KNOWLEDGE AND REALITY
Kant's theory of space, and, still more, his theory of time, are
bewildering subjects. It is not merely that the facts with which he
deals are complex; his treatment of them is also complicated by his
special theories of 'sense' and of 'forms of perception'. Light,
however, may be thrown upon the problems raised by the _Aesthetic_,
and upon Kant's solution of them, in two ways. In the first place, we
may attempt to vindicate the implication of the preceding criticism,
that the very nature of knowledge presupposes the independent
existence of the reality known, and to show that, in consequence, all
idealism is of the variety known as subjective. In the second place,
we may point out the way in which Kant is misled by failing to realize
(1) the directness of the relation between the knower and the reality
known, and (2) the impossibility of transferring what belongs to one
side of the relation to the other.
The question whether any reality exists independently of the knowledge
of it may be approached thus. The standpoint of the preceding
criticism of Kant may be described as that of the plain man. It is the
view that the mind comes by a temporal process to apprehend or to know
a spatial world which exists independently of it or of any other mind,
and that the mind knows it as it exists in the independence. 'Now this
view,' it may be replied, 'is exposed to at least one fatal objection.
It presupposes the possibility of knowing the thing in itself, i. e.
something which exists independently of the mind which comes to know
it. Whatever is true, this is not. Whatever be the criticism to which
Kant's doctrine is exposed in detail, it contains one inexpugnable
thesis, viz. that the thing in itself cannot be known. Unless the
physical world stands in essential relation to the mind, it is
impossible to understand how it can be known. This position being
unassailable, any criticism of an idealistic theory must be compatible
with it, and therefore confined to details. Moreover, Kant's view can
be transformed into one which will defy criticism. Its unsatisfactory
character lies in the fact that in regarding the physical world as
dependent on the mind, it really alters the character of the world by
reducing the world to a succession of 'appearances' which, as such,
can only be mental, i. e. can only belong to the mind's own being.
Bodies, as being really appearances in the mind, are regarded as on
the level of transitory mental occurrences, and as thereby at least
resembling feelings and sensations. This consequence, however, can be
avoided by maintaining that the real truth after which Kant was
groping was that knower and known form an inseparable unity, and that,
therefore, any reality which is not itself a knower, or the knowing of
a knower, presupposes a mind which knows it. In that case nothing is
suggested as to the special nature of the reality known, and, in
particular, it is not implied to be a transitory element of the mind's
own being. The contention merely attributes to any reality, conceived
to have the special nature ordinarily attributed to it, the additional
characteristic that it is known. Consequently, on this view, the
physical world can retain the permanence ordinarily attributed to it.
To the objection that, at any rate, _our_ knowledge is transitory,
and that if the world is relative to it the world also must be
transitory, it may be replied--though with some sense of
uneasiness--that the world must be considered relative not to us as
knowers, but to a knower who knows always and completely, and whose
knowing is in some way identical with ours. Further, the view so
transformed has two other advantages. In the first place, it renders
it possible to dispense with what has been called the Mrs. Harris of
philosophy, the thing in itself. As Kant states his position, the
thing in itself must be retained, for it is impossible to believe that
there is no reality other than what is mental. But if the physical
world need not be considered to be a succession of mental occurrences,
it can be considered to be the reality which is not mental. In the
second place, knowledge proper is vindicated, for on this view we do
not know 'only' phenomena; we know the reality which is not mental,
and we know it as it is, for it is as object of knowledge.'
'Moreover, the contention must be true, and must form the true basis
of idealism. For the driving force of idealism is furnished by the
question, 'How can the mind and reality come into the relation which
we call knowledge?' This question is unanswerable so long as reality
is thought to stand in no essential relation to the knowing mind.
Consequently, in the end, knowledge and reality must be considered
inseparable. Again, even if it be conceded that the mind in some way
gains access to an independent reality, it is impossible to hold that
the mind can really know it. For the reality cannot in the relation of
knowledge be what it is apart from this relation. It must become in
some way modified or altered in the process. Hence the mind cannot on
this view know the reality as it is. On the other hand, if the reality
is essentially relative to a knower, the knower knows it as it is, for
what it is is what it is in this relation.'
The fundamental objection, however, to this line of thought is that it
contradicts the very nature of knowledge. Knowledge unconditionally
presupposes that the reality known exists independently of the
knowledge of it, and that we know it as it exists in this
independence. It is simply _impossible_ to think that any reality
depends upon our knowledge of it, or upon any knowledge of it. If
there is to be knowledge, there must first _be_ something to be known.
