by the
most fortuitous causes, such as change of position, or even the
blinking of the eyes; its existence is general, universal, independent
of time and space; our perception is partial, particular, local,
limited by the horizon of our senses, determined by the geographical
position of our bodies, riddled by the distractions of our
intelligence, deceived by the illusions of our minds, and above all
diminished by the infirmity of our intelligence, which is able to
comprehend so little of what it perceives. This is what we all admit
in practice; the smallest of our acts implies the belief in something
perceptible which is wider and more durable than our astonished
perceptions. I could not write these lines unless I implicitly
supposed that my inkstand, my paper, my pen, my room, and the
surrounding world subsist when I do not see them. It is a postulate of
practical life. It is also a postulate of science, which requires for
its explanations of phenomena the supposition in them of an indwelling
continuity. Natural science would become unintelligible if we were
forced to suppose that with every eclipse of our perceptions material
actions were suspended. There would be beginnings without sequences,
and ends without beginnings.
Let us note also that acquired notions on the working of our nervous
system allow us to give this postulate a most precise form: the
external object is distinct from the nervous system and from the
phenomena of perception which are produced when the nervous system is
excited; it is therefore very easy to understand that this object
continues to exist and to develop its properties, even when no brain
vibrates in its neighbourhood.
Might we not, with the view of strengthening this conclusion as to
the continuous existence of things, dispense with this postulate,
which seems to have the character of a grace, of an alms granted to
us? Might not this continuous existence of objects during the eclipses
of our acts of consciousness, be demonstrated? It does not seem to me
impossible. Let us suppose for a moment the correctness of the
idealist thesis: all our legitimate knowledge of objects is contained
within the narrow limits of actual sensation; then, we may ask, of
what use is the reason? What is the use of the memory? These functions
have precisely for their object the enlarging of the sphere of our
sensations, which is limited in two principal ways, by time and by
space. Thanks to the reason, we manage to see in some way that which
our senses are unable to perceive, either because it is too distant
from us, or because there are obstacles between us and the object, or
because it is a past event or an event which has not yet taken place
which is in question.
That the reason may be deceived is agreed. But will it be asserted
that it is always deceived? Shall we go so far as to believe that this
is an illegitimate mode of cognition? The idealist thesis, if
consistent, cannot refuse to extend itself to this extreme conclusion;
for a reasoned conclusion contains, when it has a meaning, a certain
assertion on the order of nature, and this assertion is not a
perception, since its precise object is to fill up the gaps in our
perceptions. Not being a perception, it must be rejected, if one is an
idealist.
The idealist will therefore keep strictly to the perception of the
moment, and this is so small a thing when deprived of all the
conjectures which enrich it, that the world, if reduced to this alone,
would be but the skeleton of a world. There would then be no more
science, no possibility of knowledge. But who could make up his mind
thus to shut himself up in perception?
I suppose, indeed, that there will here be quibbling. This objection
will be made: that in the hypothesis of a discontinuous existence of
things, reason may continue to do its work, provided the intervention
of a possible perception be supposed. Thus, I notice this morning, on
going into my garden, that the pond which was dry yesterday is full of
water. I conclude from this, "It has rained in the night." To be
consistent with idealism, one must simply add: "If some one had been
in the garden last night, he would have seen it rain." In this manner
one must re-establish every time the rights of perception.
Be it so. But let us notice that this addition has no more importance
than a prescribed formula in a notarial act; for instance, the
presence of a second notary prescribed by the law, but always
dispensed with in practice. This prescribed formula can always be
imagined or even understood. We shall be in accord with idealism by
the use of this easy little formula, "If some one had been there," or
even by saying, "For a universal consciousness...." The difference of
the realist and idealist theory becomes then purely verbal. This
amounts to saying that it disappears. But there is always much
verbalism in idealism.
One more objection: if this witness--the consciousness--suffices to
give objects a continuity of existence, we may content ourselves with
a less important witness. Why a man? The eyes of a mollusc would
suffice, or those of infusoria, or even of a particle of protoplasm:
living matter would become a condition of the existence of dead
matter. This, we must acknowledge, is a singular condition, and this
conclusion condemns the doctrine.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 30: That is to say, the sense of the multitude.--ED.]