THE FUNCTION OF THEORY IN SCIENCE

The controlling factors for the progress of scientific thought are

inventions that lead the scientist into closer contact with his data,

and direct attention to complexities which would otherwise have escaped

observation. This end is best fulfilled by conceiving entities that

under some point of view are practically isolable from the context in

which they occur. Only too often philosophic thought has confused this

practical segregation with ontological separation, and so been obliged

to introduce metaphysical and external relations to bring these entities

together again in a real world, when in reality they have never been

separated from one another and hence not from the real world.

Furthermore, the conceptual model, built on the lines of a calculus of

mathematics, is often considered the truth _par excellence_ after the

analogy of a camera's portrait. Progress in science, however, shows that

these models have to be continually rebuilt. Each seems to lead to

further knowledge that necessitates its reconstruction, so that truth

takes on an ideal value as an ultimate but unattained, if not

unattainable, goal, while existing science becomes reduced to working

hypotheses. From a positivistic point of view, however, the goal is not

only practically unattainable, but it is irrational, for there seems to

be every evidence that it expresses something contrary to the nature of

the real. Yet scientific theory is not wholly arbitrary. We cannot

construe nature as constituted of any sorts of entities that may suit

our whim. And this is because science itself recognizes that its

entities are not really isolated, but are endowed with all sorts of

properties that serve to connect them with other entities. They are only

symbols of critical points of reality which, conceived in a certain way,

make the behavior of the whole intelligible. Indeed, the only

significant sense in which they are true for the scientist is that they

indicate real connections that might otherwise have been overlooked, and

this is only possible from the fact that reality has the characteristics

that they present and that, with their relations, they give an

approximate presentation of what is actually presented just as a

successful portrait painter considers the individuality of the eyes,

nose, mouth, etc., although he does not imply that a face is compounded

of these separate features as a house is built of boards.

The atomic theory, for example, has undoubtedly been of the greatest

service to chemistry, and atoms undoubtedly denote a significant

resting-place in the analysis of the physical world. Yet in the light of

electron theories, it is becoming more and more evident that atoms are

not ultimate particles, and are not even all alike (Becker, "Isostasy

and Radioactivity," _Sci._, Jan. 29, 1915) when they represent a single

substance. Again, while there is as yet no evidence to suggest that the

electron must itself be considered as divisible (unless it be the

distinction between the positive and negative electron), there are

suggestions that electrons may themselves arise and pass away (cf.

Moore, _Origin, and Nature of Life_, p. 39). "A wisely positivistic

mind," writes Enriques (_Problems of Science_, p. 34), "can see in the

atomic hypothesis only a subjective representation,"[34] and, we might

add, "in any other hypothesis." He continues (pp. 34-36): "robbing the

atom of the concrete attributes inherent in its image, we find ourselves

regarding it as a mere symbol. The logical value of the atomic theory

depends, then, upon the establishment of a proper correspondence between

the symbols which it contains and the reality which we are trying to

represent.

"Now, if we go back to the time when the atomic theory was accepted by

modern chemistry, we see that the plain atomic formulae contain only the

representation of the invariable relations in the combination of simple

bodies, in weight and volume; these last being taken in relation to a

well-defined gaseous state.

"But, once introduced into science, the atomic phraseology suggested the

extension of the meaning of the symbols, and the search in reality for

facts in correspondence with its more extended conception.

"The theory advances, urged on, as it were, by its metaphysical

nature, or, if you wish, by the association of ideas which the concrete

image of the atom carries with it.

"Thus for the plain formulae we have substituted, in the chemistry of

carbon compounds, structural formulae, which come to represent, thanks to

the disposition or grouping of atoms in a molecule, structural relations

of the second degree, that is to say, relations inherent in certain

chemical transformations with respect to which some groups of elements

have in some way an invariant character. And here, because the image of

a simple molecule upon a plane does not suffice to explain, for example,

the facts of isomerism, we must resort to the stereo-chemical

representation of Van't Hoff.

"Must we further recall the kinetic theory of gases, the facts explained

by the breaking up of molecules into ions, the hypothesis suggested, for

example, by Van der Waals by the view that an atom has an actual bulk?

Must we point to a physical phenomenon of quite a different class, for

example, to the coloring of the thin film forming the soap-bubbles which

W. Thomson has taken as the measure of the size of a molecule?

"Such a resume of results shows plainly that we cannot help the progress

of science by blocking the path of theory and looking only at its

positive aspects, that is to say, at the collection of facts that it

explains. The value of a theory lies rather in the hypothesis which it

can suggest, by means of the psychological representation of the

symbols.

"We shall not draw from all this the conclusion that the atomic

hypothesis ought to correspond to the extremely subtle sensations of a

being resembling a perfected man. We shall not even reason about the

possibility of those imaginary sensations, in so far as they are

conceived simply as an extension of our own. But we shall repeat, in

regard to the atomic theory, what an illustrious master is said to have

remarked as to the unity of matter: if on first examination a fact seems

possible which contradicts the atomic view of things, there is a strong

probability that such a fact will be disproved by experience.