In other words, knowledge is essentially discovery, or the finding of
what already is. If a reality could only be or come to be in virtue of
some activity or process on the part of the mind, that activity or
process would not be 'knowing', but 'making' or 'creating', and to
make and to know must in the end be admitted to be mutually
exclusive.[1]
[1] Cf. pp. 235-6.
This presupposition that what is known exists independently of being
known is quite general, and applies to feeling and sensation just as
much as to parts of the physical world. It must in the end be conceded
of a toothache as much as of a stone that it exists independently of
the knowledge of it. There must be a pain to be attended to or
noticed, which exists independently of our attention or notice. The
true reason for asserting feeling and sensation to be dependent on the
mind is that they presuppose not a knowing, but a feeling and a
sentient subject respectively. Again, it is equally presupposed that
knowing in no way alters or modifies the thing known. We can no more
think that in apprehending a reality we do not apprehend it as it is
apart from our knowledge of it, than we can think that its existence
depends upon our knowledge of it. Hence, if 'things in themselves'
means 'things existing independently of the knowledge of them',
knowledge is essentially of 'things in themselves'. It is, therefore,
unnecessary to consider whether idealism is assisted by the
supposition of a non-finite knowing mind, correlated with reality as a
whole. For reality must equally be independent of it. Consequently, if
the issue between idealism and realism is whether the physical world
is or is not dependent on the mind, it cannot turn upon a dependence
in respect of knowledge.
That the issue does not turn upon knowledge is confirmed by our
instinctive procedure when we are asked whether the various realities
which we suppose ourselves to know depend upon the mind. Our natural
procedure is not to treat them simply as realities and to ask whether,
as realities, they involve a mind to know them, but to treat them as
realities of the particular kind to which they belong, and to consider
relation to the mind of some kind other than that of knowledge. We
should say, for instance, that a toothache or an emotion, as being a
feeling, presupposes a mind capable of feeling, whose feeling it is;
for if the mind be thought of as withdrawn, the pain or the feeling
must also be thought of as withdrawn. We should say that an act of
thinking presupposes a mind which thinks. We should, however,
naturally deny that an act of thinking or knowing, in order to be,
presupposes that it is known either by the thinker whose act it is, or
by any other mind. In other words, we should say that knowing
presupposes a mind, not as something which _knows_ the knowing, but
as something which _does_ the knowing. Again, we should naturally say
that the shape or the weight of a stone is _not_ dependent on the mind
which perceives the stone. The shape, we should say, would disappear
with the disappearance of the stone, but would not disappear with the
disappearance of the mind which perceives the stone. Again, we should
assert that the stone itself, so far from depending on the mind which
perceives it, has an independent being of its own. We might, of
course, find difficulty in deciding whether a reality of some
particular kind, e. g. a colour, is dependent on a mind. But, in any
case, we should think that the ground for decision lay in the special
character of the reality in question, and should not treat it merely
as a reality related to the mind as something known. We should ask,
for instance, whether a colour, as a colour, involves a mind which
sees, and not whether a colour, as a reality, involves its being
known. Our natural procedure, then, is to divide realities into two
classes, those which depend on a mind, and may therefore be called
mental, and those which do not, and to conclude that some realities
depend upon the mind, while others do not. We thereby ignore a
possible dependence of realities on their being known; for not only is
the dependence which we recognize of some other kind, e. g. in respect
of feeling or sentience, but if the dependence were in respect of
knowledge, we could not distinguish in respect of dependence between
one reality and another.
Further, if reality be allowed to exist independently of knowledge, it
is easy to see that, from the idealist's point of view, Kant's
procedure was essentially right, and that all idealism, when pressed,
must prove subjective; in other words, that the idealist must hold
that the mind can only know what is mental and belongs to its own
being, and that the so-called physical world is merely a succession of
appearances. Moreover, our instinctive procedure[2] is justified. For,
in the first place, since it is impossible to think that a reality
depends for its existence upon being known, it is impossible to reach
an idealistic conclusion by taking into account relation by way of
knowledge; and if this be the relation considered, the only conclusion
can be that all reality is independent of the mind. Again, since
knowledge is essentially of reality as it is apart from its being
known, the assertion that a reality is dependent upon the mind is an
assertion of the kind of thing which it is in itself, apart from its
being known.[3] And when we come to consider what we mean by saying of
a reality that it depends upon the mind, we find we mean that it is in
its own nature of such a kind as to disappear with the disappearance
of the mind, or, more simply, that it is of the kind called mental.
