CHAPTER VIII

EVOLUTION

Work of Darwin and Spencer--Bergson's L'Evolution

creatrice--Life--L'elan vital--Evolution not progress in a straight

line--Adaptation an insufficient explanation--Falsity of mechanistic

view--Finalist conception of reality as fulfilling a plan false--Success

along certain lines only--Torpor, Instinct, and Intelligence--Genesis

of matter--Humanity the crown of evolution--Contingency and Freedom--The

Future is being created.

Since the publication of Darwin's famous work on The Origin of Species

in 1859, the conception of Evolution has become familiar and has won

general acceptance in all thinking minds. Evolution is now a household

word, but the actual study of evolutionary process has been the work of

comparatively few. Science nowadays has become such a highly specialized

affair, that few men cover a large enough field of study to enable them

to deal effectively with this tremendous subject. What is more, those

who shouted so loudly about Evolution as explaining all things have

come to see that, in a sense, Evolution explains nothing by itself. Mere

description of facts undoubtedly does serve a very useful purpose and

may help to demolish some of the stanchly conservative theories still

held in some quarters by those who prefer to take Hebrew conceptions as

a basis of their cosmology however irreconcilable with fact these may

prove to be. Mere description, however, is not ultimate, some philosophy

of Evolution must be forthcoming. "Nowadays," remarks Hoffding, "every

philosopher has to take up a position with respect to the concept

of Evolution. It has now achieved its place among the categories or

essential forms of thought by the fact of its providing indications

whence new problems proceed. We must ask regarding every event, and

every phenomenon, by what stages it has passed into its actual state.

It is a special form of the general concept of cause. A philosophy

is essentially characterized by the position which it accords to

this concept and by the way in which it applies it." [Footnote: The

Philosophy of Evolution--lecture IV, of Lectures on Bergson, in Modern

Philosophers, Translated by Mason (MacMillan), p. 270.]

No one has done more to make familiar to English minds the notion of

Evolution than Herbert Spencer. His Synthetic Philosophy had a grand

aim, but it was manifestly unsatisfactory. The high hopes it had raised

were followed by mingled disappointment and distrust. The secret of the

unsatisfactoriness of Spencer is to be found in his method, which is an

elaborate and plausible attempt to explain the evolution of the universe

by referring the complex to the simple, the more highly organized to

the less organized. His principle of Evolution never freed itself from

bondage to mechanical conceptions.

Bergson's Creative Evolution, his largest and best known work, appeared

in 1907. It has been regarded not only as a magnificent book, but as

a date in the history of thought. Two of the leading students of

evolutionary process in England, Professors Geddes and Thomson, refer to

the book as "one of the most profound and original contributions to the

philosophical consideration of the theory of Evolution." [Footnote: In

the Bibliography in their volume Evolution.]

For some time there had been growing a need for an expression of

evolutionary theory in terms other than those of Spencer, or of

Haeckel--the German monistic philosopher. The advance in the study of

biology and the rise of Neo-Vitalism, occasioned by an appreciation of

the inadequacy of any explanation of life in terms purely physical and

chemical, made the demand for a new statement, in greater harmony with

these views, imperative. To satisfy this demand is the task to which

Bergson has applied himself. He sounds the note of departure from

the older conceptions right at the commencement by his very title,

'Creative' Evolution. For this, his views on Change, on Time, and on

Freedom, have in some degree prepared us. We have seen set forth

the fact of Freedom, the recognition of human beings as centres of

indetermination, not mere units in a machine, "a block universe" where

all is "given," but creatures capable of creative activity. Then by

a consideration of Time, as la duree, we found that the history of an

individual can never repeat itself; "For a conscious being, to exist

is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating

oneself endlessly. Should the same be said," Bergson asks, "of existence

in general?" [Footnote: Creative Evolution, p. 8 (Fr. p. 8).]

So he proceeds to portray with a wealth of analogy and brilliance of

style, more akin to the language of a poet than a philosopher, the

stupendous drama of Evolution, the mystery of being, the wonders of

life. He makes the great fact of life his starting point. Is life

susceptible to definition? We feel that, by the very nature of the case,

it is not. A definition is an intellectual operation, while life is

wider, richer, more fundamental than intellect. Indeed Bergson shows us

that intellect is only one of the manifestations or adaptations of life

in its progress. To define life, being strictly impossible, Bergson

attempts to describe it. He would have us picture it as a great current

emerging from some central point, radiating in all directions, but

diverted into eddies and backwaters. Life is an original impetus, une

poussee formidable, not the mere heading affixed to a class of objects

which live. We must not speak any longer of life in general as an

abstraction or a category in which we may place all living beings. Life,

or the vital impulse, consists in a demand for creation, we might almost

say "a will to create." It appears to be a current passing from one germ

to another through the medium of a developed organism, "an internal

push that has carried life by more and more complex forms, to higher

and higher destinies." It is a dynamic continuity, a continuity of

qualitative progress, a duration which leaves its bite on things.