"Does not such a capacity for adaptation to facts, thus furnishing a

model for them, perhaps denote the _positive_ reality of a theory?"

And the above principles are as true of mathematical concepts as of

chemical. Everywhere it is "capacity of adaptation to facts" that is the

criterion of a branch of mathematics, except, of course, that in

mathematics the facts are not always physical facts. Mathematics has

successfully accomplished a generalization whereby its own methods

furnish the material for higher generalizations. The imaginary number

and the hyper-dimensional or non-Euclidian geometries may be absurd if

measured by the standard of physical reality, but they nevertheless have

something real about them in relation to certain mathematical processes

on a lower level. There is no philosophic paradox about modern

arithmetic or geometry, once it is recognized that they are merely

abstractions of genuine features of simpler and more obviously practical

manipulations that are clearly derived from the dealing of a human

being with genuine realities.

In the light of these considerations, I cannot help feeling that the

frequent attempts of mathematicians with a philosophical turn of mind,

and philosophers who are dipping into mathematics, to derive geometrical

entities from psychological considerations are quite mistaken, and are

but another example of those traditional presuppositions of psychology

which, Professor Dewey has pointed out (_Jour. of Phil., Psy., and Sci.

Meth._, XI, No. 19, p. 508), were "bequeathed by seventeenth-century

philosophy to psychology, instead of originating within psychology" ...

that "were wished upon it by philosophy when it was as yet too immature

to defend itself."

Henri Poincare (_Science and Hypothesis_, Ch. IV, _The Value of

Science_, Ch. IV) and Enriques (_Problems of Science_, Ch. IV, esp.

B--_The Psychological Acquisition of Geometrical Concepts_) furnish two

of the most familiar examples of this sort of philosophizing. Each

isolates special senses, sight, touch, or motion, and tries to show how

a being merely equipped with one or the other of these senses might

arrive at geometrical conceptions which differ, of course, from space as

represented by our familiar Euclidian geometry. Then comes the question

of fusing these different sorts of experience into a single experience

of which geometry may be an intelligible transcription. Enriques finds a

parallel between the historical development and the psycho-genetic

development of the postulates of geometry (_loc. cit._, p. 214 _seq._).

"The three groups of ideas that are connected with the concepts that

serve as the basis for the theory of continuum (_Analysis situs_), of

metrical, and of projective geometry, may be connected, as to their

psychological origin, with three groups of sensations: with the general

tactile-muscular sensations, with those of special touch, and of sight,

respectively." Poincare even evokes ancestral experience to make good

his case (_Sci. and Hyp._, Ch. V, end). "It has often been said that if

individual experience could not create geometry, the same is not true of

ancestral experience. But what does that mean? Is it meant that we could

not experimentally demonstrate Euclid's postulate, but that our

ancestors have been able to do it? Not in the least. It is meant that by

natural selection our mind has _adapted_ itself to the conditions of the

external world, that it has adopted the geometry _most advantageous_ to

the species: or in other words, the _most convenient_."

Now undoubtedly there may be a certain modicum of truth in these

statements. As implied by the last quotation from Poincare, the modern

scientist can hardly doubt that the fact of the adaptation of our

thinking to the world we live in is due to the fact that it is in that

world that we evolved. As is implied by both writers, if one could limit

human contact with the world to a particular form of sense response,

thought about that world would take place in different terms from what

it now does and would presumably be less efficient. But these admissions

do not imply that any light is thrown upon the nature of mathematical

entities by such abstractions. Russell (_Scientific Method in

Philosophy_) is in the curious position of raising arithmetic to a

purely logical status, but playing with geometry and sensation after the

manner of Poincare, to whom he gives somewhat grudging praise on this

account.

The psychological methods upon which all such investigations are based

are open to all sorts of criticisms. Chiefly, the conceptions on which

they are based, even if correct, are only abstractions. There is not the

least evidence for the existence of organisms with a single

differentiated sense organ, nor the least evidence that there ever was

such an organism. Indeed, according to modern accounts of the evolution

of the nervous system (cf. G. H. Parker, _Pop. Sci. Month._, Feb., 1914)

different senses have arisen through a gradual differentiation of a more

general form of stimulus receptor, and consequently, the possibility of

the detachment of special senses is the latter end of the series and not

the first. But, however this may be, the mathematical concepts that we

are studying have only been grasped by a highly developed organism, man,

but they had already begun to be grasped by him in an early stage of his

career before he had analyzed his experience and connected it with

specific sense organs. It may of course be a pleasant exercise, if one

likes that sort of thing, to assume with most psychologists certain

elementary sensations, and then examine the amount of information each

can give in the light of possible mathematical interpretations, but to

do so is not to show that a being so scantily endowed would ever have

acquired a geometry of the type in question, or any geometry at all.

Inferences of the sort are in the same category with those from

hypothetical children, that used to justify all theories of the

pedagogue and psychologist, or from the economic man, that still, I

fear, play too great a part in the world of social science.

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