Hence, we can only decide that a particular reality depends upon the
mind by appeal to its special character. We cannot treat it simply as
a reality the relation of which to the mind is solely that of
knowledge. And we can only decide that all reality is dependent upon
the mind by appeal to the special character of all the kinds of
reality of which we are aware. Hence, Kant in the _Aesthetic_, and
Berkeley before him, were essentially right in their procedure. They
both ignored consideration of the world simply as a reality, and
appealed exclusively to its special character, the one arguing that in
its special character as spatial and temporal it presupposed a
percipient, and the other endeavouring to show that the primary
qualities are as relative to perception as the secondary.
Unfortunately for their view, in order to think of bodies in space as
dependent on the mind, it is necessary to think of them as being in
the end only certain sensations or certain combinations of sensations
which may be called appearances. For only sensations or combinations
of them can be thought of as at once dependent on the mind, and
capable with any plausibility of being identified with bodies in
space. In other words, in order to think of the world as dependent on
the mind, we have to think of it as consisting only of a succession of
appearances, and in fact Berkeley, and, at certain times, Kant, did
think of it in this way.
[2] Cf. p. 119.
[3] Though not apart from relation to the mind of some other
kind.
That this is the inevitable result of idealism is not noticed, so long
as it is supposed that the essential relation of realities to the mind
consists in their being known; for, as we have seen, nothing is
thereby implied as to their special nature. To say of a reality that
it is essentially an object of knowledge is merely to add to the
particular nature ordinarily attributed to the existent in question
the further characteristic that it must be known.[4] Moreover,
since in fact, though contrary to the theory, any reality exists
independently of the knowledge of it, when the relation thought of
between a reality and the mind is _solely_ that of knowledge, the
realities can be thought of as independent of the mind. Consequently,
the physical world can be thought to have that independence of the
mind which the ordinary man attributes to it, and, therefore, need not
be conceived as only a succession of appearances. But the advantage of
this form of idealism is really derived from the very fact which it
is the aim of idealism in general to deny. For the conclusion that the
physical world consists of a succession of appearances is only avoided
by taking into account the relation of realities to the mind by way of
knowledge, and, then, without being aware of the inconsistency, making
use of the independent existence of the reality known.
[4] Cf. p. 116.
Again, that the real contrary to realism is _subjective_ idealism is
confirmed by the history of the theory of knowledge from Descartes
onwards. For the initial supposition which has originated and
sustained the problem is that in knowledge the mind is, at any rate in
the first instance, confined within itself. This supposition granted,
it has always seemed that, while there is no difficulty in
understanding the mind's acquisition of knowledge of what belongs to
its own being, it is difficult, if not impossible, to understand how
it can acquire knowledge of what does not belong to its own being.
Further, since the physical world is ordinarily thought of as
something which does not belong to the mind's own being, the problem
has always been not 'How is it possible to know anything?' but 'How is
it possible to know a particular kind of reality, viz. the physical
world?' Moreover, in consequence of the initial supposition, any
answer to this question has always presupposed that our apprehension
of the physical world is indirect. Since _ex hypothesi_ the mind is
confined within itself, it can only apprehend a reality independent of
it through something within the mind which 'represents' or 'copies'
the reality; and it is perhaps Hume's chief merit that he showed that
no such solution is possible, or, in other words, that, on the given
supposition, knowledge of the physical world is impossible.
Now the essential weakness of this line of thought lies in the initial
supposition that the mind can only apprehend what belongs to its own
being. It is as much a fact of our experience that we directly
apprehend bodies in space, as that we directly apprehend our feelings
and sensations. And, as has already been shown,[5] what is spatial
cannot be thought to belong to the mind's own being on the ground that
it is relative to perception. Further, if it is legitimate to ask,
'How can we apprehend what does not belong to our being?' it is
equally legitimate to ask, 'How can we apprehend what does belong to
our own being?' It is wholly arbitrary to limit the question to the
one kind of reality. If a question is to be put at all, it should take
the form, 'How is it possible to apprehend anything?' But this
question has only to be put to be discarded. For it amounts to a
demand to _explain_ knowledge; and any answer to it would involve the
derivation of knowledge from what was not knowledge, a task which must
be as impossible as the derivation of space from time or of colour
from sound. Knowledge is _sui generis_, and, as such, cannot be
explained.[6]
[5] Cf. pp. 89-91.