[Footnote: For these descriptions of life, see Creative Evolution,

pp. 27-29 and 93-94 (Fr. pp. 28-30 and 95-96).] We shall be absolutely

wrong, however, if we attempt to view the evolutionary process as

progressive in a straight line. The facts contradict such a facile

and shallow view. Some of the stock phrases of the earlier writers

on Evolution were: "adaptation to environment," "selection" and

"variation," and a grave problem was presented by this last. How are

we to account for the variations of living beings, together with the

persistence of their type? Herein lies the problem of the origin of

species. Three different solutions have been put forward. There is

the "Neo-Darwinian" view which attributes variation to the differences

inherent in the germ borne by the individual, and not to the experience

or behaviour of the individual in the course of his existence. Then

there is the theory known as "Orthogenesis" which maintains that there

is a continual changing in a definite direction from generation

to generation. Thirdly, there is the "Neo-Lamarckian" theory which

attributes the cause of variation to the conscious effort of the

individual, an effort passed on to descendants. [Footnote: Concerning

Lamarck (1744-1829) Bergson remarks in La Philosophie (1915) that

without diminishing Darwin's merit Lamarck is to be regarded as the

founder of evolutionary biology.] Now each one of these theories

explains a certain group of facts, of a limited kind, but two

difficulties confront them. We find that on quite distinct and

widely separated lines of Evolution, exactly similar organs have been

developed. Bergson points out to us, in this connexion, the Pecten genus

of molluscs, which have an eye identical in structure with that of

the eye of vertebrates. [Footnote: The common edible scallop (Pecten

maximus) has several eyes of brilliant blue and of very complex

structure.] It is obvious, however, that the eye of this mollusc and

the eye of the vertebrate must have developed quite independently, ages

after each had been separated from the parent stock. Again, we find that

in all organic evolution, infinite complexity of structure accompanies

the utmost simplicity of function. The variation of an organ so highly

complex as the eye must involve the simultaneous occurrence of an

infinite number of variations all co-ordinated to the simple end of

vision. Such facts as these are incapable of explanation by reference to

any or all of the three theories of adaptation and variation mentioned.

Indeed they seem capable of explanation only by reference to a single

original impetus retaining its direction in courses far removed from

the common origin. "That adaptation to environment is the necessary

condition of Evolution we do not question for a moment. It is quite

evident that a species would disappear, should it fail to bend to the

conditions of existence which are imposed on it. But it is one thing

to recognize that outer circumstances are forces Evolution must reckon

with, another to claim that they are the directing causes of Evolution."

[Footnote: Creative Evolution, p. 107 (Fr. p. 111).]

"The truth is that adaptation explains the sinuosities of the movement

of Evolution, but not the general directions of the movement, still

less the movement itself. The road which leads to the town is obliged to

follow the ups and downs of the hills; it adapts itself to the accidents

of the ground, but the accidents of the ground are not the cause of

the road nor have they given it its direction." [Footnote: Creative

Evolution, p. 108 (Fr. p. 112).] The evolution of life cannot be

explained as merely a series of adaptations to accidental circumstances.

Moreover, the mechanistic view, where all is "given," is quite

inadequate to explain the facts. The finalist or teleological conception

is not any more tenable, for Evolution is not simply the realization

of a plan. "A plan is given in advance. It is represented or at least

representable, before its realization. The complete execution of it may

be put off to a distant future or even indefinitely, but the idea is

none the less formulable at the present time, in terms actually given.

If, on the contrary, Evolution is a creation unceasingly renewed, it

creates as it goes on, not only the forms of life but the ideas that

enable the intellect to understand it. Its future overflows its present

and cannot be sketched out therein, in an idea. There is the first error

of finalism. It involves another yet more serious. If life realizes a

plan it ought to manifest a greater harmony the further it advances,

just as the house shows better and better the idea of the architect as

stone is set upon stone." [Footnote: Creative Evolution, p. 108 (Fr. p.

112).] Such finalism is really reversed mechanism. If, on the contrary,

the unity of life is to be found solely in the impetus (poussee

formidable) that pushes it along the road of Time, the harmony is not in

front but behind. The unity is derived from a vis a tergo: it is given

at the start as an impulsion, not placed at the end as an attraction, as

a kind of

"... far-off divine event

To which the whole creation moves."