[6] This assertion, being self-evident, admits of no direct
proof. A 'proof' can only take the form of showing that
any supposed 'derivation' or 'explanation' of knowledge
presupposes knowledge in that from which it derives it.
Professor Cook Wilson has pointed out that we must understand
what knowing is in order to explain anything at all, so
that any proposed explanation of knowing would necessarily
presuppose that we understood what knowing is. For the
general doctrine, cf. p. 245.
Moreover, it may be noted that the support which this form of idealism
sometimes receives from an argument which uses the terms 'inside' and
'outside' the mind is unmerited. At first sight it seems a refutation
of the plain man's view to argue thus: 'The plain man believes the
spatial world to exist whether any one knows it or not. Consequently,
he allows that the world is outside the mind. But, to be known, a
reality must be inside the mind. Therefore, the plain man's view
renders knowledge impossible.' But, as soon as it is realized that
'inside the mind' and 'outside the mind' are metaphors, and,
therefore, must take their meaning from their context, it is easy to
see that the argument either rests on an equivocation or assumes the
point at issue. The assertion that the world is outside the mind,
being only a metaphorical expression of the plain man's view, should
only mean that the world is something independent of the mind, as
opposed to something inside the mind, in the sense of dependent upon
it, or mental. But the assertion that, to be known, a reality must be
inside the mind, if it is to be incontestably true, should only mean
that a reality, to be apprehended, must really be object of
apprehension. And in this case 'being inside the mind', since it only
means 'being object of apprehension', is not the opposite of 'being
outside the mind' in the previous assertion. Hence, on this
interpretation, the second assertion is connected with the first only
apparently and by an equivocation; there is really no argument at all.
If, however, the equivocation is to be avoided, 'inside the mind' in
the second assertion must be the opposite of 'outside the mind' in the
first, and consequently the second must mean that a reality, to be
known, must be dependent on the mind, or mental. But in that case the
objection to the plain man's view is a _petitio principii_, and not an
argument.
Nevertheless, the tendency to think that the only object or, at least,
the only direct object of the mind is something mental still requires
explanation. It seems due to a tendency to treat self-consciousness as
similar to consciousness of the world. When in reflection we turn our
attention away from the world to the activity by which we come to know
it, we tend to think of our knowledge of the world as a reality to be
apprehended similar to the world which we apprehended prior to
reflection. We thereby implicitly treat this knowledge as something
which, like the world, merely _is_ and is not the knowledge of
anything; in other words, we imply that, so far from being knowledge,
i. e. the knowing of a reality, it is precisely that which we
distinguish from knowledge, viz. a reality to be known,
although--since knowledge must be mental--we imply that it is a
reality of the special kind called mental. But if the knowledge upon
which we reflect is thus treated as consisting in a mental reality
which merely _is_, it is implied that in this knowledge the world is
not, at any rate directly, object of the mind, for _ex hypothesi_ a
reality which merely _is_ and is not the knowledge of anything has no
object. Hence it comes to be thought that the only object or, at
least, the only direct object of the mind is this mental reality
itself, which is the object of reflection; in other words, that the
only immediate object of the mind comes to be thought of as its own
idea. The root of the mistake lies in the initial supposition--which,
it may be noted, seems to underlie the whole treatment of knowledge by
empirical psychology--that knowledge can be treated as a reality to be
apprehended, in the way in which any reality which is not knowledge is
a reality to be apprehended.
We may now revert to that form of idealism which maintains that the
essential relation of reality to the mind is that of _being known_,
in order to consider two lines of argument by which it may be
defended.
According to the first of these, the view of the plain man either is,
or at least involves, materialism; and materialism is demonstrably
absurd. The plain man's view involves the existence of the physical
world prior to the existence of the knowledge of it, and therefore
also prior to the existence of minds which know it, since it is
impossible to separate the existence of a knowing mind from its actual
knowledge. From this it follows that mere matter, having only the
qualities considered by the physicist, must somehow have originated or
produced knowing and knowing minds. But this production is plainly
impossible. For matter, possessing solely, as it does, characteristics
bound up with extension and motion, cannot possibly have originated
activities of a wholly different kind, or beings capable of exercising
them.
It may, however, be replied that the supposed consequence, though
absurd, does not really follow from the plain man's realism.
Doubtless, it would be impossible for a universe consisting solely of
the physical world to originate thought or beings capable of thinking.
But the real presupposition of the coming into existence of human
knowledge at a certain stage in the process of the universe is to be
found in the pre-existence, not of a mind or minds which always
actually knew, but simply of a mind or minds in which, under certain
conditions, knowledge is necessarily actualized. A mind cannot be the
product of anything or, at any rate, of anything but a mind. It cannot
be a new reality introduced at some time or other into a universe of
realities of a wholly different order. Therefore, the presupposition
of the present existence of knowledge is the pre-existence of a mind
or minds; it is not implied that its or their knowledge must always
have been actual. In other words, knowing implies the ultimate or
unoriginated existence of beings possessed of the capacity to know.
Otherwise, knowledge would be a merely derivative product, capable of
being stated in terms of something else, and in the end in terms of
matter and motion. This implication is, however, in no wise traversed
by the plain man's realism. For that implies, not that the existence
of the physical world is prior to the existence of a mind, but only
that it is prior to a mind's actual knowledge of the world.
The second line of thought appeals to the logic of relation. It may be
stated thus. If a term is relative, i. e. is essentially 'of' or
relative to another, that other is essentially relative to it. Just as
a doctor, for instance, is essentially a doctor of a patient, so a
patient is essentially the patient of a doctor. As a ruler implies
subjects, so subjects imply a ruler. As a line essentially has points
at its ends, so points are essentially ends of a line. Now knowledge
is essentially 'of' or relative to reality. Reality, therefore, is
essentially relative to or implies the knowledge of it. And this
correlativity of knowledge and reality finds linguistic confirmation
in the terms 'subject' and 'object'. For, linguistically, just as a
subject is always the subject of an object, so an object is always the
object of a subject.
Nevertheless, further analysis of the nature of relative terms, and in
particular of knowledge, does not bear out this conclusion. To take
the case of a doctor. It is true that if some one is healing, some one
else is receiving treatment, i. e. is being healed; and 'patient'
being the name for the recipient of treatment, we can express this
fact by saying that a doctor is essentially the doctor of a patient.
Further, it is true that a recipient of treatment implies a giver of
it, as much as a giver of it implies a recipient. Hence we can truly
say that since a doctor is the doctor of a patient, a patient is the
patient of a doctor, meaning thereby that since that to which a doctor
is relative is a patient, a patient must be similarly relative to a
doctor. There is, however, another statement which can be made
concerning a doctor. We can say that a doctor is a doctor of a human
being who is ill, i. e. a sick man. But in this case we cannot go on
to say that since a doctor is a doctor of a sick man, a sick man
implies or is relative to a doctor. For we mean that the kind of
reality capable of being related to a doctor as his patient is a sick
man; and from this it does not follow that a reality of this kind does
stand in this relation. Doctoring implies a sick man; a sick man does
not imply that some one is treating him. We can only say that since a
doctor is the doctor of a sick man, a sick man implies the possibility
of doctoring. In the former case the terms, viz. 'doctor' and
'patient', are inseparable because they signify the relation in
question in different aspects. The relation is one fact which has two
inseparable 'sides', and, consequently, the terms must be inseparable
which signify the relation respectively from the point of view of the
one side and from the point of view of the other. Neither term
signifies the nature of the elements which can stand in the relation.
In the latter case, however, the terms, viz. 'doctor' and 'sick man',
signify respectively the relation in question (in one aspect), and the
nature of one of the elements capable of entering into it;
consequently they are separable.
Now when it is said that knowledge is essentially knowledge of
reality, the statement is parallel to the assertion that a doctor is
essentially the doctor of a sick man, and not to the assertion that a
doctor is essentially the doctor of a patient. It should mean that
that which is capable of being related to a knower as his object is
something which is or exists; consequently it cannot be said that
since knowledge is of reality, reality must essentially be known. The
parallel to the assertion that a doctor is the doctor of a patient is
the assertion that knowledge is the knowledge of an object; for just
as 'patient' means that which receives treatment from a doctor, so
'object' means that which is known. And here we _can_ go on to make
the further parallel assertion that since knowledge is essentially the
knowledge of an object, an object is essentially an object of
knowledge. Just as 'patient' means a recipient of treatment, or, more
accurately, a sick man under treatment, so 'object' means something
known, or, more accurately, a reality known. And 'knowledge' and
'object of knowledge', like 'doctor' and 'patient', indicate the same
relation, though from different points of view, and, consequently,
when we can use the one term, we can use the other. But to say that an
object (i. e. a reality known) implies the knowledge of it is not to
say that reality implies the knowledge of it, any more than to say
that a patient implies a doctor is to say that a sick man implies a
doctor.