"In communicating itself the impetus splits up more and more. Life,

in proportion to its progress, is scattered in manifestations

which undoubtedly owe to their common origin the fact that they are

complementary to each other in certain aspects, but which are none the

less mutually incompatible and antagonistic. So that the discord between

species will go on increasing." "There are species which are arrested,

there are some that retrogress. Evolution is not only a movement

forward; in many cases we observe a marking-time, and still more often

a deviation or turning back. Thence results an increasing disorder. No

doubt there is progress, if progress means a continual advance in the

general direction determined by a first impulsion; but this progress is

accomplished only on the two or three great lines of Evolution on which

forms ever more and more complex, ever more and more high, appear;

between these lines run a crowd of minor paths in which deviations,

arrests, and set-backs are multiplied." [Footnote: Creative Evolution,

pp. 107-110 (Fr. pp. 111-114).] Evolution would be a very simple and

easy process to understand if it followed one straight path. To describe

it, Bergson uses, in one place, this metaphor: "We are here dealing

with a shell which has immediately burst into fragments, which, being

themselves species of shells, have again burst into fragments, destined

to burst again, and so on." [Footnote: Creative Evolution, p. 103 (Fr.

p. 107).]

A study of the facts shows us three very marked tendencies which may

be denoted by the terms "Torpor," "Instinct," and "Intelligence." These

are, in a sense "terminal points" in the evolutionary process. Hence

arises the distinction of plant and animal, one showing a tendency to

unconscious torpor, the other manifesting a tendency towards movement

and consciousness. Then again arises another divergence which gives rise

to two paths or tendencies, one along the line of the arthropods, at the

end of which come the ants and the bees with their instincts, and the

other along the line of the vertebrates, at the end of which is man with

his intelligence. These three, Torpor, Instinct, and Intelligence, must

not, however, be looked upon as three successive stages in the linear

development of one tendency, but as three diverging directions of a

common activity, which split up as it went on its way. Instinct and

Intelligence are the two important terminal points in Evolution. They

are not two stages of which one is higher than the other, they are

at the end of two different roads. The wonders of Instinct are a

commonplace to students of animal and insect life. [Footnote: See the

interesting books by the French writer, Henri Fabre.] Men, with their

intellect, make tools, while Instinct is tied to its tool. There is

a wondrous immediacy, however, about Instinct, in the way it achieves

ends, and its operations are often quite unconsciously performed. The

insect or animal could not possibly "know" all that was involved in its

action. Instinct, then, is one form of adaptation, while Intellect is

quite another. In man--the grown man--Intellect is seen at its best. Yet

we are not without Instincts; by them we are bound to the race and to

the whole animal creation. But in ants and bees and such like creatures,

Instinct is the sole guide of life, and it is often a highly organized

life. The following example clearly shows the contrast between Instinct

and Intelligence. A cat knows how to manage her new-born kittens, how to

bring them up and teach them; a human mother does not know how to manage

her baby unless she is trained either directly or by her own quick

observation of other mothers. A cat performs her simple duties by

Instinct, a human mother has to make use of her Intelligence in order to

fulfil her very complex duties. We must observe, however, the relative

value of Instinct and Intelligence. Each is a psychical activity, but

while Instinct is far more perfect, far more complete in its insight, it

is confined within narrow limits. Intelligence, while far less perfect

in accomplishing its work, less complete in insight, is not limited

in such a way. But while Intellect is external, looking on reality as

different from life, Instinct is an inner sympathy with reality; it is

deeper than any intellectual bond which binds the conscious creature to

reality, for it is a vital bond.

Bergson now turns to a consideration of Life and Matter in the

evolutionary process, and their precise relation to one another. Life is

free, spontaneous, incalculable, not out of relation to Matter, but

its direction is not entirely determined by Matter nor has its initial

impulse Matter as its source. Although Bergson denies that Will and

Consciousness, as we know them, are mere functions of the material

organism, yet they do depend upon it as a workman depends upon his tool.

We are fond of insinuating that a bad workman always blames his tools.