But a doctor, it might be objected, is not a fair parallel to
knowledge or a knower. A doctor, though an instance of a relative
term, is only an instance of one kind of relative term, that in which
the elements related are capable of existing apart from the relation,
the relation being one in which they can come to stand and cease to
stand. But there is another kind of relative term, in which the
elements related presuppose the relation, and any thought of these
elements involves the thought of the relation. A universal, e. g.
whiteness, is always the universal of certain individuals, viz.
individual whites; an individual, e. g. this white, is always an
individual of a universal, viz. whiteness. A genus is the genus of a
species, and vice versa. A surface is the surface of a volume, and a
volume implies a surface. A point is the end of a line, and a line is
bounded by points. In such cases the very being of the elements
related involves the relation, and, apart from the relation,
disappears. The difference between the two kinds of relative terms can
be seen from the fact that only in the case of the former kind can two
elements be found of which we can say significantly that their
relation is of the kind in question. We can say of two men that they
are related as doctor and patient, or as father and son, for we can
apprehend two beings as men without being aware of them as so related.
But of no two elements is it possible to say that their relation is
that of universal and individual, or of genus and species, or of
surface and volume; for to apprehend elements which are so related we
must apprehend them so related.[7] To apprehend a surface is to
apprehend a surface of a volume. To apprehend a volume is to apprehend
a volume bounded by a surface. To apprehend a universal is to
apprehend it as the universal of an individual, and vice versa.[8] In
the case of relations of this kind, the being of either element which
stands in the relation is relative to that of the other; neither can
be real without the other, as we see if we try to think of one without
the other. And it is at least possible that knowledge and reality or,
speaking more strictly, a knower and reality, are related in this way.
[7] It is, of course, possible to say significantly that two
elements, A and B, are related as universal and individual,
or as surface and volume, if we are trying to explain what we
mean by 'universal and individual' or 'surface and volume';
but in that case we are elucidating the relationship through
the already known relation of A and B, and are not giving
information about the hitherto unknown relation of A and B.
[8] Professor Cook Wilson has pointed out that the
distinction between these two kinds of relation is marked
in language in that, for instance, while we speak of the
'relation _of_ universal _and_ individual', we speak of
'the relation _between_ one man _and_ another', or of 'the
relation _of_ one man _to_ another', using, however, the
phrase 'the relation _of_ doctor _and_ patient', when we
consider two men only as in that relation.
I owe to him recognition of the fact that the use of the word
'relation' in connexion with such terms as 'universal and
individual' is really justified.
What is, however, at least a strong presumption against this view is
to be found in the fact that while relations of the second kind are
essentially non-temporal, the relation of knowing is essentially
temporal. The relation of a universal and its individuals, or of a
surface and the volume which it bounds, does not either come to be, or
persist, or cease. On the other hand, it is impossible to think of a
knowing which is susceptible of no temporal predicates and is not
bound up with a process; and the thought of knowing as something which
comes to be involves the thought that the elements which become thus
related exist independently of the relation. Moreover, the real
refutation of the view lies in the fact that, when we consider what we
really think, we find that we think that the relation between a knower
and reality is not of the second kind. If we consider what we mean by
'a reality', we find that we mean by it something which is not
correlative to a mind knowing it. It does not mean something the
thought of which disappears with the thought of a mind actually
knowing it, but something which, though it can be known by a mind,
need not be actually known by a mind. Again, just as we think of a
reality as something which _can_ stand as object in the relation of
knowledge, without necessarily being in this relation, so, as we see
when we reflect, we think of a knowing mind as something which _can_
stand as subject in this relation without necessarily being in the
relation. For though we think of the capacities which constitute the
nature of a knowing mind as only recognized through their
actualizations, i. e. through actual knowing, we think of the mind
which is possessed of these capacities as something apart from their
actualization.
It is now possible to direct attention to two characteristics of
perception and knowledge with which Kant's treatment of space and time
conflicts, and the recognition of which reveals his procedure in its
true light.
It has been already urged that both knowledge and perception--which,
though not identical with knowledge, is presupposed by it--are
essentially of _reality_. Now, in the _first_ place, it is thereby
implied that the relation between the mind and reality in knowledge or
in perception is essentially direct, i. e. that there is no _tertium
quid_ in the form of an 'idea' or a 'representation' between us as
perceiving or knowing and what we perceive or know. In other words, it
is implied that Locke's view is wrong in principle, and, in fact, the
contrary of the truth. In the _second_ place, it is implied that while
the whole fact of perception includes the reality perceived and the
whole fact of knowledge includes the reality known, since both
perception and knowledge are 'of', and therefore inseparable from a
reality, yet the reality perceived or known is essentially distinct
from, and cannot be stated in terms of, the perception or the
knowledge. Just as neither perception nor knowledge can be stated in
terms of the reality perceived or known from which they are
distinguished, so the reality perceived or known cannot be stated in
terms of the perception or the knowledge. In other words, the terms
'perception' and 'knowledge' ought to stand for the activities of
perceiving and knowing respectively, and not for the reality perceived
or known. Similarly, the terms 'idea' and 'representation'--the latter
of which has been used as a synonym for Kant's _Vorstellung_--ought to
stand not for something thought of or represented, but for the act of
thinking or representing.
Further, this second implication throws light on the proper meaning of
the terms 'form of perception' and 'form of knowledge or of thought'.
For, in accordance with this implication, a 'form of perception' and a
'form of knowledge' ought to refer to the nature of our acts of
perceiving and knowing or thinking respectively, and not to the nature
of the realities perceived or known. Consequently, Kant was right in
making the primary antithesis involved in the term 'form of
perception' that between a way in which we perceive and a way in which
things are, or, in other words, between a characteristic of our
perceiving nature and a characteristic of the reality perceived.
Moreover, Kant was also right in making this distinction a real
antithesis and not a mere distinction within one and the same thing
regarded from two points of view. That which is a form of perception
cannot also be a form of the reality and vice versa. Thus we may
illustrate a perceived form of perception by pointing out that our
apprehension of the physical world (1) is a temporal process, and (2)
is conditioned by perspective. Both the succession and the conditions
of perspective belong to the act of perception, and do not form part
of the nature of the world perceived. And it is significant that in
our ordinary consciousness it never occurs to us to attribute either
the perspective or the time to the reality perceived. Even if it be
difficult in certain cases, as in that of colour, to decide whether
something belongs to our act of perception or not, we never suppose
that it can be _both_ a form of perception _and_ a characteristic of
the reality perceived. We think that if it be the one, it cannot be
the other.
Moreover, if we pass from perception to knowledge or thought--which in
this context may be treated as identical--and seek to illustrate a
form of knowledge or of thought, we may cite the distinction of
logical subject and logical predicate of a judgement. The distinction
as it should be understood--for it does not necessitate a difference
of grammatical form--may be illustrated by the difference between the
judgements 'Chess is the _most trying of games_' and '_Chess_ is the
most trying of games'. In the former case 'chess' is the logical
subject, in the latter case it is the logical predicate. Now this
distinction clearly does not reside in or belong to the reality about
which we judge; it relates solely to the order of our approach in
thought to various parts of its nature. For, to take the case of the
former judgement, in calling 'chess' its subject, and 'most trying of
games' its predicate, we are asserting that in this judgement we begin
by apprehending the reality of which we are thinking as chess, and
come to apprehend it as the most trying of games. In other words, the
distinction relates solely to the order of our apprehension, and not
to anything in the thing apprehended.
In view of the preceding, it is possible to make clear the nature of
certain mistakes on Kant's part. In the first place, space, and time
also, so far as we are thinking of the world, and not of our
apprehension of it, as undergoing a temporal process, are essentially
characteristics not of perception but of the reality perceived, and
Kant, in treating space, and time, so regarded, as forms of
perception, is really transferring to the perceiving subject that
which in the whole fact 'perception of an object' or 'object
perceived' belongs to the object.