A good workman, however, cannot be expected to do the best work with bad

tools. The tool, although he uses it, at the same time limits him. So

it is with the material organism at our disposal, our body, and so,

too, with spirit and matter in general. Spirit and Matter are not to

be regarded as independent or as ranged against one another from all

eternity. Matter is a product of Spirit or Consciousness, the underlying

psychic force. "For want of a better word," says Bergson, "we have

called it Consciousness. But we do not mean the narrowed consciousness

that functions in each of us." [Footnote: Creative Evolution, p. 250

(Fr. p. 258).] It is rather super-Consciousness than a consciousness

like ours. Matter is a flux rather than a thing, but its flow is in the

opposite direction to that of Spirit. The flow of Spirit shows itself

in the creativeness of the evolutionary process; Matter is the inverse

movement towards stability. Bergson adheres to the view of Spirit as

fundamental, while Matter, he says, is due to a lessening of the tension

of the spiritual force which is the initial elan. Now, of course, Matter

and Spirit have come to be two opposing forces, for one is determined

and the other free. Yet Bergson has to make out that there must have

been some indetermination in Matter, however small, to give Spirit an

opening to "insinuate itself" into Matter and thus use it for its own

ends. It always seems, however, as if Spirit were trying to free itself

from material limitations. It evolved the Intellect to cope with Matter.

This is why Reason is at home, not in life and freedom, but in solid

Matter, in mechanical and spatial distinctions. There is thus an eternal

conflict in progress between Spirit and Matter. The latter is always

tending to automatism, to the sacrifice of the Spirit with its creative

power. In his little book on The Meaning of the War Bergson claims

that here we have an instance of Life and Matter in conflict--Germany

representing a mechanical and materialistic force. In quite another way

he illustrates the same truth, in his book on Laughter, where he shows

us that "rigidity, automatism, absent-mindedness, and unsociability, are

all inextricably entwined, and all serve as ingredients to the making up

of the comic in character," [Footnote: Laughter, p. 147 (Fr. p. 151).]

for "the comic is that side of a person which reveals his likeness to

a thing, that aspect of human events which, through its peculiar

inelasticity, conveys the impression of pure mechanism, of automatism,

of movement without life." [Footnote: Laughter, p. 87 (Fr. p. 89).]

Finally, in reviewing the evolutionary process as a whole, Bergson

asserts that it manifests a radical contingency. The forms of life

created, also the proportion of Intuition to Intelligence, in man, and

the physique and morality of man, are all of them contingent. Life

might have stored up energy in a different way through plants selecting

different chemical elements. The whole of organic chemistry would then

have been different. Then, too, it is probable that Life manifests

itself in other planets, in other solar systems also, in forms of which

we have no idea. He points out that between the perfect humanity and

ours one may conceive many possible intermediaries, corresponding to all

the degrees imaginable of Intelligence and Intuition. Another solution

might have issued in a humanity either more intelligent or more

intuitive. Man has warred like the other species, he has warred

against the other species. If the evolution of life had been opposed by

different accidents en route, if the current of life had been divided

otherwise, we should have been, in physique and in morality, very

different from what we are. [Footnote: Creative Evolution, pp. 280-282

(Fr. p. 288-290).] We cannot regard humanity as prefigured in the

evolutionary process, nor look on man as the ultimate outcome of the

whole of Evolution. The rest of Nature does not exist simply for

the sake of man. Certainly man stands highest, for only in man has

consciousness succeeded, but man has, as it were, lost much in coming

to this position. The whole process of Evolution "IS AS IF A VAGUE AND

FORMLESS BEING, WHOM WE MAY CALL, AS WE WILL, man OR super-man, HAD

SOUGHT TO REALIZE HIMSELF AND HAD SUCCEEDED ONLY BY ABANDONING A PART OF

HIMSELF ON THE WAY." [Footnote: Creative Evolution, p. 281 (Fr. p. 289).

(Italics are Bergson's.)]

In the lectures on The Nature of the Soul, Bergson referred to the

"Pathway of the evolutionary process" as being a "Way to Personality."

For on the line which leads to man liberation has been accomplished and

thus personalities have been able to constitute themselves. If we could

view this line of evolution it would appear to resemble a telegraph

wire on which has travelled a dispatch sent off as long ago as the first

beginnings of life, a message which was then confused, of which a part

has been lost on the way, but which has at last found in the human race

the appropriate instrument.

Humanity is one; we are members one of another. Bergson insists on

this solidarity of man, and, indeed, of all living creatures. "As the

smallest grain of dust is bound up with our entire solar system, drawn

along with it in that undivided movement of descent which is materiality

itself, so all organized beings, from the humblest to the highest, from

the first origins of life to the time in which we are, and in all places

as in all times, do but evidence a single impulsion, the inverse of

the movement of matter, and in itself indivisible. All the living hold

together and all yield to the same tremendous push. The animal takes its

stand on the plant, man bestrides animality, and the whole of humanity,

in space and in time, is one immense army galloping beside and before

and behind each of us, in an overwhelming charge, able to beat down

every resistance and clear the most formidable obstacles, perhaps even

death." [Footnote: Creative Evolution, pp. 285-286 (Fr. pp. 293-294).]

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