Again, if we go on to ask how Kant manages to avoid drawing the
conclusion proper to this transference, viz. that space and time are
not characteristics of any realities at all, but belong solely to the
process by which we come to apprehend them, we see that he does so
because, in effect, he contravenes both the characteristics of
perception referred to. For, in the first place, although in
conformity with his theory he almost always _speaks_ of space and time
in terms of perception,[9] he consistently _treats_ them as features
of the reality perceived, i. e. of phenomena. Thus in arguing that
space and time belong not to the understanding but to the sensibility,
although he uniformly speaks of them as perceptions, his argument
implies that they are objects of perception; for its aim, properly
stated, is to show that space and time are not objects of thought but
objects of perception. Consequently, in his treatment of space and
time, he refers to what are both to him and in fact objects of
perception in terms of perception, and thereby contravenes the second
implication of perception to which attention has been drawn. Again, in
the second place, if we go on to ask how Kant is misled into doing
this, we see that it is because he contravenes the first implication
of perception. In virtue of his theory of perception[10] he interposes
a _tertium quid_ between the reality perceived and the percipient, in
the shape of an 'appearance'. This _tertium quid_ gives him something
which can plausibly be regarded as at once a perception and something
perceived. For, though from the point of view of the thing in itself
an appearance is an appearance or a perception of it, yet, regarded
from the point of view of what it is in itself, an appearance is a
reality perceived of the kind called mental. Hence space and time,
being characteristics of an appearance, can be regarded as at once
characteristics of our perception of a reality, viz. of a thing in
itself, and characteristics of a reality perceived, viz. an
appearance. Moreover, there is another point of view from which the
treatment of bodies in space as appearances or phenomena gives
plausibility to the view that space, though a form of perception, is a
characteristic of a reality. When Kant speaks of space as the form of
phenomena the fact to which he refers is that all bodies are
spatial.[11] He means, not that space is a way in which we perceive
something, but that it is a characteristic of things perceived, which
he _calls_ phenomena, and which _are_ bodies. But, since in his
statement of this fact he substitutes for bodies phenomena, which to
him are perceptions, his statement can be put in the form 'space is
_the form of perceptions_'; and the statement in this form is verbally
almost identical with the statement that space is _a form of
perception_. Consequently, the latter statement, which _should_ mean
that space is a way in which we perceive things, is easily identified
with a statement of which the meaning is that space is a
characteristic of something perceived.[12]
[9] Cf. p. 51, note 1.
[10] Cf. p. 30 and ff.
[11] Cf. p. 39.
[12] It can be shown in the same way, _mutatis mutandis_ (cp.
p. 111), that the view that time, though the form of inner
perception, is a characteristic of a reality gains
plausibility from Kant's implicit treatment of our states as
appearances due to ourselves.
Again, Kant's account of time will be found to treat something
represented or perceived as also a perception. We find two consecutive
paragraphs[13] of which the aim is apparently to establish the
contrary conclusions: (1) that time is only the form of our internal
state and not of external phenomena, and (2) that time is the formal
condition of all phenomena, external and internal.
[13] B. 49-50 (b) and (c), M. 30 (b) and (c).
To establish the first conclusion, Kant argues that time has nothing
to do with shape or position, but, on the contrary, determines the
relation of representations in our internal state. His meaning is that
we have a succession of perceptions or representations of bodies in
space,[14] and that while the bodies perceived are not related
temporally, our perceptions or representations of them are so
related. Here 'representations' refers to our apprehension, and
is distinguished from what is represented, viz. bodies in space.
[14] Kant here refers to bodies by the term 'phenomena', but
their character as phenomena is not relevant to his argument.
How, then, does Kant reach the second result? He remembers that bodies
in space are 'phenomena', i. e. representations. He is, therefore,
able to point out that all representations belong, as determinations
of the mind, to our internal state, whether they have external things,
i. e. bodies in space, for their objects or not, and that,
consequently, they are subject to time. Hence time is concluded to be
the form of all phenomena. In this second argument, however, it is
clear that Kant has passed from his previous treatment of bodies in
space as something represented or perceived to the treatment of them
as themselves representations or perceptions.[15]
[15] It may be noted that Kant's assertion (B. 50, M. 31)
that time is the immediate condition of internal phenomena,
and thereby also mediately the condition of external
phenomena, does not help to reconcile the two positions.
In conclusion, we may point out an insoluble difficulty in Kant's
account of time. His treatment of space and time as the forms of outer
and inner sense respectively implies that, while spatial relations
apply to the realities which we perceive, temporal relations apply
solely to our perceptions of them. Unfortunately, however, as Kant in
certain contexts is clearly aware, time also belongs to the realities
perceived. The moon, for instance, moves round the earth. Thus there
are what may be called real successions as well as successions in our
perception. Further, not only are we aware of this distinction in
general, but in particular cases we succeed in distinguishing a
succession of the one kind from a succession of the other. Yet from
Kant's standpoint it would be impossible to distinguish them in
particular cases, and even to be aware of the distinction in general.
For the distinction is possible only so long as a distinction is
allowed between our perceptions and the realities perceived. But for
Kant this distinction has disappeared, for in the end the realities
perceived are merely our perceptions; and time, if it be a
characteristic of anything, must be a characteristic only of our
perceptions.